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eddiernunson · 7 months

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Nice to Meet You, Where You Been? | Eddie Munson x f!Reader | 18+

Thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, you're the best!

Summary: your college roommate takes you to the annual Harrington Halloween Party, where you expect to do nothing but get drunk and dance for a night. That was...until you turn around to the person dancing against you to Eddie fucking Munson.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, praise/degradation, hook-up at a party, daddy kink, creampie, no protection, slow ish build up, size kink? maybe?, hooking up under the influence

I had a whole ass plan to write for KinkTober but executive dysfunction took over. Hopefully this makes up for it...maybe.

I have another Halloween themed fic from last year, EddiexReader with Steve if anyone is interested

Word Count: 6.1k

You sit in the backseat of your roommate’s boyfriend’s beater, the music bumping through the stereo as you make your way to what is supposedly the biggest Halloween party of every year. Your roommate spent the beginning of your fall semester hyping up this party as the best place to be on a Halloween night. Her insistence was charming, and you were looking for an excuse to get drunk. So, now you are watching as you pass by Halloween decorations and children dressed in costumes going Trick-or-Treating.

You don't pay much attention to what they're saying, the gist of it reminiscing on the Halloween parties they had attended in the past. Your roommate had made it very clear from the start that this guy, whatever his name was, his Halloween parties were legendary in town. He has only been throwing them for a handful of years, but if you were a young adult in rural Hawkins on Halloween night, chances are you were at this party.

You start to wonder how big this guy’s house must be if a couple hundred people have been attending every year, and it sounded like he even encouraged it.

You can hear the music bumping from the house before you even see it. It's hard to miss, a cluster of cars in the neighborhood, several people walking up the lawn towards the wide-open door. Your roommate’s boyfriend parks down the street, a spot that is probably fine to park overnight due to the nature of the party.

If there is to be a single sober soul at this party, they would be a rare sight.

You tug at your costume as you walk behind the two of them, strutting arm in arm. They’re wearing a matching couple’s costume, as salt and pepper. It’s something they could come up with last minute, him wearing a black shirt for pepper and her a white dress for salt. Their costume is minimal, and certainly they’ll get asked frequently what they’re supposed to be, but when everyone’s intoxicated, you suppose it won’t matter much.

You’re dressed as your favorite iconic Batman villain, Poison Ivy. You loved the character from the DC comics as you grew up and having a year away from your parents and in a different town, you figured it might be a time to try a new daring costume. So here you walk, arms crossed in a small green dress with fake vines pinned across your chest. You opted for some dramatic green eyeshadow and bright red lips, hoping your makeup and costume will sell the look.

Your ears are nearly bursting as you cross the threshold to the front door of the massive house from the loud bumping music. The pop music is a bit obnoxious, but you’re sure you won’t care once some alcohol is in your system.

Your roommate seems to remember you exist, escaping her boyfriend’s arms for the moment and intertwining her arm around yours. She immediately guides you to the kitchen where stacks of red solo cups are sitting, surrounded by bottles of alcohol and soda. “Holy shit.” You mutter.

“I know.” She giggles, handing you a cup and some tequila.

“No thanks.” You push it back, knowing what exactly tequila does to you. “I’ll just do a vodka-sprite.”

As you’re pouring, in waddles a lanky dude with brown curled hair and freckles scattered on his pale skin. “Oh hey, Mandy!” He greets her, stumbling as he toasts his cup. “Haven’t seen you in a while! How’s that boyfriend of yours?” He asks, spinning the lid of the alcohol he’s holding absentmindedly, causing it to flick off into the distance.

“Nate’s good, I think he’s taking over your stereo, though.” She says, moving the bottles around to make Nate’s drink, as well.

“As per usual.” He laughs, pouring a large quantity of said tequila into his cup.

Mandy seems to realize something halfway through her sip. “Oh shit!” She sputters out, a drip of alcohol leaving her mouth. “Sorry, I forgot you two don’t know each other, yet. Y/N, this is Steve. Steve, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You greet him shyly, his confidence radiating, but very intimidating.

“Hello. Me casa e su casa, and whatever, whatever. Can I just ask, who are you supposed to be?” He asks you, gesturing to your costume.

“Oh, Poison Ivy.” You explain to him, sipping on your concoction and wincing when you realize you’ve poured way too much.

Steve blinks at you, seemingly trying to make sense of your costume. “You’re—you’re a plant?”

You laugh, not in the mood to explain comic book villains to someone who clearly doesn’t know anything about them. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, cool!” Steve laughs, taking a big sip of his drink.

“Hey, Steve, you see much of Munson these days?” Mandy asks him, wiping her face from the excess drink surrounding her mouth.

How wonderful, more people you don’t know. Hawkins is the smallest town you’ve ever seen; everyone seems to know of everyone.

“Eddie? Yeah, he should be here tonight actually. Super dork, dressed as some character from Star Wars. Or at least I think it’s Star Wars.” He mutters, rolling his eyes in obvious affection for his friends. “He’s matching with Henderson and Wheeler.”

They shake their heads together in tandem at their supposedly dorky friends. As a Star Wars fan, however, you were fine, ecstatic even to hear that there were souls brave enough to dress up as dorky characters and that you weren’t the only one.

You follow Mandy into the living room, now bumping with a tape mix that Nate apparently brought to the party. It's a damn blast, everyone in the living room dancing surrounded by sweaty bodies, finally finding some joy as the strong drink makes you lose your inhibitions. As you continue dancing, suddenly you find yourself in a huddle of people, Mandy and Nate both dancing by you, but lost in their own drunken haze. You don’t care about that. However, something in your mind as you tell yourself you don’t care tells you to care about the person who’s been up against your back for God knows how long.

They have a good rhythm, and they weren’t all too touchy so nothing in your head raised any red flags. You turn around to face the stranger, and it’s like you forget how to breathe. One of his hands is placed on your hip, a smile on his face giving way to dimples that make you swoon. “Hi.” He greets you. You can’t quite hear it over the music, but you can certainly read his lips. Isn’t all that hard to decipher.

You smile back to him, letting a forearm rest on his shoulder. Who were you to deny such a pretty person? His wide smile expands even more, adding some pressure to your hip. The weight and size of his hand sends a thrill through you, and there’s a level of horniness that’s coming from you that you didn’t even know you could have.

Your drink is eventually finished, the cup dropped to the floor, forgetting to bother to throw it away. The gorgeous stranger pulls you in closer and closer as you continue to dance with him, his hands never dipping down past your waist, but you can tell by the steadiness of his grip that he knows how to use them. Usually, eye contact this intense would cause you to retract, looking away after that first glance. This eye contact only makes you want him more, his brown eyes exuding a type of lust you’ve never experienced before.

Or…were you just picturing this?

The hand that rested on your hip moves to frame your face, slender fingers brushing your cheek, caressing it for a half a moment. The hand moves down to hook under your chin, his thumb swiping across your bottom lip. His eyes very obviously stare at your lips, silently asking you for permission. When his tongue licks his bottom lip you nod eagerly, one hand moving to his black curls that you have been itching to touch as long as you’ve faced him.

Somehow, your ears muffle out the deafening music in favor of the chuckle that leaves his mouth. Before you could even register your heartbeat loud in your ears, he bends down to kiss you, and for the first time your brain computes how much taller he is than you. Any thought you might’ve had seems to evacuate the moment his soft lips meet yours. He kisses you with an expertise that makes you irrationally jealous of any other person who’s had the opportunity before you. He draws a sharp inhale as you deepen the kiss, offering more slobber and spit for him to wholeheartedly accept.

His hands tangle in your curled hair, thumbs caressing your face on either side. Something you're learning about this stranger is that he kisses with his whole body, and he knows how to do it well. His teeth graze against your bottom lip, tugging on it lightly. You whimper, shoving your tongue down his throat. A deep laugh escapes his throat as he meets your enthusiasm. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and down to your collarbone. You barely sigh into it when his lips leave your collarbone, looking at you with remorse.

Uh oh. Not good. Were you the worst kisser and he was going to go find someone else worthy of his magical skills?

“Sorry, gotta piss. Beer’s hittin’ hard.” He shouts over the music, his thumb gesturing toward where you guessed the bathroom was.

“Ok. I’m gonna go get another drink.” You tell him, noting the red lipstick now all over his lips. “You got some uh…some lipstick there…hold on…” You reach out to wipe it for him, but he deflects, ducking from your thumb humorously.

“Uh…no thanks. I wear this shit with pride.” He explains, giving you a wink. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

You nod, suddenly full of nerves. You have been all over this guy for the last…however long, you couldn’t even tell. And now you’re realizing, he might be a decent dude on top of being a fantastic kisser.

Your legs carry you into the kitchen, running into Mandy and Nate. You weren’t sure where they’d been, having been lost in your own little world.

“Hi, babe!” She greets you, alcohol sharp on her breath. Whoa. She has had a lot more than you have. “I missed you, where the hell you been?”

You giggle, deciding to go for the tequila. After all, it was your literal liquid courage. And if you wanted to get that man’s fingers down your panties tonight, you were gonna need some. “Making out with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life.” You proudly proclaim, taking a big sip of just straight tequila before adding some Sprite.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, letting go and forgetting about Nate’s existence. “Holy shit, I’m so fucking proud!” Speaking of him…he waltzes into the kitchen, grabbing a cup right by you and winking, apparently unseen by Mandy. “Shit, I’ve been looking for you!” She tells him, drunkenly tapping her hand on his bicep. “Hey, Y/N! This is Eddie. Remember? The dork Steve talked about earlier?”

Ouch. Mandy has no filter, as of course, she's drunk, but she didn’t have to be rude.

At least now you have a name for him. You were starting to feel bad. “Oh, I’m acquainted.” You tell her, sharing a smirk with Eddie.

“Seriously? Cool.” Mandy answers, not getting the hint. You gesture with your eyes alone to Mandy that Eddie was the guy you were talking about just a few moments ago. She gets it, but apparently forgets all about subtlety. “Wait, Eddie Munson is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life?” She asks you incredulously, like it's the most unbelievable thing she's ever heard.

“Thanks, Mandy.” You grit out, teeth clenched.

“Oops.” She grimaces, grabbing Nate's hand. “We’re gonna go find a spot on the couch to make out. Sorry!”

You roll your eyes affectionately, knowing she meant no harm. Did she have to say it, though?

The smirk on Eddie’s face says everything without saying a word. “So, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, huh?” He asks, looking incredibly proud of the fact.

You knock your tequila back, needing more liquid courage. “Yep. Hottest.”

His eyebrow raises, and he takes a big sip of his own drink. Maybe he needs his own courage. “Well, you’re probably the sexiest damn Poison Ivy I’ve ever seen.” He smirks, leering at you. His eyes blatantly rake up and down your body, giving you a surge in confidence. “You’re like a little sexy nugget of weed.” He laughs, his words slightly slurred.

“Wait, you get that I’m Poison Ivy?” You ask, finally assessing his costume. Oh, he’s Vader without the mask. “I mean I guess you are the dork they talked about earlier.” Eddie seems slightly sunken by this. “Don’t worry,” you tell him theatrically. “I’m a massive dork, myself.”

He perks up, pulling you in by the waist. “What do you say we find a room upstairs?” He asks, taking another big sip of his drink.

You raise your cup back to your lips, knocking the remainder down fast. “I say, lead the way.”

He grabs you by the hand and leads you up the stairs, pushing some people out of the way that were blocking it in the middle of a conversation. As he leads you down the hall, the music somewhat fades out and you can hear him muttering under his breath. “We better find a guest room cause I’m not hooking up in Harrington’s room, and I’ll be damned if I hook up in his parents' room.”

From that, you’re able to assess that he’s over here enough to know which room belongs to whom. He knocks on one of the doors, swearing softly when someone shouts out. He does it twice more, meeting the same result. “Ok.” He sighs, fingers crossed. He knocks twice, no answer. He knocks once more for good measure, and it can be said that there is definitely no one inside. “Thank fuck.”

As soon as you’re through the door he turns the dimmer switches on lightly and locks the door. You take off the vines, letting the pins and fake plants fall to the floor to make it easier for him to climb on you.

He watches you from the four postered bed, still head to toe in what you now noticed was the caped costume that Darth Vader wears. “So, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, by the way. If you wanna do hand stuff, we’ll do hand stuff.”

Your gut swoops at his consideration and empathy. He seems to truly care about your comfortability rather than him getting off. You walk to him, swiping off all accessories you wore, including your shoes. You straddle his lap, pushing on him lightly so he falls back onto the bed. You attack his lips with your own, attempting to show how much his consideration for you already has you soaked. “I will do” you whisper in between a handful of kisses, “anything you want me to,” you tell him, starting to grind the tent you feel poking past your dress. “Within reason.” You add for good measure, not quite that down for anything. But if he wants to fuck you, you’re down. You’re so down. You’re so down bad.

“Fuck…do that again.” He asks, holding your hips. You comply, grinding your wet heat against him, teasing yourself, but loving the expression on his face. It's ethereal. “Fuck, baby. You barely touched me, and you already have me falling apart.”

This makes you smile with pride. A huff of laughter escapes your lips, sighing deeply as you can feel his erection growing. The fact that this man is as hard as he is when he’s this good looking is the biggest compliment in the world. You wrap his lips in a kiss again, your tongue peeking out to lick across his lip, managing to tug yet another moan out of him. You relish in the tone, the whimper that follows right after it. He really isn’t afraid to tell you how much he is enjoying what the two of you are doing.

As you continue to explore his tequila-scented mouth, both of his hands cup your ass, feeling his limber fingers bunch up the fabric of the bright green dress you’re wearing. He takes his time, giving you every minute to communicate any second thoughts. You moan impatiently, encouraging him to get under there already.

He chuckles, pulling the rest of the material up swiftly. His fingers grab at the skin of your barely covered ass cheeks roughly, the friction burning in the best way. A whimper escapes your throat, your mouth filling with the taste of him as your tongues meet. You’re sure he’s gripping those cheeks hard enough to bruise, not that you mind.

An increasing need has been growing since you first laid eyes on him, the need for him to touch you in the most sinful of ways. While his touch on your ass is electric, you are ready for much more. Your whimpers echo the thought, feeling needy for more of his touch, your hip movements going from fluid and purposeful to rigid and needy.

“What do you need, hmm?” He asks in-between kisses, one hand pushing up your dress to your waist as it caresses your bare hip. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“Need you to touch me,” the thought leaves your lips without your permission. How dare your brain betray you like that?

Eddie starts to kiss at your jaw, switching between nibbles and his tongue deliciously lapping at the skin. “Like how?” He asks in intervals, his voice soft, yet demanding. “Like this?” He grabs harshly at your ass, nails digging into the soft flesh. “Like this?” He asks again, tingles radiating down your skin as he lightly grazes your hip bone. “Or…like this?” His hand that rested on your hip bone flutters down to where heat radiates off your core, getting a feel of your soaked panties. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking wet.” He mutters, putting some pressure at the top of your mound.

Your hips start desperately grinding against his fingers, needing him to touch you. “Can you blame me?” You ask him, breath stuttering through it.

“Are you trying to flatter me?” He asks, pausing his pressure momentarily and backing off to study you. You stutter through an empty response, and he laughs kindly. “Cause flattery works, sweetheart.” His fingers move past the cotton barrier he's been making small circles against, delicately tracing along the wetness of your folds. You’re so slick, it’s like a damn slip and slide. The moment his fingers make contact with you, they’re soaked and in your juices.

“Oh shit—” you stutter, grinding on him helplessly. You can barely focus, your arms weak as you’re suddenly unable to hold your weight as you collapse on him. He's not touching you purposely, but just the feel of him sends a ripple down your spine. “Feels good.”

“Hmm.” He answers, noting the way you’re writhing so beautifully on top of him. He knew he would have you in a mess. In fact, he looked forward to it from the moment he saw you. He meticulously moves you onto your back, taking in your wide-eyed stare with a smirk. “Gonna take these off.” He mutters, fingers moving to the waistband of your panties. “Need a good look at you.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means until you see the look on his face as he stares at your pussy for the first time. His darkened stare, the slack smile he wears as he stares at you. Well not you, just the most vulnerable part of you. You’ve had a bit of experience in high school, but no one ever looked at your pussy like this. Like…it’s…

“Beautiful.” Eddie whispers, licking his lips. You watch him as he takes you in, admiring how wanted he makes you feel. Without a warning he lurches forward in between your legs, his tongue licking one long strip up your slick. Your thighs convulse, the pleasure so red hot, you can’t control the choked-out moan that escapes your lips if you tried. “Oh, you’re shaking, baby.”

His tongue moves more purposely to your clit, sucking on it and tapping with his tongue repeatedly. Your thighs clamp around his face, tensing up as every goddamn nerve is set on fire. You feel a slight huff of laughter against your puffy clit, the breath tickling you, causing you to giggle from the sensation. The giggle leads into a whimper, the small movements of his tongue sending you into overdrive. “Feels so—oh my god—I—” You stutter, unable to finish a single sentence.

He tugs your legs, forcing your knees against your chest to get even closer. A fierce heat starts in your stomach, startling the hell out of you. A great build slowly moves you, pushing you step by step over a high you’ve never reached before. Your stomach has never coiled so tightly, the heat never so intense. “Too much, too much.”

“You’re almost there, sweetheart.” He encourages you, watching every muscle in your legs tighten and feeling your abdomen tighten and release. “Oh, it’s gonna feel so good, baby. Wanna see you cum for me, see you fall apart, hear that pretty little mouth make the prettiest noises.”

Eddie slips a finger in, pumping it slowly at first, building up the speed quickly as he continues sucking. There’s something in you telling you to be embarrassed at how quickly your orgasm has snuck up on you, but from the foreplay of his expert lips and the mind-numbing words, it only makes sense.

“Cl-close…” You manage out, the heat making your way through your body, even making a stop in your head.

“Let me see you come apart, sweetheart.” He tells you, working his fingers at an unmatched rate.

The sensation sends you over the edge, your extremities shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a near primal moan leaves your mouth, a sound you didn’t even know you had the capability of making.

It takes you a minute to recover, Eddie working you through your whole orgasm and gently kissing your thighs until you come back to. He’s patient, waiting until your breathing slows down, kissing his way up your half-dressed torso. Eddie rests his body on yours, the tent in his pants meeting the heat of your center as his forearms support his weight on either side of your head. His thumbs sway at your temple, slowly watching as your eyes lose their glaze.

Your vision finally focuses back on him, his soft smile on his face welcoming as he watches you. His legs tense up, his muscles spasming as he resists thrusting into your heat. It’s teasing you, your hips accidentally moving upwards to meet the now wet stain on his polyester costume. “You’re wearing too much.” You tell him, whining softly.

“I’m sorry, should I take these off?” He asks, kissing you rapidly on the face right after. “Or if you’re done, I don’t blame you.”

“Done?” You ask incredulously. “Oh no, I’m not even close to done.” You tell him, giggling when he gives you a smirk.

“Just checking, sweetheart.” Eddie replies, kissing you rapidly again.

You’re finally back on earth, your hands reaching around him to look for where his costume opens. You had a feeling it would open from the back. You pull each Velcro apart one by one, your hands telling you as you move down that he’s not wearing anything underneath. You don't know if it's odd or the hottest thing in the world. Both, definitely both.

Your nails scratch at his skin at the last one, finally taking the shoulders off. You gasp as he helps you take out each arm awkwardly, only because you could finally see all the tattoos that his costume has covered up. “Holy shit.” You mutter, hands reaching out to palm at each one.

As he mouths at your neck, you push the rest of his costume down, figuring out it was a one piece. Ok. Steve might’ve been right about calling him a dork. But with his cunnilingus skills, who fucking cares? “You wanna fuck?” He asks, making his way down your neck, one hickey at a time.

You wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him down so the thin fabric meets your soaked pussy even harder. “Please?”

“When you ask so nicely, how could I deny?” He answers, leaving one last final nibble on your shoulder. He gets up without a warning, and you whine pathetically. “Jus’ takin off my pants sweetheart. Can’t put my dick in you if it’s still covered.”

You watch him pull down his pants, teasing you as it makes its way down his torso, his treasure trail, the v-line, you start drooling the moment his cock pops out. You figured he was big from his bulge pressed against you, but the material was apparently holding him back from his true length. You spend a good minute staring at it, how pink the head is, how thick he looks, it made you nearly feral.

“Enjoying the show?” Eddie asks. You glance back up at his face, heating up when you realize you've stared a lot longer than planned.

“Mmmhmm.” You tell him, not seeing any need to deny.

He lurches forward onto the bed, yanking giggles out of you. His hands roughly move up your torso to take your dress off, moving it over your head. He throws it over his shoulder, eyes raking in your tits like they’re in the Louvre. Hell, he’d take a polaroid and hang it there, despite the risk of security arresting and escorting him out immediately after.

“You are fucking gorgeous, baby.” He mutters, leaning into one of your tits mouthing at the nipple delicately, grazing it with his teeth, turning the mound into a shade of purple.

You can’t help yourself, reaching down to grab his cock. “Need you in me.” You urge him, smiling when he lets out a surprised whimper.

“Fucking—” he stutters out, biting on his lip. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I can do that.” He laughs, and before you have a moment to admire how adorable that was, you feel him line himself up. “Shit, you’re fucking tight.”

You can feel exactly what he means, the head barely pushing in. Even with how wet you are, Eddie's having difficulty pushing into you. Your mouth drops open, panting through it at the blinding pain and pleasure. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. “Feels so goddamn good, Ed.” You gasp, blindly reaching for him.

Blindly, because your eyes are unable to stay open from the sheer pleasure that has taken over your body.

“I know, baby I know.” He whispers, holding one hand to your face.

“Ok.”

He pushes in more, eliciting a high-pitched whine out of you. “You have any idea how fucking hot those little noises that you make are?” He asks, his voice husky and strained.

You laugh at his successful attempt at flattery, causing him to whine at the way your pussy tightens around him in sync. “Keep going.”

He pushes in a little bit more, your legs tensing around his torso as the noise caught in your throat is even louder. “You’re taking me so well, baby, what a good girl.” You tighten up at his praise, provoking Eddie to get the idea that praise is something that you desire. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you, my good girl?” You tighten around him again, Eddie twitching in you as a response.

“More.” You manage out, your voice guttural. He pushes in just a little bit more. “Oh my god, you’re in my fucking stomach, so fucking deep!” You whine, eyes closed as you pulse around him.

“Just a little bit more, baby. You’re doing so well, such a good girl.”

“More.”

He pushes the rest of his cock in, finally able to rest his body on yours. You take your time adjusting to his size, inhaling, and exhaling with purpose as the pain subsides. “That’s a girl, take your time.” He mutters, watching you carefully.

“Kiss me please.” You whisper, opening your eyes to face the intensity radiating from his chocolate brown ones. He leans in for a lush kiss, your legs wrapping around him to pull him in tightly. His hand moves to your tit, playing with the nipple between two of his fingers. Your tongues meet, somehow knowing exactly what the other needs. “You can move now.” You whisper in between kisses.

Eddie, apparently a master at multitasking, lifts his hips without so much as stuttering in the kiss. You expected him to stop, but the new mix of sensation throws you off intensely. His first thrust causes you to shout directly into his mouth. You’re much more prepared for the second thrust, however unprepared for the force behind it. “Yeah?” He asks, pulling back and staring into your eyes.

You nod enthusiastically. “So good. Cock feels…so good.” You whine to him, legs unable to continue holding onto him as tight as they were. Now they’re floating in the air aimlessly, unable to focus on much except for how good and how deep he is. “How…this good?” The question you meant to ask was how he was so good at fucking like this, but your mouth was unable to form a single coherent sentence.

“Barely been in you for a minute, and you’re already cock-drunk, huh?” He borderline mocks you, fucking you faster with each thrust.

You grunt in response, fully accepting the label of cock drunk. “So…good, Eddie!” It’s just…fucking true, which is the only rational thought in your brain for the moment. Others are So Hot, and Big Ass Cock, and finally, Gorgeous fucking body.

“Your pretty pussy is so tight, baby, bein’ such a good girl for me.” Eddie sits up, pulling your ass down to where he can fuck you in a better position where he can hit your g-spot. He rests a hand sideways on your lower tummy, putting slight pressure on it. This sends a blinding hot pleasure into you as he repeatedly hits that spot.

“F-fuck, get-getting cl-close…” you stutter, feeling your tits bounce at the sheer force he's fucking you with.

“This is fucking embarrassing, but so am I, baby.” He mutters, starting to go at a faster rate, which you would've deemed impossible a few seconds ago. “Your pussy is so fucking good, can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

You half giggle, half moan at the flattery, not minding for one moment that he would cum so quickly. After all, he spent the first half paying most of his attention to you, so you understand if he's been pent up. While that is the reality of why, you can’t help but feel like hot shit for making someone as fantastic as Eddie cum so fast. His stamina and willingness to give on top of how gorgeous he is does nothing but boost your ego.

“Cum with me.” You beg him, also on the edge. “Cum in me.”

“Oh my god—” you make his hips stutter, and you smile with pride. “You sure, baby?” He asks, trying to make sure he covers his tracks.

“Cum in me, please, daddy!” It leaves your mouth before you’re unable to stop it, the daddy kink not quite something you break out on the first fuck most of the time.

Eddie, however, is a different breed. He meets the unexpected outburst with a growl, and you swear his cock twitches inside of you. “Of course, baby girl, whatever you want.” He grunts out. “Daddy is gonna fill you the fuck up.” He lurches forward so he’s skin on skin with you again so he can whisper in your ear. “When we go back downstairs, I’m gonna keep your panties, and you're gonna dance with my cum dripping down your fucking legs.” You tighten up around him, telling Eddie this is exactly what you wanted from him. The sweet mixture of praise and degradation makes your head spin with need. “You like that, huh? Of course, you’d like that you fucking slut.” His hips rut harshly against yours and at a stupid crazy speed. “If I catch you trying to clean yourself up, you’re gonna fucking hear about it, got it?”

You nod, entirely thrilled about this.

“Didn’t fuckin hear you, slut.”

“Got it, daddy.” You answer, right on the edge.

“You gonna cum with me, baby girl?” He asks, his voice strained.

“Mmhmm. Waiting for you.”

“Good fucking girl. I’m so close…fuck…gonna—” Eddie is interrupted by his own orgasm, which sends you over the edge with him. It’s not as intense as your last one, so you’re able to pay extra attention to the look on his face. His mouth half open, a deep moan leaving his throat. Oh god, you’ll definitely be remembering this next time it’s only you and your imagination.

He collapses on you, his chest and forehead covered in sweat. The only sound in the air is you and Eddie catching your breath together. Your breath is finally back in your lungs, but your heart is still racing against his chest. He suddenly sits himself back on his forearms, petting at your forehead and hair gently. “Fuck, please go out with me on Saturday.” He whispers, quietly assessing the expression you wear on your face.

“Huh?” You ask him, unsure you heard him correctly.

“Go out with me on Saturday. Please, I can’t fuck a pussy this good and not take you out on a hot date.” He mutters softly, placing the gentlest of kisses on your lips.

“If you think I’m letting you go after this, you’re fucking insane.” You whisper back, framing his face to grab it for another lush kiss.

Eddie sighs, petting your hair. “Thank fucking god.” He pulls out of you, tugging a whimper out of you. He gives one last kiss, before moving down your torso. You almost ask what he was doing, when you feel two of his fingers push inside you quickly.

Your head jerks up, wondering what in the ever-living hell he's doing.

“Just helping by pushing the cum back in you, baby. Wanted to give you at least a fighting chance before it starts dripping down these stunning thighs of yours.” He places a wet kiss on your thigh, one last quiver radiating through it. “You good to stand up?”

“Hope so.” You laugh, scooching your ass down the plain comforter. Eddie tosses you your dress and gets dressed back into his cheap costume himself.

You assess Eddie, fixing his hair so he doesn’t look so disheveled. “You realize my lipstick is all over your neck and face, right?” You ask him, assessing him in all his post-nut glory. How the fuck is anyone this hot?

“Didn't I tell you earlier that I'm gonna wear this shit with pride, darlin?” He asks you, giving you a smile that makes you melt. “Wanna go downstairs and make-out on Steve's dad’s stupid chair?”

“If we make out I might wanna blow you.” You admit, the effects of the alcohol and the level of his hotness has still completely taken over your brain.

Eddie groans, and you swear his pupils dilate. “Fuck, I’ll take you into the nearest hallway closet if that happens, then you can get on your knees and suck my cock off like a good girl. You just tell me, yeah?”

You giggle as he opens the door and you nod enthusiastically, pretty much already in your head that hooking up with Eddie is nowhere near done.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, Eddie tugs on your hand straight to the leather chair in the corner, having you sit across his lap as his tongue makes its way down your throat again.

Eventually, after a mere ten minutes of teasing, Eddie has to lead you to a hallway closet, where yes, you worship him on your knees with his treasure trail meeting your nose.

That was the best fucking Halloween, ever.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader

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upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months

Text

Simmer #6

CH6. Spilled Milk | The Menu [4.3K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

The diner was busy.

Too busy. In fact, it was chaotic. An unusual brunch time rush on the hottest Saturday in August. The first in the month and the official marking of your two month birthday at Jim’s Grill. Not that it mattered, no one was able to celebrate it, not even yourself.

A greyhound and a private coach had pulled into the parking lot within ten minutes of each other, tourists pouring out of them in big families, clusters of hikers, campers and back water town enthusiasts ready to order everything from the menu. Jim had lit up at the sight, the bell above the diner door jingling over and over and over again, before the man looked at Eddie through the hatch and his face fell into a panicked expression.

“Shit.”

Steve was already smiling until his cheeks ached, his customer service voice ringing out through the din of the crowd as he tried his best to get everyone seated, him and Jonathan pushing tables together to cater for the family that arrived with seven kids in tow.

Jim was on the phone in his office, barking out orders before they turned into pleas, the garish orange receiver clutched between two hands before he closed his eyes, mouthed a prayer and then pumped his fist in the air. Twenty minutes later, Dustin Henderson was storming through the diner with two other teens trailing behind him, looking far more begrudging about whatever they’d obviously been roped into.

Hopper handed them aprons and promised, “cash in hand at the end of the night and an extra twenty if you get through this without breaking anything.”

A deal was made and soon, a red headed girl called Max Mayfield was flying between tables on bright green roller skates, bussing tables with a bored expression on her freckled face. Behind her, Jonathan’s little brother Will was delivering trays of drinks, narrowly avoiding Dustin as he brought Eddie’s famous stacked burgers out by the dozen.

It was chaos. It was too warm, and god, it was so loud. But fuck, the tips were great. Your apron was stuffed with bills and order tickets, your fingertips red from the amount of times you’d caught them between the metal clips you hung them from above Eddie’s station. It was too busy to talk, to chat and flirt quietly in this new way you’d both grown brave enough to do. The boy was frazzled, side by side with Argyle by the grill as the flipped patties and fried eggs and bacon, a new batch of rolls dangerously close to burning in the oven. The timer was screaming, something else was buzzing, the workstations were the messiest you’d ever seen them and there was a puddle of spilled milk by the door.

“Door! Behind!” You yelled out amongst the noise, eyes wide at the orders sitting by the hatch still to be delivered. Nancy and Robin were taking plates six at a time, hands and arms full, their balance nothing short of impressive. “Eddie, sorry, but table six wanted extra hash browns with their brunch combo not an egg—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Eddie was taking the plate from you and sliding the perfectly fried egg into the trash. He barely looked at you, something you tried not to frown at because his mouth was set in a strained line and there were beads of sweat gathering at curls on his forehead. “Argyle, time on those hash browns?” Eddie barked, eyes still on the burgers he was placing cheddar slices on top of.

Argyle was scraping crispy potato pieces around the griddle, salt and pepper and some other spices poured on top as he worked at breakneck speed. “Three minutes, chef,” Argyle called back and Eddie grunted in return.

You felt stupid, standing there aimlessly with a customer's plate in your hand and before you could get out of the way, Eddie was moving you himself. Big, wide hands on the tops of your arms, guiding you out of the path of the door just before Steve burst through it. He narrowly missed the spilled milk.

“Door!” He yelled a fraction later than he should’ve. Eddie glared at him. “Corner! Fuck, where’s the fucking syrups? Eddie? Ed! Where’s the syrup!”

You watched Eddie squeeze his eyes shut before he groaned, killing the heat on the grill just as Argyle appeared at your side to slide the freshly cooked hash browns onto the plate. You smiled, grateful. “Thank you.”

“Open your fuckin’ eyes, man! They’re on the shelf!” Eddie was furiously wiping his hands on his stained chef whites, a dish towel tucked into the ties of his apron as he started assembling burger after burger.

Bun. Sauce. Patty. Cheese. Bacon. More sauce. Lettuce. Pickles. Tomato. Fried egg. Perfect yolk. Crispy onions. More sauce. Bun.

“What shelf?!” Steve yelled back, the pantry contents rattling as he pushed his way past huge bags of sugar and jars of homemade jam. “Eddie, it’s not fucking there!”

Robin barged in the door, not announcing her arrival to anyone and the edge of it slammed Argyle as he walked past carrying piles of grease filled frying pans. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry dude!” Eddie glared at her. “Door?” She said weakly.

“Why is everyone in my fuckin’ kitchen!” Eddie yelled and diners closest to the hatch peered in at him, disapproving expressions on their faces as their kids with ketchup smeared chins laughed. “Buckley! What is it?”

“There’s like, seven tables asking for maple syrup. Where is it?”

Everyone groaned, eyes rolling and Eddie threw his hands to the ceiling. “It’s on the fuckin’ shelf, but Harrington is too blind to see them. Christ, Argyle, start getting these burgers out, Harrington fuckin’ move man—”

It all happened a bit too fast, that’s all. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, not really. Just a classic case of spilled milk. No need to cry over it, right? That’s what they said.

Argyle dumped the pans into the sink with a crash, slipping between you and Eddie’s workstation as he tried to get to the burgers before they went cold. Eddie was pushing past Robin to get to Steve who was still arguing and well, Robin might’ve stepped forward at the same time you stepped back to avoid Argyle. Plateful of hash browns held high, you tried to stop them from falling. You tried not to elbow Argyle in the face and god, you tried really hard not to completely crash into Robin despite the way her shoulder caught yours.

You stepped back again, someone yelled ‘door!’ and the sound of Max’s roller blades ripped through onto the kitchen tiles, sending everyone into a loud panic. Your foot found the puddle of milk, sneakers slipping through the liquid and the inevitable happened.

There was an awful crack when your head hit the worktop on the way down. Ass hitting the tiles, a horrible spine numbing pain licking up your back. The bones in your hips tingled with it before tears sprung to your eyes as a searing pain set in everywhere at once. You heard the kitchen go quiet for just a second, a blissful peace before the plate you’d been holding finally joined you on the floor and smashed into a hundred different pieces. Argyle’s perfectly crispy hash browns skittered under the workstation and you heard someone swear.

Then everyone was clamouring at once, hands hesitated to touch you as you brought your own to the back of your head and held it there. There was a strange kind of heat to it that made you hope it wasn’t blood, but you were too scared to look. Milk seeped into your wrinkled sock, your legs splayed out in front of you like a forgotten doll, but you didn’t feel half as pretty as one. You gazed mournfully at the smashed plate and couldn’t help the way your bottom lip twisted and trembled. God, your head hurt.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, shit— I’m sorry, I should’ve said I was coming in, right?”

“It’s fine Max, it’s not your fault—”

“How many fingers am I holding up? Can you stand? Hey, who’s the president—?”

“Lil’ Chicago slice got laid out.”

“Everyone move.”

Eddie’s voice rang out the loudest, clear and gruff with an authoritative tone that bordered on scary. Everyone listened, the kitchen and its team quietening down again when they all saw how you winced at the noise. Eddie pushed past Steve, and Robin, dropping down to hunker next to you. His brows were stitched together with concern and he tutted softly at the tear slipping down your cheek. You hadn’t even noticed, but his thumb brushed it away before anyone else could see.

He murmured your name and it sounded like a question you were supposed to answer, so you hummed, face scrunched up as more sharp needles of pain prickled at the back of your skull. Your hand was still pressed to it, scared to let go as if your whole head would simply roll off of your neck.

But Eddie’s hand curled around your wrist and he tugged gently, murmuring words of nonsense that were nothing more than soft placations. With a bit of coaxing, you let him take your hand away and you slammed your eyes shut before you could look. No one hissed or gasped, so it seemed safe enough.

But still, you asked, “there’s no blood, right?”

The boy gave you a soft smile as everyone circled closer to peer at your hand. “Nah,” Eddie told you reassuringly. “No blood, you’ll live.” Then he was cupping your chin in his hand, thumb pressed to the corner of your mouth and his brow wrinkled with more concern. “Can I take a look though?”

You wanted to say no. All this fuss and attention was making you feel too hot, embarrassment from falling starting to roll in with the pain and it mixed in your stomach to create an awfully uncomfortable concoction. Steve and Robin were still gazing down at you, eyes wide with shock and Max looked stricken with guilt, as if she thought her coming into the kitchen unannounced caused this. Argyle was already moving between everyone, sweeping broken pieces of plate and squished food out of the way.

But you nodded and let Eddie peer at the back of your head. His hands gentle as he turned you this way and that, parting your hair so he could look for any cuts. He whistled at the sight of a bump and ran his thumb over it softly. You winced and he murmured a sorry before squeezed your knee, a comforting thing that Robin raised her brows at.

“Think you can stand?” Eddie asked.

You didn’t get a chance to answer, because Hopper was bursting through the doors with a red face and seven ticket orders clutched in his hand. “Why is half my staff on the kitchen fucking floor?” He yelled. “It’s crazy out there! What’s going on?”

You brought your knees to your chest as Steve explained what had happened, gesturing to the puddle of milk, the broken pieces of plate in the trash. Eddie didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off you, even when you winced in embarrassment and tried to hide your face in your hands.

You heard Jim sigh and then he was clapping his hands and demanding that Steve and Robin went back to the dining floor. “There’s four tables waitin’ for coffee, never mind food, c’mon! And Max— Jesus, Maxine, take those skates off before someone else ends up with a concussion.”

Argyle was sent back to the grill before Hop patted Eddie on the shoulder and told him to do the same. Eddie screwed up his face, confusion wrinkling his brow. “What? No, Hop, someone’s gotta take her home.”

“Ed—” you started to interrupt, mortified at the idea of causing an upset.

Hop laughed, not meanly, just amused. “And what? You think you should be the one to take her, Casanova? You’re the only guy I got here that knows how to cook an omelette, you’re not going anywhere Munson.”

Eddie’s ears burned with the quip, cheeks flushed pink and he scowled at his boss, uncaring about the repercussions. But his attention was quickly stolen by you as you made an attempt to move, standing shakily as you protested that you were fine. The boy scoffed, holding your forearms so you could grip his, knuckles white as the shock of it all set in.

You did feel a little dizzy.

“She’s not going back out there to take orders,” Eddie told the older man as they both looked at your peaky expression, your glassy eyes.

“Well, I ain’t got the bodies to get someone to take her home, kid,” Hop shrugged regretfully. “Wayne at the garage?”

“Fishing trip,” Eddie answered sourly. “Here, c’mon, sit down, yeah?” He guided you to the stool by his station and helped you onto it, eyes filled with concern as you clutched the edge of the worktop and closed your eyes. “Should we be callin’ a doctor?” Eddie asked Hop.

“Don’t you dare,” you managed to bark at him, even though your voice sounded shaky. “I’m fine. I’ll just, I’ll just sit for a bit.”

You couldn’t hear what the two men were whispering about, but embarrassment told you it was most definitely about you. You only looked up when someone set a glass of water in front of you and you smiled in thanks at Argyle before he squeezed your shoulder and went back to flipping pancakes.

“Drink that, please,” Eddie mumbled softly as he appeared by your side. Hopper had left, standing awkwardly in the middle of the diner instead of his office as he wrote down orders listed off by a frantic Nancy. “Okay, we’ve come to an agreement.”

You snorted into your glass. “We have?” You asked as you wiped at your lips.

“Hop’s gonna take over and I’ll drive you home when this place finally calms down. Or we run out of eggs, whatever comes first.”

You rolled your eyes but the action was fond, just like the smile on your lips. You could barely bring yourself to look up at the boy for fear of giving too much away in your gaze, but when you did, you saw the same softness in Eddie’s own expression. “You don’t have to do that,” you told him. “I’ll just sit for a bit and then walk home.”

Eddie snorted and began chopping slices of tomatoes at a speed your eyes could barely keep up with. “No you fuckin’ won’t,” he told you. “Part of this agreement was that you park your cute ass where I can see you. No passing out in the walk-in, alright?”

You tried not to dwell on the compliment too much. Weeks had passed since the night you’d gotten high with the boy, too close on his bed, too close to doing something that was interrupted. You’d been back to the Munson trailer since, but you spent evenings on the sofa with both Eddie and Wayne, yelling at Alex Trebek and trying out new dishes that Eddie created for late nice dinners. No other attempt at a kiss - if that’s what had been about to happen. No other attempt at asking for a date - if that’s what the boy had been about to say.

“Are there any other conditions to this agreement?” You asked, wincing when Argyle dropped a pot into the sink. “Or did you just sell my soul to Jim without me knowing?”

Eddie laughed as he threw some mushroom halves onto the grill, dropping in some butter until they sizzled. “Sweetheart, c’mon now, you did that yourself when you agreed to work in his hellhole.” Eddie moved away just for a few seconds, long enough to return with a new glass of ice water that he replaced your empty one with. “But he did say you’re not allowed to sue him.”

You smiled, laughing weakly because your head still throbbed and the diner was too loud but Eddie Munson was grinning at you with his dimples on show and a stray curl falling into his big, brown eyes.

“Damn,” you tried to joke. “There goes my plan.”

—————

You’d been slumped on the stool for the best part of two hours before someone roused you from your semi sleeping state. Heels of your hands pressed to your closed eyes, the sounds of the diner sounding further and further away as you let yourself be lulled into haze by the sounds of Eddie and Argyle talking over the sizzle of the grill, the popping of bacon, the whir of a whisk.

Then, a palm on your back, wide and warm. You startled only slightly, sitting up and reappearing from behind your hands to see a bowl of soup being slid in front of you. A deep red, flecked with cracked black pepper and smelling like tomato and basil. There was a swirl of some cream in the centre, artfully placed, and a spoon was dipped into the middle of it.

“Eat up,” Eddie instructed softly. “Then I can try ‘n’ find you some Advil or somethin’, Nancy probably got some stashed somewhere.”

You eyed the soup with a sudden greed, mouth watering at the aroma, your fingers finding the spoon. “You didn’t even ask if I was hungry,” you gently scolded the boy.

Eddie knew what it meant. ‘Thank you. You shouldn’t have.’

“Don’t start,” he grumbled back, already going back to cracking more eggs into a bowl. Only six this time, which meant service must’ve been slowing. “You’ve had a coffee and half a slice of toast all day, eat your fuckin’ soup.”

You knew what that meant too. ‘You’re welcome. Please eat, so I stop worrying.’

So you ate and Eddie made omelettes, folding each so meticulously that you couldn’t help but watch. Butter on top, chives diced, fresh tomato and Italian ham in the middle. He knew you were staring, he always did. But now he smiled instead of scowled, let his gaze flicker to you every time he put his knife down and he nodded appreciatively when your spoon scraped the last of the soup from the bowl.

“Good?” He asked like always, sliding the omelette dishes out of the hatch for Steve to deliver to the waiting tables.

Jim was back in the office and the younger kids were long gone, sent home with leftover doughnuts from the pastry cabinet and an extra twenty in each of their back pockets. Regular slowness has resumed. Only Mr Creel sat at the bar, under the television as always, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee he wouldn’t let Jonathan refill. There was a family at one table, an older couple at another, and three teens sharing a plate of fries in a booth at the back.

You nodded, humming. “So good, Eddie. Best soup I’ve had.”

Eddie grinned and tried to hide it, bashful and pink in the face at your praise. There was a lull in the kitchen as Argyle disappeared into the walk-in and for the first time that day, there was nothing on the grills in danger of burning. So the boy cleared his station and leant his elbows on it, so close to you that you could let your hand touch his, if you’d felt brave enough.

“How’s the head?”

You made a face at the reminder, reaching back to gingerly feel at the small lump there, tender and embarrassing. “It’s fine,” you told him. “Just another injury for the collection.”

Eddie snorted, knowing about your bumps and bruises you’d gathered working in the diner. You were insistent someone was moving table eight a few inches to the right each day, just to fuck with you and your hip. “Gonna have to keep you in a bubble.”

You smiled, “can’t feed me in a bubble, Munson.”

Another grin from Eddie, shy and pretty and so incredibly genuine. The boy that had scowled at you from the minute you’d appeared now couldn’t hide how happy you seemed to make him. Pink cheeks and dimples, a shine to his eyes that made your knees a little weak and you wanted to tell him then, right there, kiss me please.

Kiss me without smoke between us, kiss me without having an excuse to be close. Kiss me ‘cause you want to.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right, that seems— that would be, uh, less than ideal,” Eddie coughed, suddenly nervous. He straightened up and took his hands away from the counter, away from any ideas you had about holding them in your own. “I could, uh, I could - y’know - ask you if you wanted to grab dinner later, instead.”

You sucked in a breath, eyes wide. You didn’t say anything, you just blinked and your silence urged Eddie to fill it, so he rambled on further, voice coming out rushed and a little rough. “Like, I mean, so I can make sure, you know… you eat. God. And you don’t hit your head again, ‘cause you could totally have a concussion and that would su—”

“Eddie?” You interrupted, heart beating too fast, your chest too tight. It felt like it was ready to crack in two, ready to bloom. Excitement was caught in your throat, maybe hope. “Are you asking me on a date?”

The boy faltered and then smiled, a dopey, lopsided thing that you were sure was the most endearing sight you’d ever come across. Those cheeks went pink again and suddenly he was the furthest thing from the grumpy line cook that grunted his greetings to everyone. But maybe, you guessed, he just didn’t do that to you.

“I’m definitely trying to, yeah.” Eddie grinned then, only once he saw your smile too.

Giddy, feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush, you squinted at him, eyes crinkling in the corners with a new type of joy. You wanted to laugh at his attempt, his shyness for a change instead of your own but you couldn’t keep it together. You were bursting at the seams, chest splintering as the butterflies roared. You felt breathless, you felt warm, you felt like you could look at yourself in the mirrored edge of a frying pan and watch yourself glitter.

“I’d love to,” you told him, soft, quiet, happy.

The boy lazed back against the worktop, the stainless steel between you littered with spilled sugar and the lonely top of a carrot. He played with the edge of his dish towel that was tucked into the front of his apron, narrowed his eyes at you comically and tried to contain his own grin. He was beaming.

“You’re not just saying that ‘cause you’re concussed, right?”

You laughed, a bright, sharp sound and you shook your head. “I’m not concussed.” You hummed, happy. “And even if I was, I’d still wanna go on a date with you.”

Eddie looked brighter than the sun.

—————

That evening, Eddie picked you up outside your apartment with freshly washed curls and a shirt that didn’t have any rips in it.

His boots were clean and his jeans weren’t creased and you’d have said something about it all if you weren’t as nervous as he looked. With what appeared to be a permanent flush on his cheeks, he hopped out the van as he saw you lock up, jogging round the front so he could open the door for you.

“You look nice,” he murmured as he helped you in, his hand holding yours, his gaze unable to stop from wandering over all the bare thigh your dress showed off.

A summery thing, cherry red with a hem that erred on the side of almost too short, with short sleeves and a pretty frilled neckline. It was lower than your uniform, showing off more skin and cleavage than he’d ever seen before. You’d changed seven times between getting out of the shower and watching the window for Eddie’s van, throwing your rejected outfits on your bedroom floor as you stood in your pyjama shirt, wondering if it was far too presumptuous to change into your best lace underwear.

The butterflies inside your ribcage were rattling.

“Thank you,” you answered politely and you let yourself look at him too, like you were allowed to now. He still had the rings he wore outside of the kitchen, a plain black T-shirt that smelled like he always did, like lemongrass and freshly spritzed cologne. “You look nice too.”

He went pink at your words and duked his chin to hide his smile. And when he got back into the driver's seat, you looked at him expectantly, nervously.

“So, uh, there’s only really one place to go for food in this town,” Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly and he smiled, nose scrunched. “And rumour has it, the chef is out on a hot date…”

You laughed, tension broken for a second or two and you hummed, nodding. “Hot date, huh?”

Eddie nodded furiously, letting his eyes dip to look over your bare legs, the short hem of your dress, scarlet against your skin. He looked bravely, not trying to hide it the way he used to. “The hottest,” he confirmed.

“Where are you taking me then?” you asked softly, leaning your cheek against the seat. It was dangerous looking at him like this, like you wanted him, like you were over trying to hide it. Your workplace crush had bloomed into something else, something more and it made your chest ache.

“Wayne’s not home,” Eddie replied just as soft, just as quiet. His gaze kept falling to your mouth, the way it turned up in the corners. “I have it on good authority that the food at Casa Munson is top tier.”

It made your stomach flip, the idea of being alone with the boy. It barely happened, a rarity, really. The butterflies in your stomach were pushing at your bones, gnawing to get out. You were dizzy with it.

“Yeah?” you smiled at him, putting Eddie’s own nerves at ease. “Think you could get us a table?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #linecook!eddie

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 2 months

Text

Blanche (Yandere Oc, part 2)

Tw: blanche being a bit of a weirdo

Blanche has a rocking chair on his porch. He would sit on it and you would sit on his lap, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine and his long, natural nails running through your hair. You would play with his curls, trying to braid them and style his bouncy, salt-and-pepper locks into something nice. But you would always inevitably get them tangled beyond salvation.

"That's quite alright, my love." Said Blanche as he readies the blade of his scissors around the wad of damaged hair. You still stuttered apologies, saying that you can untangle it if given enough time.

"My hair could always grow back, time doesn't." He said in a sweet tone. Still, you tried convincing him that you can save it.

You were silenced when he snipped it off, that is a substantial amount of hair he removed. Blanche simply gave you a reassuring smile as he whimsically put the cluster of curly hair on your head. "Look, you have an ill fitting hat, made from what was once a part of me."

He giggled as it would slip off your head, Blanche would then catch it, and put it back to where he placed it earlier, tenderly pressing it to take on the shape of your skull. So it wouldn't fall off as easily.

You still felt guilty for making him remove something he cared about from his body. He clearly sensed your discomfort, so Blanche would put the scissors away and pull you into a tight, secure hug.

"Why are you upset, my darling dove?" He mumbled. "I'm sad when you're sad, please don't make me feel this way." Blanche would gently sway you side to side.

You told him that you didn't mean to tangle his hair. And you felt bad that he had to cut it.

He began humming an old-timey upbeat tune, you felt the vibrations of his vocal cords on your scalp. You noticed that Blanche always does this if he wants to think, be it to choose what to eat in a cafe or to decide what to say.

"Maybe, you could give me some of your lovely hair too, hair for hair. Would that make you feel better?" He asked, already eyeing the section that he wanted to cut and collect.

You agreed, allowing him to do it for you, as you trust Blanche that he wouldn't mess up your looks.

You heard a snip, and then you saw that a bit of your hair is now resting between his fingers. It's nowhere near the amount you ruined, but it's enough for you to alleviate the strange guilt you have.

He smiled when he saw you pocketing the cluster of his hair, Blanche did the same to yours and both of you laughed lightly at the ridiculousness of it all.

He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time.

"Ah." He looked at you. "Be a dear and harvest some rhubarb stalks for me, please." He opened a cabinet near him and retrieved a round ceramic dish.

"Rhubarb crumble is on the menu this afternoon." He smiled, making his way to the fridge. You better get going and try to help him as much as possible, or else it won't be done until tomorrow with Blanche's speed.

So you bolted out from the back door, in search for his rhubarb patch. You learned how to navigate without stepping on any of his precious crops. You once stepped on a perfectly juicy tomato by accident, you could almost hear Blanche's heart shattering at the sight. But he kept a wavering smile as he told you that it's okay, his kneeling and grieving told you otherwise though.

While you're busy, Blanche left his cane in the kitchen as he brisk walked to the stairs. Rapid tapping could be heard throughout the cottage as he ran up.

In his bedroom, he prepares a small plastic bag. Enough to contain your hair. Blanche then labeled it, took down a wooden box from the top of his wardrobe filled with items he collected from you before, kept it inside and tucked his treasure chest safely away. He did this all within a minute so that he could return to the kitchen and act as if nothing ever happened.

Once he returned to the counter, he checked his pocket watch again. He frowned, you're going to take a few more minutes before coming back to him.

Well, no matter. He can start off by making the "crumble" of the rhubarb crumble.

And dinner too.

You're staying the night, your roommates are throwing a boozy party in your dorm and you do not want to be a part of it when the security gets called.

It's nothing too new, you stayed over many times before. Usually during the weekends, because it's a major hassle to travel from his cottage to your university. Blanche has a car, but you didn't want to make him drive you because he faced a traumatic incident that got him into a near-fatal car crash. That was why he arrived by bus on your first visit.

You left multiple sets of clothes in his home, his clothes aren't really comfortable to wear to sleep. Because he also dresses like a man from the 1800s in bed; he wears a massive night shirt that reaches the ankles. It's too long for you and you kept tripping over it. Maybe if you were his height and size, you would have found it comfortable.

Initially, you would sleep in the guest room. But you had become so familiar with Blanche, that you ended up sleeping in the same bed as him. You found that his mattress is much softer than the guest room's, maybe due to the lack of overnight guests he received over the years.

With your belly fed, you dangled your feet over the edge as you watched Blanche apply his homemade face cream, carefully massaging his face in front of the vanity. He has his hair in a silk bonnet, to protect his gorgeous, gorgeous curls.

"It's now your turn, my little starlight." He turned around and walked to the bed. You moved over so he would have space to sit on his legs.

You laid your head on his lap, relaxed and closed your eyes. Not long after, you felt a set of fingers massaging your cheeks and forehead.

This is your favourite part of sleeping over at Blanche's, his pampering like this facial treatment he has going on for you. Whenever his digits tenderly slid on your skin, you felt so loose. It's ticklish, but the good kind. Especially when he would also massage under your chin.

He has a billion things in his cream that he explained earlier, but you forgot what it was. You only knew that it leaves your skin flawless and glowing, it's a shame that he isn't willing to sell it, though. Since your friends have been asking what products you're using, they gave it a try and had blemish free skin too.

Blanche said that he doesn't like selling his crafts as that would lead to greed and the loss of meaning. He said he would only gift them to the ones he loves, which is solely you. He expressed his displeasure in letting your friends use his products, so you stopped allowing them to steal this magical cream.

"All done." He whispered near your ear. You sat back up and embraced him. Blanche sang his signature tune again as he slowly lowered you down on his fluffy pillow.

His deep blue eyes stared into yours as you both laid on the side. Blanche tucked you into his blanket, pulling it up to your neck before caressing your arm.

He picked the teddy bear he sewn much earlier into this friendship and tenderly slipped it into your arms. You have never spent a night without it, god knows what he infused it with. It never fails to make you sleepy whenever you cuddle with it.

"Cozy?" He cooed, tucking stray strands behind your ear. You lazily nodded as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

"Goodnight, my darling." He pecked you on the forehead before switching off his vintage nightstand lamp with a yellowed, floral lampshade.

It took his eyes a few seconds to get accustomed to the dark. But once he can see, he is drinking up every little detail about you. How many breaths you took, how deep your breaths are and most importantly, he admires just how peaceful you looked when sleeping at his place. Compared to your exhausted, stressed looking face when you're sleeping in your dorm room.

Once he confirms that you're deep in slumber, he switched the lamp back on. He quietly took out the smartphone you gave him, unlocked it and went ahead to take a picture of you.

He thinks that this camera doesn't do you justice. So he took out a film camera from his nightstand drawer and snapped a quick picture.

He would need to develop the film later, though. But he is positive that the quality would be much better than that of a modern day gadget. Still, he uses his phone to take a couple more pictures and videos, before uploading all the media into a cloud database.

Blanche kept everything away, save for his notebook and pen. He had replaced them with a new one as the last notebook was too soiled with blood to use.

He propped himself up against the bedboard, pulling his knees to his chest as he began scribbling down whatever came to mind. Thoughts about you, about what to cook, what to make out of yarn next, what to fix next, what to plant next, thoughts about his chickens, any observations he could glean from your sleep tonight and many more.

He bobbed his head to the sound of a silent song playing in his head. Blanche spent the night writing away at his disorganized notepad.

Blanche stopped, glancing at you and melting at the sight of you being so small, so quiet, smothered in his warm and heavy blankets and sinking into his bed.

How could he resist holding you for the entire night? He simply can't. Hence, it's enough writing for today. Blanche would very much rather snuggle with you instead.

"I love you." He whispered in your ear as he rested his arm on you.

Throughout the night, Blanche never closed his eyes; they were open all the way. Not even to blink, as he doesn't want to miss witnessing anything about you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc Blanche

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viiioca · 1 month

Text

Estelle de Laussienne

B A S I C S

Name Estelle de Laussienne (born Fauconnier)

Nicknames None in regular use; her adoptive brother uses "Essie" to get under her skin.

Age 24 (ARR) - 30 (Dawntrail)

Nameday 17th Sun of the 5th Astral Moon

Race Half Sea Wolf Roegadyn / Half Midlander Hyur

Gender Cis female

Orientation Bisexual

Profession Chirurgeon. She's a woman of many roles and skills, but only one professional license, though in another life -- say, in a non-WOL AU -- she might have wound up the Scions' "diplomatic advisor" (crisis manager and fixer).

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair Black; as of the end of Shadowbringers, salt-and-pepper with a shock of white in her bangs. Coarse curls are courtesy of her roegadyn heritage. She has never cut her hair ("long hair is a woman's glory" and all -- have you seen Halone's? You cannot convince me there's nothing in Halonic scripture about it) and mostly wears it pinned in complex updos.

Eyes A dark violet, inherited from her father.

Skin A light, rainy-day grey inherited largely from her mother, with her father's cool pink undertones.

Tattoos/scars Being a healer -- and a terrible patient -- Estelle has few scars of her own, as she takes care of her own injuries and prides herself in the sort of detailwork in her physicking that reduces or prevents scarring. Which means the ones she does have are from the wounds she was too incapacitated to heal herself, gnarly clusters of keloids and ragged hypertrophic slashes from effective but graceless emergency healing: sternum to hip from the fight with Elidibus at Ghimlyt; side to side across her belly from the fight with Zenos at the end of creation; and her oldest, a mottled burn scar around her left shoulder and collarbone from the dragon attack that took her parents. She keeps them glamoured when able and looks at them as little as possible.

F A M I L Y

Parents

Hermine Fauconnier Her roegadyn mother; the seneschal and right hand woman of House Laussienne, Hermine was in charge of its books, employees, and trade logistics, and her service in return won her family as stable, secure, and comfortable a lifestyle as a lowborn could wish for outside of the Church. Deceased.

Renaut Fauconnier Her hyuran father; a chirurgeon formerly of the Hospitaliers who transitioned into rural medicine as a traveling physician once he tired of the battlefield. Deceased.

Perette de Laussienne Her adoptive elezen mother; the head of House Laussienne and a shark in the waters of Ishgard's nobility who raised Estelle like she was her own daughter. For better or worse, Perette taught her much of what she knows. Deceased.

Siblings

Verain de Laussienne Estelle's adoptive brother. While they had a good relationship in their youth, a wedge formed not long into their teenage years when it became clear his mother's favor rested with a lowborn halfbreed. Still alive and currently head of House Laussienne, having been unceremoniously handed the reins when Estelle suddenly left Ishgard -- a fact that has done nothing to repair the rift between them.

Grandparents

None still living.

In-laws and Other

Over time, Estelle develops no shortage of family-like relations: Edmont, who regards her as a daughter; Alphinaud and Alisaie and Ryne, the little siblings she never had; the Scions, living together like a colony of stray cats. (And, though this is quite far in the future and something she would not want to think too much about even then, Lyna would technically be her daughter-in-law. The absolute dawning horror the first time Lyna calls her "grandmother" as a jest.)

Pets

Animals tend to like Estelle more than Estelle likes the concept of caring for an animal long-term, especially with how much she travels. The absolute closest she comes to owning a pet is spoiling the Rising Stones' resident ratcatchers.

S K I L L S

Abilities

Arcanima The cornerstone of her combat abilities and field "healing" (more like Preventative Medicine), which branches out into Allagan summoning as she spends the years between Heavensward and Dawntrail refining equations based on primal waveforms.

Medicine This includes everything in the typical Eorzean chirurgeon's skillset -- everything from general practice to surgery to autopsy is on the table (hah) -- as well as an alchemical background to synthesize and administer basic pharmacological treatments.

"Politics" The catch-all umbrella for her social skillset, Estelle relishes the networking, information gathering, and strategic maneuvering required to throw one's weight around in powerful circles.

Hobbies

Languages Though the Echo translates for her, it's still a rare and special skill regarded with suspicion in most corners of the world. Estelle enjoys picking up what she can of the local language in her travels to put people more at ease, especially as she wanders out to more rural locations.

Sketching/watercolors A skill picked up in a previous relationship, though her fondness for it far outlived her fondness for her lover. She finds it relaxing to draw and paint the sights in her travels, and she keeps extensive journals.

Cooking A domestic skill cultivated to a high level in the interest of being a "good wife" in her youth, turned into something of an obsession for learning new foods and techniques as she travels the world. Estelle delights in any occasion she has access to a stove and the opportunity to set a lively table.

Piano All young ladies of good breeding learn the arts during their education, and Estelle is no exception, though the piano is the only instrument that stuck. She enjoys playing when she finds the time, and a piano to actually play on.

"New skills" Estelle takes any opportunity to throw herself into doing something badly for the simple joy of trying something new. Most attempts to train for more physical skills like archery and swordplay fall under this category: things she'll likely never take seriously, but she enjoys using these moments to build new connections and relationships with her teachers.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Her friendliness. Estelle finds it natural to move into the lives of others and share their spaces, joys, grief, and problems; if she doesn't find success, it certainly isn't for a cold demeanor and lack of goodwill.

Most Negative Trait: Oh we've got a whole answer for this one. There is only so much friendliness can accomplish when Estelle does not accept the vulnerability of real connection.

L I K E S

Colors: Contrary to her severely black and mostly monochrome wardrobe, Estelle most enjoys dramatic, rich jewel tones and soft pastels.

Smells: The complex layers of an expensive, well-made perfume; fresh-cut jonquils; the chaos of food stalls in an open-air market; aspen woods in a crisp, fresh snow

Textures: Soft furs; the inner lining of a favorite pair of gloves; the smooth gloss of lacquered wood; the weighted feedback of ivory piano keys.

Drinks: A glass of well-aged dry red wine; coffee in the Ul'dahn style, unfiltered and highly sweetened, flavored with cardamom; Ishgardian tea, strong black leaves dressed with bergamot, steeped directly in hot milk and sweetened with buckwheat honey.

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Yes, infrequently, and never socially; in times of high stress, she will smoke exactly one (1) cigarette when alone and thinking very deeply on something she wish she did not have to think deeply about, or when she needs to aggressively work over a problem in her mind. She's picky about her tobacco and prefers a Hannish clove-spiced blend. (Her case holds 20 cigarettes and the only time she's had to refill it because she's simply run out is during Endwalker.)

Drinks: Yes! All the time. I imagine Ishgard has a very robust drinking culture woven into most social rituals (alcohol features more prominently in Heavensward than nearly any other expansion except perhaps Endwalker) and Estelle is a very social creature. Of course there's an aperitif! And of course there is a glass or two of wine with dinner. And of course there must be a digestif. And of course there will be a nightcap as the evening winds down. She likely consumes more alcohol in a year than the rest of the Scions combined, and that includes that era where Thancred was getting trashed regularly to avoid coping with the Lahabrea situation. That said, she very rarely drinks alone, and almost never drinks with the intention to get inebriated.

Drugs: Nothing hard, but if someone hands her a bhang thandai during a festival in Radz-at-Han she's not going to turn it down.

Mount Issuance: For the same reasons Estelle doesn't keep a pet, she also doesn't keep a mount; she prefers to take carriages and ferries and airships, ride along with caravans, or rent chocobos. When she needs a pair of wings or to go somewhere she would feel guilty bringing a live animal, she relies on the sliver of his aether that Midgardsormr left with her to summon his form much the same way she might summon an egi.

Been Arrested: Estelle has spent most of her life being a law-abiding citizen. The amount of laws she's broken in the line of duty has spiked rather dramatically since joining the Scions, of course, as it turns out that subversive operations and overthrowing heads of state is illegal in those states, but good luck arresting her.

thank you for the tags @oneiroy, @ubejamjar, @ahollowgrave, and @idalenn!! i actually did a tag thing this time i did it i did the thing i was tagged to do

tagging……..@astralflows @menphinaswhitemage @archaiclumina @yloiseconeillants @rhotdornn @angelinecarax @fairygodpiggy @ilbers @mostlystarsandcandybars @caorann8 @morgana96 -- and anyone who hasn't been tagged yet!! i wanna read your lore

#ffxiv #my wol: estelle

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babsvibes · 1 year

Text

Niche bb headcanons no one asked for:

Chloe experiments with bows once and can’t come up with a comeback for Louise’s “if you were going for Powerpuff girl, great job.” Is it a compliment? Is it an insult? How is she supposed to respond?

When Bob started getting gray in his mustache, he hid it from Linda because she’d want to see the sexy salt and pepper look, but it was only four gray hairs clustered to make it look like something was hanging out of his nose.

Dr. Swanson (Logan’s doctor) is Tom Bush’s golfing buddy, and he agreed to make sure everything was “totally normal” with his old friend’s son. It wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to tell Tom. Nobody else shares their flask on the course.

Also, Tom is scared of Dr. Yap, who canonically works in the same building as him.

Trying keep with the times, the One-Eyed Snakes make meth with gimmicks like “essence of açaí berry” but it turns out that’s basically exactly what any fad weight loss medicine was anyway. They pulled the plug because they may be drug dealers but they won’t perpetuate self esteem issues.

Tina sells friendship bracelets, but the only one who buys one is Gene (who gave it to Louise so she could have a bracelet from Tina AND him)

Harley’s from a big family, and she’s made up a song to help people learn all the names of her cousins. She’ll gladly sing it for anyone. Most people walk away after the seventh verse.

Nat is forklift certified

Gene secretly fills in as a DJ at the old folks home once a month (it’s not a secret, he just forgot to tell people). The senior citizens all turn off their hearing aids until Gene starts playing the classics with a fart noise mixed in here and there.

Jimmy Jr., Zeke, Tammy, and Jocelyn all think they’re Tina’s closest friend and fight about it. Tammy argues that she doesn’t WANT the title, but how could Tina not like her the best in a most treasured rival way? Jimmy Jr. says “well we’ve kissed so it’s hard to get closer than that.” Zeke coughs suspiciously then mentions Tina broke him out of the slammer. Jocelyn doesn’t have an argument but likes being included. Tina has no idea these fights happen, but she’s closest with Gene and Louise.

#babsbles #babshc #bob’s burgers #bobs burgers #I can’t imagine Gene seeing Louise’s friendship bracelet from Tina and not going HMPH >:(#but everything he would try to make would be like just a little too much to reasonably wear on your wrist #it’s the thought that counts anyway and he DID pick the bracelet that felt most like something he would give

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the-lumpfish-king · 7 months

Note

post recipe

There are many things this could be referencing, so I'll just post a few of them

Cottage Pie Best thing I've cooked, and one of the best things I've eaten Base: 1. Put a tablespoon of olive oil in a very large sauce pan and brown 2-3 pounds of ground beef then set it aside. 2. Reduce the heat and put another table spoon or two of olive oil in the pan and add 2-3 finely chopped onions and carrots, cook till soft. 3. Add 3-4 finely chopped garlic cloves, a cup or two of defrosted frozen peas, a few tablespoons of flour, and a tablespoon or two of tomato purée. Mix and increase the heat, then add back the beef. 4. Add 800-900 ml of beef stock, 5-6 tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce, as many red chili pepper flakes as you like, 4-5 bay leaves, and 8-10 sprigs of thyme. 5. Bring to a simmer and cook until the gravy is thick, should take around 50 minutes, check when there are 15 minutes left check and if the gravy still has a lot of liquid increase the heat a bit. Once finished, season with salt, pepper, and any other spices you'd like to taste. Mashed Potatoes (Make while reducing gravy): 1. Peel and cut 2kg of potatoes into large cubes, cover them in salted cold water and bring to a boil until tender. 2. Drain and let them dry for a little bit, then mash them with a few splashes of milk, a bit of butter, 300 grams of sharp Cheddar, fresh shredded Parmesan, and salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes to taste. 3. Spoon meat mixture into a large baking container, then do the same with the potatoes. Cover that sucker with more Cheddar and Parmesan. 4. At 220°C/430°F bake for 25-35 minutes, let sit for a few minutes to cool, then serve

Stuffed Alpha Req: FFXIV (even just the free trial), WVR Lv 70, and Master Weaver VI 1 Alpha's Feather 2 Ala Mhigan Burdet 3 Twinthred 2 Halgai Mane 2 Lightning Cluster 2 Wind Cluster

"Funny Device" Hydrogen Bomb x1 Comically Large Slingshot x1

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strangelockd · 1 year

Note

Another ordeerrrrrrr-

Can I get uhhhhhh, #10 Orgasm Denial mixed with #13 Deepthroat with reader doing this to Defender? Thankkssss

Pairing: Defender Strange X Fem Reader

Synopsis: READ PART 1 HERE.

The reader wakes up Defender Strange in the best way possible. But she also has a few tricks up her sleeve to get him to stay 😉

Word Count: 1.8K

Warning: Porn with a bit of plot(after the cut), Spanish speaking Stephen(don’t worry I translated), Oral sex(M & F), Orgasm denial(M receiving), Deepthroating, Praise, Dirty talk, Face riding, Fluff, Sub Defender, Im sure I missed something. If your under 18 and read this, thats on you…

A/N: Thank you so much @lady-harvey for this steamy Idea!!! I thought why not mash both your requests bc they're about our adorable Oreo. I hope this fulfill's your desires.

Rain pattered off the windows as you awoke to Stephen still sound asleep snoring away. He looked so at peace with not a care in the world, no universes to balance, nothing keeping him from getting the rest he so richly deserved. Soaking in the morning light that cascaded down Defenders body you eyed him with admiration as the light illuminated his toned muscles in a soft toothsome glow. The blanket stopping just below his waistline showing off just a peak his perfect bare bottom.

Sighing contentedly, you leaned over him carefully plucking the remnants of daisies and red ribbon weaved into his sexed tousled hair. The salt and peppered strands flowed around him like a silken crown as you brought the daisy bundle up to your nose inhaling it deeply. The memories of the wild night before going through your mind made you smile but quickly form a frown. For Defender had a meeting at the London Sanctum and he would be waking up to leave in a few hours. Sighing, a selfish part of you didn’t want the weekend to end so soon. Watching Stephen turn on his back spreading his arms out to take over more of the bed made you chuckle just a bit.

Being the Sorcerer Supreme ate away at Stephen sometimes and it always left him more tired than usual. Let alone the winter weather didn’t help with the metal pins that helped fix his hands. But nevertheless, ever the stoic Stephen Strange never complained, his work ethic and dedication is something really to admire at times. Tying the flowers with one of the ribbons setting them gently on the nightstand you wrapped your arms around Stephens strong frame. Breathing in slowly you took in his scent that carried sandalwood with traces of vanilla oil.

His body heat felt deeply inviting as you softly kissed the daisy cluster tattoo on his left shoulder, eliciting a small groan from his lips. Each daisy was a representation of the only two women he loved in his life. You and Donna.

“Mmmm,” he shifted slightly continuing his soft snores.

Looking at the sheets your eyes couldn’t help but notice his stiffened cock standing at attention. Twitching a brow, a mischievous smile creeped on your lips as you grabbed a scrunchie tying your hair into a quick ponytail.

Bringing the sheets over your head to slowly move downward you grazed your nails gently across his toned abs. Tracing a circle around the navel it elicited a small noise from Stephen, making you quickly pause. You resumed kissing your way down the defined v of his waistline placing more soft kisses between his firm loins.

The snores trickled back as you lined yourself between his legs, your mouth ever so close to his gorgeous thick cock, Stephen wiggled a bit as you felt yourself bite your lower lip in lustful anticipation. Hand grasping firmly around his shaft you started to stroke at a slow and even pace, relishing the feeling of him in your hand. A glistening bead of pre cum leaked from his bulbous tip as you leaned forward lightly licking up his essence.

“Hnnggh,” he groaned deeper stretching out his legs.

Slowly licking from the base to his tip in one long motion, taking great pleasure in the noises that Stephen made from above the covers. Savoring the feeling you locked your lips around the head of his cock, tongue dancing around the crown you had sunk down slowly sheathing his member. His moans shot straight to your cunt as you heard his breathing grow louder and more ragged.

You wondered to yourself how his face must look like right now coming undone…His eyes scrunched with pleasure. The way his pale flesh would flush red during the crescendo his release. The look of his crystal blue eyes fully dilated as he rolls his head back into the pillows in pure ecstasy. Such a vision to behold.

But what turned you on most was when his brain would switch to Spanish when making love. That really threw you off on the first night together, but in no time, everything became more natural and fell into place. Together you both read each other’s bodies like the blind read brail.

“Damn,” he groaned lifting the sheets his sleepy eyes woke to the best sight. You, below the covers, giving him morning head. Defender’s eyes laced with grogginess and lust as he smirked at you, “so beautiful…,” he cooed noticing you blush returning the covers slowly over your head. Watching you continue to selflessly pleasure your man, his cock twitched harder in your grip as he felt you continue your fluid pace.

“If yo-, if you think this is going to get me to stay. You’re going to have to try harder Mi Amor, (My Love)” his voice laced with desire as you started sucking faster making his hips involuntarily buck into your mouth.

Releasing his swollen cock with a lewd pop you peeked out of the covers batting your eyes, “But what if I’m a good girl? And besides,” tugging on his shaft feeling him buck again, “it’s raining today, and you lost your sling ring,” winking you returned your head back down as you continued mouth fucking him.

He eyed the nightstand smirking at his ring vanishing, letting out a sharp hiss Defender pawed and gripped the sheets, “you make…ahh a good point. Hnng…then by all means…please continue,” he hissed lacing his fingers around your hair as you teased the frenulum flattening your tongue back down swallowing him whole. But you had a better idea brewing inside your head which lead you to pause. Keeping your lips locked around his cock, you didn’t move.

Feeling Defender squirm in return almost made you chuckle and lose it.

“Co-come on baby, don’t be such a little tease,” he begged with ragged breath as his fingers pawed at your hair more. Smiling to yourself you released a small chuckle that vibrated through his cock making him groan. Sliding up and down much slower, you relished the taste of him that was all for you.

“P-please baby. I’m begging you. Por favor muévete más rápido!(please move faster!)”

The pleading tone and language of his voice shot straight to your center as you started picking up speed again. Grasping his thighs for support you bobbed your head up and down along his hardened length. Repeating your motions, you felt yourself grow more eager to claim the reward of his climax. In feral desperation you suddenly started bobbing you head in a faster motion as you hand kept its pace. Lips locked tighter around his vigor you heard Defender release a sharp gasp as you pumped him faster and faster. The lewed noises echoing pornographically throughout your master bedroom as Defender chased his high.

“Th-that’s my g-good girl…you have the perfect mouth,” his hands gripping tighter on your ponytail, “you take me so well,” he continued his praises feeling his grip become tighter as he guided you through his own climax with a gentle eagerness. Despite his ever-carnal hunger for you, Defender was always the gentleman even in the midst of being under the mercy of such a beautiful woman.

You guided his hands to you head, encouraging him to let his wild side out.

“Madre de Dio’s!(Mother of God!)” he cried out as he felt his cock throb and pulse, coating your throat as you took him all the way. Swallowing it all like a starving woman, you kept pumping him slowly, riding out his high you lapped him up making sure there wasn’t a drop wasted.

Popping your head out of the covers you crawled up to cuddle next to Defender. He laced his arms around your frame as you brushed each other’s sweat stuck hair off your foreheads smiling contentedly.

Kissing your head softly he whispered, “come here,” like a moth to a flame you leaned in kissing him deeply. His tongue parting your mouth slightly as he begged for entrance. Cupping your head tilting it back to taste all of you it elicited a whimpered moan from your lips. Pulling back slowly he nuzzled your nose, “You were such a good girl Mi Amor(My Love),” he breathed onto your lips, the remnants of him still on your lips made Defender moan. His hand trailed down your shoulder as his fingers fished under the pillow. Feeling the familiar cold metal of his sling ring he threaded it between his fingers wiggling it teasingly in front of your face.

“Good girls DO deserve a reward,” he purred against your ear, “and I have just the thing.” Tossing the ring over his shoulder it bounced on the darkened mahogany floor as he swept his arms under your thighs positioning you on-top of his mouth.

“St-Stephen,” you moaned kneeling your thighs between his head as his lips latched onto your clitoris making you grip the headboard as you ground your pleasure out if him. “Your mouth feels so good,” you moaned repeatedly with incantation. His tongue swirling in figure eights as he kept his pace. His beard caused more friction as you threaded you hand into his hair guiding him.

“That it, right there,” you moaned as you arched your back hearing your voice grow louder. You were close.

“Fuck you taste divine,” he groaned as his tongue pierced your apex.

The familiar warmth was building below you as you felt you skin prickle, “Stephen, I’m going to come,” you wailed as he kept up his unrelenting pace of devouring your pussy. The vibration of his pleasure from his voice rippled through you like waves as you rode out your high. Lifting you gently he sat you beside him as you brought him in for a deep kiss. Your fingers trailed over his floral tattoo as you trailed kisses over it.

“That was amazing Stephen.”

“Did you expect anything less?” He grinned with a slight chuckle, pulling you in for another deep kiss as you snuggled back up to each other.

“From you,” looking into his eyes, breathing him in, “never.”

[MASTERLIST] [JOIN MY TAGLIST] [SPOTIFY]

@withalittlehoney @deepbatched @bakerstreethound @vickie-mcmuffin @thealleydog @sassenach-on-the-rocks @blxckdragonfly @asherloki @pinkthick @stewardofningishzida @cumbrbatchbenedict @geeky-politics-46 @lokidokieokie @strangesgirl @silversword7000 @newavenger @icytrickster17 @lucimorningst4r @lady-harvey @evelyn-kingsley @battledress @budugu @kentucky-criedfricken @hunterofshadows04 @km-ffluv @datauthorress

#doctor strange #benedict cumberbatch #doctor stephen strange #because benedict cumberbatch #stephen strange #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #doctor strange 2 #defender strange #benedict cumberbatch fanfic #dr stephen strange #dr strange #doctor strange fan fiction #doctor strange smut #defender strange fluff #defender strange fanfic #defender strange smut

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year

Note

Kristen. Older!Eddie x reader. It is imperative that you share all sinful thoughts on this topic to us. Him with scruff? Voice a bit more gravely because of all the smoking and singing in Corroded Coffin? Covered in tattoos? I need him desperately.

Oooooh gawd! This is gonna take some thought, but I have ALOT of thots, luckily… :P

First off, Older!Eddie could range from his late twenties (Joe’s real age) to the age Eddie would be in 2023. Which is, what 56 almost 57, or something? (Drooling, because I imagine aged Eddie is as hot as Jeffrey Dean Morgan is right now)

Anyways…

• Voice definitely gravely. Speaks with a deliciously low rasp, sometimes coughs a little. The action always makes him stick out that tongue to wet his lips. They can get chapped a lot. He sings with a more lower tone than he did in his youth.

• Eddie’s body is littered with various ink. Some new, a lot of it old and fading, but he’s managed to try and get some filled in and freshened up.

• He has a Spotify, but he rarely uses it. He prefers his vinyl records. Netflix and streaming services are cool, but he can do without.

• Still has his van, even though it’s underneath a tarp in his garage. It makes for a hell of a good place to let loose and have a smoking session when he doesn’t want to sit in his home.

• Works on a lot of different cars out of his own garage, the walls littered with various band posters, his own faded logo he made back in the 80’s of his own band. His framed diploma sits in the house. 86’.

• Has a junked mustang from 1969 that he’s try to restore as his own personal vehicle. Cherry red (he’s a fucking sucker for cherries). For now, he drives his baby — a midnight, glossy black 1980 Pontiac Turbo Trans am.

• His fingers, creased with a few aged spots, the veins remain prominent, as he has never stopped playing acoustic and electric guitar. He’s also managed to work himself into playing the drums and self-taught a little piano. If you were to venture over and take some lessons, you’d get very distracted by those hands.

• His hair was short for a while, but he’s let it grow out again. An array of curls with streaks of silver. He shaves his beard a lot, but he’s usually marked with a stubble or a salt and pepper beard.

• He’s got scars from various piercings. One in each ear, but he only wears the left on occasion. He’s had his nose done, got his lip done on a dare. He once had nipple rings, but took those out and recently for them redone.

• The newer tattoos are 86’, his band’s name, and cluster of red bats on his right side, a peace sign (he was drunk, okay?) on the top of his thigh, vines that are woven around his lower back, connecting to a red ball of small flames. It means something to him, but you’re unsure of just what.

• He stills wears most of his rings, having thrifted new ones along the way.

• He teaches younger kids at the local gaming center how to play D&D. Will play it every other Saturday with his old friend group. Tradition is important to him.

• Gardening and sowing relaxes him, so yeah, he does both.

• He’s only been married once. They’ve been divorced for years.

• Has a personal library in his house (his affection for books only increased).

• His band did record a demo that the local radio station plays on Sunday’s.

• Handyman type, but he doesn’t do a lot of that work unless it’s for friends or family.

• Rents Wayne’s old trailer to help out those in need.

• Loves his flannel (wears a lot of Wayne’s old shirts), and still wears his chain and band shirts.

• He’s filled out now, works out on occasion.

If I think of more, I’ll add to this! ;)

#kristenwrites #asks #my work #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson concept #eddie munson concepts #eddie munson headcanon #stranger things #stranger things 4 #older eddie munson

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samtheviking · 3 months

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I found a good cluster of wild enoki mushrooms yesterday while I was traveling. Brought them home, cleaned them up, used the copious stems to make a really good mushroom stock with salt, long pepper, a bay leaf from a California Laurel I also found yesterday, rosemary, and thyme.

Then I fried up the mushrooms with a little fresh garlic, ginger, and a dab of oyster sauce. I cooked some sweet potato glass noodles in the stock, then combined everything.

I can't even describe the resulting soup except... Damn good.

Just wish I had someone to share it with so I wouldn't be the only one who gets to experience this. 😁

#my stuff #mushrooms #mushroom foraging #wild enoki mushrooms #home cooking #recipes #my creations #mushroom soup #northern california

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smudgingpumpkins · 4 months

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13.09.2023

Hericium americanum

-Commonly known as Bear's Head or Bear's Tooth-

Where: Northeastern US & Canada

Grows in deciduous/hardwood forests from living and decaying trees. Typically from oak and birchwood.

When: August-November

My friends and I found this little guy in September at Molly's Falls State Park, located in Cabot and Marshfield, Vermont.

There are many ways to consume this edible mushroom, but since we had been camping for weeks, due to our lack of resources we simply just intensely fried them in olive oil with salt and pepper seasoning. Nonetheless, it was super delicious!

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Appearance:

Bear's Head are relatively large mushrooms that grow 15-30 cm in diameter (6-11 inches) in compact clusters. It looks like thick, tufty, and smooth icicles or teeth that branch downwards. Bear's Head mushrooms are initially white in color when young and become more yellow as they age.

This mushroom releases spores through its "teeth," rather than gills or pores.

Taste:

The Bear's Tooth mushroom is known for having a tender, mild seafood-like taste, most akin to a slight crab or lobster flavor. It is best to pick these mushrooms while they are young and white because it becomes more bitter as the mushroom ages. When cooked, Bear's Tooth becomes brown in color.

This mushroom contains fiber, protein, antioxidants, and vitamin D!

You should ALWAYS cook wild mushrooms for the safest outcome, even if they are known to be edible. Bear's Head works well with sautéing, frying, and even baking.

I have heard that these mushrooms work really well as crab or lobster substitutes. Try them in crab cakes, seafood tacos, and soups! Its fishy, meaty flavor pairs well with butter, garlic, shallots, and lemon.

Medicinal Uses:

It is believed (by tribes in the northern parts of North America) that Bear's Head mushrooms, as well as other Hericium, can be utilized to treat bleeding wounds in their dried or powdered form, due to their antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties.

There has been some research that shows that certain properties of Hericium can stimulate the synthesis of the NGF protein, which aids with improving memory and mood, and prevents brain cells from dying. This means that it can help prevent or combat Alzheimer's and other neurodegenerative diseases.

In Japan, clinical tests have shown that Hericium's antibacterial properties helped with the treatment of gastrointestinal issues such as stomach ulcers, chronic gastritis, Crohn's Disease, and esophageal cancer.

Of course, these mushrooms do not substitute medical attention and prescriptions. Further research is needed, and these studies only show that Hericium helps with treating symptoms--it is not a cure.

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** Bear's Head/Tooth is commonly confused to be synonymous with the Lion's Mane mushroom. However, these mushrooms are not the same species but are very closely related in the genus Hericium.

Bear's Head has longer branching fruiting bodies than the Lion's Mane. It looks more like melting candlewax whereas Lion's Mane looks more like a pom pom. The Coral Tooth Mushroom is also closely related, but as in the name, it has much shorter branches that look very much like corals.

Here is a good chart by the website Real Mushrooms:

#mushrooms #foraging #wild fungi #fungi photography #hericium #hericium americanum #camping #mycology #A rare find but very tasty #fungicore

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aisling-saoirse · 1 year

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Wild Leek - Allium Tricoccum

Spring in American forests brings a lot of strange spring ephemerals, ramps are one of those early sprouting understory plants. Ramps are a species of wild garlic, growing from bulbs in dense clusters. Leaves are light green with purplish tints on the lower stem. Typically the presence of ramps (in America) determine whether a forest has seen little disturbance in the past century, older forests are the only location to really find a decent population. I specify a difference in the American species since A. ursinum the European species is known for taking over forests in England and Scandinavia.

As seen in the image above, ramps grow rather densely in large numbers, but A. tricoccum is very sensitive to disturbance. If you do forage ramps, do not harvest the bulb and only take one leaf per plant (and please try to use invasive garlic mustard as a more plentiful substitute which is visible in this image). If you're interested in propagating this species know that the leaves and the flowers are not present at the same time, you'll have to memorize a location and spread any seeds in alluvial moist gentle slopes (areas in forests that water will flow over but not remain). Flowers have long stalked umbels (semi-circular in form) with white flowers, similar to garden alliums.

Making Ramp Pesto:

I promised a recipe and now here it is. I learned this when harvesting the European ramps in risskov when I lived in denmark. Basically you'll need a food processor and olive oil.

1 Bunch of Ramp Leaves (you don't need a lot)

1/4 cup of olive oil

One quarter slice worth of lemon juice

3/4 cup of walnuts (foragers can use hickory if you saved some from before winter)

1/4 cup of grated Parmesan

Salt and pepper

Grind it up and you're ready for some strong pesto for some pasta. Feel free to use more walnuts and olive oil as necessary, ramps are very strong and more will not really affect the flavor.

#nature #new jersey #ramps #wild leek #american native plants #foragers #reciprocal relationship #people typically like to make soup out of them #please remember this is a staple spring food source to indigenous nations and overhearvesting them is destroying their access to these

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babybatscreationsv2 · 1 year

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Choose your own fic (Full fic)

We wrote a fic together! I'm putting the whole thing together here for anyone who didn't get to read it as we went.

Peter is on a really terrible date when he spots Tony across the club.

Choose your own tag

Warnings and tags below

Warnings/tags: au fic, sort of cheating but not exactly, alcohol use

Peter leaned against the bar stirring the straw in his drink. He wasn't even sure what he was looking at, but it was violently green. Quentin had ordered it for him, like always. They weren't exactly dating, but this was their third date. Which Quentin seemed to think meant more than it did. Either way, the asshole was on the dance floor sandwiched in between two random dudes because after all "its just dancing, Peter". He was handsome and a good listener and he gave good advice, but Peter wasn't sold on his personality yet.

He sighed and stared out across the club. The lights shined down highlighting a few clusters of dancers. But one man sat alone at a high top near the back. Their eyes met and Peter's heart skipped a beat. He was gorgeous and his smile called to Peter like a cartoon character smelling a freshly baked pie.

There's butterflies in Peter's stomach as the man gets up from the table and starts across the room. Peter straightens his posture and brushes his hair back. He's glad he only had a sip of that drink Quentin gave him so he's not too buzzed to string words together. He only gets more gorgeous as he get closer, well dressed, trimmed beard, salt and pepper hair.

"Hey," he says with a confident smile. One that has certainly gotten a lot of people naked. "What are you drinking? I'll buy you another."

"Oh, I don't know honestly." He glances out at the floor. "My uh... date picked it."

The man follows his eyes to see Quentin grinding against another man. "Some date," he says.

"Yeah..." Peter looks back at him and the man offers his hand.

"I'm Tony."

"Peter."

"Well, Peter, I've got a table at the back. Want to join me?" Tony asks him. Peter spares a last look at Quentin. He doesn't even look towards the bar to see if Peter's still there.

"I'd love to, Tony." He follows him through the crowd to the table he'd spotted him at before. The music seems slightly quieter here, but that isn't saying much.

"You hungry?"

"No, thanks. I ate before I came."

Tony frowns. "That boyfriend of yours is a real charmer, huh? He doesn't even feed you?"

Peter blushes. "He's not my boyfriend exactly. We haven't even made it to that conversation."

Tony smiles. "I'm in luck then."

"Oh yeah?" Peter's smile matches his.

"Yeah. I get the opportunity to steal you away."

"You make it sound like I'm some kind of prize."

Tony's smile is dazzling. "No, I think you're some kind of treasure."

The butterflies are back in his stomach. He's warm all over. He can't help but notice the way he unconsciously started to lean Tony's way. And the way he was leaning back. It never felt like this with Quentin. He said it would eventually, but everything was so clinical with him. Emotionless.

Maybe that green stuff was really strong or maybe it was the fact that Tony was the first man to not be a dick to him months, but his attraction for Tony was undeniable. Peter turns towards Tony and puts his hand on his knee. He lets that hand slide up his thigh just a little, asking for more. Tony's charming grin turns to a more heated gaze and Peter's pulse races.

"What about your not boyfriend?" Tony asks, barely speaking above the music.

"Who?" Tony's leaning his way so Peter leans back. They meet in the middle and Tony's mouth feels so good on his that he feels it in his toes. He leans closer, putting more of his weight against Tony's thigh. He wasn't sure that kissing had ever felt that good, Tony knew exactly what he liked or maybe he just liked the same things. Either way, it was incredible.

Peter doesn't want to stop, even going so far as to put his hands on Tony's head when he starts to pull away, not pulling him back but simply asking. Tony complies, eagerly kissing him until they're both breathless and they're finally forced to rest.

He looks into Tony's dark eyes, watches him breathe heavily, stares at his kissed red lips...

"Do you want to get out of here?" Tony asks. Peter can't help but smile.

"Yeah, I do." Tony smiles back and they walk away from the table together, Tony's arm slung around his shoulder. It feels like taking a leap, he's not the one night stand yet here he is.

Quentin is still there as they pass the dance floor. Peter thinks he finally looks his way, but if he does see them, he doesn't come after him. It wouldn't have stopped him anyway. He needs this.

"How far is your place?" Peter asks.

"Not far. You sure that's what you want?"

"Definitely." He let's Tony lead him down the street past a group of giggling drunk people to the nicest car on the block. Tony opens the door for him and climbs inside. The interior is clean and shiny and comfortable. Tony starts the engine and puts his hand on Peter's thigh.

Tony pulls the car out into the road, but the heat Peter felt inside the club still lingers. He feels desired by Tony more than he has by anyone in a long time and it has him feeling bold. He leans across the car, a hand on Tony's thigh to brace himself, and presses his lips against the man's neck. Tony sighs in pleasure and Peter takes it as a cue for more.

He kisses his way down his neck, only building up his own desire for the man and ended up sucking on his skin making him moan and grip the steering wheel tighter. The hand on his thigh wanders a little higher and Tony shifts his legs apart for him. Peter moans as he grips his cock, hard and hot just for him.

"Fuck, Peter," Tony moans.

"I need you," Peter moans in answer.

Peter let his hand wander along the seam of Tony's crotch, his fingers teasing him through the fabric.

"Can I?"

"Fuck yeah," Tony breathes.

Peter licks his lips and pulls down his zipper. Tony slows the car to help him get him adjust his pants enough to get his cock out. Peter's drooling at just the feeling of his cock in his hand. He spits into his palm so he can pump it in his fist.

"Come on, sweetheart. Your killing me," Tony pants. His hand gently rests on the back of Peter's head.

He smiles and looks up at him. Tony looks like he's struggling to keep his composure. Then Peter wraps his lips around the head of his cock and runs his tongue over the smooth skin there. He goes slowly, afraid to be distracting while Tony's still driving, but the moment Tony puts the car in park he really goes at it.

Tony moans and swears as Peter fucks his own mouth on his cock, his hand pumping the base, drool slobbering between his fingers. It's wet and messy and Peter moans like it's his favorite candy. He can feel Tony's cock throbbing like he's getting close. He's tense and struggling not to thrust up and choke him. Then finally Tony pulls him up and into a filthy wet kiss.

He pulls back and the man looks wrecked but Peter's knows that he looks worse.

"We better get inside before we get arrested," Tony laughs. Peter nods with an embarrassed smile. Tony holds his eye as he tucks himself away before getting out of the car and opening Peter's door. He finally sees where they are and Tony's apartment is at least as nice as his car. It's exciting to get this kind of attention from someone like Tony who could have brought anyone home.

"This is a nice place," Peter says as he gets out of the car. Tony crowds against him, shutting the door and backing Peter against it.

"What kind of men have you been going home with?"

"The kind that couldn't afford this car with their entire life's salary."

Tony sweeps Peter's hair back from his face. "You can do so much better than that, sweetheart." He kisses him and Peter shivers. He's barely aware of being pulled into the apartment building. They're both too busy laughing as they run into things trying to kiss each other on the way up.

Tony opens his apartment door and pulls Peter inside before shoving him into the wall. The kisses are less giggly now, they're more serious, more heated. They're grinding against each other, Tony's hand curls lightly around his neck, Peter's rides his thigh as they kiss.

They're stumbling around again, this time with less laughing and more Peter whining when the kissing stops because Tony backs into the couch. Tony turns them away only for Peter to end up on his back across the coffee table. Neither of them cares, they're too wrapped up in each other.

Peter reaches between them to get Tony's pants off, he wants that cock in him now. It almost hurts to want it this bad. Tony takes over his clumsy fumbling and Peter sits up to strip out of his own clothes. He loves the way Tony watches him as he pulls off his shirt. He strips out of the rest as gracefully as he can, but it's hard work when Tony takes off his shirt and he's all muscle. And it's the hard work kind, not the body builder kind. Shirt off, pants open, cock in his hand.

Peter grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him back in. They kiss again. Peter legs wrap around Tony's waist, pulling him in. Tony reaches under the table for a box Peter had barely acknowledged and he comes back with too many condoms and a bottle of lube. Peter has no thought for how many people Tony has fucked on his couch except that it feels good to be desired by someone who's clearly very desirable.

Tony rolls the condom on while Peter pulls him down for a kiss. He's rutting into his hip, too eager after too long. Then finally Tony's cock is slick and ready and pushing inside.

"Slow," Peter whines.

"Been a while huh, sweetheart?" He kisses his neck.

"Yeah, fuck. Feels so good." He pulls Tony close, he needs him all the way in, but he's just not ready.

"Don't worry, baby. I've got you." He goes slow, distracting him with little kisses and stroking his cock until finally he's inside.

They're both breathing heavy, wait until Peter's ready for more when Peter's ringtone makes them both jump.

"Shit," he groans. "Can you turn that off? He's probably looking for me."

Tony reaches down into Peter's jeans and pulls out his phone. "Quentin? That's the guy? What kind of loser ass name-" He answers the call. "Quentin?" he says.

"Who the fuck is this? Where's Peter?" Peter hears over the phone.

Tony grins. Peter covers his face in horror. "Oh, he's here- No you can't talk to him- he's a little bit occupied."

He moves, drawing back his hips and pushing slowly back inside, forcing a bone deep moan out of him and he knows Quentin heard that.

"Don't worry I'm taking good care of him." He hangs up the phone with a smirk and tosses it on the couch.

"You're an asshole," Peter says, but he's laughing.

"I just saved you from a lifetime of bad dates. You're welcome." Tony bends and kisses him again. Peter moans against his lips as Tony moves slowly inside him.

"More," Peter moans. He clings to Tony's biceps as he pushes in deep. Slowly, he moves faster, finding the rhythm that has Peter moaning like a whore while Tony pants over him. Quentin's phone call is completely forgotten thanks to Tony fucking him so good that his legs shake and he can barely keep them wrapped around his waist.

"Fuck, Peter," Tony moans. His lips are against his neck, brushing kisses and the occasional scrape of his teeth against his skin.

"So close," Peter whines. His moans turn to high, whimpery, sounds when Tony's hand finds his cock. He tries to hold on, he doesn't want it to end, but it's too good and he gives in near screaming when he cums. Tony moans against against his skin, his hands squeeze his hips as if he might run away and just a moment more before he cums, too.

Tony stops and he kisses his way from his neck to his lips. Peter's drowsy in the haze of his orgasm and his kiss is lazy and made difficult by the smile on his face. When Tony stops he's smiling back.

"Can I convince you to stay the night so we can do this again?" he asks.

Peter grins. "You'd have a harder time convincing me to leave."

#starker #marvel #you choose #choose your own adventure #cheating #alcohol #bad date

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