I Don't Know Why But I've Had This Thought Stuck In My Head For The Past Few Days... Perv!eddie And Innocent!reader

no but an image i have in my head is. u’re hyuck’s gf. have been for 2 years. and hyuck Knows just how much the other dreamies have a cute puppy crush on u and tbh he’s cool with it in a way “i’ve got her and u don’t” vibe?? like cocky confident hyuck who’s spurring ur moans and whimpers on while he’s fucking u on his computer desk so renjun and jeno can hear u clearer from where they’re pressing up against his door wishing they cld see ur face as hyuck fucks u!!! - 🎞

“what’d i tell you about biting that lip baby,” donghyuck probes. he’s given you countless reminders not to try and muffle the pretty noises leaving your mouth, each one going in one ear and out the other, lost to the haze of your brain. currently, your ass is presented nicely to donghyuck, with you being bent at the hips over the table. the pressure of his cock pounding against the spongy spot inside you has your mind fogging over, leaving you unable to speak and think clearly. despite this, your attention is recaptured almost immediately when your boyfriend slides his cock out from your hole. a chuckle escapes his lips when he sees your hips move in search of his cock, looking for something to fill you up once again.

“listen to me. if i tell you not to be quiet, then don’t be quiet. i want those two to know exactly what they’re missing. i want them to fuck their hands tonight thinking about how good your pussy would feel wrapped around their cocks,” he growls. placing the blunt tip of his cock against your hole, he pushes back into you, feeling your knees give in. donghyuck uses this to his advantage, tugging you back against his pelvis to reach even deeper inside you.

choked and breathless, you manage to sputter out, “h-hyuck please, ‘s too deep, i can’t take it,” which prompts another laugh to leave his lips.

“it’s cute that you think i care. you can take it baby, i know you can.”

---

I know you can do it all by yourself, my love. but im not gonna let you anymore. i know you can handle nightmares on your own, but you won't ever be without my soft words and fingers tracing your spine again. i know you can tie your own shoes and bandage your own wounds but that wont stop me from kneeling beside you and doing it anyways. i know you've always kept yourself safe but that wont stop me from making sure everyone sees you're mine and engulfing you in my arms the second you feel afraid. i know you're use to holding back because others thought pieces of you were too much, but that wont stop me from seeing all that you are and loving it all like its breathing.

you're use to others promising you the world but ive already made you mine.

We’ve seen bully!eddie, but what about obsessed worshipper!eddie?

Like he sees the reader as this untouchable deity and he absolutely worships the ground she walks on, everything she does is perfect. He doesn’t feel worthy of her but he just has to have her, he just can’t let anyone else taint her

obsessed worshipper you say? ohoho.....

(cws: worshipper!eddie, f!angelface, self-esteem issues, stalking, delusions, masturbation, stick and pokes, punishment-centric self-harm, eddie literally licks your boots w/o you in them, mutual pining.)

he twists his rings whenever you walk by the table he sits at, a little squeak squeak squeak as he fidgets and fiddles until you're completely out of sight. he has to stare but he can't be idle, he's rarely ever idle, so he watches and ogles until it's a running joke at the Hellfire table that Eddie's whipped for the new girl.

maybe. no, not really--he's just in awe. probably. you're really pretty. and you don't seem at all like the fake people that far outnumber him and his comrades, he knows you're more genuine than they are because he's not scared of you, and you're not scared of him. you tell him good morning when you see him, your lockers separated only by a single one between them, and when he says it back you always smile and seem so happy. but it's not because people don't like you; you're so warm that everyone likes you. why wouldn't they? how could someone dislike you? it doesn't compute in his mind even somewhat.

it's always weird being around you, but good weird. like butterflies in his stomach that turn into hurricanes when you smile, or laugh, or when you get close to lend him a pencil and he smells your perfume. so pretty. he buys a bottle just to spray it in his room so it always feels like you're around, and that's a little creepy, but he's already a freak so it probably isn't any worse than what people think he gets up to. it's not any worse than when he's pricking his own arm with a homemade needle to tattoo your initials into his skin, or when he cuts a tiny lock of his hair off and sneaks it into the bottom of your backpack. you just need something of his, he needs people to notice that you shouldn't be messed with--he needs people to stay away from you because they don't deserve you. they don't deserve your kindness when they turn around and terrorize other people, and they shouldn't get to take away your smile when someone's rude to you and you flinch away. they're all beneath you.

when he starts following you home is when Eddie knows he has some kind of problem. at first he convinced himself it was just to make sure you got home unscathed, but soon he realizes that it's just because he needs more time with you. there aren't enough hours in the day for him to spend looking up at your godliness, and while he's gone from egregious truancy to a near perfect attendance, even worshipping you at home isn't enough after awhile. he can only practice so many love songs before his fingers bleed and his throat aches, and gripping his own cock as he drowns himself in fantasies of you can't satisfy him forever. he needs something of yours, but what he really wants is you. stealing one of your shoes is the next big infraction, although he reasons it out that because he brought it back it wasn't a big deal--even though he came all over the toe of your polished doll-like dress heel, just so he could lick it off and feel like he was polishing them for you. touching himself later that night was especially brutal, as he punished himself with as much pain as he could bear in some sort of confessional apology you don't even know about--mostly bruising pinches to his inner thighs just as he's about to finish, and a tight, dry grip that leaves him sore and shaking from his own abuse even though it felt so good.

after a while, he even worries over whether or not you're getting enough release yourself. you're so perfect, do you practice self-pleasure? how often? how do you do it? how long? what do you think about? do you use your hand, or....those questions and thousands more cycle through his head on a daily basis as he fixates on his new idea of you, but they don't stop and only get stronger the closer the two of you get. soon enough you're friends, he spends time in your room, you spend time at band practice and Hellfire. he loses his mind at the sight of the bed you sleep on and the furniture you touch every day, with the clothes that wrap around your body and the bits of makeup that cling to your perfect skin. he wishes he was all of that and more, he just wants to be around you, on you, 24/7. he has a moment of clarity one night, where he's so deliriously worried for you after a degrading comment was made earlier in the day by some jock, and he has to physically punch himself in his own stomach to stop himself from crawling through your window and cuddling up next to you as you sleep. after that he has to distance himself, worried he may encroach too far and scare you into fearing him.

but Eddie is beyond happy to find that's not the case when he finds whispers of his name in your diary entries. flipping through them becomes a passing hobby when you're not home, and once he's gotten through quite a bit to start reading more recent entries, his breath hitches as he discovers some passages from when you first moved to Hawkins.

"sometimes the only good thing about my day is seeing Eddie. I feel so worthless most of the time, but he makes me feel special."

"maybe he's lying when he says I'm pretty, but I don't care. I really like him. I feel like I've known him forever."

"this is so embarrassing, but I think I might have a crush on Eddie. I feel like he's with me all the time--I can't get him out of my head. but how could I tell him how I feel? how could he ever like someone like me?"

it's a dream come to life, but it's bittersweet all the same. among those glorious admissions of your feelings for him, someone so low and unworthy compared to you, there are so many sparks of doubt and self-hate that just kill Eddie inside. as your most loyal follower--your only follower--he can't allow that to stand.

so this time, he'll wait. and when you get home, oh, will he have so much to show you to prove that you're so much more divine than you seem to believe.

---

cw: breeding

dabi who practically explodes when you call him his real name while fucking. the revelation that it’s not just the villain you love - it’s all of him - the villain, the tortured child, the man who loves you - every part of him.

your mouth lets out a weak “touya” while he’s inside you and suddenly he loses all control - hips rutting ‘nd bucking into you like a dog. he practically cums on the spot, shaking and grunting loudly through a world-shattering orgasm.

then, he’s practically drooling; doing and saying anything to hear it drop from your lips.

“say it again, babygirl. c’mon, say my name.” he moans - dick as deep as it can go, before sliding out all the way to the tip and shoving back in, kissing your most plush, sensitive spot with every stroke.

“t-t-touya~” weakly rolls its way out of your lips as white cream from just before spills out of you onto the sheets below with every thrust.

“no, louder baby, c’mon… say it for me”

“t-touya-”

“that’s it. who’s making you feel good?”

“you are, touya~” you squeal, his hands gripping the meat of your thighs to push you further into a mating press.

“whose pussy is this, doll?”

“yours, touya. it’s j’st for you!”

“that’s right. all mine. and i’m the one you love right? i’m the whose baby you want - whose cum you need, aren’t i?” his blue eyes stare down at you in a mix of possessiveness, love, lust and desperation.

“yes. yes it’s you, touya - I love you, touya. want you, touya. want to have your baby, touya.”

dabi touya swears he’s never cum harder in his life.

there were very few things that could take barbatos away from his work. timeline glitches or the occasional furry rodent, perhaps. today, one of those things just happened to be you.

your head laid on his chest, while the rest of you sprawled out on top of him. however heavy you might be, barbatos knew he could've gotten up to continue working at any point in the night. hours later— now 2am, barbatos remained, counting your breath by the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders.

this was nice, he couldn't help but admit.. you were nice. you were kind and inquisitive, always finding opportunities to surprise him. you also constantly searched for ways to give him longer breaks. which, while unneeded, was appreciated nonetheless. this escapade to the castle guest room just so happened to be one of those attempts.

he found your weight against him rather pleasant, like a heavy blanket, draping him in comfort and warmth. barbatos glanced down at your sleeping face, the corners of his lips pulling up softly. his fingers traced feather-light shapes along your back. though he was starting to grow restless as the hours passed, he had no intention of possibly waking you by moving.

and admittedly, he thought, maybe he might've needed this. maybe.

you've been tired these days as well, haven't you? besides your breathing and the occasional murmur, you haven't moved at all since falling asleep on him. your steady heartbeat was nearly in sync with his own. if he stayed here another several hours, would it fall in line at some point?

maybe you both needed this, he finally decided, contemplating what he should tell the little ds when they inevitably come looking for him for tasks to fulfill.

dividers from @/clutteredfun

---

love's no problem in my hands

includes: barbatos x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 1.5k | rated g | m.list | cross-posted on ao3

a/n: just had to get this out quick i swear im on hiatus lololol. for @messysketchyobeyme as part of the @omsecretsanta2022 event. i hope you enjoy!!

please reblog <33

Now, he keeps his feelings close to his chest, aware that he’s not the only one who holds them for you. That knowledge should be souring, should bring him to his senses, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of you, because of how you make time for him, make him feel like the only demon in the world when you look at him, make him believe, if only for a second, that impossibilities are possible. Okay, yeah, it’s definitely because of you.

So he holds his feelings, keeps them to himself, and it’s okay. He’s not prone to jealousy, or possessiveness, has learned over the many, many years to be satisfied with what he has, and what he has is more than enough. He has Diavolo and a place in a wonderful community filled with wonderful people, and your friendship, which is more than he could’ve dreamed of.

Barbatos doesn’t know how it started. 

Well, alright, he knows when he first noticed it. But he has a feeling the feelings had been there, building, culminating, for a lot longer than that. 

He first noticed his affection for you on a spring day, one of the warmest the year had seen so far. You’d shed your uniform jacket, rolled up the sleeves, and gone outside during lunch, claiming the quad as your own. Claiming the attention of everyone on the quad. And like moths to a flame, everyone had followed, as they always did. Him included. 

“It feels so nice out,” you’d chirped, face turned up to the non-existent sun, and Barbatos had become aware of a buzz under his skin, a curious warmth that he’d never really felt before. It didn’t take a genius for him to place the feelings, and he accepted them a lot easier than he thought he would, with them clicking into place like the last piece of a previously hidden puzzle. He finally understood what everyone was talking about, finally understood why people were pushed to invent, to create, to conquer in the name of love.

Of course, while he was going through all of these realizations and acceptions, time had moved forward, and you were now surrounded by everyone, with him on the outside, like always, slightly distanced, the few feet like an uncrossable gorge. But you, you with your crooked half-smile and wonderful gleam in your eyes, had looked through, to him, smile somehow widening just for him, and that had made it all okay, made that gorge seem like nothing more than the few feet it actually was.

Now, he keeps his feelings close to his chest, aware that he’s not the only one who holds them for you. That knowledge should be souring, should bring him to his senses, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of you, because of how you make time for him, make him feel like the only demon in the world when you look at him, make him believe, if only for a second, that impossibilities are possible. Okay, yeah, it’s definitely because of you.

So he holds his feelings, keeps them to himself, and it’s okay. He’s not prone to jealousy, or possessiveness, has learned over the many, many years to be satisfied with what he has, and what he has is more than enough. He has Diavolo and a place in a wonderful community filled with wonderful people, and your friendship, which is more than he could’ve dreamed of.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” you tease, poking him lightly with the blunt end of your pencil. He blinks, coming back to himself, coming back to the club meeting, and gives you a half smile. The club was one you both co-ran, some ‘community wellness’ thing that you were a lot more passionate about than he. But he put his everything in it, for you.

“I apologize, I must have been distracted. Remind me of our discussion,” 

“Barbatos? Distracted?” Your face is bright, cheerful. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Barbatos?” 

“Funny, really,” he returns, and the laugh he is gifted with is quickly saved, pressed into the scrapbook of his memories, to be taken out and admired every now and again, treasured close to his chest. 

“Anyway…” you pull him back into the meeting with vigor, with enthusiasm, as with everything you do, and he lets himself be pulled willingly. What a fool he must be, to take the chains from your hand and wrap them around his wrist himself.

Once the meeting is over you check your D.D.D., cursing. He directs an inquisitive look at you, and you grin guiltily. The school is dark, and mostly empty, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world.

“It’s a lot later than I thought it was,” you explain. “Is there any way I can beg a ride off of you? I’d be really thankful.” 

“I suppose,” Barbatos replies, making a show of being long-suffering. You draw out his humor in a way no one else does, and he’s grateful, so immensely grateful, that you see his dry, deadpan remarks for what they are and don’t just think he’s dreadfully boring. 

“Thank you so much!” You squeeze his side in a hug, apparently not feeling the staggering static that emanates from where the two of you touch, that sends shivers of electricity up and down his entire frame. “I owe you one.” 

“You always say that,” he accuses lightly. “At this point, I believe you owe me a lot more than that.” 

“Probably.” You shrug, unrepentant. He really shouldn’t find that shamelessness so charming. 

Being in a car with you is like torture. Torture he can stand, revels in, delights in. 

You’re close, within touching range. Not that he’d ever put his hands on you without your express and explicit permission, but the forced intimacy gets to him. You’re so comfortable in his car, shown by the way you commandeer the radio, the way you dig through his glovebox like it was yours for the taking. 

(Everything of his is yours for the taking, for the having, for the keeping.) 

“What’s this?” you ask, more to yourself than anything, but he looks over anyway. You’ve got a CD in your grip, reading the back. 

“That,” he says, “is my favorite CD. So be careful with it, please.”

“It’s your favorite?” 

He nods, and you give him that crooked smile, ejecting the CD that was in the player, exchanging it out. 

“We don’t have to listen to it,” he tries, and you wave him off. 

“Of course we do! It’s your favorite, and I want to hear it too!” 

 You pull pieces of him to the surface, almost by accident, and he stands there in front of you, exposed. But you’re always careful with the new parts of him that are revealed, treating them as preciously and as kindly as you’d treat an invaluable glass sculpture.

The first track starts and he keeps his gaze on the road, humming along. He can feel your eyes on him, and eventually, eventually gives into the urge to look over, meeting your eyes. 

“I can see why you like it,” you murmur, quiet for once. “It’s very…” you hold the words in your mouth, tasting them, savoring them. “It’s very you.” 

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re quite welcome.” 

It’s quiet in the car, aside from the CD, of course, but he doesn’t mind the silence. Never has. Others feel it as a pressure, but he doesn’t, and knows, despite your propensity to talk and laugh and be in constant motion, don’t either. It’s a comfort, to be in silence with you. 

The drive to the House of Lamentation takes forever. Isn’t nearly long enough.

When he pulls into the circle drive, past the immaculately pruned bushes and other ostentatious landscaping, he resists the urge to go slower, to coast at a snail’s pace. He’s better than that. Barely. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as he pulls to a stop, lowering the volume of the music. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” he says. “You know me. Barbatos: butler, glorified babysitter, and part-time chauffeur.” 

He’s rewarded again with your laugh, but it fades into something thoughtful, something intimate.

“You’re so much more than that,” you say, and when he looks over at you in muted surprise, you’re not returning his gaze, instead focused somewhere in the far-off distance, maybe in the far-off past. Either way, you blink and come out of it quickly, but don’t take your words back. Instead, you do something, that even with all of his overthinking, his planning, his habit of examining every possibility, he’d never seen coming: 

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

Your lips are warm, and dry, and un-lingering. He stares at you in shock as you pull away, heart pounding a mile a minute. 

“Well,” you say with another laugh, much more high-pitched and nervous than the others he’d heard from you, “thanks again. I’ll be going in now.” 

You slide out of his car quickly, crossing the distance between it and the door in seconds. He almost thinks you’re not going to look back, until you do, that damned crooked smile on your lips, fluttering your fingers in a wave, even as embarrassment and joy war in your eyes. 

It takes a long time, too long, for him to pull himself together enough to pull away from the House of Lamentation, and he has to take the most convoluted way home he can think of to fully rid himself of his blush– a herculean task, considering that kiss plays on repeat in his head, the memory of your smile almost tangible. Who would have thought a simple kiss on the cheek would have been enough to bring the always-composed, always-distant Barbatos back down to the realm of unstoppable, human emotion?

Maybe you returning his feelings isn’t as far-fetched a possibility as he’d thought. 

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

---

NEED a fluffy sickfic where george loses his voice and reader dotes, 64 or 66 era pls - LOVE UR WRITING BTW!

whisper in my ear, a wish

george harrison x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none !

summary: sick day with geo

a/n: omg this is such a cute idea and thanks sm!!! <333 (btww i rlly liked writting this, maybe pt. 2?)

she'd never seen george this quiet before.

he wasn’t one for loud entrances or anything like that, but he was always present. a dry joke at the right moment, a gentle hum while tuning his guitar, the soft way he’d whisper some lyrics.

but tonight, as the five of them shuffled off the tour bus and into the hotel lobby, george didn’t say a word. his steps were slow and he was leaning against her more than usual, when she looked up at him under the dim light, she noticed the flush in his cheeks, and it was not the good kind.

“you okay, georgie?” she whispered, keeping her voice low so the boys wouldn’t tease.

he didn’t answer. just shruged slightly and blinked slowly.

inside the shared hotel suite, the boys were still hyped from the show, paul was messing with his bass, john was pacing in circles with a pen and paper, muttering something about new songs, and ringo had already claimed a spot on the floor to play cards.

she sat george down on the bed in one of the rooms, fingers already brushing the hair off his forehead. he felt hot, and again, it was not the good kind.

she held the back of her hand to his forehead.

“george,” she said gently. “you’re burning up.”

he opened his mouth to reply, but when he tried to speak, only a hoarse, whispery sound came out. his eyes widened slightly, surprised as he tried again, but nothing came out, just a raspy squeak.

“oh, love,” she murmured, cupping his jaw.

he looked so embarrassed and glanced away quickly, jaw clenched like he was holding back frustration or maybe just the urge to apologize even though he couldn’t. she leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of you.”

she made him tea first. well, she tried to, with boiling water from the little electric kettle in the corner, the only teabag she could find, and honey she'd begged from the concierge. but when she held it to his lips, he took it without question, eyes glassy.

then she sat behind him on the bed, letting his back rest against her chest as she rubbed slow circles into his shoulders. he melted into her touch, long lashes fluttering shut.

the boys peeked in an hour later, much quieter than usual.

“alright if we crash in the other room?” paul asked softly. “we’ll keep the tv low.”

“sure,” she whispered. “he’s asleep.”

ringo tiptoed in and placed a little wrapped chocolate on the nightstand “he’ll like it when he wakes up,” he whispered with a wink.

...

her fingers threaded through his hair, the rain started tapping against the hotel window, soft and rhythmic.

Then a shift.

george stirred a little. he reached for her hand and pulled it gently to his lips, pressing a tiny kiss to her knuckles without opening his eyes.

“hey,” she whispered, brushing her thumb along the side of his face. “that’s my line.”

he opened one eye, and tapped his chest lightly twice with his finger. a silent "now it's mine.”

she giggled quietly. “oh well, i guess you’re allowed to be the baby tonight.”

george gave her a tired little smile.

then, slowly, he reached for a notebook by the nightstand and scribbled a shaky message:

“everything hurts, but you make it better.”

"well, that's my job"

he smiled and blinked a few times, then leaned over, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. she kissed the top of his head, humming softly into his hair.

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one. 

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty. 

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door. 

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does. 

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.” 

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard. 

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.” 

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too. 

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive. 

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks. 

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.” 

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows. 

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats. 

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved? 

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites. 

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again. 

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all. 

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches. 

Summer has never felt so long. 

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares? 

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful. 

You’re completely devastating. 

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?” 

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to. 

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes. 

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration. 

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him. 

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?” 

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter. 

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest. 

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation. 

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it. 

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin. 

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.” 

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it. 

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven. 

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it. 

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks. 

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’  before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex. 

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers. 

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him. 

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin. 

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath. 

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.” 

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls. 

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you. 

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.  

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more. 

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know. 

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away. 

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive. 

He’s milked. Spent. 

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick. 

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke. 

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces. 

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with. 

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs. 

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning. 

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door. 

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night. 

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood. 

God forbid they have coyotes, right? 

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

---

MORE, MORE, MORE

— mammon x f!reader

syn: One orgasm is never enough for Mammon, he’s greedy for it. Well, he’s the Avatar of Greed after all. He lives up to the name, of course, proudly so.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, unprotected sex, implied multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cervix fucking, demon fucking, implied cum eating, pet names (my sweetheart, my treasure, my darling) divider: cafekitsune.

word count: 1.2k

notes: this is a repost from my deactivated acc + now cross-posted on my ao3 !

“Ma—ah fuck. . ! M-Mammon, can’t—ngh!” “Aah shit. . ! Just one more f’me, my sweetheart.” Mammon let out a heated gasp, his rosy lips parted before burying his face in the junction of your neck—soft breaths ghosting over the sensitive skin of your sweaty neck. Your vision was met with his snowy strands that your fingers dug into, occasionally tugging at the roots, and earning groans from Mammon as he ploughs into your cunt.

‘Just one more’ you knew that was nothing but a blatant lie, especially coming from the greediest demon himself—it was never just one more when it came to sex, sometimes Mammon would go to the extent where both of you were as overstimulated as you could get; silent screams as pleasure took over your bodies, the coil deep in your stomach snapping oh so deliciously that it was almost painful, his balls emptying the last bit of load he has after all the rounds.

Your head spun, the corners of your teary vision slowly filled with dark spots that disappeared as quickly as they formed. You’ve already came twice around his cock, and you’ve lost count of how many times Mammon brought you to your orgasm with his tongue and fingers, so your body was already sensitive to any kind of touch.

You could feel your legs trembling as Mammon pushed and pulled his hard cock over and over again, the way your walls clamped around his shaft, allowing you to feel every ridge of it. It was sticky, damp, and stuffy.

The mixture of your’s and his cum dripped out of your sopping cunt and down to the mattress, creating loud, wet noises that bounced around the walls of his room. Mammon’s heavy balls slapped against your sweaty skin, making a sticky mess down where the two of you connected.

His king-sized bed squeaked with each desperate thrust of his hips, the headboard repeatedly hitting the wall as if it was locked in a rhythmic curse.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Mammon was sure his brothers could hear the deafening thuds of his headboard but he couldn’t care less. Another strained groaned left his throat as you scratched your nails down his bare muscled back, hands running through an evident bump on it—his wings were starting to come out. His horns were also becoming visible, the ebony spirals emerging from his snowy hair.

Mammon growled as he felt himself shift into his demon form due to the immense pleasure that washed over his whole body. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, causing pleasurable pain to shoot up to your neck as his canines grew in size.

“Aah. . Mammon . . !” “Haah! T-that’s it, my treasure. . Moan for me.”

Mammon lifted his head from your neck, an evident deep crimson blush spread on his cheeks as he met your gaze—his pupils were blown with lust, eyes also teary from the never-ending pleasure. Fuck, you could stare at his eyes all day; the way his blue irises faded into a golden yellow at the bottom, like the ocean meeting the citrine sky as the sun dips below the horizon.

Before you could close your eyes shut from the way Mammon’s blunt tip repeatedly hit your cervix, you noticed a faint flapping sound over the ringing of your ears—something slicing through the damp atmosphere of the room and blowing hot air. It didn’t take you long to notice the full-grown pair of wings on his back, flapping with every eager thrust of his hips—it’s bat-like structure proudly stretching out to reveal it’s entire length.

The white markings across his tanned torso were now evident too, Mammon was in his full demon form. It was always like this with him whenever he reached overstimulation, the immense pleasure his body held was too much that it often resorted to him unintentionally transforming.

His wings moved in synched with his hard thrusts, allowing him to pound harder and reach deeper into you. Mammon threw his head back, a heated gasp leaving his lips as he felt your walls tighten around him. A small, desperate cry of your name hung in the thick air before he buried his face near your ear once again.

Mammon let out shallow pants, incoherent sentences going straight to your left ear; he managed to stutter out a praise, his voice shaky, and breathless from all the fucking he’s doing. The sweet praise went straight to your cunt, and that was all it took for you reach yet another orgasm.

This time, it was significantly more intense than the previous ones mammon had given you. Your whole body trembled as the coil in the pit of your stomach snapped for the nth time that night, face contorting in raw bliss as your lips parted in a silent scream.

Mammon didn’t even have to look at your face to know what you looked like as you came, he’s got in engrained in his mind—the way your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head, swollen lips parted, brows tightly knitted together and tears rolling down your warm cheeks.

The thought of your erotic expression brought mammon to another climax shortly after you. His muscles turned taut, wings stilling in a stretch as he sheathed his cock deep inside you before cumming. He moaned into your sweaty skin, a string of curses leaving his throat as waves of pleasure fully consumed him.

The two of you fell into a unison, filling the room with nothing but lewd sounds as your bodies jolted from the after shocks of a mind blowing orgasm. Mammon held you tight—his bare chest flush against your own—to keep himself grounded from the immense pleasure.

You didn’t know how he was still able to cum inside you with such volume, given how many times he’s orgasmed already—Mammon filled your cunt to the brim, swearing under his breath as a squelching noise came from your cunt, his seed seeping out and dripping down to his balls and the mattress.

He gave a few shallow thrusts to ride out both your orgasms before pulling out, a whine coming from you and Mammon at the loss of contact—he watched as your hole dripped with his and your cum, biting down at his bottom lip.

How filthy.

“I’m far from being done with you. .” Mammon breathlessly laughed as he saw your eyes fluttering shut. You opened your lids to see that he’s made his way down to the apex of your legs, where all the mess was.

“Mhm, I’m going to suck this out of you.”

He gave an experimental lick at your sensitive cunt, causing you to instinctively attempt to close your legs. Mammon held your legs apart and gave you a smirk before diving in—your hands flew to his spiralled horns, gripping them for your dear life as he shoved his tongue inside you.

“Just can’t get enough of you, my darlin’..” Mammon whispered against your skin. “Mhm—aah! Y’so greedy, M-Mammon.” you moaned. He couldn’t help but snicker at your response, a sense of pride swelling in his chest at the choice of your words.

“Now, I’d be worried if I wasn’t.”

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

*ASK* Donnie & Raph 3some

@fyreball66 Okay, first off....THANK YOU for the love. Next, THANK YOU for the patience! I hope the wait was worth it. This one is a little...uh...well...it sorta took on a life of its own and got away from me.

Basically, this one is rather long (as Donnie might say): "I have a hard time keeping it short".

***Fully advising all living persons to read at their own risk! All minors just run away screaming.***

To give you a tidbit of insight, I HC that Raph and Don were close as kids, pretty much paling around when it came to porn and developing their own 'language' so the two of them could discuss things without anyone else understanding the naughty shit they were talking about. They couldn't let Leo know, because he might tell. They could let Mikey know...cause Mikey was too lil and had a BIG MOUTH. See...I figure Raph was a big porn-horn-dog and well, Donnie being the internet genius he was a kid could easily get access to it, and so a great brotherly bond was born. I used this HC of mine to write your story to...I hope you find it enjoyable.

You enter the lair carrying your old, has-seen-better-days, computer and make a beeline for Donnie’s lab.  The dreaded blue screen of death showed up this morning and you desperately needed it fixed ASAP!

You find Donnie with his eyes stuck to the microscope, mumbling to himself.  As you draw close, he doesn’t even look up, but greets you all the same, “Hi, Y/N, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?”.

With his face stuck to the ocular lenses, he misses the adoring gaze you bestow on him right before you huff a little giggle to yourself, shake your head, and think for the millionth time how easy he is to crush on, “My computer, you can thank it for dying on me”, you sigh regrettably.

Hearing the lamenting in your voice, Donnie’s gaze lifts to your pouting face as you stand cradling your beloved machine close to your chest.  Your eyes pull out their best puppy-dog-sympathy act and silently plead with him to have mercy on your situation.

For a moment, time stands still as Donnie’s mind tries to record your exact look to memory, ‘How can she be so darn cute?  However, no pouting, can’t allow a pout to grace your beautiful face’, he thinks as he swallows a sizeable lump growing in his throat.

With one of his cute chuckles, Don takes the failed unit from you with a smile, “Don’t worry, I’ll fix it in no time”, he murmurs and walks over to his own computer station and begins plugging it up to various cables.  You watch as his talented hands easily flip and rotate the unit, examining it from all angles, and starting to work his undeniable Donnie magic.

*SIGH*…’Why can’t I be a computer?’, you think to yourself as your eyes follow his long fingers sliding and gliding smoothly over the surface of the device, knowing exactly where and how to touch it to get it to respond. 

Ugh!  You would gladly turn into a heaping pile of electronic parts just to have him work his magic on you.  Admittedly, this isn’t the first time you have had this musing, believing if you were a computer that the tall terrapin would find some interest in you.

Not that Donatello ever ignored you!  God, no.  He is one of your best friends!  It’s just that spending so much time, close to him, has your little body craving more than just his hugs, chuckles, and companionship. 

You are starting to really consider inter-species dating, uh…if that is even something that could happen between the two of you? How would you even go about asking that?  Donnie has never brought up any indications of possible love interests for any of the guys, so, it is always a huge question mark hanging in your head if the parts even match up.

Thinking about the guys and their bodies has your body feeling rather heated.  Hell, all of the guys are desirable on some level, but you definitely had two top favorites…Donnie and Raph.  First, there’s Donnie.  And what is not to like there?  Donatello has the mind, the heart, the humor, the body that just seems to go on forever, *sigh* he has it all. 

Then there’s Raph…, well, the damn cocky S.O.B. is hot.  Personality wise he is great… as a friend.  However, you truly believe, you’d end up killing him if you ever dated him.  Yep, it is just safer for him, and those rolling muscles of his, to remain eye candy.  Hmmm, thinking of eye candy has your eyes roaming over the current terrapin in your view.

Your eyes drink in his long, lean frame as it is bent over his computer desk. 

The subtlety of the ripples flowing through the deltoid muscles of his shoulders, those V-shaped triangles finely honed from years of daily katas and flexing with each arm movement.  The equally delectable biceps and triceps firm and bulging, as his fingers danced across his keyboard tether booting your laptop from his computer so that he can run diagnostics. 

You lick your lower lip and draw it in between your teeth as your eyes continue their exploration further down.  You feel your own groin muscles clench as you focus on the bevels etched into his side by the interlocking saw-toothed pattern of his serratus muscles and his external obliques. A slight shiver runs through you as you imagine what it would feel like to run your tongue over those teasing peaks.  As your eyes slide ever lower to that sinfully delicious dip of his waistline, pants always hanging just a little too south of dangerous without his suspenders on, you feel the betrayal-creep of your inner lubrication making its way out to your underwear.

“Careful, I can smell ya”, is whispered directly into your ear by unmistakable rough, cocky voice of Raphael.

FUCKING NINJAS! Your mind screams as your body jumps from the scare!  You never know where they are at any given moment.  Sneaky bastards, the lot of them, but Raph is the worst!  He seems to take immense joy at catching you off guard EVERY SINGLE CHANCE HE GETS! 

“RAPH!”, you yelp out, as your hand swings reflexively to smack at him.  His chuckle is deep and hardy as he easily slides out of your strike zone. Swaying with confidence as he backs away from your frazzled state, moving deeper into Don’s Lab, obviously meaning to stay.

Donnie hears your yelp and glances up to catch the tail-end of the interaction, lifting a brow ridge at the two of you and giving Raph a look, the meaning of which is completely lost on you but seems to be full of meaning for Raphael. 

Raph knows about his brother’s silent crush but also knows his too-socially-cordial brother isn’t going to do anything unless pushed and Raph considers himself just the turtle for that!  Raphael gestures with his hands wide and lifts his shoulders, “Slip’n’Slide and ready ta ride”, is all he says aloud. 

Your own brow quirks up in confusion, but you watch as Donnie apparently understands Raph’s odd dialogue.  Donatello glances between you, Raph and the lines of code running on the computer, replying “You can’t be serious”.

“Dude, ya can’t tell me ya haven’t noticed.  And, by da way, target eggplant set off da sprinklers”, Raph replies, leaning heavily on his knuckles which are planted on the workbench in the middle of the room.  You watch as both sets of green-amber eyes flick between you and the owner of the other set.

Suddenly, Donnie gets very interested in the computer screen, refusing to look back at Raph as he mumbles, “Probably a false alarm. Not unheard of you know.  I highly doubt rough terrain is desired.”.

Raph huffs a snort, “BULLSHIT.  I’ll show ya.  Chili pepper about ta get hot.  If I’m right, ya down fa soup? ‘Cuz I don’t wanna start something if I can’t get a participation badge. Full gaming permissions deferred - obviously, yet optionable, eggplant and honey pot being da main ingredients.”.  Again, two sets of amber eyes flick over to you and then back to each other.

You are thoroughly confused.  They seem to be having a full, meaningful conversation and you aren’t understanding a word of it!  Well…you understand the words themselves, but their meanings are obviously not what they are supposed to be.  It’s like they are speaking another language only they aren’t.

You watch as the cutest smirk passing over Donnie’s face, as he throws a glance over his shoulder to Raph, “Parameters accepted.  I could use a good laugh watching chili pepper crash and burn”, he snorts out a half-hearted laugh.

“Ha!  Get ready ta eat, lil bro, ‘cuz I’m serving it up”, Raph boasts front behind the bench, making a point to lift his large arms wide but flexed.

Donnie slips into his computer chair and typing away at his diagnostic program, smirk still firmly planted on his face, but you sense a change in the atmosphere.  Raphael looks over at you and makes a show of rolling his shoulders before he begins to saunter your way.

‘Great, what is he up to now?’, you think to yourself as you watch his smug face approach you.  He invades your personal space, like he likes to do so often - just to rattle you, his musky scent envelopes you like a cocoon, pressing you down in place, holding you captive, then he lets his eyes dip and trail down your body.  As he brings his emerald orbs back up to stare into your eyes, his thick muscular arm shoots out around you, startling you.

“Easy there, princess, just locking the door”, Raph coos down at you, only half hiding the gleeful smile splitting his face from causing you to ‘jump’ from his actions.

He moves behind you, placing himself between the door and you, making you feel a little oppressed and cornered.  You shift uncomfortably while he stands so dominant in your space, then he starts advancing, “Ya see, I have dis theory…”, he monologues to you, while rubbing his sizable palms together, “…dat there’s  somethin’ that yer keepin’ secret.”.

With his larger-than-life frame steadily invading your space, you unconsciously move to compensate, giving up ground and moving further into the lab…backing closer to Donnie.  For the life of you, you can’t figure out what the big brute is going on about, “What are you talking about, Raph?”.

“Hmmm…”, the deep bass of his voice reverberating out of his chest, all the while sounding like a predatory rumble, causing damn tingling sensations to dance a trail below your waistline.  Suddenly, he steps hard and direct into your space, putting you off balance, and since your legs are now flush with the side of Donnie’s seated posture, you fall back hard into Donatello’s lap. 

For just a second, you looked around confused as to why you didn’t fall very far and just as you realize Donnie’s lap had saved you, Raphael’s grinning face closes in, bringing his mouth close to your neck, “…I believe ya find us sexually arousing, princess.”, he purred out close to your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

Despite the unfamiliar spot you find yourself in, Raph’s actions, the heavy musk in the air, and his ultra-close proximity have caused another fresh flow of inner fluids to escape into your panties.  To add to your dilemma, your nipples start to strain against your thin laced bra, joining the mutiny.  Damn your betraying body!

“Wh-what?...why? Why do you say that?”, you replied, flustered beyond belief to be sitting in Donnie’s lap, while Raph’s enormous frame cages you down, looking directly in your eyes, waiting for verbal confirmation. 

Your eyes wide with shock and embarrassment, look around to Donnie for help.  He had moved his one arm to help catch your fall, but his other hand is still steadying typing data into the keyboard, seeing your confusion while taking note of the delicate colors of your eyes, he offers an explanation, “I believe he’s referring to your pheromones.  They are quite…(clears throat)…potent today.”.

“Don’t be coy, Don.”, Raphael purrs out, leading straight into a body vibrating churr, “basically, sweetheart, we can smell ya. Dat scent leakin’ out is tellin’ me ya want ta get your freak on wit’ da freaks.  Dat yer hot for some turtle.”, he licks his plump lips as his eyes trace circles around the nipple peaks begging to be set free, he looks back at you, “Probably been thinking ‘bout it for awhile now.”.

Feeling like cornered prey, you can’t help the reflexive swarm that twists through your body, which causes Donnie to need to shift his position under you before he starts adding to the uncomfortable situation.

It’s all Donnie can do to keep focused on the computer screen.  Raph said he was going to serve and deliver, and it is starting to seem like maybe Raph’s ‘theory’ is correct.  Your scent has magnified tenfold in the short time that Raph marched you back into his lap.  Could you actually find them sexually appealing? Of all the time he spent imagining shared pleasurable time with you, he never truly believed it could ever happen.  Yet, here you were, flaring red hot in pheromones and other scents, seemingly responding to Raphael’s advances.

“Uh…”, you lick your parched lips and try to scoot back further into Donnie’s lap to put some breathing distance between you and this wall of muscle huffing at your neck, “well…I…uh”, damn what do you do?  You are seemingly caught between a proverbial rock (of muscle) and a growing hard place in Donnie’s lap. Well…you have been wondering if it was possible, and here was your chance to find out, literally, staring you straight in the face.

You swallow hard and think well…fuck it…either I say yes and this either turns out to all be a ploy for Raph to have another good laugh at my expense (what’s new there?), or I end up having my cake of Donnie and eating it too with Raph.

With your mind made up, you twist in Donnie’s lap to face him.  Your tiny hands rise to grip the upper lip of his plastron, needing to ground yourself before taking the leap you’re about to take, and you look into his golden amber eyes magnified by his glasses, having always adored the green flecks that are sprinkled like confetti throughout them, and addressed him directly, “Yes, I’m attracted to you.  And, yes, I have been for a while. I just wasn’t sure…um…if it was a possibility, you know,”, you shrug your tiny shoulders from doubt, “if you thought about…, if we could…”, you trail off unsure of how to continue.

“HA!”, Raph’s hand smacks the back of Donnie’s shell hard, causing the entire chair to jostle and groan, “I KNEW IT!”, he continues to boast but his commentary is all but lost on Donnie. 

In the matter of two seconds for you to finish your sentence and Raph’s hand to collide with his shell, his mind had lost all interest in the computer issue, analyzes, and commits to memory the feeling of your warm fingertips brushing across his scales just over his plastron, and moved through various positions and locations he wants to take you in!

Donnie’s mouth crushes to your’s in a flash.  Your breath is literally stolen from the force of his kiss, his tongue urgently demanding entry.  As his kiss deepens, and his lips stay firmly attached to you, he quickly stands up from the chair, cradling you to his abdomen, and throws a back-kick sending the chair across the lab.

Raph watches the sudden change in disbelief.  DAMN.  Who knew his baby bro had that much ferocity in him?  Raph looks between the now toppled chair and Donnie’s departing back, “Uh…Don…”.

Donnie quickly walks with you to the lab door, unlocks it, and departs out of the room, leaving Raphael staring in shock.  Raph is not exactly sure what just happened, or what he should do now, sex-crazed Donatello is new territory for him, “Um, Don…where ya goin’?”, Raph calls after his baby brother.

Raph hears a half growled, half worded response: “I ALWAYS WANTED TO TRY THIS.”

Raphael follows and finds growling and muffed giggling sounds coming from the open door to the bathroom.  Quickly, he enters and closes the door behind him, “Dude! Ya gonna wake the whole lair!  What da hell are we doin’ in da bathroom?”, he asks just moments before Y/N is shoved into his empty arms.

“Shower!”, Donnie replies before tripping out of his boots, disappearing into the shower stall and turning on water spray.  He returns out of the stall to see Raph and Y/N looking curiously at him, in his now wet pants.  “What?”, he asks to their curious looks. “I’ve always wanted to try it in the shower and, well, this is going to be quite messy…so…two birds, one stone type of thing”, he replies with a shrug.

Raph chuckles deeply, “Bro, is yer dick taking all da blood from yer brain? Ya just walked into da shower wit’ yer pants on. I ain’t even gonna mention yer bandana ‘n glasses.”, he snorts.  “Here”, Raph passing Y/N back to Donatello, “lemme show ya how it’s done”.

As you sit cradled in the arms of your favorite tall terrapin, his brawny brother starts to remove his coverings.  First, he slips one of his sais out of its leather strap, makes a show of twirling it before placing it between his teeth with a wink to you.  Next, he slides out of his leather chest harness, the heavy weight of the leather and buckles echoing around the bathroom’s interior in a resounding thug and clank as the chest adornment is discarded to the floor.  “Put her down, Don”, Raph instructs his brother, around the sai in his mouth, as his meaty knuckle gloves are stripped from his hands.

As Donnie lowers you to stand in front of him, you’re facing Raph who hasn’t torn his gaze from you, holding you captive that intense stare of his.  With a sniff and a snort, his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his shorts and he drops them to the floor. Dear God, his going commando!  Stepping straight out of them, he closes in, holding your gaze, while your eyes desperately fight to stay north of the monster jugging out from behind his legs. He’s within inches of you, you can feel the heat radiating off the wall of muscle.  You watch mesmerized as his hands lift to the knot at the back of his skullcap, and just for a split second you watched uncertainty streak across his gaze, right before he yanked the red covering off and tossed it to the side with an alpha snort. 

You have never seen him like this before.  Damn…what the difference that mask makes!  If he looked scary before, now he could down right stop a grown man’s heart from fear if he chose to.  The full forest green tones of his upper face were on full display...and terrifyingly beautiful.  His crown was covered in raised scales, resembling a very muted version of gator scales, none of his other brothers had that!

For a moment he continues to stare at you, before he removes the sai from between his teeth and adverts his eyes to watch it twirl in his hand.  You can sense a bit of his bravo is gone, seemingly waiting for your reaction.  “Raph”, you release in a breathy exhale, the awe is fully apparent in your voice, “you’re…beautiful”.

Like the flip of a switch…just like that, Mr. Cocky is back!  You suddenly find the tip of the sai poised under your chin, keeping your face lifted to see that side-cocked smirk that he is infamous for, he licks plump lips very slowly, thoroughly enjoying drawing out the moment, “Ya think so?”, he murmurs out as the tip of the sai draws a line down your delicate throat, peeking into the collar of your shirt and lifting it out ever so slightly.

The sharp intake of breath over your shoulder reminds of you the slender terrapin that has been sniffing, kissing and caressing your head, neck and shoulders this entire time.  With another hardy chuckle Raph kneels down, even at his lowered stance he’s still eye level with your upper chest, and he slides the end of the sai’s cold steel under the hem of your t-shirt, caressing the skin underneath, and looking up at Donnie.

“I think she’s got entirely too many clothes on, wouldn’t ya say lil bro?”, Raphael’s deep rumbling voice purrs out right before he expertly flips the end of the sai around, sliding in between the leg wraps that he wears for battle and his scaled skin.  With the flick of his wrist, the wraps fall in unison to the floor, removing the only remaining cloth from Raphael’s body.  “Now, I could easily remove yer clothes, sweetheart, but ya wouldn’t have much ta walk home in after…”, he addresses you again, as the cool metal of the sai returns to trail a line of goosebumps across your belly.

Understanding that Big Red means business you quickly lift your arms over your head in a silent gesture for Donnie to lift your shirt off. 

Taking his cue, Donnie’s long fingers snake in under your hemline but don’t stop there.  Sure, he could just pull the garment off, but there are so many tactile sensations to experience along the way. 

His fingertips dragged up each of your sides, gliding over your skin (much like they had before with your laptop), dipping over the curves of your ribs, and pushing the shirt up as they pulled higher. 

The smoothness of your flesh excites him and he moans into your ear right before he finished pulling the shirt off.  He discards the top quickly and, just as hurriedly, wraps his long arms around your torso, crushing your back into his plastron, while his right hand pulls your jaw to the side to engulf your mouth in another fevered kiss.

With Donnie distracting you, Raphael takes the opportunity to continue removing your clothes. Flicking the button of your shorts, he peels the opening back with a purr.  Dipping down he buries his snout into the opening and draws your scent in with the powerful intact of his massive lungs.  The scent of a sexually receptive female hitting his brain like a drug, he rolls his head, his pupils are blown wide, and a forceful churr rolls out of his throat.  Being that is he so close to your lower half, the shaking waves of his churr penetrate through your skin, vibrating your insides and causing your pussy to throb and gush.

Donatello whimpers into your mouth at your fresh scent soaking into the air.  You moan into his mouth, tongue caressing over his, mentally begging him to take his talented tongue lower.  As Raphael helps you step out of your shorts, panties, and sandals, one of Donnie’s hands slams down hard and fast over your now naked sex…with a muffed growl.

Tearing himself away from you swollen lips, his eyes laser focus in on where his hand is resting. Wanting to be the first to taste your tantalizing scent, his fingers glide easily between your soaked folds, drawing out your wetness. A string of mumbled curses fall from his lips as he lifts his fingers to his mouth. 

Reverently, his tongue reaches out to lap at the slick wetness glistening on his digits.  You watch captivated by the motion, the first touch of his tongue gathering your essence from his finger, the slip of the tongue back into his mouth, feeling, the rather than hearing, the rumble spread through his body, and then his lust darkening eyes looking down at you…’oh, fuck’, is all your mind can process before a feral, snarling Donnie literally rips your bra from your body.

Seeing his, normally, very docile brother’s reaction has Raphael extremely curious, so he nuzzles his beak down into your mound, jutting out his long tongue and gathering a bit of you for himself. 

Your legs nearly buckle as you feel a very large, wet appendage pull across your aching sex.  You moan and drop more heavily into Donnie’s arms and wanting to reach out and hold Raph’s head to your center; however, the large brute is already rising from his knees.  “Here, give her ta me, let’s get dis shower started”, he murmurs in a voice so husky from lust you swear its dropped several octaves.  He steals your weight from Donnie’s arms and starts walking towards the shower stall.

In his more animalistic, less mentally attuned state, Donatello immediately tries to follow.  Raph firmly stops him with a hand to the middle of his slender brother’s plastron, “DUDE!  Yer PANTS!”, he grouses while shaking his head, “…and we call ya the genius one!”.

You moan at the feel of the warm water rushing over your sensitive skin as Raph hugs you from behind, pushing his firming erection into the crease of your ass cheeks and enjoying the sliding friction offered there. “Fuckkkkk me!”, his gravely voice moans into you ear, “I knew dis shit would feel good, but, FUCK, gurl I think ya are gonna kill me, and dis fine ass…”, he emphasizes with a hard smack which causes you to yelp in shock,” has already got Genius out der *fucked up*.”.  Biting his lower lip and groaning, he dips his mouth down to taste the honey pot of your sex swollen pucker.

Hastily, Donatello strips out of his cargos, peeling and flinging his bandana and glasses (to God knows where), before joining Y/N and Raphael under the hot spray.  He sees that Raph has already claimed your lips, so he moves in close to explore the chest that he got a quick glimpse of earlier.

Your breath shoots out into Raphael’s devouring mouth as you feel Donnie latch on to one of your nipples.  Instinctively, you hand reaches to the back of his head and pushes his snout deeper into your fleshy breast, wanting him as-close-as-fucking-possible.  You wanted to feed him with yourself.  His sinful tongue dances around your perk peak while simultaneously trying to suck your soul out through the areola. 

You whimpered and huffed into Raphael’s mouth, your desire was palatable on his tongue.  A devilish chuckle purred out of him as he pulled back to drink in your sex blown eyes, “Good, is he?”.  “Here..”, Raph reached up and grasped your other breast, firmly squeezing it, kneading it, before jiggling it temptingly to his brother, “…don’t forget to have a balanced meal.”.

Donnie gnarled in response, like a dog with a bone, abandoning the original nipple to snap so hard and quickly at the one Raph was offering, he nearly bit Raphael’s finger.  “Ohhhh….yeah, he’s hungry”, Raph purred into your ear, still steadily pumping his now fully engorged cock between your ass cheeks.

You can feel the slick of his precum coating your cervice.  Feeling the intensity of the situation and needing more, your started to grind back on his lap, causing each upward slide of his cock to slip further in your ass’s cleft, skirting across the sensitive outer ring of your anus.

First time you knew he felt your backside pucker kiss at the head of his dick, he let loose a snarl, grabbing your jaw, lifting your chin high to stare back into his eyes, “Woman…dat’s a dangerous game, I’m tryin’ ta hold it ta’gether here.  I promised Genius, who's currently sucking dem tiddies raw, dat I’d behave.”.

Without realizing it a pout develops on your face and a defeated whimper escapes you, Donnie’s eyes zero-in on the pout on your face, causing a snarl to erupt from him.

“No.”, he barks back at Raphael.  He’s huffing through a clenched jaw as he rising to his full height and firmly grabs you under the arms, lifts you, and slams you back into Raph’s plastron, causing Raphael to reflexively hold you in place.  Donatello steps close to nuzzle his snout deep into your neck, purring, whining, kissing your sensitive skin, finally he pulls back and searches your gorgeous eyes for a moment, his hormone-fogged mind fighting to make the right choice to keep your face from pouting, then he turns a hard stare at Raph over your shoulder, “ANYTHING she wants, she GETS!”, his growls, the clicking undertones…unmistakably threatening.

For a moment Raph is stunned, hell, you are too.  Sweet, loving, cordial, docile Donnie just ferally threatened his big behemoth hot-head of a brother….AND IT WAS FUCKING HOT!

Swallowing hard, Raphael glances at you to make sure everything’s okay, to which you give a small shrug, “Yeah, sure, Don, she’s da princess, whateva she wants”,  Raph replies placatingly.

Donatello’s harsh gaze never leave’s Raphael’s eyes until he drops down to his knees to go in for another taste of you.  You gasp audibly as Donnie’s mouth starts to explore your folds as Raph still holds you stationary in the air.

Raph leans in close to your ear, careful to keep his voice low, “See. Ya fuckin’ broke him. Dat’s some dangerous pussy ya got der.’’, he chuckles darkly.

Donnie’s tongue slips between your seeping folds with vigor.  He moans as more of your essence slides down his throat, the flavor something he could never have imagined.  Deeper he pushes his tongue, massaging up the sides in your canal, finding that elusive spot inside, causing you to swarm in Raph’s arms.  The moment that Donatello’s mouth closes around your clit, you buck sharply and Raph nearly loses his grip on you, “careful! If ya fall and get bruised I’m sure he’ll skin me alive”, he admonishes, but you are too close to the edge now to hear him.

Your head rolls back into his shoulder, as strangled groan starts to seep out of you.  “Ah, Genius found da boom button, huh?”, he kisses to your temple.  He grins down at his brother virtually eating you alive between your legs and eggs him on, “Don, she’s about ta blow, think ya can do betta’ than dat?”.

The next thing you know, all of Donnie’s focus is suckling your tiny nub.  Feeling your insides start to squeeze taunt and shake, your eyes widen, and your arms shoot up around Raph’s thick neck to hold on tight.  Your legs start to quake involuntarily, signaling Raphael to tighten his grip. Raph’s grip on you becomes bruising as your inner world explodes as one of Donnie’s thumbs slips into your canal while his face continues to shake over your clit.

Your orgasm rolls over you like a consuming storm.  Your nails dig into Raphs thick hide as your hips rock with abandon.  Watching you lose it in his arms, has Raphael horny as fuck.  He captures your moaning mouth and dranks down your verbal release, relishing feel your tiny body jerking and quaking against his own, “Mmmmm….”, he moans against your lips, “fuck, I gotta see dat again”.  Considering that Don is still firmly planted between Y/N’s legs and longingly licking soothing strokes with his tongue over your still pulsating pussy, Raph figures that is a pretty safe request.

“Raph”, you plead up to him, jerking your hips for his attention.  “What?”, he purrs against your temple, “what does da princess want?”. 

Now that you’re calming down, it feels safe to enough to support your weight with just one of his arms, so he snakes the other ones around to fondle your breasts.  You coo at him, licking your swollen lips, looking like the most salacious temptress that ever fucking lived, causing his blood to boil and his cock to seep. “Ah, fuck, baby gurl….ya gotta have mercy on me and tell me whatcha want from me”.

“Fuck, Raph, I want to feel you between my ass cheeks again….please!”, you breath huskily at him.

A rumble rolls through his chest, as the hand fondling your breasts disappears beneath you.  He nuzzles his snout into the side of your head and whispers with ragged breath in your ear, “Ya wanna feel me here?”, he asks allowing his fingertips to glide through your ass crease, slick as fuck from your own release.

“Mmmm…” you moan and nod your head for confirmation.  “Ya sure?”, his smug face asks teasingly, “ya sure ya want to feel my FAT cock hotdoggin’ des plump cheeks of yers?”, smacking your ass for emphasis.  Again, you hum your approval while rocking your hips against Donnie’s kissing lips.

“Baby gurl, ya gotta be sure ‘cuz it’s pretty slick back der, ya never know what slip up and happen…, he murmurs to you, and as the word ‘slip’ leaves his devilish lips, the finger gliding teasingly between your ass cheeks slips into your anus, plunging deep as he bites as your lips as they start to moan.

Suddenly, Donnie rising out of his pussy worship posture to lean in from the front, seeking more of your kisses.  The taste of you is all over his mouth.  His tongue slides in, virtually tongue fucking your welcoming mouth.  As Raph still cradles you, rubbing your ass, and fingering your back hole, you feel lost in euphoria.  Your hands desperately grasp for Donnie’s shoulders, wanting to touch what your eyes had visually roamed over just earlier.  Feeling the firm rounds of his deltoids under your fingertips has you whimpering with want.

Donatello’s mind flares in denial at the sound of your whimpering, his girl shouldn’t want for anything, grasping his cock firmly he pumps it a few times before lining it up with your swollen heat. “Te requiro”, you hear him mumble against your kissing lips.  “Huh?”, you reply before feeling his long shaft entering your tight core.  He sinks in slowly, allowing your body to give in freely to him, as his snout strokes across your jawbone, peeking up to take in the wanton desire on your face as you slowly accept him.

When he finally hilts deep, pushed up behind your cervix, you takes the weight of you out of Raphael’s hands.  He keeps your back flush against Raph’s plastron, using Raph’s massive body as leverage to keep you pinned and free-floating between them.

The tightness of your canal is almost suffocating.  He thought he knew what to expect, hell he’d researched the subject enough in his youth, but actually being encased in a small human vagina is way more overly stimulating than even he could have imagined.  His astute mind is desperately fighting to remain in control while being overwhelmed by all the new data.

Your quivering insides quickly recover and move from shocked to demanding.  You roll your hips into Donnie’s shaft, earning a low moan from him in return, “Vos sentio bonum”, he groans into your neck. “Huh?”, you reply again, but your only answer is Donnie’s hips starting to pump in and out of you freely.  His lengthy cock pulling pleasure with stroke, angling back and up, seeking its target.  He hisses as shaft finds its mark, causing your vaginal walls to clench down tightly in anticipation.  Faster he pumps, feeling your body respond, starting to flex and massage him from the inside, another burst vocals streams out of his mouth, “Mihi opus est ad te quotidie vilis!”.

You lift you face back to Raph, quirking up your brow, confused by the odd words coming out of Donnie’s mouth.  Raph rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge between his nose, “Don, dude, I think ya’ve slipped into latin, or some shit, and we’re not understandin’ shit yer sayin’”.

Despite the heat of the moment, you find yourself laughing hardily at the day and night antics of your two fuck buddies.  How is it that annoyingly cocky, hot-headed Raph has been come the solid, reliable one and sweet, genteel, mastermind-in-a-clinch Donnie is having streaks of tamelessness and mental malfunctions?

“Oh, ya think its funny, do ya?”, Raph hums into your ear, “well, like I said before, ya break it, ya buy it. He’s yer problem now, and when Leo ‘n dad want ta know what’s wrong wit’ him, I’m sending them yer way!”, he smacks your ass again, quick and sharp, earning to shrill yelp from you. “Now…”, he says, sucking his tongue across his teeth, “I do believe ya asked me fer somethin’ and, accordin’ ta the artist formally known as Genuis here, I must give ya anythin’ ya ask for.”.

With Donnie still pounding away at your pussy, you swear he’s still mumbling latin under his breath, you can feel another startlingly hard shaft being teased between your ass cheeks.  To be as encouraging as possible, you lean back and make sure to lick at the side of Raphael’s neck as he continues to tease you both with the tip of cock.

Raph uses precum spread between your plush tush, angling his shaft up as to slide in easily as Donnie pushes you into him.  He allows a few strokes to tantalize and tease your outer ring, working you up for entry.  Your breathing starts to become deeper the more he rocks his hips into, pushing ever-so-slightly at your backend pucker.  He rubs his large palms down your hips and on your thighs, petting and stroking you into submission. His breathes are coming as hot huffs from his mouth that dance across the back of your shoulders.  Just as he can feel your body giving in, he reaches around rubbing circles around your clit as he sinks the head of his cock past your breaking point.

You both moan in unison and Donnie hisses at the added pressure to your vaginal canal.  Knowing things aren’t probably going to last much longer, Raph starts steadily rocking into you, slowly gain entry centimeters at a time. “Fuck…”, he moans into your ear, “baby gurl, dis ass is heaven, I’m not gonna last long”.  Enjoying the filling sensations, the extra pressure pushing Donnie’s cock further forward and being a constant pressure point on your inner nerve bundle, you swarm in ecstasy, and push back taking in as much of Raphael’s massive cock into your ass as you can.

The churr rumbling out of him only adding to the euphoria of the moment, which quickly doubles as Donnie’s own churr echos in response. 

The brothers start working in unison, making sure to give you as much of them as possible with each stroke.  Donnie having been enjoying your tightest the longest is starting to lose it.  “Y/N, I’m about to cum…ah…”, streams out of his mouth but your body can already be tell he is hitting his peak and, apparently, wants to do it with him.  Out of nowhere you feel your insides clamp down as the tether in your abdomen pulled tight.  As your release starts to rock you, your vaginal walls undulate around Donnie’s shaft sending him over the edge. Feeling you shake and quiver in his arms again, has Raph chasing behind the two of you quickly.  Big Red’s thrusts because sharp and quick. He pops the head of his cock in and out of your ass ring repeatedly, enjoying the added sensation of breaking the surface over and over again. Finally, his hefty cock sinks deep as the first streams of ejaculate shoot out of him, leaving him roaring in satisfaction.  He continues to slowly pump his hips lazily through one of the best orgasms he’s ever had, biting his lip as he grabs the thick flesh of your ass in appreciation.

The three of you thoroughly spent, stand motionless under the spray of the shower.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @nittleboo @raisin-shell

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