okay wait I actually need more of mermaid!reader and Johnny, like they’d be so smitten with each other ugh I can’t
More Johnny Storm x mermaid!reader? 🤍
Hear me out: Johnny is an explorer. He loooves learning new things. Once he gets set on learning mermaid!you? Ughhh. Say no more.
He wants to know everything. How the tail works. How do you know his language. How he can make you laugh because you don’t understand his jokes. Why you sound so angelic when you sing that it makes him want to join you in the water and never come out.
He notices you don’t get too close to him when he’s flamed on. Maybe the extreme heat makes the scales feel weird and now Johnny Storm has to learn how to turn part of himself off just so he can see you from up close.
He wants to know what happened to the other mermaids, and wonders if you feel lonely. Johnny starts disappearing from the tower to “patrol” when he’s actually looking for other interesting human things to bring you. GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY.
You want to know everything about him too. He’s a little weird, but his smile is very kind. The concept of him being caught in a cosmic storm in space is absolutely mind blowing. He explains it as many times as you ask him to. You see the stars from the sea but he’s been next to them and that’s fascinating.
You show him your collection of human things you’ve gathered (F4 merch included) and ask if every human has toys made out of them. He has to explain what his family does for a living. What he does. In your eyes, he’s the absolute opposite of what you’ve always been told vile humans were.
He even teaches you about another wild concept: sunscreen. That’s what gets a tiny laugh out of you. “But the sun can’t hurt you, Johnny of the Storm. You’re made of starlight.”
That one keeps him up that night. You’re adorable. He’s just a man.
Sigh. He’s in deep trouble.
(His family is done with him falling for non conventional creatures, but can you really blame him?)
baby daddy!pope who’s super protective of his kid. he doesn’t let his brothers hold your guys’ baby for too long, taking him back after a couple of minutes with a gruff “alright, that’s enough,” leaving craig and deran sharing a look.
baby daddy!pope who’s always the first one to wake up (and he’s glad he is because you do so much already) whenever your baby’s crying and fussing during the night. he’ll walk over to his crib and carefully pick him up, rubbing and patting his back gently as he tries to soothe him back to sleep. if it’s not working, he’ll carry him downstairs and make him a bottle of formula with his free hand while perfectly balancing your son with the other.
baby daddy!pope who’s always keeping an eye on your little one even when he’s in the midst of a conversation. if he sees him crawling towards an unsafe place, he’ll walk away from the person who was speaking to him- without so much as a word, to go pick him up.
baby daddy!pope who insists on feeding his baby each time because watching them trying to feed themselves is too much for pope’s ocd as they’re getting more mushy peas on their face than in their actual mouth.
baby daddy!pope who often just watches his baby sleep with a mixture of adoration and disbelief that something so pure and innocent was half a product of what he did.
baby daddy!pope who definitely cried the first time he ever held his son.
pope & his inability to let anyone else near you… like ever.
you’re making a sandwich for you & him at the kitchen island, colorful bikini & sun-warmed skin that smells like coconuts. your back to the fridge, you can see craig trying to scooch by you in your peripheral.
now craig’s a big guy, so it’s going to take a bit of manuevering to get by you (not that he’s complaining). so when he reaches out a tattooed, thick arm to press against the small of your back in a silent “excuse me,” pope’s already on it.
somehow he manages to puff up his chest & look even bigger than his younger brother. “go the other way, bro.” quite literally standing in front of the passage between your back and the fridge.
when craig rolls his eyes, “whatever, man” and goes the other route of the kitchen island, pope cuddles closer to you. head hanging on your shoulder so you can lovingly run your hand along the back of his neck while he pouts, “takin’ too long. come sit with me.”
Idk i really like sirens and we all know hed fall for it. For a siren. Hed be extra careful not to burn them since sirens are a creature of water.
Johnny who likes to hear siren reader singing knowing what could happen (but knowing it wont)
Siren reader who doesnt know much about him but does have merch of him (because yknow everything gets in the water and sirens like treasure and she’d probably find left over human torch toys, stories from newspapers, action figures, and ect) and collects it (she has some of the other members as well)
Siren reader who doesnt fsll for human torch but for johnny, the nerdy lovable boy beneath that persona. Who flies to a stupid island cave to see her when he can.
Hold onnnn. Mermaid!reader who has a little collection of Johnny Storm/F4 merch??? OH MY GOD 😭
I can imagine him flying over your island for the first time and thinking he might’ve heard someone singing. He keeps thinking about it and one day he just has to go back and it’s immediately mesmerized by the melody. Our Johnny would 100% follow the luring voices, only to end up coming across another unearthly creature to become obsessed with.
Now picture mermaid!you, seeing this man covered in flames hovering above you. You tell him to wait, only to come back to the surface carrying a Human Torch™ toy like, “Is this you?”
to further my obsession with big dick!pope, can you imagine how crestfallen his face looks before he tells you? he genuinely thinks he’s sending you to the electric chair…
you’ve just gotten home from your first date night as an official couple, and you’re leaning back on the bed watching him. big hand spread across his black boxer briefs, jaw clenching as he pouts & grits his teeth. you reach out your arms to grab at him, and he brings one arm to firmly wrap around your forearm, his other hand applying pressure to his growing bulge.
confused, and always adoring, you look up at him in silent questioning. he seems to chew the words, weave them around in his mouth before saying them.
“i’m…. i’m big, sweetheart.” his veiny arm flexes as he lightly squeezes the bone of your wrist “it’s- it might be a lot. t-too much, i might be too much. i understand if-if you don’t…. want to.”
imagine you’ve gotten a tattoo with andrew’s initial. the small letter ‘𝒜 ’ sitting pretty beneath your left breast , so close to your heart.
when andrew sees it for the first time, he can’t take his eyes off you – or, more specifically, off that patch of your warm , smooth skin, now adorned with black ink.
his hands are on your body within seconds. his calloused fingers brush against your skin, never touching the tattoo itself.
"do you like it?" you ask shyly, watching his face "i got it especially for you, andy" you whisper, moving closer and pressing your soft body against his muscular one.
"for me?" he asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours, looking at you almost like a sad puppy.
"yes" you reply, kissing his jawline, nestling your cheek into the hollow of his neck "so that everyone knows i’m only yours, andy. no one else, just yours."
those words have an immediate effect on him.
suddenly, you’re in his strong arms, held so close that you can’t breathe properly; your lips are being devoured by his, and the two-piece bikini you were wearing is now lying on the stone floor by the pool.
it's probably only a matter of time before one of the cody brothers shows up and interrupts you, but you're not going to stop your boyfriend. you know that andrew has to thank you properly for this little surprise. and what better way than to fuck you stupid and make you forget your own name?
there are a lot of things to like about gator tillman, despite popular belief. the way the corner of his lips curve backward, making the slightest pout when you pull away after a kiss; his sharp-as-knife jawline, his nose that always brushes against your clit when he gets too excited while eating you out, the way he's always leaning towards you — either it's just by being close, fingers brushing your back, arms touching slightly, or even knee-to-knee when you are sitting next to each other.
but there's one thing that has always caught your attention the most.
his hands.
at first sight, he already looked like the kind of guy who worked with his hands. gator lived on a ranch and he was a cop. the outline made a clear painting: a man, in the worst sense of the world. tough on the outside, spouting revolting shit out loud like he was proud to be an asshole, and a whole lot of sadness hiding underneath the cool facade.
tillman could dress his misery up in any way; the deputy uniform, the snake-like smirk, the tough talk, the smoke hanging from his lips. he could hide whatever he wanted with the right amount of bullshit.
except his hands.
gator could never hide the truth in his palms.
his hands were calloused, worn out, appearing to be more like a tool than a part of something, a someone who was once a kid. holding his hand was like touching something rough. it had unnatural marks, made by someone who did things he wasn't proud of, or by something that thought to be someone. pretty much like battle leftovers, a tangible reminder that monsters can look like fathers.
sure, gator had some scars sprinkled across his body like glitter after a party: you never knew where you'd find the next one, and most were so small you wouldn't even notice if you weren't paying attention to it. but you always did.
you never talked about these marks.
he never offered you an explanation, either.
yet, you knew. it was impossible not to. roy tillman was a hard man for hard times; the thing is, he made up the hard times. roy saw everybody as an accessory or a target. gator was just both.
therefore, you kissed his scars.
he shivered under the weight of your tender lips.
you let him get away with it.
and gator touched you back like you were the first thing he could ever call his. maybe you were.
his marred hands touched you in many ways: possessive grabs to your waist, deep fingers inside your dripping pussy when he was getting you ready for his cock, clumsy and impatient tugs when he wanted to take off your bra, soft pulls when he pulled your hair, wishful holds when he brought you near, lust-driven squeezes when he put his hands on your tits, a teasing palm when he slapped your cunt, rude fingertips when he grabbed your jaw like he wanted to imprint his digits on you. but, sometimes, his touch was gentle despite the tough hands. he'd let you lean into it.
it was calm. it was too soft for men like him.
but you didn't say it.
still, he glared at you like he knew.
some things are better left unsaid.
when gator kisses you, it feels like the man he could've been. if his dad wasn't roy tillman. if his mother stuck around. if he had a fair chance with the world. if he wasn't born being fed violence for breakfast.
in your bed, he was that man. a better version of himself. perhaps his true version, you don't know. you doubt gator knows either— too many voices in his head, most of them sounding like his dad. they talk down on him, take something good and twist it until he comes out looking like he could uphold the tillman last name.
when he's with you, he's just gator. maybe you're the water he floats in, maybe you are the prey he's gonna kill when he's done playing around.
when he touches you, it doesn't matter.
his calloused hands feel soft on your skin. gator pulls you to his lap and you ride him. the deputy's lips are on you in no time, wrapped around your tit. he sucks on it and leaves tender bites that make you whimper. His free hand squeezes your left breast a bit too rough, but you couldn't care less, holding tight to his shoulders while you go up and down on his cock.
“gator.” you moan, and it's the only time he actually believes his name makes sense. when you are dizzy with pleasure, fucking on his dick like you're gonna die without it.
“I know, dollface.” he mutters as your walls clench around him. fuck. if anyone ever touched your tight cunt, he'd kill them on spot. that was his sweet thang, only his. “so needy, mama. don't worry, I'll fill you up nice. gonna leave ya dripping. anything for that pretty pussy. it always get so wet for me. I love it.”
the words hang in the air. gator always talks too much, his mouth works faster than his brain can fathom. somehow, love has been slipping into his luxury haze more often lately. never directly, but never missing an appearance as if he couldn't run out of things to love about you.
you don't mention it.
but when gator comes, his hands are on your waist and he squeezes so hard it will leave marks. his hands guide you on your back. his hands clean you up when his mouth doesn't say anything. his hands brush against your arm when he thinks you're asleep. his hands pull you to his chest.
his hands never lie.
so, yeah. there are a lot of things to like about gator.
but when he's tongue-tied, when his eyes get dark, when he gets bloody, when he runs away like a coward, when everything else fails him.
his hands always remind you what, who he keeps a hold on.
gator tillman masterlist taglist request nav
man, it feels good to be back. :) hope you liked it! PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG.
Kyle "fuck I don't want to accidentally offend a bug hybrid..." garrick who is so careful to he respectful when he meets you. He knows how poorly bug hybrids are treated, especially a beetle like you. He seems cool and charming externally but internally he's calculating how long to look at your mandibles before it becomes rude.
Vs
Simon "fuck yessss yes a beetle fuck yeah–" riley who has no sense of social conventions when he's trying to flirt. Meaning, he has no problems cornering you against a wall and huffing "can i lick the underside of your elytra when we fuck?"
...gaz promptly steps on his foot for it, but shocking that was what got you in their bed...
A great boyfriend. A brother. A son…. A convicted criminal.
But above all, he was a man.
And this certainly had its perks. He could reach the top shelf in stores for you, place you on his shoulders at music festivals so you had the perfect view, fuck you on his big cock, open particularly tight jars when you couldn’t - you normally could, but you liked to make him feel needed sometimes. He liked that, feeling needed, you weren’t exactly sure what his enjoyment gauge was on opening pickle jars at random.
But it also lent itself towards a couple of grating personality traits that Andrew had still not grown out of.
Namely, his inability to advocate for himself. Or refusal, may be more apt.
He would speak up for anyone if he felt they had been done wrong. His brothers, Lena, you. All of you were lucky to have Andrew as your most outspoken defender.
He just didn’t extend himself that same courtesy.
Enter his food orders.
He was so happy to take you out to fancy dinners, though it made the both of you uncomfortable. You had pretended to enjoy the expensive banquets in sparkly (read: scratchy) dresses and high heels because you thought that it was what Andrew wanted. Andrew had endured these dinners because he thought it was what you deserved. Princess treatment fit for his princess.
The fancy dinners had, over time, subsided. They’d faded out comfortably to just dinners. Pizza on the hood of his car parked up at the beach, greasy burgers in sticky diner booths. Or, more often, drive throughs and quickies in quiet parking lots afterward.
These were much more your speed, and admittedly, his. The youthfulness of it all kept the romance alive, you thought, and Andrew got to live out the experience now, his childhood not exactly having allowed for dry humping in his pick-up truck underneath the flickering street lamp of a Wendy’s. He’d been too busy tankering with engines, getting into fights, and pulling jobs for Smurf.
“Let me get a number four, no pickles,” Andrew said into the beat up speaker box.
“Is that all for tonight, sir?”
He looks at you expectantly. “What do you want, sweetheart?”
You lean over him, poking your head out the window. “Can I get a number seven, extra pickles?”
You plant your ass back in the seat, Andrew eyes you up and down, as if anticipating an explanation. You shrug.
“I could’ve told them,” Andrew offers, mildly confused; like he thought that what you did was weird, but you had done it so nonchalantly that he now felt like he was the one being weird for reacting.
“Is that all for tonight?” Instead of answering, Andrew drives to the next window.
He swats your hand away when you try to offer up your credit card, taps his own, and shoots you a glare in between changing gears. “Don’t ever do that.”
“Popey, I can pay for my own meal,” you cross your arms.
He frowns mockingly. “Sure you can.”
“The number four and the number seven?” Andrew takes the drink tray from the server and blindly passes it back to you to hold, grabs the food bag and rights himself in his seat.
“Have a good night, sir.”
Andrew pauses. “You too, man.”
Beside him, you open the food bag, destroy a handful of fries while he’s not looking, and open his burger wrapper.
You tsk softly.
Andrew changes gears again, takes his foot off the brake.
You clasp a firm hand around his wrist. “Y’alright?”
You unbuckle your seatbelt, foregoing the bag and the drink tray so you can pitch yourself out the window again.
You knock on the closed window. “Excuse me.”
A server appears, confused. They open the window.
“Yes?”
You smile. “Hi, my boyfriend ordered the number four with no pickles?”
They look at you, unamused. “Okay?”
You hand them the opened burger wrapper. “There’s pickles.”
“So take them out,” the worker offers unhelpfully.
You smile a little deeper. “Oh! Why didn’t I think of that?”
You remove the pickles from the burger, one by one.
Andrew watches in awe as you stack them between your forefinger and middle finger - he counts five, six maybe - and drop them into the worker’s palm.
They look down at their palm in disgust, ketchup and mustard and limp, soggy pickles soiling flesh.
“Can I get the number four, now, no pickles?”
They nod sheepishly and retreat, closing the window again.
Andrew gropes your ass before you plant it back in your seat, assured, like he’s trying to reclaim control of the situation.
“Princess.”
“Popey,” you reply, willing your features into compliance, feigning innocence.
“Why’d you bully that kid?”
You scoff. “You asked for no pickles.”
“I could have picked them off,” Andrew shrugs halfheartedly, knows you’re going to call him on it.
“You could have, sure. But you always complain you can taste the essence of pickle.”
Andrew clenches his jaw. It’s not out of anger, really.
He’s more… chewing on your words. You’re right. And he’s grateful that he’s not going to starve tonight, or ruin your date night because he can’t handle a little pickle in his burger.
“Thank you, angel,” Andrew offers softly. He’s still so shy sometimes, it makes you want to eat him.
The window opens, another employee standing in place of the last one. This one looks a little more managerial.
“I’m so sorry about the misunderstanding, ma’am. We’ve thrown in a pie for the inconvenience.”
“Thank you so much, have a great night,” you reply cheerfully.
Andrew takes the bag from the employee, plants it in your lap, squeezes your thigh gently, and finally leaves the drive through.
If he’s a little more attentive to your needs in the back of the pick-up later, takes a little more time with his tongue and fingers in your cunt, well that’s just him expressing his gratitude to his girl. In the way he knows best.
summary: teacake surprises you with a cake and an eventful picnic under the sun
warnings: 18+, smut, foreplay, fingering, no actual p in v, kissing and groping, soft bf!teacake, 1.9k words
Travis tried to be as quiet as humanly possible while baking a small cake for your birthday today. Attempting to bake would be more accurate though based on the mess that’s currently adorning his kitchen counter.
“Ah that’s…shit” you hear him curse again followed by yet another clang. The noises coming from the kitchen had woken you up a while ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get up and inspect yet. But since there was also no way for you to fall back into slumber, you reluctantly get out of bed and follow the sounds of your boyfriend in distress.
“You okay in here?” You ask him with a confused little tilt of the head as you round the corner and set your still sleepy eyes on the scene in front of you
“Wha-hi baby” comes Teacake’s surprised response as he quickly turns around at the sound of your voice.
“Was hopin you’d still be asleep while I finish this up” he tells you sheepishly, immediately opening his arms for you to step into when he sees you shuffle over to him. He places a sweet kiss onto the crown of your hair, allowing himself a moment to take you in and breathe as you wrap your arms around his strong back.
This is the most peaceful time of day for you two, neither of you has to be anywhere yet, no annoying customers or bosses around to bother you yet. Both of you cherish your quiet mornings together more than anything, given the different work schedules you usually have. But not today. You both took time off work today as Travis wanted to make sure to give you the perfect birthday.
“What’ya making Trav?” You nuzzle even further into his chest and he smiles at the action, placing another kiss onto your forehead this time before he tells you he chose a chocolate cake recipe for the occasion, decorating it with fresh strawberries once it’s done and cooled down. Your favourite.
“Hmm..” You hum your approval and pull away from him reluctantly so you can look into his eyes as you continue
“I love it baby, thank you”
“I love you” he tells you softly and leans down to connect you lips with his. One peck, then another, and one more, a little longer this time before he whispers against your lips
“Happy Birthday babydoll” and then he’s right back where he left off, this time flicking his tongue against your lips, testing, oh so careful, before you let his tongue clash into yours to deepen the kiss.
He hates to pull away but after a few minutes he tells you that the batter is almost done and ready to put into the oven.
And you try to leave him be, you really do, but there’s something extremely sexy about seeing Travis navigating the kitchen like this, and he’s doing something so sweet for you, for your birthday. So as soon as he’s closing the oven door and setting a timer for 40 minutes, you’re on him again, smoothing your hands across his torso from behind, peppering kisses against his back and after a moment your hands begin to wander. Over his strong pecs down his softer stomach until you reach the waistline of his sweatpants, your fingertips tickling his sensitive skin.
“Baby what’re you doing?” He asks with a sweet laugh in his voice but he’s not able to stop your wandering hands. And as you finally reach inside his boxer briefs and make contact with what lies beneath, Travis hisses and hears you rasp into his ear
“We’ve got enough time now for you to fuck me right here on the kitchen counter and make me the happiest birthday girl”. And let’s just say, Travis doesn’t need to be told twice….
——
After the eventful morning, you two had driven out to one of the hiking trails Travis had discovered after his time in Elsworth. Going on long walks in nature and listening to his meditation books really did wonders to his self-improving.
You’re now sitting on the white and yellow picnic blanket, chilled lemon iced tea in hand as Teacake busies himself with cutting into your cake so he can hand you the first slice.
“It smells so good babe, I appreciate the effort you’ve gone through for me” you smirk at him but there’s nothing but love and adoration in your eyes as you find his.
“Anything for you baby” he throws back, and you know that he really means every word. Teacake is the most selfless and affectionate boyfriend you’ve ever had and it’s truly in the little moments and attentiveness he shows you every single day. You’re always hoping everything you do in return for him is enough to show him how good he is and how much you love him. He’s been through enough bullshit already and deserves nothing but happiness now.
Some time passes, you’re devouring more cake, cheese and crackers and a slightly too warm bottle of apple cider Travis insisted on bringing. You two are enjoying the warm July sun, taking little breaks in between eating and cuddling to walk through the fields, you’re picking a small bundle of flowers to take home with you, making the most of the beautiful day out with your sweetheart of a boyfriend.
Teacake is currently standing a few feet away from you, eyes closed and peaceful, as he’s letting the sun soak into his skin. He’s looking so handsome and angelic that you can’t help yourself and snap a quick picture with your phone before softly beckoning him over. He quickly closes the distance and lowers himself onto the blanket next to you
“Hey gorgeous girl, how can I help you?” He’s trying to be all suave and smooth as he gently kneels over you, making you fully lie down on the blanket as his body hovers over your own, caging you in with his arms on each side of you.
“Hmm, come here and find out sweet boy” you basically purr, not meaning for things to get so heated so quickly, but Teacake’s close proximity usually has that effect on you. Throwing both arms around his neck, you pull his mouth down to yours and kiss him feverishly, the moment heats up quickly as both your tongues fight for dominance.
“T, I need you” you whine into his mouth after a while, the heat in your core steadily building as his hands started roaming along your curves, skimming your breasts and his left hand settling on your ass before subconsciously pulling your leg around his waist.
“You sure bout that baby? Here?” He replies breathlessly
“There’s no one around baby, no one will see”. You’re reflexively rolling your hips into his crotch, getting impatient now and you need Teacake to do something about it already.
He curses out a strangled “fuck, baby”, already half hard, but he’s got other plans first.
Travis starts littering a bunch of kisses across your face and neck, never really stopping in one place for too long, before moving further down your body. Over your chest, between your breasts and your still clothed stomach before he reaches the waist band of your skirt where he stops. Both hands now on your thighs as he moves the loose fabric further up up up, exposing your underwear as he goes and once he’s satisfied he leaves a featherlight kiss right over your center before gently pulling your upper body off the blanket and taking his place behind you now
“Come here pretty girl” he beckons and you go instantly, propping yourself up against his chest with his outstretched legs safe on either side of you.
He’s taking control now, starting with slow kisses onto your exposed neck, nuzzling into your ear how good you’re doing for him, how much he loves you and that he really wants to make this an unforgettable birthday for you. He’s talking all sweet to you while his hands are starting a fire across your skin.
His right hand fondling over your boob now, gently squeezing while his left hand travelled further down and is ever so softly pulling your panties to the side to get access to the most vulnerable part of you. All this attention on your body makes you gasp and slightly squirm in his hold. Travis knows exactly how to make you feel good.
The moment you feel one of his long fingers plunge into your heat has you cry out
“Mhhh Trav, pleease”.
You can feel him insert a second finger into you now, nudging you open further as he ever so slowly starts sliding them in and out of your warmth. As a stark contrast to his obscene ministrations between your legs, he’s kissing your temple with the outmost care and tells you
“Shh baby, let me make you feel good” and with that he goes to work.
His deliciously thick digits moving in and out of your slick walls while his other hand never lets up on your breast. He’s made it easier for himself and slid his fingers into the top of your bra to have better access to your supple flesh, pinching your nipple into a sensitive peak while never letting up on the kisses and caresses on your neck either. His attention on your body is making you heat up and you start moaning his name and how good it all feels.
You’re getting wetter and wetter by the second as he gets you steadily closer and closer to your high. And Travis can feel you clenching around his fingers more often now, he knows you’re ready to come, so with a little manoeuvring he places his thumb ever so gently onto your aching clit and starts drawing tight little circles around the bud with barely there pressure at first. It makes you whine out again, mewling into the space between you before he adds more pressure and you have to grip onto his bicep before it gets too much.
“You’re doing so good for me baby. Ya gonna come around my fingers?” Is all you hear before the coil in you snaps and the intense climax is taking over your whole body
“Oo-oh fuuck..” It’s a half scream half moan as your body is trying to deal with the immense pleasure Travis is still providing you. His fingers inside you have now come to a halt but his thumb is still pressing slow circles into your clit to guide you through your orgasm, until you’re lying limp in his lap, heart beating too fast and a content little smile is slowly inching its way onto your face. Eyes still closed, but Travis sees it and presses a quick kiss to the corner of it, and then moves on to nuzzle your cheek again.
“I love you so much! Happy birthday baby” he whispers
“Love you more” comes your quiet but happy response.
And as he places you back down onto the blanket and takes his place on top of you once again, making quick work of his own underwear and freeing his now aching member to finally slide home and make love to you right there under the sweltering sun, you really couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend this day with the best boyfriend in the world.
Going back to your car only to find flowers on the handle and immediately freaking out because you saw on TikTok that it was a scam, some tricks to harm girls and traffic them.
So you get your phone, hands still shaking only to find out it was a small gift from bf!Andrew who simply wanted to surprise you and is now sad that he scared you :(
He would never do that intentionally, not to you, but still praises for being so careful and for calling him, reassuring you nothing bad would have ever happened to you. Not with him by your side.
Thank you @itzakicka for a songfic request, “Scotty doesn’t know” by Lustra is right up my alley.
You’re so sick of your boyfriend, and when the chance comes with Eddie, you don’t waste a single second.
Warning: cheating on your boyfriend with Eddie, protected sex, semi-public sex, oral male receiving.
t’s another night in the local bar, and you come to support your favorite band—Corroded Coffin. You sort of hang out with the same crowd, but you don’t know Eddie that closely. You’d like to get to know him, though. The band tears through their set, and the whole bar is buzzing with their wild energy; your ears ring just a bit. Your boyfriend is loud, banging his head in the front row the entire night, but by the time the afterparty kicks off in the back room, he’s drunk as a pig—slurring, stumbling, and barely able to stand.
Eddie, still high from the show with his hair wild and guitar-pick necklace dangling against his ripped shirt, helps haul your boyfriend toward the bathroom when he starts looking green.
“I got him,” Eddie says, shooting you a quick glance. There’s something in his eyes tonight that you haven’t seen before.
You follow them down the narrow hallway, embarrassed to the roots of your hair. The bathroom is small, dimly lit, and smells like cheap beer and chlorine. Your boyfriend collapses onto the dirty floor in one of the stalls, muttering something incoherent before his head lolls back against the wall.
For a second you and Eddie just stare at each other.
“You okay?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah,” you pause. “I’m sick of him.”
“Wanna forget him?” Eddie looks straight into your soul with his deep, dark eyes that you’ve never seen this close.
You should say no. You should drag your boyfriend home. Instead you step closer, like you probably always wanted but never got a chance. He smells like tobacco, sweat, and something like incense. When your fingers brush his bicep, the contact sends a jolt through your body.
“Fuck it,” you whisper against his neck. “Yes.”
Eddie’s mouth crashes into yours instantly. It’s messy, hungry, nothing like the careful kisses you’re used to. His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding under your shirt, palming your breasts while he backs you against the sink. Your boyfriend snores loudly just a few feet away.
“Wanna fuck you right here…” Eddie’s lips are red from your kisses and his voice is raspy after the show.
You nod. Eddie locks the door.
He spins you around, bending you over the sink so you’re facing the dirty mirror. Your eyes lock in the reflection of both of you as he yanks your skirt up and shoves your panties aside. His fingers check if you’re ready. He’s behind you, rock hard, cock pressing against your ass.
“Did you think about me out there?” he murmurs in your ear, and that’s all it takes for you to arch your back and spread your legs a little wider for him.
“Maybe.” Eddie pushes your tank top down so your tits spill out—a great sight in the mirror.
It takes a second to roll the condom on, but you’re writhing with need already. Eddie pushes in with one deep thrust, and you moan so loud he has to put his hand over your mouth. He looks so good like this, like a true rockstar quickly fucking a groupie after a show.
Eddie tries to check himself, to go slow, but loses it entirely in a minute, snapping inside you with the same passion he had on the stage. Every thrust rocks you forward, your hips banging into the sink. His cock nudges your cervix and you can’t help crying out.
“Quiet, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes against your neck, grinning like a devil in the mirror. “Wouldn’t want to wake him.”
He keeps hitting you right in the sweet spot and your knees tremble.
“Look at yourself,” he growls in your ear. “Taking my cock while your boyfriend’s passed out right there. Such a bad girl.”
His dirty praise sends hot impulses down to your core. You come first—shaking, biting his fingers to stay quiet.
“Fuck… you’re squeezing me too good.” Eddie follows right after, burying himself deep and spilling into the condom.
You barely have time to catch your breath before he fixes your top and pulls your skirt back down.
“Just leave him there and come with us.”
The next time you’re at the bar with your boyfriend turns into another disaster. You sit right next to him when he flirts with a waitress, her plush boobs jiggling in front of your face as she laughs at his joke. Well, you can play too. Eddie is sitting with the band, having a beer before the show. You catch his gaze and make a calling gesture with your index finger.
Stupid dick, your boyfriend barely notices you leaving, since you head toward the bathroom—there’s no suspicion. You don’t stop there, though, and wait for Eddie at the back door.
“Can I help you with something?” he asks, but the smile reaches his eyes when he understands. You take his hand and guide him to the dark alley.
The light barely filters through as you get on your knees. Eddie leans against the wall and looks down at you without any surprise, like he’s been waiting for you to come again. The fabric of his jeans tents too obviously. You feel a fresh wave of heat low in your belly.
You palm him over the fabric first, eliciting several moans that feel like music in your ears. You unbuckle his jeans and free him. Someone creaks the door and shuts it back. You don’t care. His cock is thick and heavy, twitching when your breath ghosts over it. You wrap your hand around the base and take him into your mouth, closing your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of his silky smooth head on your tongue, the taste of his skin, and the sound of your own mouth stuffed full.
Eddie responds with a groan, hips jerking up. “Fuck—sweetheart…”
You work him eagerly, bobbing your head, sucking him deeper while your hand strokes his balls. He threads his fingers through your hair, holding on as his breaths turn ragged.
“Shit, just like that… your tongue feels so good.”
His voice, filled with lust, turns you on even more. You moan around him and grip his thighs to steady yourself. Your nails dig into the denim.
“Look at me…” you hear his broken voice.
You make an effort to open your eyes without taking his cock out of your mouth. Eddie caresses your cheek. He is so handsome, dark curls frame his pale face touched by feverish blush, hazy deer eyes under the long lashes.
“Such a dirty girl, blowing me in the alley.”
Encouraged, you swallow around him, choking just slightly. Either the sound or the sensation makes his thighs tense.
It doesn’t take long before his grip tightens and he comes down your throat with a low, wrecked moan of your name. You swallow every drop and take his hand to get up. Eddie gives you his bandanna to wipe your mouth.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he offers with a crooked smile.
“Please.”
It’s weekly arcade night, but your boyfriend caught a ride with some friends and tells you to drive or ask someone for a lift. At least he called.
You dial Eddie’s number. His van is rumbling next to your house before you’re even ready. He holds you a little longer than friends do, and the kiss on your cheek burns a little more than usual.
At the red light his hand lands on your thigh and you part your legs so he can feel how aroused you are.
“What did he do this time?” Eddie asks as his long fingers cup you.
“Does it matter?” It doesn’t at this point.
Eddie pulls the van behind the building. “Get in the back,” he says, and you can see he’s already uncomfortable in his jeans. The van has a blanket on the floor, to protect the precious musical equipment of course.
Inside, you climb into his lap, straddling him. A few kisses to his mouth and neck and a few rolls of your hips are all it takes to get him fully hard. Eddie lifts you just enough to get the silver square out of his pocket. You love the sight of his thick, pink cock waiting for you to sink down. Both of you groan at the stretch as he buries himself to the hilt and holds you there tightly. The van creaks as you begin to ride him hard, hands braced on his shoulders while he grips your ass and thrusts up to meet you.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he pants. “Is this still revenge or what?”
You answer with a broken moan, grinding down harder. The risk of someone walking by only makes it hotter. He flips you over and pushes your knees up to hit a better angle. Each time he thrusts into the perfect spot you gasp. Eddie reaches between you, thumb circling your clit until you come hard, clenching around him, shaking and trembling. You watch his face, eyes shut, lips parted. He’s so handsome you want to do it all over again.
“I can’t do this anymore… you feel so good. I can’t get enough. Oh fuck, I’m gonna come…” he mutters.
His cock gets even harder and fuller before Eddie comes and collapses over you with words that surprise you.
“We need to tell him.”
“Now?” you pant, crushed by his weight, blissed out.
“Why not?”
He ties off the condom, and you share another deep, filthy kiss, then head into the arcade both flushed and glowing.
Inside, the bright lights and electronic noises feel distant after everything. Your soon-to-be-ex is playing air hockey with Jeff, but his eyes lock on you the second you walk in with Eddie’s hand on your lower back.
You don’t hide it.
Halfway to him, while everyone’s crowded around the skee-ball machines, you turn to Eddie, grab the front of his jacket, and press your lips to his. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against his—right there in front of the entire group. Eddie kisses you back like he’s starving for it, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other pulling your hips flush against his.
When you finally pull apart, your ex is staring, face red.
“What the hell is this?” he demands, voice cracking.
You look him dead in the eye, Eddie’s arm still wrapped around you.
“We’re together now,” you say clearly. “Eddie and I. It’s over between you and me.”
Eddie smirks, pressing another quick kiss to your temple. “Told you she deserves better, man.”
The entire group freezes. Across the air hockey table, Jeff leans over, his jaw practically hitting the floor. Over by the skee-ball machines, Gareth stops mid-throw, his hand dropping while keeping the ball cupped, looking between Eddie’s smug grin, your flushed face, and your ex’s red cheeks.
Gareth breaks the silence first, letting out a low, slow whistle. "Damn, Munson..." he mutters, a quick smirk cracking his face. Jeff just glances at your ex, wincing with a mix of secondhand embarrassment as he quietly takes a step back to give the drama room to breathe.
Someone in the crowd laughs nervously. Your ex looks like he wants to throw up on the nearest arcade machine, but finding no support from the guys, he curses under his breath and storms out instead.
Eddie laces his fingers through yours and squeezes. “Ready to go play, sweetheart?”
AN: Cheating is bad, but this is Eddie so no judgment.
Reader wakes up from a “wet dream” about Pope and she wakes him up by grinding on him and kisses him
you gonna finish? // andrew pope cody
(a/n: hope yall don't mind me posting a few a night. i just do writing sprints and wrote a bunch on my break at work today lol. this one was SO delicous to write. thank you anon!!! this is for my 200 to 2k writing spree, go request something if you haven't already :)
word count: 364
genre: smut (nothing too crazy), mdni!! 18+
The dream clung to you even as you blinked awake in the dark.
In your head, you could still feel Andrew's broad hands gripping your waist, still hear his raspy voice breathing against your ear. Your heart was pounding and your skin felt flushed.
He was right there beside you. Asleep on his back, one forearm slung lazy over his eyes, his chest rising and falling in sleep. You lay there for a second, trying to force the lingering pulse between your thighs to fade, trying to act like a normal person and just go back to sleep.
But looking at him now, the way his face looked in the moonlight, all caution was thrown to the wind.
You shifted closer, throwing one leg over his, testing the waters. He didn't stir, just let out a soft exhale. Boldened, you slid all the way over his thighs, straddling him in the dark. You lowered your weight, letting your hips settle heavily against his center.
When you began to roll your hips in a deliberate grind, the friction sent a shudder right through you and he let out a hum deep in his throat, his muscles instantly tensing under your touch.
"Mm." His arm slid off his eyes, his dark eyes blinking up at you. "You starting something you gonna finish?"
"Go back to sleep." you murmured, refusing to slow, grinding the pressure of your hips against his.
"Not happening now." His voice was rough and raspy. His large hand shot out, wrapping around your hip with a firm grip that pinned you closer, his thumb dragging hard across your bare skin. "What were you dreaming about?"
"Nothing." you breathed, a soft gasp escaping as you tilted your pelvis just right.
"Liar." He was fully awake now, his eyes tracking every slight movement of your body in the dark, his breath hitching as you shifted against him again. "You don't move like that over nothing."
Instead of answering, you leaned down and pressed your mouth to his. You felt his lips curve into a smile against yours before his hands gripped your waist again, shifting his weight, and rolling you both over into the mattress.
andrew cody who tells you to hold still while he brings his hands slowly up to your face. cupping your jaw with one hand, holding you in place, slowly swiping his thumb under your eye, catching a dark, fallen eyelash on his finger. he holds it up for you and tells you to make a wish. you try and bite back a smile at his adorableness, quirking your mouth to the side, not entirely sure what your wish should be. you ask what he would wish for but he simply shakes his head, his eyes moving with devotion over your face. i already have it.
No thoughts just alpha!ghost who has a fucked up taste in scents.
He doesn't care for the flowers, the sweets, the honey-warm notes in most potential partners. Whenever price huffs about some handsome little omega with a sweet scent, ghost nods along in feigned interest. He pretends to enjoy the typical scents because he knows the ridicule he'd face if he shared what really got him going.
Sour, sharp, so bitter they burn the back of his throat. Scents that reek of fear.
There's no excuse for it, really. He can't blame it on instincts, alphas want to protect their mates after all. Whatever is inside ghost that craves the hurt, the danger, the purely fucked-up is all him.
Maybe that's why he latches so tight when he meets you.
A soldier from a different unit, scent turned permanently bitter after too long in enemy possession. Prolonged trauma is known to warp pheromones, after all.
Most people have to grit their teeth and force themselves to talk to you. Your scent to off putting it sends their instincts scrambling. Trying to decipher what you mean when you are undeniably different from the standard.
You smell of terror. Of every bad thing that's happened to you, and for once someone isn't clawing at their skin to ignore it. For once someone, ghost, wants all of you.
It's like you were made for eachother, and neither of you are letting go.
