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summerfevers · 1 month

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if you’re up to it i would very much like to know your white collar neal timeline🎤🎤

this turned out to have many asides and be very long so the tl;dr is: peter have you considered that he's just a twenty-something teenage girl :( ?

timeline:

neal born 1984 ish. he's an aries and a millennial

neal, ellen, and neal's mom go into witsec 1987, neal age 3

2003 adler scandal i fucking guess. neal age 19

neal arrested probably mid 2005, 21

neal goes to jail for the first time, i want to say early 2006, age almost 22

pilot is set late summer 2009, age 25

same-sex marriage legalized in new york june 24th 2011, they talk about this in season 3 episode 14 which is soon after. neal's 27

more or less a year later–let's go with less–neal tells sam that he has spent the last decade running from the truth he learned at 18. taking him literally that it was 10 years ago he is now 28 it is the end of season 4 and 2012

the end of season 4 to the series finale is less than a year. he is 29 its 2013.

when we see him in paris he might be 30 but that doesn't count To Me

i present my evidence:

i don't know where we got "neal is 35" from i cant make it work. neal and co. went into witsec (which i have actually since learned is not available to people living in dc, they have their own version but it is not overseen by the federal marshalls, i don't think they can give you as many legal documents like a ssn, and they don't help you set up your new life as much? something about neal's life that would be interesting to explore.) when he was three and ellen says in season 4 that she's been in witsec for Nearly three decades. confirmed 33 or under in season 4

he also says to "sam" more than once that he's spent the last decade running from the truth he learned at 18–he very well could be rounding down here and mean like 12-13 years but i am Choosing to Believe he meant that literally. we are now at youngest 28, it is the last episode of season 4.

now due to the way the show is structured and the fact that it is never really winter. ok maybe winter 1 time because i can see in my mind neal in his little wool coat and earmuffs but largely it is summer and we never have a christmas episode. anyway due to All That our only real anchor in the timeline is that the episode where diana is Grappling with her engagement to Christie happens immediately following june 24th 2011, when same-sex marriage was legalized in new york. and also that later that season in the commutation hearing they say that neal has served 2 years of his sentence. so the pilot was set in 2009 when it aired we are at one year/season. but as the series goes on the episodes and even seasons have increasingly shorter gaps between them, and by season 6 we haven't even finished our four years. by the end of season 4 i want to say we are three years into his sentence and he's 28. between the end of season 4 and when neal dies in season 6 there has got to be less than a year that passes. actually deadass why was neal so obsessed with the pink panther case ending his sentence early we are like months out king. i get the injustice the system is broken they'd keep him forever but to people outside his circle he must have looked sooo silly for that. but whatever. he is 29 when he dies and 30 when we see him again in paris, his roaring 20s of crime and incarceration over.

Anyway where the "neal is 35 or at least claims to be much older than this timeline would say he is" probably came from in-universe is that the adler scandal takes place SEVEN years before s2 when peter confronts neal about it. 2003?????? guys the thing we have to understand, to embrace, about neal's personal timeline is that i do not think anyone in that writers room was really grasping how much they had neal do in so short a time. 2003 he is like 19 guys. maybe by the time peter says it was 7 years ago it was 2011 ? and the adler thing was 2004? but no that couldn't work because it's mid 2011 like a year later in s3. so basically neal walks out of st louis and has a magical girl transformation through which he immediately becomes a great conman and criminal. and he meets mozzie basically straight away. he should still be in like calculus and ap lit at this juncture. and then they go right into the adler con ??? and neal is obviously lying through his teeth to everyone saying he is at least 21 but probably more along the lines of 23. and while most of his aliases are eventually found out by peter if no one else, no one ever goes "wait IS HE a teenager?" no one is guessing this.

so we spend a couple months fucking around and fucking UP with adler, kate probably doesn't know how old we actually are, this relationship cannot actually last very long at all because we are truly on a time crunch right now. we have less than three years for neals entire criminal career before he goes to jail. i know i said on the bullet list he went to jail early 2006 he has got to have been arrested like summer 2005 at the latest to be tried and sentenced by then and i feel like even that might be tight because he was suspected of so many other things they wanted to get evidence for. but how is neal teaching kate to be a criminal less than a year into his own career. i think neal must have been a hardcore improv kid for this to work honestly. i bet he competed. so our golden days of mozzie neal and kate against the world lasts maybe a year at best before neal and kate fight and she leaves and he spends months trying to get her back and get her attention and commits a truly breathtaking amount of crimes in this time.

also i'm skipping through forging bonds right now trying to flesh out this timeline and it was incredibly shady of peter and co to see that kate is doing so much to stay hidden from her ex boyfriend and then to reveal her to neal in order to catch him. like that was fucked up they didn't know neal yet he hadn't been suspected of violent crimes but they didn't know why kate was working so hard to escape him. like it worked out ok (arguably, but that could be a different post) but they had no reason to trust neal not to hurt her like this. she could have been running from an abusive situation he's known to be a talented criminal with no fears about escalating his crimes he could have killed her. one thing about the fbi is that they never once care about kate's safety and it does indeed get her killed one day.

in conclusion neal is known as one of the best forgers in the world when he is arrested in 2005 at age 21 maybe 2 years into his criminal career. here i am 21 what have i accomplished

#hiiiiiii LOVE your wc fic explorations of neals childhood are everything To Me and really your characterization of danny brooks is exactly #the kind of child neal would have to be for him to have been essentially a child prodigy at white collar crime #truly hes gotta be canon #also one more thing why is james in that flashback like have a good day at school 🥰 or whatever. neal is 2 or 3 and his mom didnt seem #to work so he didnt have daycare. where tf is he going #anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk future talks will discuss my conflicting opinions on how neal and kates relationship is treated #in canon and how neal was obviously not an early 2000s emo kid but frankly? maybe he should have been. good night #white collar #poplars.txt #just put this throufh a word counter 1200??? sorry.#this post is nearly twice the word count of the assignment i was procrastinating while i wrote it 🧍

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smartichokes · 2 months

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THEY USED THE LIVING TOMBSTONE SONG FOR THE CREDITS HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AUTOMATIC 5 STARS

#babbling #i just watched five nights at freddys and i LOVED it #dude when that song came out i listened to it… a lot #its a banger okay #i havent looked into the lore after like the second game #but it actually stayed pretty true to the lore i know from the first game #there were obvious liberties taken but im not mad at all #i actually fucking cried because im a loser baby who apparently cries at EVERYTHING now #but holy shit fnaf always made me feel so unsettled because those are CHILDREN #and so when i saw actual kids i just kinda had no chance of getting through the movie without waterworks #abby was absolutely phenomenal #i really appreciate camp and im so glad they didnt try to do a full gritty style and try to take it too seriously #so anyway yes full review is that it was very good #mattpatt deducted half a star but also added it back because of the shear dedication to the history of this series #and then the living tombstone just sent it into full masterpiece #thank you for coming to my ted talk #OH AND MATTHEW LILLARD #that set it automatically to 5 stars before all my other bs #i love that man and emma tammi is now my hero

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kaythegayest · 1 year

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Boom superhero au stuff. I have school tomorrow so I'm going to do this relatively fast.

By the way, sorry this looks so bad, but in my defense it's like 2am in the morning.

The prompt was "this seems like a bad time to fall in love"

Did I make Midna work under dark link? Yes

was Midna tasked specifically to kill or kidnap Twilight? Yup.

Does this mean their are other people working under dink going after the others? You bet.

Is Twilight completely in love with this woman who's trying to kill him? Of course.

Would she actually kill him? Maybe?

I'm sorry but i just loves the idea of Midna trying to kill Twilight and Twilight just using the worst pick up lines because his brain short circuits every time he sees Midna. Bro her hair took me so long. It's painful.

Anyway here's a short fic for funzies

The air was a bitter cold, biting at his skin, whipping his hair around, clawing at his clothes, blowing it's cold winter frost up and down his arms.

Hylias sake, Twilight hated winter. He hated the cold, the thing where snow wasnt sticky enough and just made slush on the side of the road, he hated how the radio stations started playing Christmas music too early, he just hated all of it. If there was one upside it was that he had a excuse to stay in his house more days then not. Patrols were always shit though. Chasing criminals between alleyways, with the snow soaking through your shoe. Fucking horrible if you asked him. Sky of course, though winter was great. Thinking of hot chocolate and snowmen. Time however, the only other one in the facility Twilight ever talked to, agreed with him. Winter was overrated. Maybe Wild would have a new opinion on the matter. The kid probably liked the snow. Actually, knowing wild he was probably one of this kids who put rocks in snowball on purpose. Little sociopath. Twilight wouldn't trade his protege for the world, but being the number 3 hero and mentoring a illegal vigelate was- eventful to say the least. He continued thinking about inconsequential things, in a attempt to distract himself from the biting chill setting in his fingertips as he walked to his house. Abruptly, his train of thought was cut off as he was flung to the ground. His reflexes saved him from slamming his head on the concrete, but as good as his reflexes were, whoever had thrown him was better. In two swift movements, they were above him, crouched over him, and in the nest he was pinned to the ground, a boot digging harshly into his shoulder blade. He winced at the pain, trying to jerk out of his captors hold. But as as soon as they looked down at him he froze. She was gorgeous. That was his first coherent thought. She had dark russet eyes, complementing deep brown skin. Thick hair curled around itself twisting above him as she looked down with curiousity. "So your the one he sent me after?" her voice was tainted with disappointment. "Pity, i was expecting you to be a bit more-" a pause "competent." normally such words would have offended him, but as he was, he was trapped in the hypnotic vortex of those eyes, sparkling with a deep mischief. There was a prolonged silence as Twilight's deconstructed brain tried to form some semblance of any word. She shifted slightly uncomfortable with the tension in the air. "Well? Say something!" she demanded she paused with a slight chuckle at the man's awestruck face. "Or am i too beautiful that you've no words left?"

#linked universe #superhero/supervillain type au #god i'm so tired #and stupid #why tf did I stay up this late #I feel like I'm genuinely going to throw up #Godddd this was a horrible idea #Yeah sorry for the bad quality #I dont know what spirit possessed me to make this #the writing is garbage as well so sorry for that too #k I'm gonna lay down and either throw up or pass tf out #thank you for coming to my ted talk #wow I just reread it and that writing is shit but I'm too tired to care #Ill probably fix it later #Maybe #Hopefully #this entire thing took me about 6 hours #alright ladies and gentlemen (and other) I'm gonna go and die #Have a good day or night or evening or whatever time it is where your at

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deathbymas0chist · 2 years

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Can y’all imagine dating sebek??? I’m sorry it’s literally impossible for me to comprehend, I know damn well this mf would NEVER shut up abt malleus. Imagine getting ready for something, and you look gorgeous, only to turn to him and ask what he thinks, and he says “you look amazing, but not as beautiful, elegant, and mature as the young lord— did you know what…” and then he goes off on a whole rant abt malleus and how much better he looks then you. And he literally has a whole portrait of malleus in his bedroom and that’s telling me everything I need to know. So in conclusion: sebek is utterly undatable, because you clearly will never be able to compare to malleus in his eyes 💀💀💀💀

#.✍︎︎❦𝐂𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚.𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬!.✰#I HAD TO GET THIS OFF MY CHEST.#thank you for coming to my Ted talk #he probably prays to that portrait of malleus every night before bed #and he kisses it goodnight too #i hate sebek #in the relationship it’s you sebek and malleus cus he never shuts up abt him #also who needs an alarm clock when you wake up at 6am and he’s already screaming GOOD MORNING #and his eyebrows are literally so fucked up #THEY LOOK LIKE ALIVE CRICKETS ON HIS FACE MY GODDDD

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kin-machine · 1 year

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tbh i kinda regret getting a switch this late. TotK is set to release on 5/12, that only leaves me a few months to try to finish and sponge up as much info as i can about BotW before its sequel's release.... (shoulda listened to paxton and got it like two years ago!! i even had more money at the old apartment, i don't know what i was thinking.)

i mean not to say i'm not enjoying the FUCK out if this game, but it is already like 5 or 6 years old now? everyone online is talking about it like its ancient news lol

#i just beat ruta last night lol #i hyped myself up like oh i suck so this is gonna be hard #nope didn't even need a walkthrough and beat the blight with like 10 shock arrows #and i know each blight gets more hp each time you fight one so i'm definitely gonna have to Git Good #but still like wow ppl weren't lying when they said ruta was the easiest #this has been a boring loz ramble thank u for coming to my ted talk

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totheseok · 15 days

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and with that good night it's 2 a.m. and the poll will decide what I do with this chapter

(sorry its late but I'm lazy and it's exam season)

#good fucking night #hwth #home is where the heart is #going to think abt eunseok until i fall asleep #and sungchan #because ARGH CENTRE SUNGCHAN FOR THE IMPOSSIBLE MV #thank you for coming to my ted talk

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shayminbarizsky · 1 year

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It may be 1:40am but I am absolutely LIVID with the JUDGES OF UFC-

#ufc 282 #magomed ankalaev #jan blachowicz #they did them so DIRTY WITH THAT SPLIT DECISION #it was clearly one sided and ankalaev HAD THAT WIN FOR THE TITLE!#even blachowicz ADMITTED IT!#what on EARTH was even going through the minds of those judges?! AA-#nothing but respect for both opponents but that was so dirty #poor man ankalaev left the stadium crying- how on earth can you give a decision tHAT BAD?!#pretty sure they just wanted a rematch (with a side of political views) but i genuinely hope that both of them won't give them that #as much as it hurts- i hope both blachowicz and ankalaev take a reallyyyyy long break because first- they both deserve it #and second- to piss off ufc because that match decision was RIGGED AF #thank you for coming to my ted talk #>:((#glad i have a night to get a good night's sleep to /s

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badjokesbyjeff · 10 days

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There were three race horses; ernie, bill, and ted.

the three of them were good friends; they enjoyed racing each other and generally won and lost to each other equally. every evening, after the races, they went to a local bar to relax and drink some beer. they would often discuss racing techniques, their families, etc.

one season, bill wasn't doing so well. he rarely beat the other two, and was worried that he'd be sent to the glue factory if his luck didn't change. one night, at the bar, he talked with ernie and ted about it.

"you know, guys, i just can't figure it out," he said. "everything's fine at home; the kids are doing great, my wife is being nice, the bills are paid, my mother-in-law rarely visits - nothing could be better. maybe i'm just getting old. if things don't pick up soon, they'll send me to the glue factory."

the bartender, a big llama from peru, overheard the conversation. he looked around, to make sure nobody else was listening, then said, "hey, pal, i got something for you that'll make you feel like a young colt again." he reached under the bar and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of beer. "here, drink this; i guarantee you'll start winning again. come by each night for a week and I'll give you one. if it doesn't work, i'll give you double your money back!"

bill looked at ernie and ted, who only shrugged, then drank the contents of the bottle. "oh, just one thing," the llama said, "it'll make your ass itch, but that's okay; it's just a side effect. don't worry about it." the three horses stayed a few hours, played a few games of pool and darts, and went home.

over the course of the next three days, they went back to the bar each night, and bill continued the regimen of mystery beer. his racing times did improve! he was slowly moving back up in the rankings, and was soon back into the top three with ernie and ted. bill was ecstatic, and thanked the llama profusely.

"hey, my pleasure," said the llama.

a few weeks passed by, and ernie started slowing down. after losing three races in a row, he sobbed to himself, "i just don't get it. my life couldn't be better. i can't believe I'm getting old! they'll send me to the glue factory if i don't get back in the groove!"

that evening, at the bar, he told the llama bartender about his troubles, and asked if he too could try the mystery beer. "okay, but remember, it'll make your ass itch - but don't pay it no mind. it's just a harmless side effect."

"no problem. it'll be worth it to get back in the groove," ernie said.

a few days went by. ernie's ass did indeed itch, but after a few more days, his races improved, and he was back in the top three with bill and ted.

at the bar one evening, ernie bought a round of beers for all the horses, and thanked the llama profusely.

"i just can't believe how great that mystery beer worked!" ernie said. "you're sitting on a gold mine, there!" the llama said it was his pleasure, don't worry about it, etc.

a few more weeks went by, and now ted started slowing down, losing races. he, too realized that he'd be shipped off to the glue factory unless his races improved.

"say," he said to the llama one night after a particularly humiliating loss, "i think i need to try that mystery beer too. they'll ship me off to the glue factory for sure if I don't start winning again."

"no problem," the llama said, pulling out an unlabeled bottle. "here. come back every night, and i guarantee you'll be back in top form again, or i'll give you double your money back."

over the course of the next few weeks, ted's races continued to improve until he was back in the top three with bill and ernie. he pranced into the bar, full of vim and vigor, and thanked the llama profusely. "you know, my ass itches a lot; it's almost unbearable. but i can't thank you enough. they would have turned me into glue by now if it weren't for you. anything you want, let me know and i'll see what i can do."

"no problem," said the llama, "i make this beer at home using an ancient inca recipe. it's just my way of thanking my regular customers for their patronage over the years."

"i'm not kidding," ted said, "this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. anything, you name it, anything you want, let me know, and it's yours."

"well, now that you mention it..." the llama began -

right then, a greyhound walked up to the bar. he was obviously depressed.

"barkeep, give me something strong. i'm on a losing streak you wouldn't believe," the greyhound said.

ted looked at the greyhound, then at bill and ernie, and said, "hey, look! a talking dog!"

#funny #jokes #humor #lol #comedy

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reiding-writing · 3 months

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Hi can i request one Reader is kinda cold, not mean tho, and she and spence have to share an hotel room and there is only one bed and she gets shy?? Ty 💜

ROOMMATES [PART ONE]

/ˈɹu(m)ˌmeɪt/ /part two/

when you and spencer share a room together on a case, you find yourself a little out of character at the revelation you’ll have to share a bed with him

WARNINGS: cold but not antagonistic reader

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff? || 1.4k || series masterlist!

a/n: two posts in one day? look at me being productive- also i have formed an emotional attachment to cold!reader and i will be thinking about them for the rest of the day thank you for listening to my ted talk

main masterlist!!

You resign yourself to your fate as soon as Morgan refuses Spencer’s unspoken question.

“Absolutely not.”

It’s something that just comes with the job you suppose. Sometimes you have to spend a night sharing a dingy motel room with one of your teammates because you’re working a case in the middle of nowhere and the town you’re in has 200 people living there.

Okay. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. There was 1,714 people living there.

But still.

You liked your own space and your own company and as much as you enjoyed Spencer’s presence you were exhausted and just wanted to get some rest without him rattling in your ear about how unhygienic hotel rooms were.

Of course, he didn’t know that you didn’t mind him. Your behavioural tells were nothing more than a slight softening of your eyes when he walked into a room, something that, although Morgan found riveting to tease you for, he couldn’t actually be sure was even true.

Still, your assumptions were correct, and after Garcia bagged Morgan and JJ stuck with Emily, you didn’t even have to glance in Hotch’s direction to know that he would be pairing with Rossi and leaving you with Spencer.

You can feel his eyes burn a hole into the side of your head as he comes to the same realisation, and you slide one of the room keys off the table before gesturing for him to follow after you with a nod of your head.

He does of course, trailing after you like a lost puppy and making your heart want to explode in your chest. But he didn’t know that.

You want to punch yourself sometimes for being so dismissive, and not just to Spencer. The team had treated you with nothing but kindness over the four years you’d worked with them. But some things just don’t change. And so you lock your emotions away and continue to put on a front to protect your self-perceived image.

The door struggles to open even after you unlock it, the hinge pin stiff and getting caught on the latch as you try to push it forwards, but you manage with a bit of extra effort.

The room isn’t pretty by any means, but it’s not horrible either. The walls are a clean cream, bordered by a white ceiling and a planked wooden floor. There’s a window on the right wall and a door to what you assume to be a bathroom on the left.

All well and good.

Well…

Maybe not.

You can feel Spencer’s apprehension mirror your own as the two of you stare at the room’s centre piece. A double bed. One double bed. A singular bed that you are going to have to share with Spencer Reid.

You imagine that his head is running through all of the germs it harbours. How hotel beds are unsanitary and that they’re dirtier than a toilet seat or something like that.

You didn’t care about germs.

You cared about the fact that you would have to share a bed with Spencer Reid.

You wonder if Morgan denied Spencer on purpose. Whether he knew that the rooms only had one bed each and that by saying no to sharing a room with Spencer you would have to and it would give him more opportunities to make fun of your seeming soft spot towards the genius.

Granted, you wouldn’t have been thrilled to share a bed with any of your teammates, but for some reason it was him that made you feel like you were about to implode on yourself. But he didn’t know that.

You’re sure that if you had bunked with Emily, JJ or even Morgan himself that you would’ve just sucked it up and gotten on with it, but something about the presence of Spencer Reid made you feel different. Nervous maybe? No, it was just- different.

You take a moment to compose yourself as Spencer slides past you into the room, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in through your nose, although when you open them again Spencer is staring at you like you have a gun pointed at him and it almost makes you forget the situation you’ve found yourself in.

“I can- um-” Spencer purses his lips into a tight line, fiddling with his hands as he anxiously follows your expression. “I should go and ask Garcia to switch rooms-”

“You don’t want to share with me?” You’re not sure whether your question is rooted in concern for Spencer being uncomfortable or mild offence at the fact that he doesn’t want to share a room with you.

Either way it’s like you’ve dipped your vocal chords in ice and every word you speak washes down his back like a cold shower.

“I- No- I mean- I- You-” Spencer gives up on explaining himself with an exasperated sigh and a slump of his shoulders. He had no idea how to talk to you.

Every time you so much as glanced in his direction he felt like you were trying to bore a hole in his brain with your eyes and it was intimidating.

He was fascinated by your brain, by your knowledge and your inherent knack for human psychology, but you were scary, and it always left him afraid that he was going to do something wrong.

The worst part was it wasn’t even logically founded.

Apart from the intensity of your eyes and the frown you always had on your face you’d never actually been antagonistic to anyone. You were dismissive sure, not bothering to form emotional connections to the rest of the team and almost entirely keeping to yourself, but you were never nasty.

There was no hatred in the way you carried yourself, just disinterest. And that arguably made it worse.

“Reid.” Your voice cut through his train of thought like a knife, and his eyes turn up towards your own with a start. They’re big and round and they shine under the overhead light and you are really getting distracted focus dammit. “Are you comfortable staying in this room with me overnight or not?”

It’s about the time where you start berating your inherent lack of social grace again, your question sounding extremely harsh compared to the actual intention behind it.

“I- Yeah- Yes- I just- you don’t look very happy…” Spencer’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever mentioned your demeanour to you before, and he’s unsure whether to be proud of himself or to curl into a ball and disappear as he watches a small knit form in your eyebrows.

“I’m fine, let’s sleep.” You are not fine. For whatever reason your hands are sweaty and all of a sudden the room is a little too warm for your comfort. “I’m going to change in the bathroom,”

“Okay-” Spencer nods a little too enthusiastically for his own liking. Why was he so intimidated by you? It’s not like you’ve ever actually shown any distaste for him.

The minute you shut the door of the bathroom behind you you practically melt under your own body temperature.

But he didn’t know that.

part two!!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

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pupcuck · 3 months

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NYMPHOMANIA !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. daddy-daughter incest, femcel reader :3, reader wants to get raped so she talks about that, dub-con for like a paragraph, suicidal thoughts, awful thoughts in general, tiny bit of somno, threats, spanking, slapping

note. HAII :3 back on my femcel shit… god i rewrote this like 15 times and restarted over and over so i hate this 😭 it’s clunky so ignore any mistakes!!! feedback n rbs always so appreciated <3 was thinking of og4 leon but.. honestly idk atp !! anyway sorry again for the slow decrease in quality in this .. title has nothing to do w the fic ack ok bye :3

tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

There are two things you want to get off your chest.

You are not, under any circumstances, ugly. Your face just takes getting used to. (This is a cope.)

You have a crush on your dad. No excuse for this one. Cupid is a conniving bastard. That’s that.

These might not seem like related issues, but they most certainly are because being ugly is hard, and having a crush on your dad is equally as hard.

You’re a sweet girl, you didn’t choose to come out ugly, it’s not your fault you turned out this way. It’s unfair, but ultimately no one meant for it to happen

(Well, you hope no one meant for it to happen unless someone had a vendetta against your mother and cursed her firstborn. She’s an irritating lady, you can see why someone would do so.)

You won’t even be the kind of below-average woman who marries a mediocre man to have mediocre sex to make mediocre kids to live in caustic mediocrity. You have one friend, she’s an online friend, and she might be a lonely old man. To be entirely honest you would prefer that. ‘Cause that would mean someone out there wants to creep on you.

If you weren’t ugly, having a crush on your dad would be socially acceptable. That’s why daddy-daughter porn spans pages and pages and pages of Pornhub. Everyone loves to watch a busty, blonde slut on her dad’s dick. If you didn’t have a crush on your dad, being ugly would be perfectly fine— No, that’s wrong.

Being ugly is never fine. Being ugly is on the same level as being a rapist. Being ugly in the presence of people who are objectively not ugly is, like, worse than being a rapist. ‘Cause all the dudes in high school were rapists in the making. Ted Bundy-style shit.

Grope an ugly bitch in the bathrooms and she wouldn’t speak up, and if she did— She just wouldn’t actually. Would be burnt at the stake Salem style. Hung. Crucifixion perhaps. Ugly girls aren’t good enough to die like martyrs did, however. Especially not ugly girls who cry wolf.

Why on God’s green earth would a hot guy go out of his way to slap a freaky-looking girl’s ass, right? Got girls lined up down the halls waiting for him to sign their perky tits, he doesn’t need to rape. It must be wishful thinking on her part, right? A wet dream she took as reality.

Why would you say that? Do you want to throw what he’s worked for down the drain? Accusations like this, they’re not jokes, y’know that? He’s got a scholarship, college wouldn’t take something like this so lightly.

Aw, you miss her. This goth chick in senior year. Your sorta friend. When it all went down and she had nowhere else to go, you invited her over because you’re a nice girl with no nefarious intentions. None at all. When she lay beside you at night, and she opened up, and she thanked you for believing her, you totally did not have your hand in your panties. And you totally did not rub yourself raw while she spoke about it in excruciating detail. You did not treat her rape case as erotica.

The dude got away with it of course. He was on TV the other day in fact. NFL. Baltimore Ravens. Still stupid hot. God, you wish it was you he picked - wouldn’t have told a single soul. Would’ve sucked the sweat from his jockstrap without complaint.

You’re too repulsive to be touched or raped, and you’ve learnt to live with that. Passing out in alleyways would result in rapists who frequent the area to avoid those very alleyways. Only your hand knows the cushiony softness of your tits, the wetness between your legs, how great your mouth feels— Only your dildo knows that, but you can imagine it’s good. You’re a total catch. A nympho. Men love nymphos when they’re pretty, which you are not. So you’re a nympho without the sex appeal. So in other words you are a pervert. A degenerate. A fucking freak.

It’s time to start sticking your fingers down your throat. ‘Cause that’s what gorgeous girls do to achieve that grave-robbed look. Heroin chic. Modelesque. It’s all the same type of beautiful. Emaciated and sickly. Dead girls are the sexiest ‘cause they can’t say yes or no and if there’s no no then it’s a yes. A nymphetic loophole of sorts. Men love dead girls that double as nymphos. Unfortunately, you are well and alive. Walking into traffic seems like fun, but you would be classed as roadkill, and it wouldn’t be tragically beautiful, just embarrassing to get scraped off the concrete like that. Even in death, you would be ugly because you are ugly to your very core. Your bone marrow is so ugly no scientist would want to make stem cells out of it, polynucleotides so deformed— You’re ugly. No need to wax poetic about it. Nothing poetic about being ugly.

Dad is the closest a human being can get to perfection. A divine image. Michelangelo is, like, dead and gone. David should've died alongside him. Dad deserves to take his place in the Accademia Gallery. With the way people gawk at him, he might as well be art. You’re surprised he doesn’t sell tickets to merely exist in his presence. He’s hot like a Calvin Klein model, and mom is hot like a regular model. Due to how you’ve turned out, you have a few qualms with your mother.

Like, what the fuck happened to you in her womb? Did someone take a mallet to one side of her belly to ensure her child came out as asymmetrical as one can be? A lack of nutrients maybe? Was she dieting during the pregnancy? Did dad fuck her too hard? Busted her womb up or some shit.

It simply might be that two rights make a wrong.

Or you were a tester before she popped your siblings out. Little ichor-filled putto. They were child models, scouted in their diapers, and you would stand behind your mother and the cameraman so hurt you couldn’t even feel jealous. Now they’re all grown up, fully-fledged erotes, and they’re working and doing all this shit you still haven’t managed to get a grasp on. Navigating the world as an ugly bitch is terribly hard.

Rape kinks are developed, dads get crushed on - awful, terrible things happen when girls are ugly and alone and unable to leave the comfort of their bedrooms.

Pretty girls have daddy issues that are dealt with in standard pretty girl fashion - finding emotionally unavailable, salt-and-pepper-haired men to fill every hole, including the one in their doll hearts. The thing is pretty girls don’t go for their dads. ‘Cause a lot of the time dads are gross. Dads do not look like your dad does. And to be fair you don’t exactly have daddy issues. Your dad is present and he doesn’t hit or shout or do anything out of the norm. Maybe this is a you issue.

It is a you issue, not even an ugly girl issue or an any type of girl issue. It’s your issue and yours alone.

It is your issue that when Leon asks what you want for dinner you almost ask for his hand around your throat or his hand in marriage. Either would be fine. Both would be preferred.

Severing your relationship would be even better. Goddamn, girls with absent fathers are lucky. You wish he was anything but your dad— It’s just that if you weren’t his daughter, dad wouldn’t ever look your way, he would pass by you like every man does.

Dad is a busy guy, and he’s a strange guy in the sense that he’s never really bothered with you. He loves your sister, and he loves your brother. But everyone loves those two. You don’t think he likes you very much, you can deal with that. Doesn’t mean you have daddy issues ‘cause no one likes you very much. So it’s a you issue and you should try harder.

Leon’s home early today. He’s collapsed on the couch, withered into himself like he always is after business trips. Mom said not to disturb him. You don’t. Then you do. This is like crack to you. Dad.

More specifically, dad without mom hovering over him. Dad’s sleeping so your brain is not stewed by his intense gaze. It only ever lingers on you for merely a second, but your stomach flips like you’ve got appendicitis and your legs spread involuntarily.

He’s a light sleeper, you’re well aware. He’s also a living, breathing Ken doll so you don’t put much thought into it when you reach out to ghost your fingers along the bridge of his nose. So pointy it could pierce your clit. Your clit. His nose. Oh, it could work so well, you want to grind yourself to mush against it.

Until dad shifts, he’s so beautiful up close you almost forget he’s real, not a wax figure. You trace the straight edge of his jaw, then thumb his petal lips, dragging your pointer finger over the fuller bottom one to push the tip into his wet mouth. Your dad is a slut. ‘Cause he sucks for a good second or two. Heat licks at your insides. You might vomit. His spit glistens like cobwebs when you take it back. That hand is shoved down your pants. That finger finds your clit, uses what spit is left to get it nice and wet. Which is totally unneeded, you’ve been soaked since god knows when, your pussy doesn’t know when to quit.

Feels good knowing that a part of dad is in you, his spit pushed into your hole. You’ll give him something back, it’s only fair, you smear your slick on the spot you traced. His tongue pokes out, likely to combat dry mouth, it swipes along his bottom lip— He tastes you. Heat engulfs you, chars your body from the inside out, the scent of rotting meat is in your nostrils.

Dad tasted you.

Holy fuck. You sit there with a trembling smile, staring down at him and he does not rouse. Shit, you’re creepy and you know it, but you’re not stupid. What other chance do you have? You unzip his old shearling jacket, underneath is that compression shirt that fits him too well. You map out the ridges of his abs, the slight dip between his pecs, every hard line that makes up his body. He smells so sexy, lavender and leather, must be some sorta pheromone ‘cause all you want to do is drop your face into his tits to bathe in that scent, to have it stick to your skin. Shit. Holy fucking shit. You’ve got a sex doll instead of a dad. That explains the distantness. He’s made of silicone.

The door clicks the moment you find it in yourself to click open his belt.

“What're you doing?” Mom ruins everything. She’s had it out for you the moment you formed in her womb. “He’s sleeping, don’t disturb him.” She says tersely, placing her Coach Tabby on the coffee table.

“He was cold.” That’s why his nipples are peaking, piercing the fabric of that shirt. Should be illegal to wear that in public. He’s asking for it.

“Yeah?” She asks, unconvinced, bending down to unclasp her heels.

“Yeah.” You stand up, dad’s indirect kiss on your cunt, shoot her a nasty sneer before you scuttle away to your bedroom for the rest of the day.

There are stairs that creak and stairs that don’t. You hang around down here at midnight often so you know the right path to take as to not alert your parents of your presence. They’re speaking about you.

“—be careful around her.” Truly, you hate your mother.

“What is there to be careful about?” Right? You tell her dad.

“Just, just be careful. She doesn’t y’know.”

“She doesn’t what?”

“She doesn’t get off her ass, she doesn’t talk to anyone but, well, I don’t know actually, she doesn’t talk to anyone at all.” You could pretend and say it hurts, but it doesn’t. There’s nothing insulting about the truth.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“You’re a guy, she doesn't talk to guys.”

“We don’t talk much either.” Dad is too stiff to make conversation, and you collapse anytime he breathes in your general direction.

“Yeah, but, Leon.” Mom sounds exasperated, but she’s not getting her point across well. She should know better, dad’s skull is thicker than cement. “I’m worried.”

“What, for me or her?”

“Her, obviously, I don’t want her to… I want her to get out, like, I want her to do stuff,” mom sniffles, she is so putting this on to make dad feel guilty. “It’s so hard to watch your adult daughter just sit in a room and do nothing all day, Leon, she’s like a big fucking baby, why is she like that?”

“Babe,” he coos, and your knees buckle.

“Go talk to her.”

“What?”

“Go talk to her about it,” Mom repeats, voice shaking. “She doesn’t listen to me.”

They go back and forth for a few minutes, and then dad sighs and says fine. You make haste back to your hovel that doubles as a bedroom, crawl into bed and try to look natural.

Leon clears his throat before he knocks, when you don’t answer he pokes his head in. He says your name and you stir, sheets taut to your body as you peek up at him.

“You should open a window in here.”

When you don’t respond, he sits at the foot of your bed, looks around and nods. His gaze is scathing. Not purposefully. You just take it that way.

“Dinner’s ready,” he lies, then he leaves. His perfume lingers, and you touch the space he was sitting in, his warmth remains.

The day after that, you’re in the living room, tuckered out after mom forced you to help her with the groceries. You’re not cut out for this sort of life. The living sort of life. You were made to rot.

“Door wasn’t locked,” Leon says when he steps in, he puts his keys down, shucks his jacket off, tracks mud halfway down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Your shoes, Leon,” Mom groans, “she came in last.”

“Oh, sorry,” you say absentmindedly. If it doesn’t include tits or dicks or pussy it is none of your business. You have enough energy to keep up with one thing and that is your porn addiction. Groceries really took it out of you.

“You should be careful, rapists might come in, murderers or some shit.” Leon is speaking to your mother. Not you because he has seen your face and he knows very well that an ugly girl like you would survive out of sheer ugliness.

Mom snorts, “I think you’re the scariest thing that could walk through that door, honey.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You’d like to know what that means too. Well, you get the gist, ‘cause you’ve heard all those stories. Dad and his wandering hands.

“You know what that means.” The sound of lips smacking is enough to have you feeling sick, dizzy as you cling to the walls and make your escape. “Did she leave— Quit it, Leon— Hands off, can you go talk to her, please? Properly this time.”

He forgets to knock this time, or he can’t bother to knock. Dad sits in that same spot, he opens his mouth and closes it about five times.

“Mom’s worried about you,” Leon says robotically. “You good?”

“I’m great.” Your tone is unconvincing, but he clearly doesn’t care enough because you're his dirty little secret. Not in a sex way. You would do anything for it to be in the sex way. Dirty little secret as in the ugly kid he chooses to ignore purely because you’re ugly. Dad doesn’t like ugly girls, you know that. He doesn’t think they’re worth a second glance, even a first glance is too much. Dad is superficial and his love is plastic.

These are all things you’re making up in your head based on assumptions. This is how all attractive men think. Ugly girls aren’t worth rape, dirtying your dick in ugly pussy sounds like a hassle. If you were pretty, you wouldn’t fuck an ugly guy. Even as a self-proclaimed ugly girl, you still wouldn’t fuck an ugly guy ‘cause they’re gross, and it’s not like they want you. Ugly guys shoot high and aim for pretty girls. Duh.

So you get it. Honestly. Whatever. Dad doesn’t like you. That’s okay, you don’t like him as a dad anyway. You love him like an obsessive lover. A hallway crush that stars in your late-night rape fantasies. And you’re fine like this. You’re so fine.

“Can I… Can I actually have a hug, dad?” You muster up what is left in your hollow heart to ask him that. It’s a big deal.

Leon blinks at you, levels you with his blank stare. He’s so handsome you want to blow your brains out, it’s an easy feat because you’re always looking for reasons to blow your brains out. Every straw is your last and yet you’re still here.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Dad opens his arms, and you crawl towards him, head on his shoulder as his arms loop around your waist. Oh, god, you will your heart into giving out. Dying right here in dad’s arms is ideal.

He holds you so gently it’s brutal. He crushes you with the weight of his loveless love. Dad’s so good at pretending you almost think he cares.

“Can you… I want to stay like this.”

“Uh, sure, sweetheart,” Leon calls everyone sweetheart. Sweetheart is his default. Sweetheart ranges from Auntie Ashley to babysitters to lifeguards and retail workers who aren’t getting paid enough to deal with some old man making eyes at them. Not that anyone minds dad’s attention. It’s fucking unfair. Mom is babe, and your sister is baby, and your brother is buddy or sport or tiger or whatever shit he pulls out of his ass. And you’re sweetheart because you’re not important to him. His firstborn daughter is not important to him ‘cause she’s ugly. More of a specimen than a human.

You would do anything to keep him here.

“Dad?” You whisper into his neck.

“…Yeah?”

“I want you to…” Your lack of life flashes in front of your eyes. Bedroom. Bedroom. Porn. Bedroom. Porn. Porn. Dad. Not much. What have you got to lose? “I want to— I want to fuck you.”

Dad is silent. Then: “Oh.” He never makes the move to pull away, so you sit snugly in his grip for a few seconds longer.

“I— Dad, I touch myself thinkin’ about you.” Your stomach ties itself into a Gordian knot.

“Yeah, okay, why don’t we— Yeah, fuck, I see what she meant, okay. Wow, that’s a lot. Sweetheart, why… Listen.” Dad says a whole lot of nothing as he takes your hands off him.

“Please… I love you, dad. I really like you— I know it’s weird, dad, I do, seriously, I know, but please I just… I just like you.” There is no explanation for it. “Dad… Daddy.”

He full-on winces. It’s like you’re being flayed. Something inside of you just— Just shatters. Not your heart ‘cause it’s pumping more blood than it ever has. Fragments of your sanity splinter into even smaller segments until there is nothing left but nauseating levels of mental disturbance.

“If you don’t…”

“You seriously trying that right now?” Leon scoffs, and he’s so cocky you get hot under the collar.

(Between your thighs too, but that’s a different story.)

“Yeah, I’m serious— If you don’t… If you don’t do it- do it with me, I’ll tell mom you… I’ll tell her you raped me.” In actuality, you would never tell mom if daddy raped you. You would treasure it, keep it in a heart-shaped locket and think about it when you get off twelve times a day. Getting your pussy reamed by dad’s cock would fix you right up.

“Don’t— Are you okay?” Leon smacks your hand away, his tone is even.

“You do it too— I know you’ve done it, I know how you and mom met.”

His face drains, pallor yellowish. “That don’t… That’s different.”

“How is that any different?” Different ‘cause he’s hot and mom is hot. Leon passed it off as a drunken mistake and they end up getting together. It’s not rape if the perpetrator is a hottie. You agree, but still— It’s not fucking fair.

“‘Cause I didn’t do this.” Leon gestures abstractly.

You kiss him, hands braced on each of his tits, digging your fingers into the meat to feel him tense and harden like he’s wearing a chest plate. “You’re so hot dad,” you whine into his mouth, and Leon is quick to push you off, your wrists in his hands. Makeshift handcuffs.

“Listen, sweetheart,” Dad is using his dad voice. It’s like porn to you, only makes you wetter. “I don’t like hitting girls, but you’re givin’ me a damn good reason.”

“You can hit me, daddy.” You offer your face to him, stretching your neck forward, closing your eyes as you wait for the impact. It lands firm on your cheek, his fingertips catching the tip of your nose. Fuck that felt good. Shit. You think you’ve creamed your panties. “Again, dad, hit me again—“ He does. Harder than the last time. Your head knocks backwards, and your brain must have a dent in it.

Dad puts you over his lap and you’re so sure you’ve entered the pearly gates. Or the innermost circle of hell. Probably that ‘cause Jesus Christ are you steaming.

“I hate stupid little sluts that try it out on me,” Leon drags your sweats over the swell of your ass, “Do you have a dick?”

“What, dad— No!” You tell him, more mortified at his question than you are by your bare ass under his palm. Fuck— You’re so wet it’s disgusting, dripping down your thighs and surely staining his lap. Thick like treacle.

“No? Were you gonna rape dad with this stupid cunt?” Oh, you hope he spanks your pussy. Porn makes it look delicious. “You look like you might have a dick with that face of yours.” He traces the seam of your cunt through your panties. “Or is your pussy just fat?”

Good fucking lord.

“Dad…” You arch into him, only to have a hand come down on your left ass cheek. One. Two. Three. They all hurt bad as each other. Four. “Ouch!” That one hurt real bad. Five. You feel like a naughty child. This is not as hot as you thought it would be. More dull and embarrassing. Not even the good kind of embarrassing.

Leon puts you on your knees, the hand wrapped around your jaw forces your lips into a pout, and you think he is going to kiss you— God, you close your eyes and wait for it, lean into him, shit you’d pop your leg if you were standing up. He spits in your face and it trickles down the bridge of your nose.

“Got me dirty with that filthy pussy.” Dad speaks offhandedly, he speaks to you like you’re dog shit. Not dog shit stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Just dog shit on the side of the road. Like the sort that bothers you enough to complain about it, but it doesn’t ignite any real anger.

His hand remains tight on your jaw, then he drops it to fish his fat cock from his pants to slap the drippy head on your cheek. The sound ricochets off the walls. Hits you like a bullet. Holy fuck. Dad really just did that. You giggle, batting your lashes up at him as pretty as an ugly girl can, and he grimaces so it can’t be pretty.

“Christ, you nasty fuck,” Leon snickers at the look on your face, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Daddy,” you whimper, nosing the tip of his dick, he smells so good you want him in your mouth, “I jus’ love you lots.”

“God, I hate ugly little freaks like you.” He said that already, no need to rub it in. Another slap of his cock on your face. Your heart beats for him and him alone. “You know what I think?” Dad guides his cock into your warm mouth. “Shit, that’s good— I think your mom is a liar.”

His dick is all you’ve ever wanted. It’s heavy on your tongue, though the longer you suckle on the tip, the weightier it gets, and he’s wet. Dripping all over the place. You must get that gene from your dad.

“‘Cause I don’t think,” he grunts, palm resting on your forehead to push you off his shaft, “I don’t think I could make a kid this ugly.”

“No,” you say breathlessly, “No, you’re my dad, my daddy.” Crouched down below him, you lave over his balls, putting more effort into this than you have done with anything else in your life. Gargling dad’s balls is your best work. Nothing else you have to be proud of.

Your pussy is pulsing, shit has its own heartbeat, you drop your hand down to soothe your poor cunt, rubbing figure eights into the bulge of your clit over your panties. It’s not enough, you push them to the side, your fingers slip a couple times, not enough, only dad’s fingers are enough, only his cock will plug up your leaking hole.

“Get off me,” dad instructs, and you might be glued to him, but you detach yourself immediately. “C’mon, stand up.” You use his thighs as leverage, standing on shaky legs that threaten to give out at any second. He takes your shirt off. “Cute tits gone to waste,” dad sighs like it’s heartbreaking. “We could've done something about it, y’know? Could fix your face right up, just had to ask daddy.”

“Really, dad? I want to be pretty, daddy, I want to be pretty for you, you never call me pretty— Daddy, I want to be pretty, please.” You clasp his shirt, and he brings you into his lap once more, raising your legs to slide your panties down so you’re free bleeding on his lap. Free bleeding without the blood. Just good old pussy.

“Messin’ with you, sweetheart, can’t fix that dog face,” dad coos to you tenderly, and the plain-as-day insult flies right over you. Dad could get you to sell both your kidneys if he keeps talking to you like that. “Just gotta live with it.”

You have. You have lived with it. That’s what you do. Live with your ugly face. You could die, that’s an option, but you choose to wait it out. ‘Cause dying is pretty scary no matter how much you want it. And Leon’s dick is hard beneath your pussy so there are things to live for. The world isn’t all cruel.

“Up,” he taps your lower back, you raise your hips and he presses his cock to your stretched hole. Toy after toy after toy. All to ready yourself for dad. When you sink down on him, your body convulses. It’s the sweet release of death. Or an orgasm. Fuck. Dying on dad’s cock is— You haven’t died on his dick, he fucks you through your high, feet planted firmly on the ground as he thrusts upwards, dick angled just right.

Heroin is meant to be good. You’ve seen Trainspotting. Better than any cock— You don’t believe that for a minute. Unless he’s leaking smack straight into your pussy, numbing your walls. Could be that ‘cause god— You’re not really thinking, not that you think much, when you decide to shove your fingers into his mouth.

“Daddy, can you taste me?” You ask him, giving a languid grind of your hips down onto his cock, you regret it immediately ‘cause it’s so good your cunt squelches loudly. “Do you taste me, dad? Dad—“

“Yeah,” Dad says, muffled, “Shoving your fingers down my fuckin’ throat, you little psycho, ‘course I taste it.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Daddy looks so pretty with his lips wrapped around your fingers, you fuck them in and out of his pink mouth, his tongue runs along the length of your fingers like he’s sucking a nice cock. Treating your fingers better than you did his dick.

Daddy’s splitting you in two. He fucks you without a care in the world. ‘Cause he doesn’t care about you. One-time-use pussy. You’re disposable like the gloves you get with box dye. Like a plastic spork. His cock is so deep he might as well tear open your middle and fuck your guts. Leon grabs your hips, forces you up and drops you down. The air in your lungs has no time to build up— You grasp at his shirt, bouncing in his lap like you’re a fleshlight, and you would be so happy with that title. Dad’s personal fleshlight. It makes you giddy.

Leon’s cock twitches inside of you, when he lifts you off of him, your pussy clings to the tip, holding on for dear life, insistent on milking daddy’s dick, taking every drop of his cum.

“Daddy…” Your head drops to his shoulder. “Please, daddy, am I pretty? Can you call me pretty?”

His hips stutter, and you don’t have to see his face to know he hesitates. It’s a struggle to call a girl like you pretty. “You’re so pretty, sweetheart.” Then he dumps his load so deep— So deep, you warm to the thought of having your daddy’s baby. You already fucked so why not go the extra mile?

Dad doesn’t kiss you, but he lays you down and tucks you in like he never has before. “Your mom’s worried.” He goes back to the topic at hand and you groan, covering your face with a pillow. “Hey, we can, uh…” Leon scratches his head. “We can y’know…” He shrugs, glances down at you. “Can do that if you try pulling your weight a little.”

The promise of your dad’s cock is enough to have you applying for every job in a thirty-mile radius. Dad’s cock is a fix for an ugly girl like you. You’ve got a pussy only your daddy could love, and you think you’re more than okay with that.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you

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pedgito · 2 years

Note

please please PLEASE do a blurb of eddie fucking the reader and shes like struggling and saying “have.. to.. be.. quiet” while eddie is just cooing her telling her that she doesn’t/no one is home

author’s note: i will die on the hill of ‘struggling to be quiet’ fucking, thank you for coming to me ted talk and i hope you enjoy my poorly written smut.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex (pulling out), exhibitionism (sort of), eddie being a menace, just another reason to write depraved smut

word count: 1.6k

You were accustomed to the quickies that happened, more often than not, in the back of Eddie’s trailer—early mornings, late nights. Eddie wasn’t particularly fond of fucking you in the back of his van anymore, feeling rushed and uncomfortable, and you deserved to be treated beautifully—not forced onto your knees in the back of some metal death machine, scrapping them up for the sheer idea of getting laid. You deserved a bed, at least—but the only downside to that, despite his lack of being a teen, Eddie still lived with his uncle.

And as often as Wayne was gone, he also couldn’t stay gone forever. Most of the time it could be managed without worry—Wayne was gone more evenings and nights, aside from the rare occasion he had a day off, but Eddie didn’t have any qualms when it came to you and when he needed you—and there really was no denying him, not when you wanted it just as badly.

His uncle doesn’t question when you start staying overnight, it’s not his business and he knows Eddie’s grown and level-headed enough to make good decisions—and you’re good for Eddie, he sees it in the way Eddie carries himself now and in the way he does everything possible to accommodate to you first—it really isn’t necessary, but Wayne raised him to be a gentleman and he’d be damned if he didn’t see that through.

Regardless, Eddie loves to catch you at the most inconvenient times—particularly the warm, summer weekends when Wayne was off, saddled up on the couch in the living room catching up on the latest sports game, television blasting through the trailer.

He knew. He had to.

Besides, Wayne had been nice enough to give Eddie the only bedroom in the trailer—and as a hormonal kid in his last year of high school, it was probably for the best.

He shuts the door with a soft click, the mix of his radio and the booming television drowning out everything else—still, when he fucks you, his hand is clasped tightly over your mouth to drown out every last moan he pulls from you.

Eddie loves it, face lighting up in excitement as you struggled to keep quiet, eyes nearly rolling back in your head at how hard he was fucking into you, panting his own soft breaths over the back of his hand, his face so close your eyelashes could touch.

“Fuck,” He groans brokey, voice cracking on his final thrust, pulling out swiftly to come over the soft expanse of your stomach, pulling his hand away from your mouth,“—baby—“

It’s too loud for your liking, springing up from your reclined position to clasp your hand over his mouth, his eyes falling shut as he tugs at his dick, working through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He mumbled something against the palm of your hand, another curse or filthy remark, you’re not sure—but you’re more than thankful to have muffled his mouth because there was no surviving the shame of having to walk back to the entrance of the trailer after this.

When Eddie finally calms down, releasing his dick to pull at your hand, he’s laughing—and you can’t help but look at him with absurdity, shoving gently at his bare stomach.

“Eddie,” You say in a hushed voice of warning, “are you trying to get us caught?”

“He’s not stupid,” Eddie replies half-heartedly, shrugging, “He probably went out for a couple smokes anyways—he usually does.”

“Still,” You stress, “If you can’t wait, at least don’t make it so fucking obvious.”

Eddie smiles, tipping your chin up with his forefinger, the curved metal of his ring bumping against the skin.

“You can always say no,” Eddie reminds you playfully, “It didn’t seem like you cared a few minutes ago.”

Your eyes narrow, trying to look as intimidating as you could despite your soft features, “I was trying to be quiet. You were being loud on purpose.”

“You feel good.” He defends weakly, “Sue me.”

You roll your eyes fondly, swatting his hand away gently.

“Well, for my sake, try a little harder please?”

Eddie agrees with cautious regret, knowing he definitely didn’t have enough self control, but if it was for you—he would. And it becomes normal after time, almost too easy, and Eddie takes full advantage of it.

You’ve never fucked in a storage closet, let alone at school, but it’s something you can say you’ve tried at least once—all thanks to Eddie’s steadfast determination. He’s even bold enough to fuck you in the bathroom of your parent’s home during a big dinner with other friends and family—and no one had a clue. Eddie always knew how to take full advantage of every situation, both a blessing and a curse.

But when the rare occasion does come, leaving you both alone for the night and Eddie free of his Hellfire duties, it’s like you don’t know how to handle yourself, forcing yourself to keep quiet out of habit.

You pull your bottom lip tight between your teeth, snuffing out the soft whines begging to escape, the slow, full thrust of Eddie’s hips overwhelming when mixed with his calloused fingers working at your already sensitive clit. He moans unabashed, tossing his head back to throw his hair over his shoulder, free hand gripping your hip like a vice, pulling you against him just as eagerly as he thrust into you.

“Love watching you like this,” Eddie says softly, voice shot from pleasure, “—look so pretty on my cock, sweetheart.”

You nod jerkily, agreeing with whatever he said at that point, brows pulling together in concentration, mouth falling open on a soundless gasp.

“What’s wrong?” He asks teasingly, tongue peeking out past his lips and near the corner of his mouth, smug as fucking ever.

“Have to—“ You pant softly, “have to be quiet, Eddie.”

Eddie pouts endearingly, pulling you against him in a rough snap of his hips, your hands grabbing at his messy sheets.

“No, baby,” He shakes his head, “—it’s just us.”

“But—“ You start to protest, but Eddie's hand comes to grab at your face, gentle despite his quickening pace, less restrained than earlier. “—what if your neighbors, you know—“

It was true, sound traveled far too well in the tiny trailer park—but Eddie couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I want to hear you,” Eddie tells you honestly, eyes falling upon your face, mouth gaping open in his grip, you nod slightly, “—unless you need me to force it out of you.”

And he could with no problem.

“Turn around,” He instructs softly, pulling out momentarily to adjust your hips until you push up onto your knees, face shoved gently into the mattress, “don’t hold back, baby.”

Eddie came in with a plan, sliding into you with ease, hips snapping at a hurried pace that had you gasping into the sheets, even then they were muffled, all semblance of thought and self control gone, practically drooling into his sheets at the brutal pace he’d set.

It isn’t enough for Eddie though, his hand winding into the back of your hair until it hits the root, yanking your head up tenderly—the strain is bordering on uncomfortable, but it’s worth it, the sound he releases as he thrusts into you with furious precision.

“Fuck—you feel so good,” He says in a haze, head tilted down to watch himself sink into you, squeezing at the dip of your hip, “squeezing me so tight, sweetheart.”

You nod, mumbling a soft “Uh huh,” in response, but it’s not what Eddie wants—he knows you have it in you, keeping it so calmly at bay.

“Am I making you feel good, too?” Eddie asks teasingly, another quiet nod, the motion weak against his tight hold on your hair. “Say it, baby—who makes you feel like this?”

“You,” You reply softly, pulling gently against his grip until he lets go, palms pressed against the bed to keep you upright, using your own momentum to slam your hips back against him, plunging Eddie so deep your vision feels like it goes spotty, “—fuck, you do.”

“Say it, sweetheart.” He instructs in a sweet tone, leaning back on his calves until you’re seated in his lap, “say my name.”

You gasp as his fingers reach around to find your clit in a desperate attempt to pull you to a quick orgasm—“Eddie.”

“Louder.”

You sob softly, the muscles of your legs twitching as the pressure builds, your body going white hot with euphoric pleasure as you come around Eddie’s cock, crying out a broken, “EddieEddieEddie—“

Eddie curses as he comes a few seconds after, over the swell of your ass, feeling desperate to catch your breath. He leans down a moment later, pressing a soft kiss to the middle of your back, running his hands along your arms gently. He lifts you up slowly until you can face him again, face at chest level from where he stood above you. His face is outlined by the low light of the room, another satisfied grin pulling at his face.

“Don’t act so innocent,” Eddie teases, “I knew you had it in you.”

You roll your eyes light-heartedly, shoving your fist against his abdomen gently, his fingers coming to wrap around your wrist with ease.

“I never said I didn’t.” You counter and Eddie grins even wider.

It’s safe to say that Eddie goes out of his way to make sure the trailer is always cleared from then on, never depriving himself of such an experience ever again.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #1kfic

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