Lee Bodecker is the kind to laugh delirously at you when he's pounding into you. He can't help but be amused (and unbelievably aroused) by how loud he can make you moan and scream, how he can make you cream his cock so easily.
He'll have you folded in a mating press, using his entire body weight to slam down into you, force you to feel every delicious inch of his cock. You're moaning and crying for him so loudly, he's surprised the neighbors haven't called in a noise complaint. He really can't help himself, he huffs a throaty chuckle when you shake and cum around his cock yet again and make that pathetic little whimpering sound he loves. It's just so cute.
"To judge everyone, and to convict all the ungodly of all the ungodly acts they have done in an ungodly way, and of all the defiant words ungodly sinners have spoken against him."
seeing straight men be disgusted by booktok smut recommenders has actually radicalized me to the side of booktok smut recommenders. girls your taste may be atrocious but i will never disparage you for exposing mainstream discourse to the concept of soaking through your underwear. spent my whole life listening to men talk about penises itâs about time they get jumpscared by women talking about pussy in crude detail on social media. go forth and goon my warriors
I work at a bookstore and hearing one of my male coworkers call smutty romantasy "the downfall of society" because it's "literally just porn" radicalized me
Men have an entire industry. Entire industries dedicated to their sexualities. Let women have fantasy sex. there's not even a camera crew involved.
i thought my laptop was on its last leg because it was running at six billion degrees and using 100% disk space at all times and then i turned off shadows and some other windows effects and it was immediately cured. i just did the same to my roommate's computer and its performance issues were also immediately cured. okay. i guess.
so i guess if you have creaky freezy windows 10/11 try searching "advanced system settings", go to performance settings, and uncheck "show shadows under windows" and anything else you don't want. hope that helps someone else.
hey this is apparently helping a lot of people! adding that on top of this you can also go to settings > personalization > colors and turn off transparency to also boost performance. this wasn't the Big Fix for me but might as well do that too if you're trying to optimize.
Ok I know we joke about this but I just went to the settings and first clicked "adjust for best performance" and then re-checked only 1 box:
"Smooth edges of screen fonts"
My computer was running hot before I turned everything off; the office I'm in is very warm, I could feel the heat of my CPU through the keyboard. The fans were going, not as loud as they usually get, but they were still blasting.
Y'all.
I can barely feel the warmth through the keyboard now. It's been like 2 minutes. The fan is nearly silent.
Click the Windows key and start typing "System settings", and "View Advanced system settings" will pop up. Then click "Settings" under Performance:
Then you'll see this:
TURN IT ALL OFF.
I turned "Show window contents while dragging" and then turned that off again. It's up to you.
The second best thing you can do for a Win10 computer is turn off whatever unnecessary services it's decided it needs to run in the background always. Some services it does need, but others are useless. Here's an article that goes into step by steps.
10AppsManager lets you uninstall bloatware. Winaero Tweaker lets you disable crap like Cortana/Copilot, ads, telemetry, internet search results when you search from the taskbar, and all kinds of other stuff, plus it gives you lots of other little options that are just nice to have (like, it can restore the old MS Paint program in place of Paint 3D). Both are totally free.
Oh, and check your startup programs in the Task Manager tab to make sure your computer isn't automatically starting eight million programs every time it boots. But I think people mostly know about that. (Unless this is me going "they only know one or two feldspars... and quartz of course.")
The first best thing you can do for a Windows computer is install Linux Mint. But some of us do need a few pesky Windows-specific programs. Bleh. Still, if you're up for a project, you can have both (and it's awesome). Here's an article about setting up a dual boot Windows/Mint system.
Werewolf!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (NSFW) - Eddieâs POV
Synopsis: After recently getting changed into a werewolf, Eddie thought he was aware of all the side effects. Turns out, thereâs another that comes at him like a fucking semi without brakes. And the driver? Well, fuckâthatâs you.Â
Warnings: nsfw content; Eddieâs POV & very Eddie focused, Eddieâs in heat, lust drunk, werewolf-in-heat stuff, breeding kink lite (he doesnât fully realize that heâs in heat), eddieâs confused but trying his best, jealous!eddie, possessive!eddie (he repeatedly refers to the reader as his), marking, some biting, nipple stim, clit stim, fingering, rough & hard & animalistic sex, car/van sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, eddie cums (buckets) in the reader and cums multiple times, creampie, some overstimulation, soft!eddie peeks out here and thereÂ
Word Count: 5.8k
A/N: And what if we went with some werewolf!Eddie content on this here Valentineâs Day? Hope you like this nonsense piece :D Happy Valentineâs Day!! (Also Eddie drives a 1986 Chevrolet G20 in this fic.)
He tried. He tried so hard to keep himself together. He sat there in silence, leg bouncing beneath the table, eyes torn away from you every time he found them drawn right on back. He tried. Heâd never experienced it before then. After the bite, yeahâokay, things had been exceptionally different. But this? Jesus Christ. Heâd never experienced the clawing, painful draw before. It was like someone injected a liquid netting beneath his skin and braided it together with his literal being, and the second you rolled up to the restaurant, that netting was tightened.Â
Then you had to go and take your coat off, and that damn dress you wore?
Eddie put his hand on his knee to get it to stop bouncing. It didnât. He was on drink number three that wasnât doing shit to help. He was stuck there seated across from you, smelling that perfume you wore just a spritz of, and every time the vent above you kicked in and brought more to him, he was a moment closer to losing his mind. Didnât matter how many times he asked himself what the fuck is happening? It was happening.Â
And he was rock hard in his pants from the second he saw you, and it was a worsening rush every time you even glanced at him. Subconsciously, consciously, with a smile, or just a blink. Dealing with the bite had been hell alone, but this? He was deep in the circles, and there was no reach to get out.
Flushed with heat, a light sheen of sweat making his clothes sticky, he lasted as long as he could. He tried. He really, really fucking tried. And you were there with a new friend who was obviously interested in you. And you looked so nice in your dress. So fucking nice.Â
It was your lean over the table to snag one of his untouched fries with a playful smile. That did him in. His breathing was getting too quick and his cock was straining painfully in his jeans. Nope. Fuck it. He was out of the booth in the next second, grateful he took the outside spot, and then he was gone. Didn't matter if someone said his name. He dropped a twenty on the table and just booked it.Â
He thought he was going to change at first. The rush of endorphins, the shaking, the incoherent thoughts he couldn't capture, the rise in body temperature. He dropped his forehead against the cold metal of his van, trembling uncontrollably, feeling a drop of sweat follow the curve of his spine. Damn it. He ripped his coat off and tossed it over the hood. His keys jingled as he fumbled with them, trying to get the side door open to at least get some of his valuables tucked away before the change.Â
But it was like a threshold was reached. It was a pushed line that had him panting, aching, ready to scream and howl. But that agonizing, bone-splintering pain never came. The moon wasnât fullâthat shouldâve been his giveaway. But still, he scratched the paint getting the key in the lock, and he damn near broke it in half trying to get it out. The growls, the rush of strength he couldnât fight, he sincerely thought he was about to be in a whole different agony.Â
He threw his jacket into the back. Then pulled at his shirt. The white shirt wasn't coming off fast enough. He was ready to rip through the sweaty cotton as he burned. It was like that netting had risen in temperature, rushing through him with a voltage striking and hot. Molten, piercing through his nerves and making the blood rush south. It was soothing when he took deeper breaths.Â
Wait.
He dropped the stretch material, his bangs sticking to his forehead, and leaned against the side of his van. The passenger door was cool through the shirt. Cool and nice and deeper breaths brought more relief. Not full, but more. Filling his lungs, his fists began to relax. His shoulders fell. And he blinked heavy blinks down past his belt.
He was still hard. Painfully. The throbbing really kicked in as he looked at the bulge in his jeans. It didnât make any sense. Yeah, alright, after the change, he had better senses, and his body underwent some weird changes. After he jerked off the first time, it was like he tasted heaven. But the lead-up to it hadnât beenâŠthis. He hadnât been pushing against his belt and boxers like heâd been injected with something. And he damn well hadnât taken anything or had anything slipped into his drink or food. No fucking way.
One of the perks. He mightâve been a shithead, but he wouldâve noticed if anyone there had suddenly swapped personalities and tried to mess with him.
This wasn't that. Fuck no it wasn't. It was something else. The similar symptomsâyeah, he was certain it had to do with the bite scar on his shoulder. Everything always had to fucking do with that lately. And like when he changed, the deep breaths were helping, but beyond that, his head was starting to clear.
Alright. He took another deep breath. Okay. Fucking hell. Alright. Another deep breath. Then another. He fished a cigarette out of his front pocket and, with a slippery grasp, he lit it. Okay. He nodded to himself. Okay, fuck. JustâŠ.Â
Pull it together. He dropped his hand, blowing out the long exhale of smoke, and nodded to himself. His other hand went up and pushed his hair back, forehead slick with that sheen of sweat, and grossâhe felt gross. Hot and gross and sticky and hot. So hot. Burning hot.Â
He looked down at his lap again. His cock still straining. The rushing blood was making his head spin. For fuckâs sake. It wasnât going down. It wasnât stopping. It just kept throbbing. And aching. AndâŠandâŠ.
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.
It was like someone tased him. The fucking jolt to his senses was painful when he smelt your perfume. Couldnât see you. Couldnât hear the clacking of your heels yet. But he could smell you, and he put the cigarette out in the center of his palm on accident as his fist formed tight and unforgivingly. He didnât even feel the pain. The cigarette crumpled to the ground as he shuddered, growling into the night air, and both hands went back to steady him. One on the car just inside on his left and the other on the side of the opened door.Â
Fuck. Holy fuck.Â
His head fell forward and then back. That tasering sensation came through again and it was accentuated by the sound of your heels on the parking lot. Every quick step, and heâŠfucking hell. His pulse raced as he could fucking picture your mouth parting to shout his name. You didnât have toâhe was damn certain heâd hear you whisper it from across the lot. He sure as hell felt it like a molten touch on his stomach.Â
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He started to bend the damn inner material of the car. He couldnât do it. Holy hell. No, he couldnât. He tried to climb in so he could at least hide from you, but he couldnât move. His cock throbbed and his head spun. The air was a humid heat around him, and the sweat was back. Thick and coating him in a way that felt like it was beneath his skin.
He heaved a deep, desperate breath, and that only brought more of you.Â
So much of you.
Christ. Heâd neverâŠ. You were you.Â
And you were there, running up to the side of his car, breathing quickly and sputtering out his name in desperate concern. Fuck. He couldnât open his eyes. He couldnât look at you. He even tried to push himself away again as your feet brought you right up to him, and your hands were a wonderful, searing cold on his chest and his arm.Â
âHey, whatâs wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital?â you asked, the worry in your voice like a drug. Why the hell were you so worried about him? He took another deep breath, and right there, with you right fucking thereâŠ. He leaned in and dropped his arms as you pressed yourself against his side. You held him upright, plastering yourself to him in that skin-tight dress. The perfect red. The perfect cut. A little pearl necklace hung down and had given your friend how many excuses to look at your chest? âEddie, shit. Youâre burning up. Um. Crap. Crap. Get in, okay? We have to get you to the emergency room like now.â
He could feel your heartbeat in his own. Every hard thump making his head spin faster and faster. He felt every breath you took against him, your chest pressing harder and harder as you wrangled him into the back seat. Chest to chest, something gave in, and he fell. Slumping like a hypnotized man with his eyes fluttering open to look at you. Over him. Leaning into the car with both hands on his knees, chest still heaving.
He couldnât speak.
You said his name again, a heat in you he could sense deep in your chest even as you reached up. Even as you used such a gentle touch to cup his cheek. That worry in your eyes was intoxicating. He tore at the side of the seat as you blinked, waiting desperately for a response. Something that said he wasnât fucking lost somewhere else.
But he was.
He was trying really, really fucking hard not to lose himself to that last animalistic instinct.Â
"Okay," you nodded nervously. You buckled him in, and the press of the seatbelt was agony. He damn near ripped it off, but you were still there. You were taking his keys from their chain. Your eyes snagged on his lap, and there was no pretending you hadn't seen anything. Your breath hitched in the slightest lingering, and EddieâŠ. Hell.Â
He tensed every muscle in himself just to be able to fucking grunt out a few words.
âIâm fine,â he said, bringing a hand to yours to try and take his keys. His eyes clamped shut as he shook his head. âI justâŠitâs nothing. âKay?â
He didnât believe himself. Hard to when his hand wrapped around yours, and it felt like home. He couldnât even bring himself to snatch the keys away. Try. He sat forward, stopped by the seatbelt, and cursed with a growl.Â
He could sense every hair on you standing on edge.
âYou donât look fine, Eds,â you whispered.Â
Fuck no. Not once. Not fucking once. No. Not one fucking time had he ever heard you shorten his name, and his body felt like it'd been struck by lightning. Did he fucking enjoy the little connection that always flashed in your eyes every time you called him that? Yeah. But this was really, really fucking different. Jesus Christ. His shoulders slumped as he found your eyes. Your pretty, worried eyes.Â
Donât. Donât. Donât.Â
He had the sense to keep screaming that at himself.Â
"Your boyfriend's back there waiting on you,â he breathed. Seethed, really. His new impatience and adrenaline were mixing with something else he really wasnât interested in tapping into. âShouldnât fucking keep him.â
Your frown was something special. Seeing your mouth form it was torment. His hands twitched to move up closer to it, but he kept them where they were. Including still on your hand. Though, the second those words left him, your hand fell. Youâd won, too. His keys were in your hand.
âHeâs notâŠ.â You shoved his shoulder. Tried to shove him. But he didnât budge. You went still, breath hitching, eyeing him as he sat there, eyes glued to you in a fierce heat, checking over him again. âWhat the fuck did you take, Eddie?â
He cracked a smile. Donât. âNothing,â he answered.Â
Donât. The slight tension in your upper body brought his eyes over your throat and your shoulders, bare beneath that jacket cause of the damn tiny straps on the dress. His cock ached and pressed painfully against his zipper.
âBullshit,â you stepped back and flicked your eyes over him. âIâm taking you to the hospital, and when youâre sober, you can stop being an ass.â
Fuck, no. No.
He started to reach to stop you, but he was slowed in his current state. You got the door shut before he could stop you. And he couldâve opened it. He couldâve gotten out and left. But you wouldâve chased him down, and that wouldâve required more physical contact. He couldnât survive that. He knew damn well another touch from you would somehow make him explode.
But he hadnât thought too far ahead.
It hit him as you backed out of the spot and pulled onto the main road.
Overwhelmed being trapped in an enclosed space with you was one thing. There wasnât a breath he could take without you being on it. But you were trying to take him to the hospital. No. Fuck. Fuck.
âNo hospital,â he barked, leaning back in the seat and pressing his head back.
âAre you kidding me? Edââ
âNo, I need you to fucking listen to me.â He clamped his eyes shut. He was wheezing a little. The line was being pushed. It wasnât holding. Every breath, every look at youâevery look was at you. He couldnât look elsewhere. Everything was just you, and he was going mad. "You can't take me to a hospital. JustâŠpull over."
You laughed, and were it not so taken aback sounding, he might've lost himself in it gracefully. But it was grating. He wanted to pull his shirt off with how it rubbed against him wrong.
âIâm not pulling over. Are you kidding me? Youâre clearly on something, and youâre burning up. Iâm taking you to the doctor. Sorry that I donât want you to fucking die.â
The car rolled to a stop at a stop sign. The road was empty.Â
The line was pushed. The line was snapped. He didnât bother unbuckling the seatbelt. It tore clean through the yank he gave it, and you yelped even before he came up behind you. YouâŠ. There. You were there. Right there. In a blink, your cheek was against his. Warm and soft and intoxicating. He stalled, his hand reaching forward and pressing against yours.Â
JesusâŠ.
The lineâŠ.
He never knew hunger like he did right then. And he didnât even think he had it in him as he shoved the car into park and jerked the keys out of the ignition. You were still beside him for that moment. And when the car cut off, when he started to lean back and throw his door open, you were back to your reality.Â
Fresh air hit him for only a second. It was a blissful second before you were in front of him, hands on his shoulders as his feet hit the ground, and it was a standoff. A dangerous standoff that brought you face to face, and EddieâŠ. Donât. He tried. He really, really, really fucking tried. He thrashed about inside just before that last semblance of coherence faded into the obscurity of the hunger pummeling through him.
Every attempt to push him back into the van just made it worse. Every breath you pushed out with every shove. The soft grunts you made as you tried and tried and tried. The quiet whine that joined your fingers trying to claw the keys out of his hand. He hit the wall, and his control was a piece of chalk in his hand.
Your heels slipped on the rocky edge of the road, and you fell against him, both hands on his chest. Could you feel his heart? He could feel yours. And it was racing rapidly as you stood against him, chest to chest, breathing him in as he breathed in you.
âGo back to the fucking restaurant,â he breathed. The positionâŠ. Christ. It brought your cheek just in front of his mouth. He was agonizingly aware that you hadnât stepped away from him yet. âPlease. I didnât take anything. Iâll be fine, but only if you just go the fuck away.â
The soft slumping was torture. His cruelty wasnât intentional, but his desperation was driving him. You had both hands on his chest then, the touch softening in the worst way. And your breathingâŠshifted. Lost its rhythm. Wrong. It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. And you nodded once. Defeated. So damned defeated.
âFine,â you muttered. âFine.â
No. He couldnât. The hurt in your voice. The pain. You didnât even get to start your step back before his arm was around your waist. He wasnât going to let go. He knew it the fucking second he pulled you flat against him. It was right. It was stroking that hunger to a degree that was blinding. And he damn well actually considered thanking some godly being when he felt the immediate shift. Not anger. Not betrayal. Not disgust. Not fear. Any of those, and he wouldâve torn his own arm off if he had to. But no. No, no. As he fell head first into that deplorable hunger, there was the quickening of your heartbeat, the rising heat that made your breathing increase with a steady, shuddering rhythm. The drop of your eyes to his mouth as his opened to find yours. And your fingers wrinkled his shirt as you planted them on his chest.Â
âEds?â you whispered.
He tried. He really, really tried.
But his keys were a loud thud on the car floor.Â
He cupped the back of your head and brought his mouth to yours.Â
He really tried.
You met him. As little time as you had to react, you leaned in as much as you could. The world was gone. The taste of you, the plush feel of your lips, that soft, wanting sound that fell from you that made no fucking senseâthere was just animal instinct left. The night became alight and full shadows all at once. Nothing, nothing, nothing couldâve pulled him back from you except for you.
Melding against you, the kiss never having a moment to even be anything chaste, he burned. A lit fuse tearing through him, even he couldnât keep up. He couldnât get enough. He couldnât satiate anything when it just kept growing.
The press of your body to his, the feel of your waist in his hands, the soft sighs from your lips, the taste of you on his tongue, your ass in his hands as he squeezedâ He growled against your mouth. Your dress rode up as he kneaded your ass, wrinkling the material he knew was way too fucking expensive.Â
âEds,â you whimpered.Â
The soundâŠthe sweet, breathy sound.
Something snapped.
Something deep, something beastly. He slammed both hands out, gripping his van, shuddering out his next breath. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he breathed. Deep, hungry breaths. He itched beneath his skin in a way that felt like it could never be satiated.Â
âGet in,â he breathed, taking in the taste of you on his tongue, your skin soft and warm and you tasted so sweet. âOr go back.â
It was the only words he could choke out. They burned in the air at the edges like steel wool. Sparks erupted as your head fell back, your hands still on his shirt, pulling what was left in that elasticity. Your body curved to stay against his, but in your lean, he had to return to you. Had to hold you. Had to keep you upright as your knees buckled.
He couldnât help himself. His teeth were a sharp draw over your throat.Â
You shuddered in his arms.
âIn,â you sputtered. âIn, Eds.â
Like a collar had been removed, everything heightened. He pulled you in, eliciting a small yelp in the process, and slammed his door shut. In the shadows, everything became newly alight.Â
His growl was low and filled the space predatorily.Â
His restraint broke.
The sounds you made were heavenly. It was blinding need coursing through him. Youâyou were the centerpoint. The pinpoint. The light at the end of the tunnel and the very reason the tunnel was there in the first place. You, you, and so effortlessly and all-consuminglyâyou.Â
He felt it, and he felt you. How the world became color again. There was no immediate relief, no. But the escalation, the bared skin, the whines and the whimpers and the sounds that fell from both of youâŠ. His mind was blank in the expedited, intoxicating hunger. A puppet master and the puppet all in one.Â
He fell.
His fingers splayed wet on the back of your neck. Twice. He recalled that briefly. He felt you cum twice around his fingers after you shoved your underwear aside for him. Kneeling against the thick seat, face against the headrest, fingers clawing at the sides, he felt how wet you were for him. Before heâd even touched you. Your underwear soakedâa want he hadnât even realized he could fucking smell on you. And when it clicked, as he pressed two fingers into you and unzipped the back of your dress just enough to bare your chest, he was driven by you. Pumped his fingers rough and deep, finding that spot that had you near screaming, holding you by your shoulder as your whole body moved with him.
Twice. Thatâs all he could wait.
Then those wet fingers ran over your cunt as he unbuckled his belt. The relief, the immediate relief was wrong. He felt thick and huge, and the ache, the throbbingâit wasn't stopping. He needed to be inside of you. Needed to feel you. Needed to fill you. And his thoughts glazed over as you pushed your hips back, panting and whining as you brought yourself to his tip.
Jesus fucking Christ.
He pushed in.Â
There was no other place he was supposed to be. There was no other feeling in the world as fucking insane as that. Euphoricâfucking maddeningly euphoric. He pushed in, feeling your cunt flutter as you took him. He was a lotâmore than he shouldâve beenâbut there was no stopping to make sense of what he couldnât. You were gasping against the headrest, wrapping your arms around it in a needy embrace, whining his name like a fucking performance just for him.
And the next sound out of him was more beastly than when he turned on full moons.
Balls deep, feeling you shudder as something locked him in place, his moan was edged with a growl. Deep from his chest, it fell over the van, and youâŠhe felt you clench. And you clenched hard.
Like two puzzle pieces clicked togetherâit made sense. His head fell back, and a new sensation tightened in his balls. Made sense. He tightened his grip on your neck exponentially. Yes. He burned. He fucking burned like kerosene. Burned in his bones, in his soul, in the mark on his shoulder searing the ugly fangs into him. His balls hurt and he grabbed you by your hip, the dress tearing under his tightening grasp and sharpening nails.
You.
He pulled back until just his tip stayed in.
You. You. You.
He rutted forward and the whole van moved.Â
You.Â
You moaned hard against the seat, his name a stutter as his hips reared back and he rutted forward again. Again. Again. Again. Gaining speed, gaining strength, gaining a rough edge that had you sobbing as you began to clench around him. You.Â
You. You. You.Â
Damn itâyou.
The tunnel honed in harder on you. He could see you in the dark, even without the moonlight creeping in. How your back arched, how your dress tore beneath his hands and stretched from yours as you pulled it up more and more. How you managed to look back at him, tears in your eyes, teeth on your lip, thighs trembling as he fucked you harder, body jolting with every thrust as you began to shake. Your chest pressed against the seat, and he ached to feel them, to see them, to have them.
You. He had to have you. Had to. You were his.
Like that.
As he reached around and took you by the front of your throat, pulling you back until you were on your knees taking him, pressing your mouth to his jaw and sputtering his nameâŠ. His mouth watered as he looked down at you. The endless sounds you made, the bounce of your tits and your nipples in peaksâŠ. He brought your mouth to his as he closed his hand tighter, and his other went lower.
His. His. He snarled into the kiss like the beast he was, and he brushed his fingers over your clit without reprieve.Â
âMore,â he breathed into the kiss.Â
He knew you could cum again. Could feel it. Needed to feel it.Â
Like heâd given you a fucking command, the second his fingers found a steady rhythm, you were falling apart on his cock. Drenching it as he rutted so deep, he was hitting places in you he damn well knew nobody else ever had. The fucking guy youâd brought with you never would. No. A searing rage flickered in a glimpse. You screamed his name as he kept his fingers on your clit, and your cunt stayed clenched.Â
His. You were his. His. He nipped at your jaw. His. His. His.Â
You were Eddieâs. Just Eddieâs. Just like thatâyou were his.Â
His balls tightened. His cock twitched. You choked on a moan as you came again, writhing atop his cock as he gave you no reprieve from the last climax before that one. And the harsh fluttering, the sweet warmth of you, your scent, your taste, your everything. He pressed his hand against your lower belly where his cock was taking you as his, and he saw white. White-hot. Searing, unforgettable ecstasyâthe netting inside of him released just a little, and his eyes clamped shut.Â
You both fell forward as he came inside of you, not able to even attempt pulling out, and itâŠ. It feltâŠ. He kept his tight embrace, thrusting hard as you both grunted. It wasnât ending. It came, it peaked, and he spilled deep inside of you, but he couldnât stop. He kissed your shoulder as he scrambled, the clinking of his belt echoing in the van, and he kept going.Â
More.
Your whines grew. You clenched around him again.
âMore, fuck.â He held you close, thrusting just as hard as before. Continuing. Continuing. Continuing. The loud squelching of every thrust joined the symphony of your sounds. âFuck, you feel fucking perfect.â
Harder. Deeper. He couldnât leave you. He couldnât stop. Mind drowning as his body was dragged under. Your body moved with his, and he brought a hand to your chest. Rolling your nipple between his fingers, tweaking, tugging, feeling your dress stick to you as your bodies stayed togetherâŠ.
He couldnât think. Just felt. Just felt. Just felt you. You, you, you. Just felt you.Â
Hisâyou were his.
His. Only his.
He brought his mouth to your neck and found a tender spot. The perfect tender spot. The tender spot that made you flutter around him and whine. His. Heâd mark you. His. His. His. He kissed lower, dragging his teeth without breaking skin, then kissed the tender spot, drawing a hickey over it next. Then, on your shoulder. Then along it, toward the back.Â
His. His.Â
His balls tightened as you whined his name.
He dropped his hand and found your clit again. The white-hot feeling rushed him again. His. You. You were his. Only his. And his world erupted again. Again, he came. Hips pressed flat against your ass, he spilled inside of you, his entire body shaking, the sensation hot and euphoric. His eyes rolled back yet still. You both collapsed on the floor, Eddie barely catching the both of you, and he hugged you. Kept you embraced against him.
His balls still ached.
How? There was little coherence, but there was enough. He panted next to your ear as he hooked his arm under your leg, lifting it and locking it up. His body moved on desperation, on hunger. He couldn't pull out of you even if he'd tried. You. You. You full of him. He used his right arm as a pillow under your head and his left to keep your leg locked open. That hand found your clit, and all it took was his thrusts. He couldnât stop. Your bodies jerked as he fucked you faster, the lingering sensation lingering. His balls throbbed and tightenedâit wasnât stopping. It wasnât. He couldnât stop.
He needed you. Needed to cum in you. Needed to cum in you until there was nothing left to give you. You. Just you. Only you.Â
"Little more," he croaked out by your ear. "Please. Fuck. Just a little more. Fuck.â
He could feel his cheeks flushing. Sweat trickled down his temple. He rubbed your clit as you arched into him, nodding frantically. Like you felt it, too. Fuck. Could you? He couldnât tell. He couldnât do anything except look down at you like you were sculpted by the gods. Couldnât do anything but thrust into you and feel you, want you, need you. A hunger growing as he watched you take it. Deep thrusts jerking the car. You. Your head back against him as you began to shake again.Â
You took him so well. You came so hard. And you still wanted. His body cinched in ecstasy as he saw the mess between your thighs, at the wasteâwaste. His body jolted and he rutted deep and stayed deep, switching to frantic thrusts, rubbing your clit a little faster and feeling you shudder as you screamed for him.
He came again.
And then again.
And then one last time.
On the floor of his van, the two of you intertwined, his cum leaking out of you. Panting. You limp and shaking. Sweaty. He kissed your shoulder as the slightest bit of coherence came to. As he looked down at you in your ruined dress, resting softly, eyes cracking to look up at him sleepily yet softly.Â
His.
He reached over you and cupped your jaw. Still inside of you, bodies sticky and sweaty, he brought your mouth to his. The kiss was slow and deep. He couldnât even joke about the line crossed for heâd obliterated it. It was dust lost on the floor where your bodies came together. Cause there was no going backâno. Not even if you both could pretend this hadnât happened. Fuck no. No. As you smiled into the kiss, as you murmured his name on that soft, strained, sweet voice of yours, you were his. Like someone had tattooed you in his damn self.
His.
He deepened the kiss, the taste of you so damn addicting.Â
But you put a hand on his cheek and pushed him back just a little, and he reeled back the rest of the way. He waited, his heart lurching in sudden fear. Pain. Worry.Â
âDid I hurt you?â he asked abruptly, cutting you off before you even parted your pretty mouth to speak. His voice was rough and raw. Just as yours was, and you were the one whoâd been screaming the entire time to the point where he had to cover your mouth.Â
âNo,â you said with a crooked smile. âI mean, Iâm not going to be able to sit down for like a week, but, EdsâŠ.â You leaned back. His heart stilled. Your fingers ran over the edge of that damn scar, barely visible where his stretched shirt collar fell to the side. âI need you to tell me whatâs going on with you. Cause thisâŠ? We justâŠ.â
He watched your throat bob. Your smile turned wry.
His. His body began to burn with that deep voltage again. That caged netting. His balls tightened and ached. Nothing was making sense, and you seemed to know that. But when he smelled you, when he felt you, when you just looked at him, he was driven mad.
âItâs a long fucking story,â he breathed.
And you nodded once.
âItâs a long drive back to my apartment.â
His.
His hands itched, and he just slowly nodded. Yeah. He felt you flutter around him as his hips moved on their own, thrusting gently and shallowly into you. Another mess made as your eyes fluttered shut, and he held you close, keeping with those shallow thrusts even if his body screamed to fuck you as hard as he had before.
His.Â
He kissed your temple, shuddering as his climax rushed him quickly that time.Â
It turned into a deep groan as he spilled inside of you. Again.
You wereâŠhis.Â
He kissed your temple as his hips came to a standstill, and you sighed happily.
GuessâŠguess he had to tell you.Â
ââKay butâŠâ he murmured, flicking his tongue against the shell of your ear.Â
You shuddered again and whined. He started to thrust into you again, just as slowly, just as gently.Â
âI need to. One more time. FuckingâŠ. Please.â He nuzzled the side of your head. âItâs killing me. Fuck. I donât even know why, but youâre fucking maddening. I justâŠone more.â
You were already nodding. Jesus Christ. You were nodding gently and with a smile.Â
His.
He hugged you close and didnât let go.
Fucking hell. Whatever was happening to him made no sense, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't fight it. He tried so hard to keep the line from breaking, and now he was in balls deep. And you were fucking his.Â
He justâŠhad to find the right way to explain that to you.
He peered down and watched his cock rut into you.Â
After.
He bit down on your shoulder as his body tensed and pleasure pummeled through his veins.Â
You were his.Â
He came again, cock deep and body finally relaxing.
Good.
All felt right. You felt right. All felt fucking perfect.
You stayed like that as the minutes ticked by. Together. Perfect. So fucking perfect. And he finally fucking knew relief.Â
Now he just had to hope you understood the nonsense he was about to tell you and that the sensation never fucking came back. If it did, and he had to be around you again like nothing had happenedâŠ.
Another layer of hell would be welcoming him in.
But itâŠit wasnât going to happen again. Yeah. He was fine. It was a total fluke.Â
He smiled as you both relaxed, breathing easily and just staying tangled together.
Yeah.
He basked in you as the ache began to fade into a soft, tingling warmth.
