john is having big problems and they have nothing to do with the loads of paperwork he's got right before the holidays, which he wholeheartedly plans to spend with his loving wife back home.
he's having problems with you. he's getting possessive over you and its tearing him apart because you're his only sergeant he has no control over. he has, at more occasions than one, accidentally run into the spares closet with you riding the shit out of kyle, he's heard his lieutenant talk about how good you look making work of his mouth on you, he's passed by soap's bunker hearing him and kyle going at each other and moaning your name. hell, he once walked into his office to see you on his couch with soap's and gaz's faces buried on either side of your neck, whimpering as you tugged at their cocks, while simon was on his knees fumbling with his zipper, and looking at you like you were his salvation. and the look you gave to john when he saw? that knowing smirk, brows knitted in pleasure and a gaze so lustful it should be an eighth sin.
you, who's got everyone wrapped around your pinky, is who he's getting possessive over. yes, he's had his own share of you, in all of the privacy he could afford where he could pretend you were all his. and aren't you the perfect performer, saying just the right words with honey lacing your voice, like you could read his mind
"they're not like you, love- hah, y'know me so well... ooh don't stop- yer exactly what i need"
he could ruin you so easily, just like you've ruined him, made him the imperfect man he now is. he could choose right fucking now to report you, have you gone from his view forever, you'll never have his men ever again, just you and your tarnished reputation.
but he'd lose you forever, too
and as much as he'd like to pretend you're nothing more than a vice to him, he's pulled back to your allure, your knowing eyes, your smooth words, the charm in your mere demeanor.
he needs to get out of base and forget about you. now. tomorrow. quickly. he'll go back to his chubby wife back home, bury himself in her softness and obedience, forget all about you and when he comes back, you won't be anything more than a mistake to him.
after the nightmare that was the post-op reporting, he's finally going back home, texting his wife all the more sweetly as if he finally realised what a gem she was all along. but he's greeted with a house that's already decorated for christmas. his missus wasn't particularly that eager for the holidays, not usually at least. maybe the little brother-in-law came by. how does it matter.
except it does, because when john comes to his and the wife's shared bedroom after helping himself with a serving of bourbon, he realises he didn't pour enough of it.
there you were, with his wife folded in half under you, in his bedroom, in his house.
and she's yet to notice him because she's moaning like she never does with him. and it isn't long before he looks down in horror, at the aching tent in his pants and the images of worshipping you fucking his wife flash before his eyes like he's dying.
he's truly, utterly fucked.
a/n: this is probably my best one yet. based on an idea i had long ago and only today realised the potential in it
Sorry for the long awaited update on the Bat hybrid!ghost fic!! I’ve had suck a busy week with work 😭… anyways here’s part 1!
I think the way the 141 would find out that ghost is a bat is through check ups at the on base clinic! Now of course our reader is going to be the lovely nurse who finds this out because A) she’s also a hybrid but B) she’s a vampire bat hybrid!!
So of course when the 141 is getting there blood drawn and what not, and it’s Simon’s turn to go you go “what’s your favorite fruit?” And it leaves Simon amused but put off guard. He leans is and goes “papayas” you giggle because that’s such an odd fruit to like. Then he goes “what’s your favorite blood type” and it leaves you more embarrassed then off guard “type B” you say smirking because that’s exactly the type of blood Simon has mixed with his bat blood of course.
Of course one of the boys has to ruin this cute but kinda creepy moment between the two of you because they don’t have all day to get blood drawn. Before they go you tell them you have to give them all rabies shots and Johnny goes “aye, there’s no bloody bats in here” which causes you to bust out laughing and look to Simon. They all at first look at you not understanding until price says loudly “are you saying we have a hybrid on our team?” (Now of course in this universe hybrids are pretty common it’s just that 141 doesn’t have one yet) and so you break the news to them. It’s not like there angry or anything there just confused on why Simon wouldn’t tell them this information up front. As they leave the clinic to go back to there barracks Simon breaks the tension awkwardly (And horribly) by saying “she drinks blood” referring to you. This causes Johnny to now never want to get his blood drawn again because “if she is dranking’ ma blood, what’ls are people doing to me without ma knowledge”
Well that was an awesome visit to the clinic and now your hungry for some fellow hybrid blood 😉🩸🦇
I beg… Trager x reader….. and reader is just as insane (or even a little bit more insane) as him
Like reader is overly energetic/hyper and chaotic- (think of Creepy Pasta Pinkie Pie from MLP idk HELP)
This might be a bit random but I wonder how things would go down during Miles enters Richard’s floor
TAKE YOUR TIME WITH THISS
-🐦🔥
Ooh I love this idea tho- I get where you're coming from!!!
Richard Trager x ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT INSANE READER
Romantic or platonic-GN reader♥️👍
Takes place during the events of outlast 1
Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, Trager being himself
"HEY- Help me hold this guy down won't you?" Trager motioned to you, overexcited as you slammed your hands down on the man's throat. To be honest? You scared him more than a bit. You were crazier than he was! He didn't think that was possible. "Thanks...Buddy." he said in a slow unsure tone. Suddenly, he stood at attention. "Hold on a minute..." A smile crossed his face, so...you smiled too. A wicked, twisting smile that is carved into your flesh every time something happens that even slightly amuses you. Suddenly he shoved past you, walking down the halls.
"I hear a bit of...commotion~"
He continued to walk at a brisk pace, you skipping behind him joyfully considering the circumstances. A dumbwaiter. Nothing special, although the noise seemed to be coming from below it. "Hey! You're not one of them, are you? Quick, get in the dumbwaiter if you wanna live!" You both watched happily as someone - Miles, as we know him - make their way up.
"you made the right choice here Buddy."
Within mere seconds, you were on the floor, laughing in pure amusement at the terror in the man's face as he was strapped to the wheelchair. You could hardly get up. "Now, what did we talk about with acting professional? Can't have you around if you can't even stay off the floor for two seconds." Trager chided you. He tended not to, out of pure fear. See, anything else in this asylum was a mere setback. But you? Oh he could tear you to bits and you'd smile, laugh, and stab him to death with bits of your own ribcage.
You were a different kind of psychotic.
Richard continued his whole speech about dumb medical stuff while you poked and prodded at the man the whole time, laughing on the floor once again at the taunting "go, run free~" joke he'd made. Finally, you'd made it back to his little room, his little paradise. You don't remember when it happened, or how, but before he even got a chance to do anything, you were on the man and ripped two of his fingers off.
His cries were music to you. A beautiful symphony of pain and anguish, the exact thing you hoped to achieve someday. Because as you stood there, two fingers half inside your mouth, blood cascading down your chin, you didn't feel remorse, or fear from how fast it happened. You felt so damn happy. And that was it.
Tw: uncle/niece incest, daddy kink (no word), praise kink, spanking(kinda), spit, oral, cum eating, thigh riding, age gap, no plot all smut lol
Notes: Reader is feral this chapter lol
Toast and Eggs
He didn’t let you touch him.
That’s the first thought that conjures in your sleep dazed mind as you nuzzle into the pillow inhaling a lungful of his scent, the realisation that you are in his bed, empty, but still his, naked at that settling deep and warm inside of your belly, fragments of the night before sliping behind your eyes like a daydream—a gruff go to sleep swee’heart, palm big and rough on your back, your cheek rested on his cushiony pec, the same musky smell albeit stronger slowly lulling you into dreamless sleep, spent and sated, after—
Well, after he ate your cunt like a bear just out of hibernation stumbling upon a ripe peach—you slip your hand and between your legs, touching the soft slick folds, the lingering soreness, a remnant of the almost too-much scrape of his teeth, his beard rubbing against your soft flesh.
God, he was just a little mean about it, wasn’t he, like his restraint, these boundaries he’s held tight like a fistful of sand slowly inevitably slipped away a steady stream of sand, one touch at a time, until there was none left—and momentarily he let himself have you like the way he way he wanted—holding you down , fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, lapping your over simulated cunt, making you fucking take it when you weakly tried to push his head away.
But it only lasted a moment, he gathered up the fragments of resolve, fist closed tight—pinning your wrist to his chest when you languidly snaked your hand down to palm is clothed bulge,cock straining against zipper, jaw tense because you both knew their was nothing either of you wanted more.
you feel the cool linen sheets beneath your bare skin on his side of the bed, doubt curdling beneath your ribs as you slip on his t-shirt to go the living room—you wonder if he’ll refuse to acknowledge the night before like he always does, something you let him do, perhaps to maintain the abysmal sanity of your relationship where for a brief moment try to do the right thing, the futile thing, to remind yourself who you are to each other.
It’s absurd really, to not talk about it, to not even acknowledge it, to let the sickness simmer beneath the surface, molten lava—to let him pretend to be a surrogate father figure who prepares eggs and toast for you or builds your dismantled vanity or picks you up from a night-out, until the need gets to much bubbling out of the crevices, the same need that makes him pull you onto his lap to rut him, the same need which makes him eat your cunt raw.
But he never lets you touch him, never, you wonder if thats how he justifies all of it to himself, that if he doesn’t derive pleasure from it physically it makes it all a little less wrong.
You wonder how long can you let him pretend.
The door beeps six time before clicking open, footsteps heavy, thudding against the wooden floor—he looks bigger, thin navy cotton shirt drenched in sweat clinging to his pectorals, straining around his biceps, all pumped with blood, the hair on his forearms flattend on the tacky skin.
“You’re up early” he declares upon finding you on the couch, feet tucked beneath your thighs as you watch him drenched in the blue dawn light.
“Sleep alright”
He questions not really waiting for an answer, before lugging to the kitchen sink. You watch his broad back tensing, the curve of his bicep, thick tendons on his forearms, hand braced on the sink, the faint sound of running water in background, as he chugs a glass of water with audible gulps, finishing with a ahhh, before filling the glass up again and sipping it slowly this time.
It’s some intangible need to be close go him, to feel reassured one touch, one sweetheart, baby, love at a time, which drives you up from the couch to closing the distance—
You walk up to the kitchen sink, bare feet pattering on the wooden floor until you are right behind him.
“Mm sweaty” you mumble, cheek pressed against his sweat damp back arms wrapped around his middle. You flatten your palms on his stomach, hard muscles covered by a little fat, feeling him tense and un-tense beneath you, snaking your fingertips down you find the hem of his shirt, lifting it up just a little to feel the thick line of wiry hair trailing down his abdomen, flattened on his sweat tacky skin—
You inhale softly, letting his heady, musky, smell fill your lungs—he’s eerily still, breathing shallowly, letting you touch him in these with self conscious featherlight fingers, as if he is assessing your new found brazenness, seeing how far you will go, though he finally decides he has had enough one bearish palm swallowing both of your hands in a bruising grip when you skim the waistband of his sweatpants.
“goin’ to shower, then we’ll have breakfast hmm” he mutters, letting go of your hands as they fall to your sides, you stumble back a little as he twists away , the pang rejection gutting you even though you were expecting this.
But—you are not ready to give up just yet, swallowing your pride, you nimbly slink in front of him, wrapping you arms around his middle, you look up at him, saccharine sweet—
“Can I come” you nuzzle into his chest, rubbing your cheek against him like an affectionate kitten “I’m all sweaty now too”
He huffs a eye crinkling laugh from deep within his belly, absolutely bemused by your dopey attempts to seduce him, he looks down at you, eyes soft as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear—
“Sure you can”
“Really” you mutter pensively, hope, doubt crawling up your insides.
“Sure, you can shower after I am done” he says with a crooked smirk, tucking his chin to his chest as he looks down at you, brushing the soft skin under your eyes with his thumb.
You knit you brows, petulant, indignation burning under the surface, how dare he revel in your neediness, as if you are the only one, as if he didn’t eat your cunt until his beard was soaked in your spend.
It’s enough— you turn your head and bite his bicep hard, feeling the thick muscle tense under your teeth as you sink in—
He barely flinches, just huffs a breath before you let go, salt on your tongue and a print of your teeth mapped on his bicep, like some sort brand—you look up at him giving him the same syrupy smile before turning away.
He is onto in a second, his hand swallows your arm pulling you towards him, an arm wraps around the back of your thigh in an iron tight grip hoisting you up his shoulder like a weightless rag doll—
You giggle breathlessly, the sudden manhandling rendering you thoughtless—
“You mouthy little brat” he rumbles, followed by a sharp crack of his hand on your asscheek—
The stinging pain going straight to your cunt.
“Do I need to take you over my knee, teach you some fuckin’ manners” another hard smack, burning your skin, making you squeal—this one actually hurt—his palm hard and rough, caresses the cheek the he just smacked, before smacking it again hard.
Blood rushes to your head as you watch his feet move, the hardwood floor turning mahogany as he walks into his bedroom. Holy shit this is actually happening—
The bathroom tiles are jarringly cold under your feet as you land with a thud, feeling the blood rush down from your head as the reality of the situation slowly sets in, you look up at John, his eyes dark in the way you are familiar with, black enclosed in a thin ring of cerulean.
He caresses your cheek, once, before turning away, leisurely stripping his clothes off— t-shirt, briefs and sweatpants in one go—
You are dumbstruck, watching him casually step into the shower, and god he is huge all over, his broad muscled hirsute back, the curve of his well formed backside from decades of working out, his thick thighs dusted with dark hair— he didn’t coax you to follow him but left the glass door of the shower inclosure open.
An invitation, a choice— you are frozen, feet sticky on the bathroom floor, the rhythmic patter of the shower barely breaking through the fog of your brain, heart rabbit quick rattling your ribs, you feel like you are on the peak of a rollercoaster waiting for it drop.
You slowly strip out his shirt, stepping close to the shower lingering for a moment before stepping in—
The proximity is dizzy, you are eye level with his thick blood pumped pectorals, sudsy thick dark hair matted to his skin, his arm wraps around your waist pulling you under the cascading warm water closer to him the suddenness making you gasp—
You look up at him, his eyes fuzzy, predacious taking in your bare wet form, equally as taken—he cups your neck, thumb coasting featherlight against your pulse point, feeling the hot blood, his blood, pump under your skin. Your eyes snake down his body, his chest, sternum, the thick hair trail of hair in his abdomen which leads to even a thicker patch on his pelvis—
God—it’s fucking huge, thick, veins bulging, thin velvety skin pulled taut around the hardness, angry red head, his balls big, full, your mouth waters,—you knew he would be big, you have felt him before under his clothes, but the reality if it makes you want to run away, makes you want to get on your knees and worship him.
Actually that’s exactly what you are going to do, now that you have him in front, who knows when he’ll change his mind— you slowly sink to your knees, hands wrapped around his wrist to steady yourself knees almost touching the slippery tiles—
A bruising grip swallows your bicep back hoisting up, turning you around so your back flush his torso.
“Uff let go” you whine, squirming trying to turn back around, elbowing his torso so he lets go of you—
“Enough.” He orders holding you flush to him, you still immediately.
His hands lathered in soap swallow the curve of your waist, slowly caressing upwards cupping your breasts, feeling your pebbled nipples beneath his palms lingering for merely a moment before moving under your arms, the small of your back, back up your shoulder blades, the nape of your neck, down your arms—
The steam, his hands rough on you slippery soft skin, the closeness, his cock throbbing against your lower back renders you empty headed, a boneless doll, malleable beneath his palms.
He hooks his chin over your shoulder, the bristles of his beard prodding your supple skin, palm flush against your belly, slowly moving down between your thighs, cupping your sex.
“ ‘ave clean your little pussy up, hmm baby, needy little thing” he mutters, before his finger slips between the seam, rubbing the soft silky folds, pressing your pebbled clit with the pad of his fingertip.
You mewl softly, melting against his chest, the pressure light enough to not tip you over the edge, but enough to get you dangerously close, his finger slips down circling your entrance, before moving back up to jiggle your clit—
“What, No—“ you gasp, indignant, feeling the loss of his hand, the warmth of his body behind you—
He wordlessly turns the shower off, slipping out to dry himself.
You follow him wobbly kneed, dripping wet, the sudden loss of warm water sending a shiver down your spine, skin prickling with goosebumps.
“C’mere” he gestures holding his hand out, he pulls you into him, wringing water out of your hair before wrapping a fresh towel over your shoulders, hoisting you up, arms wrapped around your middle, so your toes scrape the floor below.
You giggle when he drops you on the bed, not particular roughly, but not gentle either, legs spreading in the anticipatory sort of way, pussy on display, as you look up at him, towering on the edge of the bed.
“Fuck” he whispers more to himself, taking in your bare form, his eager little girl, waiting for him so prettily with spread legs and a wet cunt, lips puckering in the cute little way he is heartbreakingly familiar with.
His tongue is hot and flat against your cunt, nose pressed against your clit as you grind into his face, fingers knotting into his hair. It’s gentler this time, a little less animalistic, just his hot mouth, the pulling sucks of his lips, the roughness of his beard against your soft skin, your little hip rolls as you rut into his face, getting more and more eager, less synchronised until you come on his tongue with a gasp, his name on your tongue.
He gives your clit one last rough suck before climbing on you, his lips clashing against yours, dizzying, ravenous, your taste on his tongue, catching your bottom lip before licking into your mouth—
“Pl- please please“ you gasp into his mouth, “your turn now please”.
John exhales, almost defeated, straightening up, his eyes dark, wild, taking in you in beneath him, his resolve shattering each second he looks at you.
He sits back against the headboard legs outstretched.
“C’mere” , he gestures patting his thigh coaxing you to climb on.
You eagerly crawl to him, sitting pretty perched on his thick thigh, hot wet pussy pressed against the dark wiry hair, his quad muscles tensing under you.
He kisses you once softly, looking at you through heavy lidded, hungry, eyes before grabbing your wrist, bringing your hand palm side up, under your chin—
“spit” he orders.
You purse your lips, tongue swilling around your little mouth before spitting a clear viscous blob onto your palm, his fingers wrapped around your wrist holding it still.
“Good girl” he exhales, before bringing your hand down to his crotch, holding his cock up with his other hand so you can wrap your palm around it.
It’s hot, his cock velvety, hard, under your palm, so thick that your fingertips barely touch around, thick veins and ridges sliding under your fingertips, as your hand slides up and down his cock, committing every ridge every vein to memory, your eyes singularly focused on how brutish his cock looks in your little palm.
The muscles of his quad tense under your cunt making you squirm and leak onto his bare thigh chase the friction from the wiry hair, hips involuntary grinding against his thick hard muscles
“Spit some more on my cock love hmm get it nice and wet ” he rumbles, voice low, reverberating through his body straight to your cunt —
You dutifully duck your head down, spitting a clear pearlescent line dripping down his cock, using your hand to rub it all over, his thick shaft, mushroom head already leaking a drop of precum, getting it nice and wet for him.
“Fuck sweetheart, my pretty girl” he groans.
He wraps his palm over yours, tight, thick paw swallowing yours, his fingers wrapped around yours in a constricting grip, creating a small opening, sliding up his shaft twisting around his fat head back down his shaft, again and again and again….
The slick wet sounds of skin on skin , his cock hot, and thick under your palm, his palm over yours, a guiding hand,his bearish groans, the way he is using you to get off, makes the want drip out of your pores, makes you grind your little cunt on his thigh chasing every ounce of friction you can get—
“Yes baby, put on a nice show — you come too, my needy girl ” he rasps coaxing you on—and he doesn’t need to ask twice, it’s not like you haven’t come on his thigh, his lap, his clothed bulge like a dozen times before—
You do as told, moving your hips in these languid little hip rolls, grinding your hot wet cunt hard against him, using every little twitch of his quad muscles to get you closer—
He is close, his thigh tensing under your cunt, groaning as he uses your palm to jerk himself off, precum leaking down his shaft lubricating it more—eyes dark, fixed on you rutting his thigh, you move your hips in languid little hip rolls , rubbing your cunt back and forth on his thigh, putting on a good show, just for him.
It’s too much, the closeness, his impossibly thick cock in your palm, he tenses his quad hard spilling you over another trembling orgasm, gushing a over his thigh—
Your vision goes white, it takes you a few seconds to reorient, to get over the trembling after shocks—
“Fuck baby, such a good girl” he groans, deep and rumbly, from somewhere deep in his chest, spilling his spend as he pumps his cock in your the little crevice, his grip clamping tight around your hand —
John’s grip eases around your hand, both covered in his spend. He’s huffing, chest rising and falling, jaw lax, ruddy cheeked, eyes just as dark as before—
“I am going to clean you up” you whisper, so softly that it he barely registers it.
You lift up his hand with both of yours, fingers coated in his spend—leisurely you pop his index finger in your mouth sucking his lingering cum of it, letting the salty, briny spend melt on you tongue—
He looks at you wounded, like you broke him, turning to stone as he watches you gently suck every little drop of his spend off his hand, his knuckles, the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb, before popping his thumb in you mouth and sucking it clean.
You let go of his hand, licking his spend off your own hand off as meticulous as you did his, before giving him a coy little smile.
“Yummy”
He laughs, deep from his belly, half disbelief half amusement.
If you’re not busy, I have a request! This is based off a movie scene somewhere I think??? Anyways. Basically, reader is being annoying and says out loud “I’m bored.” John is like: “Bucky please shut her up,” and Bucky is at first like???? How dare you??? But eventually he’s fed up with it too and tries to convince reader to be quiet, but she ain’t having it ands like “no both of you stfu” and then buckys like “cmon doll ill have sex with you” and reader’s like “okay” and then you write a beautiful smut scene where reader is completely blissed out cuz you’re awesome n then an hour later Bucky returns reader to the couch and she’s passed tf out and he’s like “there i fixed it” and john is like “THAT IS FUCKING DISGUSTING.” oh and reader n Bucky are married!!! I totally get if you don’t have time/don’t want to write this, you write whatever you want to write. Have a great day!!
I love everything about this.
Warnings: explicit sexual content (oral f. receiving, soft dominance, dirty talk), language, crack humor, post-sex bliss
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“I’m so bored,” you whine for the third time, rolling your head dramatically onto Bucky’s thigh.
He keeps reading—barely. “Uh huh.”
“I might perish.”
“Tragic.”
John sighs loudly from across the room. “Bucky. Please. Do something. Shut her up.”
Bucky looks up, insulted. “Excuse me?”
“She’s been flopping around like a dying fish for twenty minutes,” John mutters, rubbing his temples. “You’re married. Handle it.”
You scoff. “Wow.”
Bucky raises a brow. “She’s not a problem, jackass. She’s just—”
“Just what?” you ask sweetly. “Craving your attention?”
“You have it.”
“Not the kind I want.”
John groans. “Kill me.”
Bucky sighs, tossing his folder aside. He leans down over you, eyes darkening as his fingers trail up your thigh.
“If you wanted attention that bad, baby, all you had to do was ask,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “I’d have bent you over this couch and fucked the brat right outta you.”
John nearly chokes on his energy drink. “OH MY GOD.”
Your grin is wicked. “Okay then. What’s stopping you?”
Bucky’s eyes flick to John. “Him.”
“Don’t mind me,” John mutters, covering his face. “I’ll just be traumatized in silence.”
The second the bedroom door clicks shut, Bucky has you pinned to it.
"You want attention?" he growls, dragging his mouth along your jaw. "Now you're gonna get it."
His hand snakes between your thighs, rubbing slow, lazy circles through your panties until you're gasping into his mouth. He drops to his knees like he’s been waiting all damn day and yanks them down with one hand, the other spreading your thighs open.
"Don’t move," he orders, licking up the length of your pussy like it’s dessert. “Gonna keep you right here ‘til you forget what the word bored even means.”
You moan his name, legs trembling as his tongue flicks and curls, building you up mercilessly slow. He grips your ass, pulling you forward to grind against his face, and you cry out, lost in it.
He doesn’t stop until you’re cumming so hard you forget your own damn name.
Then he’s lifting you, throwing you onto the bed like you weigh nothing.
"Hands up," he commands, and you obey without thinking, writhing as he kisses a path up your body and lines himself up.
“You’re such a fucking menace,” he mutters as he thrusts in deep, "but you’re mine."
Your back arches. He sets a rhythm that’s deep and thorough, fucking you slow but hard enough to make your breath catch every time he bottoms out.
“You wanted attention?” he pants against your throat. “Take it. Take every fucking inch.”
And you do—eyes rolling back, legs shaking, nails digging into his shoulders as he wrecks you just the way you wanted.
An hour later, he emerges from the hallway, shirtless, hair tousled, carrying your blissed-out, completely limp body like a baby koala.
He lays you gently on the couch, wraps you in a throw blanket, kisses your forehead, then turns to John.
“There,” he says simply. “I fixed it.”
John stares at your boneless form, one of your legs twitching in sleep.
“That is fucking disgusting,” John says flatly.
Bucky shrugs, grabbing his folder again. “Still worked.”
“I need bleach for my brain.”
“You’re welcome.”
And from the couch, you mumble one last sleepy sigh of victory: “Not bored anymore.”
This story takes place in a post-Season 4 Fix-It AU where everyone survived and the Upside Down is no longer an active threat. Eddie is alive, Corroded Coffin is still playing local gigs, Robin and Steve work at Family Video, and the biggest dangers now are bad hair days and questionable life choices.
WARNING - drug use, cheating (reader emotionally moved on before breakup, but overlap is present), Eddie is a SIMP, language, sexual tension (kissing, straddling, suggestive dialogue, Eddie being completely whipped), humor (chaotic, sometimes inappropriate jokes), mild alcohol reference (party scene), shenanigans in questionable locations, light angst
When Eddie Munson falls headfirst for you - the gorgeous girl who used to date a walking polo shirt named Scotty - he can’t keep it to himself. Not when you’re sneaking into his shows, kissing him breathless in his van, and making him feel like the luckiest guy alive. He’s gotta tell someone.
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Family Video had hit that point where it felt like time itself had slowed down. The neon sign flickered lazily, almost as if it was just as bored as Robin and Steve behind the counter. Steve was stacking VHS tapes into what could only be described as a “tower of chaos,” a growing monument to his own frustration, while Robin, equally disinterested, doodled faces on the “Be Kind Rewind” signs.
Then the door slammed open with the kind of force that sent a jolt of panic through both of them.
And there he was: Eddie Munson.
He looked like he’d just escaped from some kind of wild chase. His wild curls bounced with every step as he strode into the shop like a hurricane, wearing that mischievous grin that could make anyone second-guess their life choices.
Robin froze, marker mid-air.
Steve almost knocked over his stupid tower of tapes.
Eddie slammed both hands down onto the counter, practically vibrating with pent-up excitement. “I can’t keep it to myself anymore!” he shouted, wide-eyed. “I’m gonna combust. Right here. Boom. Guts everywhere. You two are gonna have to explain it to the cops.”
Robin blinked, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Is this about the fireworks in the mailbox again?”
“That was one time,” Eddie shot back, waving his hand dismissively, clearly unbothered by his past antics. “No, this is bigger. Biblical. You might wanna sit down.”
Steve sighed heavily and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms with a knowing look. “This better be good, Munson.”
Eddie looked around theatrically, like he was about to drop a state secret, checking for government spies. Then he leaned in, voice dropping low. “I’m doing something criminally stupid,” he whispered with gleaming eyes. “And it’s glorious.”
Robin narrowed her eyes. “Eddie, if you robbed a gas station again, I’m not bailing you out.”
“I didn’t do something illegal,” Eddie said with a grin that was more nervous than confident. “I’m doing someone illegal.”
There was a long beat of silence as both Robin and Steve processed that.
Steve squinted at him. “Is… is that even a thing?”
“It is when she’s got a boyfriend,” Eddie said smugly, like he’d just unlocked the secret to the universe.
Robin grimaced. “Ew.”
“Her name’s (Y/N),” Eddie said dreamily. “And technically, her boyfriend’s this guy named Scotty. Plays soccer. Wears polos. Thinks Bon Jovi is ‘heavy metal.’”
Robin made a face of utter disgust.
Steve muttered under his breath, “Sounds like a douche.”
“And the best part is…” Eddie grinned widely, clearly reveling in the drama. “Scotty doesn’t know.”
He slammed his hand down on the counter with exaggerated flair.
Robin and Steve exchanged a look that said everything. They were used to Eddie’s antics, but this? This felt different.
The van’s door creaked open with a groan, the midday sun slicing through the haze inside. The air was thick with heat and the smell of leather seats baking in the sun, mixed with the faint trace of weed Eddie had smoked hours ago and the lingering sharpness of his cheap cologne - the kind you could buy at Bradley’s Pharmacy for five bucks. But to you, it was intoxicating.
You climbed in, letting the heavy door slam shut behind you.
The moment the latch clicked, you tossed your bag into the passenger seat, then turned to face him. Your eyes gleamed with mischief.
Eddie was lounging in the driver’s seat, his messy hair falling into his eyes, legs spread out as though he owned the entire van (which he totally did). He didn’t look up immediately, but his grin was already widening when he finally did - lazy and pleased, like a cat watching its prey get closer.
“You look suspicious,” he said, voice rough with amusement, an eyebrow lifting in teasing challenge.
You leaned toward him without a word, crawling over the center console, your knee bumping into his side as you climbed into his lap.
“Scotty thinks I’m at church,” you whispered against his ear, your voice dripping with faux innocence. “Praying for forgiveness.”
Eddie barked a laugh, his hands immediately settling on your hips like it was second nature.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and reverent, “You’re going straight to hell.”
You tilted your head, your smirk turning dangerous. “Only if you’re coming with me.”
And before he could answer, his mouth was on yours. It was messy, all teeth and heat and need, as though he couldn’t wait another second.
You gripped the front of his Hellfire Club shirt, yanking him closer until you could feel the frantic beat of his heart against his chest.
The gear shift jabbed into your thigh, but you didn’t care. You shifted your position, straddling him properly, knees bracketing his hips, your dress riding dangerously high.
Eddie groaned into your mouth, fingers digging into your hips, and whispered against your lips. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
You smiled wickedly. “Promise?”
You kissed him again, rougher this time, laughter muffled against his lips as he cursed under his breath - hands everywhere, too greedy to be careful.
The windows began to fog over, blurring the parking lot beyond into nothing but a wash of colors. Inside, it was all heat and skin, whispered curses, and the way Eddie’s breath hitched every time your hands wandered lower.
The church bells from downtown chimed in the distance - sweet and pure, completely at odds with the wicked, slow roll of Eddie’s hips underneath you.
It was messy. Reckless. Addictive.
Exactly how you liked it.
Eddie slumped dramatically onto the counter, his arms flopping lifelessly onto the edge. He was halfway between exhaustion and elation, like he’d just run a marathon but couldn’t quite let go of the high.
Robin was still trying to suppress her laughter, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re whipped, dude,” she gasped between chuckles, wiping the tears from her eyes.
Steve, equally entertained but a little more concerned, leaned over the counter. “Bro, your face is so red. I don’t think I’ve seen you this flustered since… since the whole ‘seducing a dragon in D&D’ fiasco.”
Eddie growled in frustration, burying his face in his hands for a moment. “It’s not funny,” he muttered, but his voice held a distinct edge of pleasure. “She’s gonna ruin me. She’s like… like a goddamn hurricane.”
Robin raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the show. “And you’re what? Some innocent choir boy?”
Eddie flipped her off, but there was no malice in it - only exhaustion. “You don’t get it,” he sighed dramatically. “She’s… she’s like the devil in lipstick, okay? With an entire toolbox full of chaos.”
Steve just shook his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “It sounds to me like you’re the one in over your head.”
Eddie glared at him, still a little defensively, but his bravado was wearing thin. He just couldn’t help it; he liked this. He liked the chaos. “I don’t know, man. She could ask me to rob a damn bank, and I’d do it.”
Robin stared at him, eyes wide with mock horror. “Wait… really?”
Eddie didn’t even hesitate. “Two banks. Three if she wore that skirt again.”
He immediately regretted it. The smugness of the confession hung in the air like an awkward fog, and Eddie found himself wishing he could crawl under the counter. But there was no escaping it. His words had come out before he could stop them, and now he had to live with the ridiculousness of it all.
The lights were dim at The Hideout, the kind of place where the sticky floors and neon signs flickered overhead like a forgotten memory. Corroded Coffin’s set was already in full swing, Eddie shredding his guitar like his life depended on it. The crowd was a mix of strangers, drunk and lost in the music, but Eddie’s eyes were locked on one person.
You.
You were standing at the back, arms crossed, watching him with that smirk of yours, the one that made his heart skip every damn time.
And then, just like that, you moved. With the grace of a cat and the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing, you slid to the front of the crowd.
The way you bent down to tie your boot - slow and deliberate, like a show just for him - was enough to make Eddie miss half of his solo. His fingers fumbled on the strings, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was how you looked, how you moved.
And when you finally stood up, grinning at him like a predator, his breath hitched in his chest.
“I am going to hell and it’s gonna be awesome,” Eddie muttered under his breath, watching you intently.
You winked at him, and his heart almost stopped. The crowd around him roared, but none of it mattered. You were the only one in the room.
After the set, Eddie found you backstage, breathless and glowing. Your eyes sparkled like you were in on a secret that only the two of you shared.
You leaned in close, your lips brushing the edge of his ear as you whispered something that made Eddie stagger back, crashing into a nearby drum kit in the process. You giggled, a sound that made his knees go weak.
He barely register the noise of cymbals and drums around him. All he could think about was the burning heat of your breath, your words, and the way you’d left him wanting more.
And then, like a phantom, you disappeared into the crowd before he could reach you.
And all he could think was, “God, I’m so screwed.”
Eddie was far past the point of being embarrassed. He’d accepted that he was deep in the hole. He didn’t need Robin and Steve teasing anymore; it was a fact. He was in deep with you - and there was no turning back now.
The grin on his face was crooked and almost painful, like he couldn’t decide whether he should be excited or terrified. “Yeah, so that happened,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “That whole… show and top thing. That was pretty… intense.”
Robin looked like she might burst out laughing again, but she managed to keep it together. Just barely. “Dude,” she said, shaking her head, “you’re so whipped. I can practically hear you falling head over heels every time you talk about her.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, exasperated but secretly pleased with the attention. “Okay, okay, maybe I’m a little… into her,” he admitted, but his tone was defensive, like he was still trying to keep some of his cool. “But it’s not just that. It’s everything about her. She’s like… like fire, y’know? And I’m just some idiot trying not to get burned.”
Steve leaned in, quirking an eyebrow as if weighing his next words carefully. “You ever think maybe it’s not just about sneaking around, man? Maybe she’s not hiding you. Maybe you’re not her dirty little secret. Maybe you’re the one she actually wants.”
Eddie froze. The thought hit him like a ton of bricks.
You… wanted him?
Not just for the thrill of the forbidden. Not just because you were both caught up in something wild.
But him.
He swallowed hard, staring blankly at Steve for a moment. Was it possible? Could it be true?
Before Eddie could answer, Robin cut in, dragging him back to reality with a smirk. “You know, Eddie, you’re not exactly the patron saint of innocence,” she teased. “Not by a long shot.”
Eddie couldn’t help it. He threw his head back and laughed, not even caring that it sounded just a little bit unhinged. He was a mess, sure, but it was a good kind of mess. “Yeah, well, who needs innocence when you’ve got someone like her?” he replied, almost fondly, despite the chaos.
The Harringtons’ laundry room was an odd place to have a life-changing moment. The sweet smell of detergent lingered in the air, mixing with the heat and tension between the two of you. The sound of the party in the living room seemed miles away, but here, in the laundry room, everything felt so close.
You were pressed up against the dryer, the cold metal behind you nothing compared to the way Eddie was crowding you in. His hands were everywhere - on your waist, you hips, your thighs. It was chaotic, it was messy, but in the best possible way.
The world outside the door was full of noise and laughter, but all Eddie could hear was the pounding of his heart and the soft breath coming from you.
“Eddie,” you whispered against his neck, and he shuddered at the way your voice felt like an electric current running through him. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
He let out a shaky breath, burying his face in your hair, “You love it,” he murmured, his hands tight on your skin as he pulled you closer.
And then, just as Eddie thought he might lose control, someone called out Scotty’s name from the other room. The sound was a punch to the gut, bringing Eddie back to reality with a jolt.
You grinned wickedly, lips curling in that dangerous smile he couldn’t resist. You whispered a little too sweetly, “Happy birthday, Scotty,” and then kissed him, as if the words would be the last thing to break him.
Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, his hands trembling as he clung to you, desperate and breathless. He lost it - letting out a quiet laugh that he tried to muffle by burying his face in your neck.
Your mouth as a secret. Your kisses, your touch, everything about you was a secret, but Eddie didn’t care. The world could fall apart outside that laundry room door; as far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter.
“I’m going to hell,” Eddie thought. “But I’ll be damned if I’m not enjoying the ride.”
Eddie found himself sitting on the hood of his van outside Family Video, staring up at the bruised purple sky, trying to make sense of what was happening inside his head - and more importantly, inside his heart.
He was supposed to be the bad influence. The reckless one. The guy who never took anything seriously, who laughed in the face of danger and authority alike.
But you… you made him serious. You made him think.
He replayed the stolen moments in the laundry room over and over, like a favorite song he couldn’t stop humming. Your hands. Your mouth. Your voice, soft and teasing in his ear.
And the way you had smiled at him - not like he was a mistake, not like he was a backup plan, but like he was yours.
“God,” Eddie muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m so screwed.”
Part of him knew he should walk away. End it before it got too messy. Before too many feelings got tangled up in it.
But the bigger part - the part that was already too far gone - knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
He was in it. All in.
No amount of logical thinking could save him now.
“You wanna get out of here?”
It was after midnight when you found him standing on the porch, a red Solo cup forgotten in his hand, looking for all the world like he didn’t belong.
You slid your fingers into his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and tugged gently.
“You wanna get out of here?” you asked again, voice low and full of promises Eddie didn’t dare dream about.
He looked at you - really looked - and felt something in his chest break open, raw and aching and real.
He didn’t even think. He just nodded, letting you lead him down the steps, past the groups of laughing strangers, past the noise and chaos, into the night.
It wasn’t about sneaking around anymore. It wasn’t about hiding.
It was about you and him, and the terrifying, thrilling idea that maybe - just maybe - you could be something more than a secret.
As you drove off into the dark, Eddie realized something that scared him more than anything else ever had:
He didn’t just want you.
He was falling for you.
Fast. Hard. Completely.
And there was no going back.
The next afternoon, back inside Family Video, Eddie practically melted across the counter like a soggy waffle, arms splayed out, cheek smushed against the laminate.
Robin was restocking the candy rack half-heartedly, sneaking glances at him.
Steve leaned against the returns cart, arms folded, one eyebrow raised.
They had been watching him for a while now - how he wasn’t bouncing off the walls like usual, how he wasn’t grinning like a man who just pulled off the world’s greatest heist.
Eddie Munson looked… wrecked.
But not the bad kind of wrecked. The dangerously in love kind.
Robin tossed a packet of Twizzlers onto the counter with a snap.
“Okay, you’re being weird, even for you,” she said. “Spill it.”
Eddie groaned into the countertop.
“It’s worse than I thought,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the laminate. “I’m in deep. I’m in so deep I can’t even see daylight anymore.”
Steve frowned. “Deep, like, you caught feelings?”
Eddie just made a noise - something between a whimper and a dying cat - that seemed to confirm it.
Robin straightened, mock-serious. “Wait. You like her? Like, like like?”
Eddie finally lifted his head, eyes wide and a little desperate.
“I think I love her,” he said hoarsely, “Holy shit, I think I’m actually in love with her.”
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Steve looked like someone had just hit him with a frying pan.
Robin immediately started laughing - not at him, but in that shocked, oh my God this is happening kind of way.
“I knew it” she cried. “I freaking knew it! You’re a goner!”
Steve shook his head, dazed. “Dude. Dude.”
“I know!” Eddie wailed. “I’m a goddamn idiot!”
He dropped his head back onto the counter with a dramatic thunk.
Robin leaned over and patted his hair sympathetically.
“You poor, lovesick bastard,” she said.
Steve snorted.
“You gonna tell her?” he asked.
Eddie blinked up at him, looking both terrified and hopeful.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I mean… what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I’m just… her bad decision?”
Robin rolled her eyes. “Please. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
Steve nodded. “Yeah, man. It’s not just sneaking around for her. You’re not just her thrill.”
Eddie swallowed hard, hope curling painfully in his chest.
“You really think so?” he croaked.
Robin smiled.
“We know so.”
And for the first time, Eddie allowed himself to believe it might be true.
Maybe - just maybe - he wasn’t doomed after all.
Later that night, Eddie sat cross-legged on his bed, guitar untouched beside him, as the December wind howled against the trailer walls.
He couldn’t stop thinking about you.
About the way you laughed at his stupid jokes, the way you leaned into him when you were tired, the way you kissed him like you never wanted it to end.
And it wasn’t just the sneaking around anymore. It wasn’t the thrill of doing something reckless behind everyone’s backs.
He missed you when you weren’t around.
He ached for you.
And now you were free - you had broken up with Scotty a few days ago. No drama, no fireworks. Just a quiet conversation behind the gas station where she’d told Eddie afterward, almost bashful, “It was over a long time ago. I just needed to say it out loud.”
No strings.
No barriers.
No excuses.
Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, flopping back onto his bed.
Tell her, Steve and Robin had said. She feels the same way, they promised.
But it wasn’t that simple, was it?
Because if he told you - really told you - and he was wrong…
He’d lose everything.
Not just the late-night kisses. Not just the secret smiles across crowded rooms. He’d lose you.
The girl who made him want to be better.
The girl who made him feel like maybe - just maybe - he wasn’t doomed to be a cautionary tale.
He stared up at the ceiling, fists clenching the blanket beneath him.
Screw it.
He was Eddie Munson.
He didn’t do half-assed.
He didn’t do cowardly.
If he was gonna fall, he was gonna fall loudly.
He sat up, heart hammering, a wild grin breaking over his face.
He was gonna tell you.
Tomorrow.
He didn’t know how just yet - didn’t know if he was going to write it down or scream it out or just blurt it the second he saw you - but it didn’t matter.
He had to.
Because you were worth it.
Because he was worth it too.
The next afternoon, you found Eddie in his usual spot behind the school - perched on the cracked stone wall, smoking a cigarette like he was posing for the world’s most dramatic yearbook photo.
He looked up as you approached, and for a moment, he just stared - like maybe he thought you weren’t real.
You smiled at him, soft and easy.
“Hey, trouble,” you teased.
Eddie stubbed out his cigarette with shaking fingers.
“Hey,” he croaked.
You frowned, immediately picking up on the weird tension in the air.
“You okay?”
He hopped off the wall, landing with a thud. His hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ripped jeans, shoulders hunched like he was bracing for a fight.
“I gotta tell you something,” he blurted.
You blinked. “Okay…”
He started pacing - three steps to the left, three steps to the right - like a caged animal.
“I’m probably gonna screw this up,” he said, voice tight. “And you might laugh. Or you might run away screaming. Which would suck. A lot. But I gotta say it anyway.”
You stepped closer, heart pounding.
“Eddie -”
“I like you,” he interrupted, voice cracking slightly. “Like… like really fucking like you.”
You froze.
“And not just because it’s fun sneaking around or because you look stupidly hot in my shirts or because you make me feel like my brain short-circuits every time you look at me.” He stopped pacing, running both hands through his hair in frustration. “I like you, okay? Like… all the boring, serious, terrifying stuff. Like holding your hand in public. Like taking you out to stupid diners and buying you ugly stuffed animals at the fair and kissing you without worrying who’s watching.”
He sucked in a shaky breath.
“And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. I’ll still be the idiot who got to kiss the coolest girl on the planet for a little while. But if there’s even a chance you -”
You didn’t let him finish.
You grabbed the front of his jacket, yanked him down, and kissed him so hard he stumbled backward against the wall.
For a second, he didn’t move - just stood there, stunned - and then he kissed you back like the world was ending.
When you finally pulled away, breathing hard, Eddie’s eyes were wide and a little glassy.
“I guess that’s a yes?” he asked, voice rough.
You laughed against his chest.
“It’s a hell yes.”
He let out a shaky laugh, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you clean off the ground, spinning you once before setting you back down.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, forehead pressed against yours. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling. “But you’ll love every second.”
And judging by the way Eddie kissed you again - slow and deep and certain - you knew he would.
The next day at lunch, you and Eddie couldn’t stop grinning at each other, sitting impossibly close at the table like a couple of idiots.
Robin noticed first.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Okay. What’s going on?”
You shrugged, playing innocent. Eddie just sipped his soda like it wasn’t completely obvious.
Steve dropped his sandwich mid-bite. “Wait. No. No way.”
Robin gasped dramatically. “You guys are finally together, aren’t you?”
You and Eddie exchanged a look - and completely failed to hide your matching, dopey smiles.
Robin let out a squeal so loud half the cafeteria turned to stare.
“I KNEW IT!” she crowed, smacking Steve on the arm. “Pay up, dingus. I told you it would happen before prom.”
Steve groaned, digging a crumpled five-dollar bill out of his pocket and handing it over.
“You two are disgustingly adorable,” he said, but he was smiling too, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it.
Robin leaned across the table, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“You realize this means you’re stuck with us forever now, right?” she said brightly. “Triple dates. Game nights. Probably some super awkward family dinners.”
Eddie slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.
“Bring it on,” he said, kissing the side of your head.
Hii! I don’t really have any plots for a fix but do you think you could do a sanemi x reader one? Im not very creative, sorry 😭 but have a great day!!
You say “I love you” for the first time.
Fluff, Sanemi’s bad at feelings, reader is a menace to society
Thank you so much for the request anonnn!!! This got finished a little late, so I’m sorry about that. Even so, I hope you enjoy!
It was clear to you that Sanemi was ignoring you.
“Sanemi~”
He moves to pick up his chopsticks, and when you try to grab them first, he swipes them swiftly from the napkin. Tries not to linger on your face as you pout.
“Sanemi?”
He picks up a cucumber slice.
“Sanemi.” You huff playfully, poking his cheek. “Why are you ignoring me?”
He grunts, swatting your hand away. “You’re annoying, that’s why.”
“Huh?” Your frown deepens. “Since when do you find me annoying? When I asked if you found me annoying in the past, you were all like— ‘say whatever, I don’t care,’ or—“
He covers your mouth stiffly with a large palm, glaring at you with a scowl.
…oh. Oh.
Looking around the room, you noticed several people glancing in your direction, looking away afterwards, then back again. Sliding your hand over his, you squeeze it once before lowering it to the table and facing Sanemi directly in the eye.
Leaning in close, you whisper in his ear. “What, so you’re embarrassed now that we’re in public?”
His ears blush red, and he glowers at you best he can. He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything when his heart melts at the sight of your cheeky smile.
“Shut up.” He dismisses you under his breath, about to turn back to his meal when he catches one of the mizunoto staring at him. Angling his head high, he sends the most menacing glare at the guy known to mankind. The mizunoto yelps, eyes darting down to his lap, body shaking in fear.
“Oh, Sanemi.” In response to your teasing coo, he lets his head angle back down to the table. Despite his better judgement, he doesn’t protest when you lean closer to him, sliding your hand over his arm. “I love you when you get all shy on me.”
Your voice is so quiet he’s sure he mishears you at first. But his chopsticks drop from his hand anyway, clattering on his plate and gathering the attention of several people seated nearby.
He turns to you, and you’d almost think he looked mad if it weren’t for the prominent red of his cheeks, the incredulous look in his eyes. He speaks low, shaky. “What did you just say?”
“I said…” then you’re cupping his face in your hands, and you register the way his breath stutters before falling short as your lips brush against his ear. “…that I love you, Sanemi.”
And then your hands fall from his face, and you’re returning to your meal like nothing ever happened, like what fell from your lips was simply a casual utterance of which held little meaning.
But a quick glance back at him tells you everything you need to know.
His eyes are blown wide, lips parted slightly, face so unnaturally still you might mistake him for a statue.
Oh, he’s broken.
Huffing out a breath, you wave a hand in front of him, tapping his hand once, pinching his cheek.
Nothing.
“Sanemi?” He falls backwards, head hitting the hard tatami floor, his face locked in a trance-like state.”
“Sane— hey, Sanemi! Are you okay? Stay with me!”
And that was the day that Sanemi finally stopped ignoring you. Well, eventually.
just read menace. i love how unhinged reader is. Like yelling at the nurse about jasons dick size 😭. And never thought id be entertained by her poking his soft dick. Im only referring to jason as sexy skunk from now on. (also the random questions about their sex lives out of the blue got me 😂.)
unhinged behavior post anesthesia is a right, actually 🤭 reader had zero chill, no brain to mouth filter, and Jason just had to stand there and take it 😭 sexy skunk is canon now, I don't make the rules 🏃🏻♀️ I'm so glad you enjoyed her poking his poor soft dick like it was a science experiment lmao. thank you for reading, bestie!!🥹🖤
