Honestly I Don't Understand A Thing On This App

lol some Miami firefighter got suspended for texting this

*Ed dying in (y/n)’s arms*

You: i love you, i always have!

Ed, rising from the dead: deadass?

Just me, him, some aphrodisiac and a whole abandoned RDA building all to ourselves 😫😫

Me and My Husband

✤ summary: [Calvin & reader] It seemed like every fibre of your being was written just for Calvin.

✤ word count: 1.4k

I recommend listening to Me and My Husband, or any Mitski songs, while reading this! This is a bit different from my usual fics, so please lmk what you think. <3

𝄥𝄞────────── 𝄇

❝I steal a few breaths from the world for a minute and then I’ll be nothing forever, and all of my memories, and all of the things I have seen with my eyes, with my body, with me.❞

Calvin was the ideal lover. He always swept you off your feet, making you feel like the most important person in the world. It was like you were written to be right for each other. Star crossed lovers. Inseparable.

Here and there, he mentioned his previous relationship. A girl named Ruby Sparks. Whenever she was bought up, Calvin spoke about her with a deep loving, it was evident from the look in his eyes that he still longed for her. His eyes would shine with a kind of passion he never showed for you.

❝But me and my husband, we are doing better.❞

You couldn’t remember exactly how you and Calvin met. The memory was hazy, like a dream you can’t quite recall. You asked him about it and he always blew it off.

“It doesn’t matter how we met, what’s important is we’re together now.”

Even constantly being in Calvin’s presence, you were lonely. No friends. No family. There was no one else you could hang out with other than Calvin. Your isolation was nothing but a “temporary issue”, as Calvin called it, but temporary had been months, bordering on years.

❝It’s always been just him and me together.❞

It didn’t help that Calvin locked himself away in his office. Though he hated being called it, he truly was a genius. His style of writing was lyrical and poetic. The words would dance across the page as you read them. Calvin’s novels would become classics, you were sure of it.

You celebrated every achievement together. The two of you were always going to countless award shows, book signings and parties. He encouraged you to try make friends at the party, but everyone there was so different to you. Previously, you loved parties but one day, you didn’t. It was if someone had rewritten your code, changing your programming and you’re very being. Now it felt like everyone at those parties were complete strangers. Strangers who led successful lives. You couldn’t relate to them any less. You had nothing to your name. Calvin had everything.

❝So I bet on that furrowed brow and at least in this lifetime, we’re sticking together. Me and my husband, we’re sticking together❞

It was late at night, Calvin has spent all evening writing, hurled up in his office and practically ignoring your existence. He kissed your cheek before he went to bed but you couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning, every position you laid in felt uncomfortable. The lights on the clock flickered. 3:08am, the read numbers read. You glanced over to Calvin, who laid peacefully at your side. You knew things had been hard for him. Writing was no easy task and you felt guilty about taking that time away from him. You softly kissed his forehead and got out of bed, quietly tiptoeing through the hall to his office.

The harsh brightness burnt when you flicked the light on. His office was fairly tidy except for the occasional empty coffee mug left around. Calvin always forgot to put them away which left coffee stains on all the furniture. You made a mental note to clean them in the morning. With a yawn, you sat down in Calvin’s office chair. He didn’t let you read what he was currently working on. That was the case with most writers though, so you never took it personally but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You hesitated whether you should read the pages or not. It was Calvin’s private work but the curiosity itched at your skin. You sighed and grabbed them, beginning to skim over the first few pages and immediately you felt deja vu. In front of you, laid out in crisp black ink, was your entire life. Every word, every letter. It was your life. Had Calvin been writing about you? You knew he did the same about Ruby, maybe it was just a habit he had with all his partners. As the pages flicked by, his writing changed. His previously lyrical writings changed into short, blunt sentances.

“[__] doesn’t hang out with anyone other than Calvin. He is their only friend.”

You felt sick. Yours hands shook as you continued turning the pages. All your little habits which had came and gone were all laid out in front of you. Your personality changes and actions, even the smallest things had all been recorded. You shuffled the pages back in order and placed them back down on his desk in the exact spot.

❝ And I am the idiot with a painted face. ❞

You ripped open the draws, going through them in search for some kind of answer. Tucked away, was a black leather journal. You peeked up at the door to make sure Calvin wasn’t watching you. You began to read the journal. Day by day, your entire relationship with Calvin had been written down and analyzed by him.

“Tuesday, May 16th,

Tonight is the 6 month anniversary of my second novel’s release. The publisher is holding another party and inviting everyone. I know I said I would stop, but I wrote about them again. Ruby was supposed to be a one of phenomenon. So when I thought up another person and they appeared all the same, I couldn’t just get rid of them. It’s not the same as with Ruby. I’ve learnt since then. I’m not completely altering their personality but I did change something small today. [__] used to love parties. It was exhausting. So now they’ll just stand in the corner. Have I done the right thing? It would just make me feel more at peace if they weren’t chatting to other men. They found it again last night. Once again they were snooping around my office and found the pages. I wrote that they forgot it an everything is back to normal. This keeps happening. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up for.”

❝ In the corner taking up space.❞

Silently, you put the journal back. You couldn’t bare to read any more. What did he mean you had found out before? Surely, you would’ve remembered it. You didn’t know what he was doing but whatever it was, he did it to Ruby and now he was doing it to you too. You felt numb as you returned to bed. Calvin woke up when you laid down.

“Where did you go?” his voice was hoarse.

“Bathroom,” you whispered and he went back to sleep.

You didn’t sleep that night. In the morning, it was difficult to pretend that everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. Calvin had betrayed you. Anxiety bubbled up in your chest as he went about his day completely normally. He went upstairs while you distracted yourself with breakfast.

Calvin sat down with a sigh, moving the empty mugs off his desk and onto the shelf. He played around with the typewriter, fixing the paper and giving the keys a few test clicks. The crunching of paper under the chairs wheels grabbed his attention. He leant down and picked up the crumbled page. The black text read:

“[__] hates parties. They don’t relate to the kind of people that go to them.”

Calvin instantly knew you had been in here. Frantically, he crumpled the paper and slammed his fingers against the keys as he began typing. When you heard the familiar echo of the typewriter you ran upstairs, about to scream at Calvin that you knew. You knew everything. He was writing about you and lying to your face about it.

But as you stepped into the door, your mind blanked. Whatever had been worrying you floated away. You stared at Calvin in confusion.

❝ But when he walks in,❞

“Why was I coming up here?”

Calvin shrugged with a smile. You let out a chuckle and walked over to him, giving him a forehead kiss. He pulled you onto his lap, squeezing you tightly and making you giggle.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“I love you too,” you responded, getting up off his lap. “You need to stop leaving mugs in here.” You took the dirty dishes downstairs and left Calvin alone in his office.

❝ I am loved. I am loved.❞

[ nsfw ] — smut (18+) ; soft fantasy bakugou ; implied arranged marriage ; a lil' bit breeding kink-y ; some perceptions surrounding virginity that i only added because of the genre/setting (medieval fantasy-ish) and not because it aligns with my personal views ; reader and bkg do not speak the same language — but they are learning ; reader and bkg are both a little bit drunk, but very much consenting ; i invented a language for katsuki's people because i am hopeless.

[ wc ] — 4k+

[ ficmas ] — this is my silly little fic for the lovely, lovely @odieoats !! i hope that you enjoy it !! — but, most importantly, i hope that your holidays are treating you well and with love and that your new year be warm and welcoming 🧚‍♂️✨️🎁

It's Midwinter.

Shortest day and longest night of the year, Yagi tells you, and therefore cause for a feast. Never in all your life have you consumed as much mead as you have within the short three months since you've been married, and yet still you have not grown accustomed to it; the honeyed taste, yes, but not to the warm, woozy feeling that takes root between your ears.

One moment you are admiring the many gifts that adorn the great evergreen in the middle of camp, and the next you are cross-eyed, struggling to find the top of the tree and the carefully carved sun that reigns in favor of the Allfather. It's just so tall, you muse, stretching so far into the heavens that one could worry its beauty and grandeur might cause offense to their Gods. 

A hand is at your shoulder, then, to steady you. “Are you well, Chieftess?” 

Chieftess: another novelty with which to grow accustomed.

In the firelight, Yagi’s features are sharpened, shadows long and dark with worry. Frightening is the down-curve of his brow as he stares carefully into your eyes—so tall, you muse—but he must only find your drunkenness, as a smile softens his thin face.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” you return it with ease, cheeks warm, and bring up the small, well-bundled plant in your hands. “It looks as if there’s no place for what my husband has given me.”

“Ah,” carefully, he takes it by the stem and holds it up high to better see, the contrast of its white berries crisp against the night sky. “And do you know where our Chieftain has gone?”

Like slow-falling snow, his words settle in your mind, the flurry of them gathering until the meaning is new and clear. You spin a slippery heel over the snow, looking across the encampment to where you'd last seen your husband: before, he was locked into a fierce embrace with Midoriya, too proud to turn down the invitation to wrestle, but now only his shield-brothers remain, arranged in a circle as they dance and chant and pound their heavy fists against their bare chests. Among the lot of them, you watch on for the ashen mess of his hair, the familiarity of the scars he bears, the drunken, crooked grin that comes so rarely—but Katsuki is not among them.

"I—" you breathe, dizzy, suddenly, as your eyes jump from warm-body to warm-body in search of him. With the fires roaring, the camp is aglow and clouding your vision in an amber haze, and you don't realize you've begun to spin until a firm hand steadies you again.

“Mistletoe,” your Elder murmurs in translation, drawing you from the honeyed-hold. Giant that he is, finding an open branch on the tree poses no issue, and he hangs your gift with a care that melts a nameless tension; still, their traditions are foreign, another language you struggle to interpret. “It says that Young Bakugou is…giving you great love and…asking for your fertility.”

"Fertility?" Such heat flushes your face that you wonder if it could be steaming, and the waver in your voice makes him laugh.

"A common thing wanted of a claimed man," Yagi chimes, voice like mischief as he bows his head to take his leave. Off somewhere behind you is where his gaze falls and freezes, where it thaws and warms with admiration. Your Elder nods, and when you turn to follow his lead, you see why such seasons could come and go in his eyes. "The night will be long, Chieftess, and one should not spend Midwinter alone."

Katsuki stands at the worn-end of the trodden camp trail with shoulders back and squared, covered by the grand furs of his cloak; a God already watching on. It must be the mead that has made him so crystalline and easy to see through, as there's not a hint of hesitation in his gaze as it darkens and lids, as he slowly pulls the material from his broad back in a gesture that seems all too inviting.

And then he is turning, leaving the young night and its celebration for the sanctity of your shared tent.

You are left within the heat of the fire, all too aware, then, of how it has slipped beneath your furs with such a smoldering intensity; the Elder's revelation has a fever starting in your belly and sweat breaking across your skin.

It has been six days since you've last laid with your husband.

A full fortnight had passed before your marriage was consummated, for no other reason than that you were untouched and afraid. Before knowing him as you do now, Bakugou Katsuki came across as little more than a brute, one that seemed likely to hold you down and ravage you as he so pleased, as your mother had tried to warn you, and yet the night of your wedding, he sat across the pillows and told you that he, too, was just as untouched.

Standoffish and a bit shy, more drawn to actions than words as there were not many the two of you shared. Midoriya has been a constant presence, always dragged one way or another so that he may translate the more difficult words Katsuki is most unfamiliar with. Some nights you can hear them near the hearth, the voice of your husband low as he tries in earnest to learn all that he wishes to say to you. 

To enter his manhood with one he so loved is considered a great honor, as Yagi had told you, and to hear him sounding at words in the dark that are so foreign to him, to know that he was just as pure as you, to learn that you were not a thing to be ravaged, but to be cared for; love-making after that seemed only natural.

You watch the firelight dance against the canvas of the tent, wild and without caution, hindered only by your shadow as you approach. Katsuki's boots lay at the entrance—one on its side and the other upright—and despite the snow and ice covering the ground, you shed your own right beside his.

If he hears you enter—and you're sure he must, the savage beat of your heart at the very least, something attuned to his ear only—he offers nothing; instead, his head is back, leaned over the edge of the round, steel tub that sits across from the hearth. Even from where you stand, the steam wisping above the water is visible, causing you to shiver as you begin to undress; if there is one thing you will always have with a Chieftain of Dragons, it’s a boiling bath.

The rustle of your furs finally captures him and Katsuki raises his head just to turn it, to peer over his shoulder at you with one bright red eye. Slow, he blinks, the heat of his gaze searing over your body as it becomes bare to him, lingering on the few, faded burns that sit at your hips from when last you were together. 

Virginal and green as he once was, your husband did not—and still does not—lack enthusiasm whenever he is tangled up within you; the ache you’ve been nursing in your lower belly in the recent days seems to have subsided, though you wonder if it is only your rapidly building arousal that has dissolved pain to pleasure. One broad hand breaks the surface of the water to rise and trace over your forearm, and Katsuki looks at you as if you are a deity to worship—and you find you couldn’t care less about any lingering soreness.

"May I join you?" 

Already he’s begun to make room for you, but he hums in assent, nodding. "Yes." 

At your hiss of surprise from the temperature of the water, a crooked grin breaks across his face and he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he presses his mouth into the soft skin below your belly button. Not to kiss but just to soothe, laving you with a drunken affection. 

When you can finally stand it, Katsuki pulls you into his lap, slotting your legs around his hips with such ease that you need not ask the Gods if he was made for you or you for him; one and the same, you are, neither existing without your shared heart. Its beat flourishes, spreading to the points of your fingers and the pit of your stomach and the thick of your neck. Only now do your bones thaw, made warm from the water and the lingering dregs of mead and his love, from the home he has made your own.

You kiss away the natural crease of his brow, following down the marks of war that scar his cheeks, his neck. It earns you a small grunt and he eventually turns, overwhelmed, then, by your attention to his intimate details.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, “for the gift. I didn’t—” guilt rushes through you like a winter wind, returning with a bite for all that you still have to learn of his people. Your people. “I didn’t think to find one for you.”

“No need for gift.” He murmurs, into your skin like a secret.

A frown he doesn’t see deepens your lips, and you run your now wet hands through the strands of hair at the base of his spine, dampening them. “I would have liked to give you one.”

“No need for gift.” Katsuki repeats, pinching you beneath the water until you are squirming against him, until you can argue no longer. His hands grow bold, mapping you carefully, adding every crease and curve to what he already knows of your body. 

You speak up when he cups your bottom, before either of you can get too lost. “Yagi tells me it’s a symbol of love, your mistletoe.”

It does little to distract him; the fine point of his nose drags up the column of your throat, breath tickling just under your ear. “...yes.”

“And…fertility.”

Katsuki’s head pops up then, eyebrow raised. “Hah?”

“For—” you pause, thinking, “—having children.”

A common thing wanted of a claimed man, Yagi told you, but in the slow burning light of the hearth, your husband’s face pinkens and he glances away, instead watching his hands below the water. It’s something you know is expected, though it remains a conversation yet to be had, perhaps when you know the words, the both of you; in the meantime, you’ll continue to learn his sensitivities and delights, to teach him yours—all that there is left to know, at least.

“Yes,” he murmurs, fitting his thumbs back into the grooves he’s left on your hips, what of his hands he’s engraved in your skin. Despiste the claim it marks on you, Katsuki frowns, watching you carefully as his fingers move in slow, firm circles. “Pain here?”

“No,” you smile, to this man that you thought would ruin you. “No pain.”

Warmed, he spreads beneath you easily, shifting you along with him as he presses where you are soft to where he is hard. The pressure surprises you both despite the heady weight circulating throughout the tent, and Katsuki exhales like he wants his breath to move through you. 

"For love," he speaks to your heart, the devotion molded in his image. "And…what is it?"

You snort, pressing your lips into his hairline. "And fertility."

He is silent for a long moment, thinking in your tongue, before planting kiss after kiss along your chest, your collarbones, the hollow of your throat. "'n givin' babies."

A true laugh startles out of you, shaking you both with its sincerity, but Katsuki only continues to sigh into your skin, his hands moving to the dip of your waist, up the stretch of your spine and back, walking every last mile of your distance. 

There's a soft tickle from where his mouth trails and you think he means to make you squirm again, but you soon realize he is murmuring —"...engitt vakvaniki?"—though you think the words are more for him than yourself; a reiteration, some kind of assurance that you've outgrown the intimate soreness he once gave you.

"No," you breathe again, quietly. "No pain."

It's all the promise he needs: Katsuki's grip tightens, meaningful, and then he is pushing and pulling you over him until the stars are shooting through your every nerve. A haze develops in the soft bicolor of both his eyes, and you can see him fighting to find you through the clouds as you follow the silent commands of his hunger.

Desire leads you; top to bottom, back and forth, head to base. Against your chest, you can feel the slight part of his mouth, the flare of his nostrils as the lap of the water grows. One of his arms slowly winds behind your waist as you gasp, the swollen tip of him catching your most sensitive spot, tenderness making you both groan.

You lose yourself to the movement, dragging just behind Katsuki's stifled, narrow upward thrusts. Wide as the tub may be, it's nothing to having him underneath you amidst his thick, woolen blankets, but the seedlings of lust are growing, blooming, into something with roots you don't want to unearth just yet.

Fingers tangle in your hair, angling your head down towards him so that he can press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your lips; full of bite and teeth, revealing what little control he has over the animal of his body, just as wild and without caution as the fires that blaze in a dragon's honor.

But—his attention to the water is lost and its heat is steadily fading, smothered out by the winter winds slipping between the flaps of your tent. A shudder wracks your spine, but despite the rough hand that trails up to cup your breast, their stiff peak isn't from Katsuki's touch.

Voice low, you pull back just enough to fit the gruff of his name, stopping him mere seconds from sucking your soft, pebbled skin into his mouth.

His eyes dart up to your face, half-lidded. "Hah?"

If he wasn't so cute, you might prove a stronger willed woman; a light kiss to his nose has him scrunching it, and a light kiss to his lips has him surging, welcoming the wet dip of your tongue into his mouth.

Only when the frost creeps further in are you able to steady yourself, now swollen and bitten. "I'm cold."

As if finding himself after ages lost, Katsuki leans back, seemingly surprised, to peer down into the water, glaring at it like it's betrayed him in some way. With a lip between his teeth, his attention shifts from you to the nest of furs you've been bedding in this season, and it's not long before his arms are tightening around your body.

"No, wait—!"

He rises at once, laughing meanly in your ear as you struggle to cling to him; in return, you bite his lobe and snort into his cheeks as he hurries across the tent. Cradling the back of your head as if you were a child, as if you were something more special than you are, Katsuki lays you down amongst the wool and feathers, eager to slot himself behind you.

A shiver tears through even him, has him burying his face into your neck as he pulls the blanket up around your heads. It only takes a moment for his hands to heat, for his heat to spread, to have you loose and wide open once again; hips against your backside, your husband hikes your leg up, tucking your foot behind his thigh so that you are bared for the fever of his touch.

"Need no gift," the words are lost to your gasp, when the too-light pad of his fingers swirl where you are tender and slick. "No-thing but you."

And then the thick weight of him is gliding over your core, teasing, before he can no longer stand to be without you; a plead falls from his mouth as he guides himself into you, needy and wanton against your temple. Surrounded by his love and touch and sounds and entwined in such a way has your stomach tight with want, and with every inch Katsuki pulls out and pushes back in, you angle your hips so that he is seated as deep as your body will allow. 

"Katsuki," you gasp at how he carves himself into your nave, arching your back and groping blindly at his body.

One of his hands finds your cheeks and he seizes them, turning your face so that he may press his lips into yours. "Fuck," he hisses, capturing a rhythm that rattles you both. "Var in svo—good. Fuck, s'good."

You can only wordlessly agree, settling for a noise he eagerly drinks down. Only once he's certain your head will not fall away from him does his hand return to the seam of your body, pads of his fingers stroking you and the mess already leaking down your thighs. When your lips part, he hums in appreciation and presses down further, as if your pleasure is feeding his own.

The wet sound of skin against skin grows, a drumbeat to the song you both sing as your fires rage; sweat builds in all your creases and curves, dampens your hairline and his as you fall prey to a savagery you once feared—and now have come to crave.

Katsuki groans into your mouth, worship in a language you do know. The rough drag of him in and out of your heat never ceases and beneath your touch, he starts to tremble, too deep into something neither of you can stand.

"Ah," he props himself up on an elbow, fingers digging into the fat of your hips so that he may pull you to meet his every thrust. You look back over your shoulder at him, core pulsing at how his head has fallen slack, with mouth open and eyes shut as he fucks himself into a euphoria he only finds with you.

You make a weak attempt at his name, lost in the throes of your own pleasure, and wait for the hot spill of him inside of you, but—you are all at once empty.

"I—shit," a hand is fisted into his own hair like he's trying to hold back his tide, to keep it low for now. His skin gleams in the firelight, a God wrapped in gold.

Chest heaving, he shuffles around your leg, finding the home between your thighs as he presses a weak trail of kisses down your chest, down your sternum and to your stomach. You know where he's going; at the mere thought of how he drank from you the last time you were together, your core clenches, something that doesn't go unnoticed by him as his crooked smile is pressed into your skin.

It's an act that still has you a bit shy, and as the furs shift and the cold clings to the droplets lingering on your skin, you shiver. Katsuki struggles a bit to bunch himself up beneath the blanket, so that he and you may stay covered, and the stars are still burning in your veins, in your nerves, and so you pull at his shoulders.

"Later," you can't help but to laugh when he frowns. "When it's not so cold."

Words you know to be little, childish insults tumble from his lips, foreign, as he crawls back up the expanse of your body. You tug a bit harshly on his hair and his lips curl, the brat, mischievous and taunting with a bite to your cheek.

"Baby," he grumbles, although smiling.

You mean to nip back at him, but Katsuki pulls one of your legs over his shoulders and your attention is drawn to his body now that it sits in plain view. Scars that color him, that bear proof to the strength he's grown; such a body like his seems carved from marble, and your heart softens at every memory of his unfouded shyness.

A God at your center, heart shared. Katsuki looks upon you just as you look upon him and the honey-mead warms in your belly, drips down your spine with the weight of all the love you hold for him—and he for you.

You tell him quietly, as he bows his head to spit where he means to join you. "Ig siggna vik."

Though the words fit odd inside your mouth, their shape is known to him; he glances up as if in awe, and his answer is a breathless exhale of your name as he slips inside you once again. His face goes directly to your neck, already trembling hands slipping up to hold your face so that you are always close, so that his breath is yours and your moans are his.

"Var in svo hott," he tells you again; it's so good, a common phrase that has your threads wearing thin.

It's take little time before he is falling back into the same bruising pace, chasing the high you're eager to grant him. You fist a hand in his hair as his teeth sink into your skin, as he bullies into the sweet spot that has your stars aligning, has them shining behind the lids you can't help but to close.

"Fuck," you breathe, arching into him. "Katsuki—Gods—"

Your vulgarity has his breath pitching and exhaling sharply and he stops, only for one long, horrible moment, before he can't bear it.

"Fu—sorry," he breaks, the sound so fragile on his tongue. It's not a word you've ever heard from him and your chest tightens at the thought of him asking Midoriya for it. "Sorry, sorry."

With a desperate moan, he's sitting back on his knees, brow crumpling as his eyes are forced shut. "Oh, I—" and his hold finds the dip of your waist, grip tight enough to steal your breath so that he can pull you up into him as he cums. Deep and hard, shoulders shaking as he tenses over you, groaning on such a low sound that your own tide nearly crests.

The sight of your husband—Chieftain of Dragon's, the warlord that won you from the hands of your father, that loves you as winter loves the wind—reduced to ashes at your heat, trembling on the breeze as he twitches and spills inside of you; wild is your desire, without caution.

Katsuki only takes the time to press a sloppy kiss into your cheeks, to push back the damp hair that has fallen into your face before his hands are re-molding to your hips. Though you are more than slick enough, still he leans back to spit into the space between you, spreading the wetness as he circles you again with the pad of his thumb.

And then you are following not far behind him: it's the pressure around your tenderness and the deep sink of him inside you and the eyes rolling back into his head as he fucks through his own sensitivity. Your cries mingle, him at the sudden flutter of your walls, and you at the honeyed-bliss that he gives you.

"I—fuck," he pants, running a hand up your stomach as your trembling slows into delayed, sporadic aftershock. You feel him kick inside of you at the sight and you laugh despite your sudden weariness. "I love you."

Though he is flushed in you and the firelight, his cheeks brighten, if possible, like such an admission is yet another display of his idle bashfulness. You smile and his own grows in return, crooked and dazzling, and you open your arms for him to slump down onto you.

Katsuki does, but it's not long before he is reaching to toss the wool off his back, murmuring, "hot," into your ear—and then because he is a terror, he hisses, "baby," too, like an overgrown child. 

There are other words he whispers into your skin, some you know and some you don't. Some you'll come to learn, some he'll share with you, this language that will tell him all you cannot. You're not worried, however, at either his understanding or yours, with a love as true as stars in the sky, like white berries—crisp—against even the longest and darkest nights.

Definitivamente estos dos juntos serían lo más adorables ♡ + shitpost

It do be like that

i got so sad when trevor had to leave ice spice 💔💔

dreams cum true

virgin!eddie x experienced!fem reader

18+ explicit content | minors dni

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includes: smut, fluff, angst, not necessarily in that order, eddie crushing hard on reader who is a fellow student (reader and eddie are both over 18; don’t be gross, yo) dry humping, oral sex (f receiving) squirting, p in v, cum-eating

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if you enjoyed the story, likes and reblogs are appreciated. thanks for reading! ♥️

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You wouldn’t exactly describe it as creeping you out…but whatever Eddie Munson was doing, it was weird. And while weird was exactly what most people expected from Eddie, the kind of attention he was giving you was…unique.

It started with the obvious: catching him staring at you whenever you were around. He’d hang out in the hallway near your locker between classes in hopes of catching a glimpse of you. When you first noticed, it irritated you a little, but nothing else.

Eddie had always struck you as a bit of a contradiction. He was loud, arrogant, and couldn’t seem to shut up when with his nerdy little group of friends. But to anyone who witnessed Eddie attempting to interact with a girl, it was obvious that he was painfully shy around them.

When you’d make eye contact with Eddie, his huge brown eyes would get even bigger for a second, before dropping to the ground. It struck you as funny, that this guy who appeared to live a dual life as both a rockstar and a nerd was, in fact, just a nerd.

So when he started hanging around by your locker, it didn’t really bother you. But waiting for you outside the girl’s restroom? That was definitely bizarre. And you knew it was you Eddie was waiting for, because not only would he watch for you, he’d also follow you down the hall as you walked away.

And just when you were planning on confronting him, to tell him to fuck off, a new thought struck you. Maybe…maybe if Eddie actually got laid for once, he’d leave you alone? You wondered if any of your friends would be willing to do it, but were too embarrassed to ask. They’d somehow managed not to notice Eddie’s obvious crush on you, and you felt a little silly bringing it up. And there was no guarantee that any of your friends would even consider taking Eddie off your hands. Eventually, you decided it would be easiest just to fuck him yourself. Besides, despite his glaring lack of experience, Eddie Munson was a good-looking guy. You’d often thought that if he’d been a little less awkward, you could have had a thing for him…

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Getting Eddie’s attention was easy, since you already had it. He was characteristically flustered when you approached him, asking what he was doing that evening. Eddie’s brain seemed like it was about to short circuit from processing the fact that his crush was speaking to him at all, let alone comprehend what you were saying. You tried to help by repeating yourself.

“Tonight?” Eddie swallowed, licked his lips. “Uh, just…music.” He glanced to the floor, cheeks going pink.

“I like music,” you offered. “You’re in a band, right?”

Eddie nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Yeah, um, Corroded-.” He cleared his throat nervously. “-Corroded Coffin.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Sounds intense. Can you play something for me tonight?”

Eddie looked confused. “We don’t have a show tonight,” he said, to which you explained “no no, I mean, can you play something for me?” You pressed your finger to Eddie’s chest, and he visibly flinched in surprise.

“Uh…of course.” He smiled, and you realized it was the first time you’d ever seen him do that. “I could take you to me and my uncle’s place, after school? Play whatever you like.”

You gave Eddie a little wink, and his smile grew even deeper when you told him “It’s a date.”

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Eddie looked positively elated when you met him behind the gym after school ended a few hours later. He walked you through the lot to where his van was parked. When Eddie opened your door and ushered you inside, awkwardly announcing “your chariot awaits, m’lady,” it was so cringy, you were more convinced than ever that this man desperately needed some pussy…

The first minute or so of the drive was pretty uneventful, until you reached over from the passenger seat to rest your hand on Eddie’s knee. His eyes were on the road, but you could see them going wider from beside him. “Eddie,” you began. “I’m gonna be honest with you. I don’t want to go to your place and listen to music.” He glanced over at you, visibly confused. “You…don’t?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied, shaking your head. “I want to do something else.”

“Uh, okay,” Eddie laughed nervously. He was worried you didn’t want to spend any time with him after all.

“I want you to find a place to park, somewhere hidden where we won’t be seen,” you continued. “I’m sure you know of a place like that.”

Eddie’s heart sank a little; he should have seen this coming. Obviously, you were wanting the same thing from him that everyone else did. He was an idiot for not realizing it sooner. “You want to buy some weed?” he asked, his tone only the smallest bit irritated. “I mean, I don’t have any with me right now. I don’t just keep it on me all the time, y’know-.”

“No,” you interrupted. “I’m not interested in drugs. I want you to pull over somewhere secluded so I can fuck you.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “You-wait-what?” he stammered, his eyes leaving the road just long enough to give you a look of are you fucking serious? You nodded, and directed his eyes back to the road. “I said what I said. Watch where you’re driving, Eddie!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, focusing again on the road in front of him. “I’m just…are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure,” you affirmed. “Are you okay with that?”

You’d never seen anyone nod their head so fast in your life. “I’m-yeah, of course,” Eddie replied, swallowing hard. “Absolutely. I mean…this might sound kind of crazy, but…” He was smiling now, his face practically glowing. “…I’ve always sort of had a…crush on you.” He glanced over to check your reaction to what he imagined must be a revelation, and you pretended along. “Wow, that’s wild,” you said. “I had no idea…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, a cocky smile appearing on his lips. “I was afraid you’d notice me checking you out eventually. Guess I’m stealthier than I thought.” You turned your face to look out the window, grimacing at his obliviousness. My god, he was clueless.

“So find a place to park,” you told him. “And let’s do this.”

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Eddie wasted no time getting the two of you off the road and behind a thick group of trees. As soon as he put the van in park, you climbed into his lap, having already unbuckled your seatbelt. Eddie was making noises as soon as you spread your legs over him, grunting and panting like he was already halfway through getting fucked. You thought it was just the right balance of both sweet and pathetic, and found yourself really enjoying the way he was crumbling underneath you.

To your surprise, Eddie was actually pretty decent at kissing. He’d obviously made out with someone before (his hand? didn’t matter) because he was good at using his tongue just enough without cramming it down your throat. It was fun, grinding on his lap, feeling how hard he got for you so quickly, like a switch being flipped.

His hands were everywhere, rubbing your ass, your tits, roaming over your body like he was trying to grab all of you at once. In his mind, Eddie was terrified that the dream he must surely be having would end at any second, that he’d wake up in bed with cum in his boxers again just like after all the other wet dreams he’d had about you. But the longer you spent dry-humping his erection through his jeans, the more convinced he was that this dream was real.

You broke your kiss away from his lips and moved to his neck, swiping your tongue upward and latching onto his earlobe, sucking it lightly. Eddie’s whole body seemed to react when you did, his hips in particular, bucking as he moaned/whimpered into your shoulder. It was only when you felt something wetting your inner thigh that you realized he’d just come in his pants.

Eddie was breathing heavily, his eyes closed, lips parted. He looked between your bodies and cursed at himself, apologizing. “Shit…shit, I’m sorry, I-.”

“It’s okay, Eddie,” you assured him. “Don’t worry about it. It happens.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, definitely. All the time.” You felt a little sorry for him, but weren’t sure what to say. You started to climb off Eddie’s lap, ready to return to your seat, when he asked “hey, where’re you going?”

“Well it was nice,” you said. “But now that we’re finished-.” You plopped down in your seat with a little sigh. There was a few seconds’ pause.

“…Well,” Eddie said, leaning into the space between you. “Just because I came already-.” He sat back and patted his lap. “-Doesn’t mean you don’t get to.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his newfound confidence. “Okay, Munson,” you teased, climbing back over him. “Let’s see what you’ve got…”

Eddie told you to climb up his chest, and wrap one of your legs over his shoulder. He was surprisingly strong, holding you up with his hands cupping your ass and hips while simultaneously lifting your skirt and sliding your panties to the side.

When Eddie’s tongue washed over your exposed cunt, it sent a little shiver through you. The thought ran through your mind that if he was as good with his tongue between your legs as he was when he kissed, you were in for a treat. And fuck, you were right.

Eddie’s tongue seemed to be made for eating pussy. He curled his tongue between your lips like he was scooping every last sweet morsel from from a dessert, and to Eddie, that’s exactly what you were. Your legs were shaking within a couple of minutes, one knee braced against Eddie’s chest, the other curved around his shoulder.

Your fingers gripped his seat’s headrest as you leaned your chest against it, grinding your pussy into Eddie’s open mouth. When he let his tongue drape over his bottom lip so you could hump it, you lost control and came all over him. He fucking loved it, relishing every drop of you that splashed over his tongue and chin, the way your warm slick dripped down his neck and soaked the collar of his t-shirt. The sounds he made sucking your juices down his throat was absolutely filthy and beautiful. The man was literally starving for pussy, and you were feeding him well.

By the time you finished, Eddie was hard again. He unzipped his jeans, his dick springing free. When he lowered you down over him, your soaked cunt took him with little resistance. Eddie’s face was saturated with you, strands of black hair matted against his neck with your cum. You bounced on his lap again, but this time, with his cock filling you, the ride was even more fun.

Eddie was able to last longer since he’d already come once before. He fucked you at a fast, frenetic pace, like he was chasing something with his hips, seeking another release for both of you. When you came again, squeezing his dick between your plump, slippery lips, Eddie thought he’d never felt pleasure more exquisite in his entire life.

He joined you seconds later, lifting you off of him just in time, his tip erupting between your bodies, covering his stomach in cum. You dipped your head to the place it had landed and ate the cum off Eddie’s stomach, one sweep of your tongue at a time. The two of you sat holding each other for a few minutes, before you both started laughing uncontrollably, feeling absolutely giddy and satisfied.

“That…was…” Eddie began.

“…Incredible…” you finished. Eddie pulled you in for another kiss, grateful that unlike all the other times, his dream had come true. ♥️