#effect van drugs

[stedelasso]

“Where I’m from - Kansas, my home... this here, this is our state flower.”

[reiderwriter]

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were. 

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized. 

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight. 

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-” 

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.” 

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot. 

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans. 

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.” 

“Turn around.” 

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day. 

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist. 

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.” 

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest. 

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him). 

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all. 

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you. 

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life. 

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention. 

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet. 

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-” 

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.” 

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on. 

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter. 

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question. 

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?” 

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?” 

xxxxx 

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance. 

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime. 

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character. 

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave. 

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view. 

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair. 

A girl could dream. 

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.” 

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw. 

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?” 

“I don't hit women.” 

“And I do? Emily, wha-” 

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame. 

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?” 

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.” 

“You make a good point, shall we begin?” 

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?” 

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it. 

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane. 

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head. 

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight  but not bruising yet. 

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?” 

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs. 

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.” 

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.” 

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention. 

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little. 

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints. 

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again. 

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow. 

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes. 

“Y/N, put it down.” 

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab. 

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.” 

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward. 

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged. 

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat. 

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun. 

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning. 

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?” 

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat. 

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back. 

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.” 

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties. 

“I can tell.” 

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute. 

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.” 

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach. 

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.” 

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better. 

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers. 

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor. 

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun. 

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.” 

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you. 

“Yes, yes, please touch me.” 

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently  urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue. 

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table. 

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.  

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy. 

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure. 

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you. 

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.” 

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window. 

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path. 

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…” 

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free. 

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick. 

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple. 

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.” 

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release. 

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him. 

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.” 

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged. 

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting. 

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls. 

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster. 

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. 

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair. 

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-” 

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.” 

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms. 

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?” 

[vilsoo]

𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑮𝑨𝑺𝑴.𝑪𝑶𝑴 ⌇GHOST, KÖNIG

ghost x fem!reader x könig || WC: 3,852

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. the dark web was a place every sane person stayed away from. too many horror stories and dark content that barely a few dared to venture in. but you’d rather not be anywhere else than in the hands of two masked strangers…

𖤐 WARNINGS. dubcon, kidnapping, drugging, sadism, voyeurism, bondage (blindfolding, ropes, torture), sex toys, livestream sex, manhandling, exhibitionism, forced creampie, mind break, double penetration, mask kink, impact play.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[HAUNTED HOUSE ANNOUNCER] You are now entering the Deathgasm live venue. This haunted house attraction depicts scenes of violence, intense loud audio, special effects, and content warnings posted. For a fun and safe experience, please follow our code of conduct: no touching live performers and decorations, no flash photography, and no eating. Do not block passageways, or this will result in expulsion. Smoking and drinking are permitted for our haunted houses only. We hope you enjoy.

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The last time you ever saw broad daylight was ripped apart before your eyes.

It was just a relaxing morning stroll. You were always, always aware of your surroundings, especially during the night. But you shouldn’t have underestimated what happens in the day. Things became unsettling when you noticed a white van lurking in your peripheral vision, feeling your skin crawl and your body tense up with paranoia when the doors opened.

At first, you thought you were overthinking about it. Stop being so fucking paranoid, you scolded to yourself. Maybe they’re just contractors or something. Nothing sketchy at all.

You just kept walking that day continuing to embrace the warmth of the sun, sometimes looking over your shoulders just to be sure. But that unsettling, turmoil gut-feeling just couldn’t go away. As if you really were being followed. As if that van parked all the way out here for you.

“Quickly.”

It wasn’t until in just half a heartbeat, a brawny, masked man clung his arm around you, rendering you motionless as he presses a cloth over your nose and your mouth. With all your strength you tried to fight back and escape his grasp but your struggle was to no avail. Your screams were muffled and your vision grew hazy, causing your eyes to flutter as your numb body was pulled backwards, backwards, and backwards... And that was when your world was swallowed away by darkness.

“Shh, shh… We got you now. We’ll be taking care of you now...”

“…Told you she’d be easy, Ghost. We’ll have her all to ourselves…”

On that sinister day, you were the one with the shiny price tag. A beautiful woman walking all alone near a remote area, suddenly kidnapped by two masked men in a white van who had special, ominous plans for you. You could hear their conversations reverberating in your head, trying to register what the hell even happened. With your body temporarily limp and weakened, you could still feel the sensation of their caresses all over you.

Usually kidnappers would be so aggressive handling their female victims. At least, in the movies you’ve seen. The men would rush and scamper out of impatience and impulse as they tie their victims up, desperate to get down to business like it was their last meal on Earth. And even though your brain was foggy, you could register that you were being downed by a drug and abducted. Yet, it all felt… oddly tantalizing.

There was no rush. No sign of impulse nor rough treatment from these mysterious masked men. Instead of this predator-prey dynamic, instead of fear and terror seizing every fiber of your being, the men handled your motionless body like having a cupped hand of water, that not a drop would enter gravity's pull. In the back of a van, you laid on a blanket as gloved hands roamed about your skin, your waist, your face, your thighs… The men cut off your clothes with scissors, ever so gently trying not to hurt you. With your hazy eyes drifting side to side, you caught glimpse of one of them holding rope and the other holding your arms above your head.

“Look at her. So fucking cute when she’s all spaced out like that…”

“She’s so obedient for us already. You’re gonna be a perfect little pornstar for us, aren’t ya’?”

…Pornstar?

Before you knew it, your heavy eyes started to sulk. You were slowing down while the world around blurred, completely losing your coherence as the masked men moved you around like a lifeless doll. You couldn’t stop sighing, babbling nonsense, and whimpering when their large hands just couldn’t keep off of you, hanging your wrists on some metal hook attached to the van’s ceiling so they could caress your body. Your numb legs were then spread open, revealing the soaked fabric of your panties that you heard one of them coo in your ears. You whined when one of them slid their hand down to toy with your slit, aching and so swollen, out of your own fear and arousal. It was futile to even try and close your legs from this violation, yet the heat pooling in between was saying otherwise…

“Fuck, she’s already so wet just by being tied up. Makes me wanna take her here right now.”

“…We have to go now, König. Just keep playing with her clit until she falls asleep…”

The anticipation from such a forbidden desire worsened the ache in your cunt. At this fleeting moment you didn’t know what exactly you wanted anymore; how to choose what was good or what was bad for you. Your foggy brain couldn’t even articulate anything except this writhing sensation, this urge to submit yourself and melt onto the man’s chest just to let him use you. Encircling his fingers on your throbbing clit that you were bashfully moaning and whining, knowing that they were getting off to a pathetic, brainless, helpless woman who’s good for nothing but a fuck…

It was too bad that before you could even build up your orgasm, you were already passed out…

“… And we’re live. Wake her up.”

You had no idea how long you’ve been out. At least your coherence was starting to gauge, but your body was still weakened and frail from the drug. You struggled to open your debilitated eyes, vision hazy and blurry as if you hit your head. And when you tried to move, your wrists were still bound above your head.

Your breathing grew rapid, eyes darting every corner as you were scanning the new environment. Tied in a darkened room with red lighting, followed by a camera on a tripod right in front of you. Your mind immediately thought of this setup as a sex dungeon, hence the chains on the walls and a bed neatly made behind you. Recalling what had happened earlier, you tried to look for the men in masks, creating noises by dangling the metal hook above you and whimpering to let them know you’re awake. But as far as you could tell, you couldn’t make out any other presence lingering in the room…

Your heart was a pounding loud drum in your chest. Panic scorches in your brain, but your touch-starved body betrays your inhibitions… You were completely naked, exposing yourself in front of the camera. In your mouth, a red ball gag pooling with drool that dripped down to your stomach and on the floor. Your legs were free from the rope, however, you were on your tippie toes— the rope holding your wrists were too high that it was a struggle to relax them or you’d injure yourself. Dangling on rope, gagging and drooling on a ball, naked in front of a camera that you assumed to be recording already… how much more lewd could this be?

A gloved hand emerging from the shadows makes you flinch as it caresses you from behind. Your skin tingled when you felt the man’s body heat transmit onto your back, hearing him breathe deeply. You were able to study him up close— an alluring, mysterious man wearing a balaclava with a skull design, recalling him being called “Ghost.” Another pair of gloved hands greet you by massaging your breasts, your body immediately succumbing to this white-hot wave of sensation, desperate to be handled like this that more heat pooled between your legs. You turn your head and meet his gaze; piercing, forest green eyes and a draped mask, the other man with the German accent known as “König.”

“You’re not gonna struggle and try to resist us, are you?” Ghost teased, his voice so intoxicating than any alcohol you’ve ever consumed. He had this husky, sultry British accent; something you’ve never expected coming from a stranger like him. It only turned you on more.

You shake your head at him meekly, replying with a faint moan when he suddenly grips your ass. Ghost immediately catches the doe-eyes you gave him, the right kind of heat and lust pooling in your eyes. This was all so, so wrong… to be abducted and chained in the dark, to be turned on by strangers in tactical gear who drugged you and had sinister plans for you… But yet, you couldn’t fight this brain-fazing sensation from the anticipation quivering inside, wondering what was going to happen to you as you were in the hands of these men. And your aching cunt couldn’t stop furtively pounding and throbbing, having to hold back a whimper from how needy and slutty you really were...

“Good girl,” Ghost praised as he held your face with one hand. “Tonight, everything we do to you is gonna be livestreamed. You’re not here just to please us— you’ll have to please our audience, too. You like being shown off, pretty girl?”

“Mhm.” You nodded like you were already made for this, allowing what your body was secretly ravenous for. A little enthusiasm, but also bashfulness— the epitome of submission. Perhaps deep down, you adored being showed off; basking in the limelight of being a free use in front of thousands of strangers…

König’s hand slithers down your back and onto your ass, yelping when he spanked it so abruptly that it left a throbbing sting. Your back involuntarily arched and when his fingers just fit right in between your thighs, chafing your swollen, wet cunt that it was hard holding back your pathetic whines and moans.

“Getting off to this already?” he coaxed, now increasing the speed of his fingers teasing your folds that you threw your head back on his shoulder. Immediately writhing on his fingers playing with your swollen clit, unable to respond properly when Ghost wrapped his hand around your throat.

“They wanna hear you scream,” Ghost muttered into your ears, slightly smirking under his mask. “You can’t be enjoying all this without a little bit of pain.”

As much as you wanted to resist, you couldn’t. The panic and anticipation spiraled into shameless arousal. Without warning, König eased two of his fingers knuckles deep inside your wet cunt so easily, thrusting insanely fast that your eyes fell half-lidded, convulsing around his fingers hitting that spot that made you squirm. Shamelessly spreading your legs as Ghost kept playing with your tits, squeezing both of your nipples so tight that your loud squeal reverberated off the walls of the room.

That mix of pleasure and pain; you’d be lying to yourself if you truly enjoyed it… It was torturous, it was too brutal to endure, but your skin was flashing hotter than ever, your clit throbbing erratically with a heartbeat of its own. König felt his cock stirring in his suit, getting off to your helpless state that he thrusted his fingers so hard, curling them to abuse your g-spot. Denying your own orgasm was painfully inevitable. The two men could see it pooling in your eyes like it was unobtainable, watching your body constantly squirming under their touches.

“You think she deserves to come?” taunted Ghost.

“We’ll make her come as many times as she can. Even if she can’t handle it.” You could feel König’s other hand slithering down to your inner thigh as if he was about to grab it, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “And we’re not gonna fucking stop no matter how many times you beg. You’re our little fucktoy now and you’re gonna be treated just like one.”

Lust speared through you from their words. The men were unpredictable in their own sinister ways; it caught you off guard from the way König abruptly lifted your left leg and held it in the air as Ghost takes a vibrator onto your clit. Fingers still fucking into your cunt and your sensitive clit getting overstimulated had you yanking the rope, your body writhing and squirming that they tell you to “shut the fuck up and take it,” and forced you in place. Electric sensations skyrocket through you before you could even register it all, your glossy eyes welling with tears and your face all ravished and wanton beyond comprehension.

Never have you been so turned on you couldn’t see straight. It was a fleeting second after you realize your orgasm had already washed over you, your hips stuttering like a riptide from this delirious torment. Knowing that there were thousands of strangers getting off to this, getting off to a helpless slut tied up and tortured by masked men that can’t do anything except enjoy it, you basked in it. Forced multiple orgasms, stinging pain, lewd noises, and loud screams… this was all related to the dark web you’ve been hearing recently.

After collecting yourself, a wave of clarity hit you so suddenly that things were starting to make sense. There were recent kidnappings of women who were found later on a livestream website called Deathgasm.com, where numerous videos of gangbangs with these women and masked men in tactical gear are recorded live. They take place in either the back of a van or in a dark room, which viewers assume as a sex dungeon.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. As sick and twisted this was, your body couldn’t help but succumb to this indescribable feeling of pleasure and torture. There were even times out of curiosity you’d search the site and realize how attractive the men in masks and tactical gear are. Toying and playing with a tied up woman who also secretly succumb to this, their quivering fear and terror surrendering into arousal and tantalization. Having no choice but to orgasm over and over even though it’s too much, looking into the men’s faces with lingering dark anonymity and their brawny, large bodies looming over them just to fulfil their filthy, dark plans. And you would not trade this for anything in the world.

Perhaps you adored being showed off. Basking in the limelight of being used like a fucktoy and watched by strangers online that are fucked up in the head, like an exhibitionist. Or maybe you’ve been brainwashed to even think this way— maybe you just have little, fucked up fantasies of your own... It didn’t even matter anymore; your thoughts became mush when Ghost and König suspended you up in the air this time, your wrists and ankles bound behind you with your legs also tied apart. The gag was finally off but a blindfold had covered your eyes, not being able to tell who’s who and what the men plan to do to you now.

You were already a mess; strings of saliva and drool hanging off your chin that dripped onto König’s cock, slowly easing it in your widened mouth. It was Ghost’s turn to play with your pussy and ass, moaning and yelping when he spanked your cheeks so harshly. Nothing could compare to this amount of excitement pounding in your pussy, practically whining on Konig’s fat cock in your mouth as Ghost kept teasing you.

To describe the comments in the live chat as obscene is an understatement— the men were greedy, ravenous, filthy. Shamelessly admitting their own raunchy, fucked up scenarios with you tied up like that. Degrading you like a worthless whore, admiring your body and pussy that’s good for fucking, or sending money to get Ghost and König to fulfill their requests:

[ $20 ] both of you fuck her pussy and ass at the same time. stretch out that tight asshole

[ $25 ] carve the word “slut” on her thigh i want that bitch bloody and screaming in pain

[ $22 ] make her squirt i wanna see that pussy juice all over the camera lens

And though you couldn’t read the comments or see the camera, you just indulged into this and presented yourself as a horny, free-use slut that’s made for fucking. You can feel Ghost’s cockhead brushing the folds of your cunt, coating it with your juices. König thrusted his cock straight inside your throat that it was too much for you to handle, gagging and moaning pathetically as Ghost kept teasing you it felt like utter torture. But that blissful feeling blossoming in your stomach was saying otherwise…

You were so desperate for more friction; Ghost took sick pleasure in seeing you like this, writhing and bucking your hips for him to slide inside your cunt already. When he finally eased his cock so deep, you were given no warning as he pounded so hard and rough into you. The sensation of your cunt getting stretched out from his size, grabbing your hips and pulling you back and forth on his cock... You were a wrecked mess already; your face streaked with tears, your chin dripping with drool, and your skin all slick and sweaty. The thought of being reduced to a free use fuck-slut that thrives off from only cock and orgasms as you were suspended mid-air… you could no longer think for yourself anymore.

“Look at you. Getting all dumb and brainless over our cocks,” Ghost cooed, harshly spanking your ass. “You like being our little pornstar? Knowing that a bunch of strangers online jerk off to you being used like this?”

Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as the men kept pounding and thrusting, hearing König pant heavily and Ghost grunt when you kept squeezing ever so tightly around him. In just a minute, another orgasm. But that didn’t stop Ghost mercilessly pounding into you like an animal gone wild and König fucking your throat so relentlessly. Your screams and moans form into gags urging out, drips of precum and drool seeping on your chin that König smeared all over your glossy face. The more they sensed that you were taking pleasure from all this, the more brutal they were with you.

It felt like you were in the air for hours as the men switched around and took turns. Your cunt was becoming overly slick with the copious amounts of cum that was being pumped into it, some left on your ass and some dripping onto the floor. Even when they weren’t inside you, the continual pounding and the oozing cum throbbed in your walls. You still couldn’t see anything and you were still bound. It wasn’t until your eyes started feeling heavy again and your body fell numb; the men didn’t like that.

“We didn’t say you could fucking sleep,” König chided as he harshly grabbed your face and slipped off the blindfold.

“That drug is still hitting you, huh?” teased Ghost as he messing around with the ropes that held you in the air. “For that, we’ll make her do the work this time. Untie her and get her on top of me on the bed so she’ll ride me. Leave her arms tied only.”

You couldn’t protest, for your words started to slur and your mouth was only used for moaning pathetically. Once König brought you down from the air, he shoved you onto the bed, holding your legs in the air as Ghost laid underneath you. There was another camera facing the bed that you noticed, the light burning into your retinas as you stare into it. Although you were half awake, a weak smile stretches on your lips, wanting to the viewers know how prideful you were of this and how good Ghost and König make you feel.

When Ghost slowly settled inside your ass, you’ve felt a stirring sensation in your stomach. Never have you thought about losing your anal virginity so soon, but it had you throwing your head back and whining. He had the ball gag from before in his hands and wrapped it back around your opened mouth, telling you to keep staring into the camera and ride him like the dirty, messy slut that you are. With your feet on the bed and your legs spread, you slowly settle down on his cock, eyebrows furrowed and your body contorting from how intense it all felt.

You knew that you didn’t wanna go painfully slow; you wanted Ghost to feel good as well. To the point where he’d finally hold your hips in the air and fuck his cock into your ass and König can finally slide himself in your pussy, overstimulating you so greatly. It was hard to keep balance with your hands bound behind your back and your staggering strength. But you kept telling yourself that this was all that you wanted, grinding your hips and bouncing your ass up and down, emitting juddering grunts from Ghost.

“Keep your legs spread open for me,” König ordered. “Show to the camera how good you take two cocks inside of you.”

Before you knew it, you were sandwiched between the two masked men, filling your holes and stuffing you harshly. Sitting on Ghost’s cock as your legs were wide open, letting them both pound into you… You lost the feeling of stability in your entire body, your inhibition being taken over by the desperate sensation of cock. It broke your mind, but that was what you craved for. It was pure euphoria, rapturing you in a burning enticement that you were bound in. Nearly knocked out of air, your vision becomes hazy as Ghost and König fucks you through your third orgasm, past the point where you're crying two octaves higher than you're used to.

such a hot fucking slut taking both dicks

i wish i could fuck her cunt and put that dumb bitch in her place

how many times did she come already 😂

You enjoyed it. You enjoyed it all. The mind-wrecking, the overstimulation, the humiliation, the pain, the thought of being watched and masturbated to by perverts… It felt as if your life had been reformed. You were now a slutty whore that was good for nothing but a fuck. A depository for cum, just holes for fucking and a toy to torture. Your cunt was now battered and bruised, ass stinging and throbbing from being slapped multiple times, and both of your holes stretched and aching from how deep and rough they fucked you out. All those sensitive, velvet tissues that should never see the light of day, for they were property of Ghost and König only. Your poor cunt couldn’t stop flexing over nothing, yearning for that feeling of fullness again.

The next few hours after you were done being used, you were tied up in a strappado position with a vibrating dildo tied to your cunt. Left alone in the dark with the camera still on and recording, still blindfolded and gagged. Forced orgasms over and over, stranded like this throughout the rest of your days and nights until they felt like using you again. From what Ghost told you, the viewers seemed to favor you. They wanted to see more of you on Deathgasm, never to return to your old life and remain a free-use.

“Next time, I’ll make it hurt real good for you,” he forewarned before. “They can watch and cum as many times as they please, but you… You only cum for me now.”

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. art by duskidraws ♥︎

𖤐 TAGS. @kyumimii @aft0nsimp @crysugu @atinystaypixie @rinshoe @cran-berry-vodka @apwing @daddyzzlittlewhore @kimekioo @mqfuyuu @strawberrymilk4k @strvwberrymilk @maidenssymphony @shycoffeetaco @zippertwat @killzenin @titantears @migueloharacumslut @hayati17 @palefuckinghost @maddietries @nanananamiiii @bookmark-anon @blackhoodlea @bru1sedclavicle @dollicries @hehehehesthings @oneofthesevensins

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter One - The Perfect Gift

Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N (Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.

~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.

"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."

"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."

"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."

"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."

Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"

Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"

"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."

"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."

Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."

"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."

"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."

You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.

It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.

“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”

You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”

“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”

You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”

“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”

Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.

As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.

The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.

You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.

Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”

You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.

“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”

Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.

You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.

You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”

So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.

“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”

He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.

Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”

You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.

And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.

The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.

You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?

Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”

“You drugged me,” you accuse.

“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”

“I like my apartment,” you protest.

“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.

You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.

He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”

They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”

“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”

“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.

“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”

“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”

“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.

“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.

You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”

“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”

The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”

“Terrified,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”

You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.

He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.

“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”

“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”

He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”

You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.

As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.

He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.

Or worse, to play with.

You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.

Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”

So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.

“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”

“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”

“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”

“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”

I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[munsonslove]

Making Deals

(18+ only)

(part 2) •  (part 3)

summary: Your friendship with Eddie has always been give and take. He drives you somewhere so you make out with him, he pays for lunch so you let him give you a hickey. It had always been over the clothes, until one day he decided to up the ante.

wordcount: 3.4k

tags/warnings: fem!sub!reader, softdom!perv!eddie, friends to lovers, smut, praise kink (good girl), degradation (use of slut & whore), use of pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart), thigh riding, no use of y/n

a/n: this might be a little rushed cause i really wanted to get this out tonight, specifically so that i could say that it’s my BIRTHDAY which means you legally have to say nice things to me. anyway i’m gonna go get drunk with friends now, enjoy!

Most of your friends assume you two are fucking. It’s understandable, given how Eddie speaks to you. Every conversation is an opportunity for innuendo. The two of you live inside your own little world, and what the people outside of that bubble don’t know is that it’s all a game. Every sly comment, wink, brush of the hand, and “trade off” is him daring you to give in. And although he definitely already knows the effect he has on you, if you were to admit how much you want him it would be forfeiting. So your friendship became a game of cat and mouse, always one-upping each other, always teetering on the edge of something more but never really crossing that line.

No one would believe that you and Eddie were just friends if they knew about what went on behind closed doors. Your friendship had accidentally become a series of give and take. Every time you want something from him- be it free drugs, borrowing something, a ride, a favor, etc.- he would request something in return. That ‘something’ is more often than not perverted. In the beginning, he would ask for innocent things, like kisses on cheeks or hugs, but since growing older (and hornier) his requests became much more debauched. Chaste pecks turned into timed make out sessions, or giving you a hickey, or starting a collection of your bras. One time he even wanted to spit in your mouth, and the memory of feeling his saliva violently hit the back of your throat as he stood towering over you still haunts you in the middle of the night when your hand is between your thighs. You started asking for things from Eddie that you didn’t even really want, all for the sole purpose of having an excuse to do something lewd with him.

That’s how you found yourself here, in the living room of Eddie’s trailer, holding up some random tape you took from his bedroom that you didn’t even read the name of, bargaining about what you’ll have to do to borrow it for the weekend. You expected the basic ‘make out with me for twenty minutes’ or ‘let me feel you up over your shirt’, but to your surprise, he took it a step further this time.

“You want me to do what?” you exclaimed, not believing what you heard.

“Show me your tits,” he says with a wave of his hand, like this was a completely normal request, as if he did nothing more than ask you to pass him a plate during dinner.

Sure, you had done a lot of sexual things with him in the past, but it all included having your clothes still on. Just the thought of disrobing yourself in front of Eddie had your mouth watering.

“Are you serious?” you ask, trying as best as you can to keep your face neutral and not betray how turned on the mere suggestion had you.

“As a heart attack,” he answered.

“That’s pretty expensive, just for a little tape,” you counter. “That’s like… ‘I want to borrow the van’ prices.”

He shrugs. “Well, the market’s changing sweetheart. Costs are going up.”

Feigning boldness, you drop the tape onto the couch and cross your arms in front of your torso before untucking your oversized t-shirt from your skirt and lifting it over your head, tossing onto him. It lands covering his head, and he quickly scrambles to remove the garment, not wanting to miss a second of the show. Underneath was a light blue cotton sports bra. It wasn’t the sexiest, but that didn’t stop the boy in front of you from wolf-whistling, bringing a light blush to your cheeks. Taking one final deep breath for confidence, you pull the remaining fabric off of you.

Holding the bra in one hand, now bare from the waist up, you bend over to pick back up the tape and smirk when you notice Eddie’s awestruck gaze locked onto your naked chest. Slipping the cassette into your bag hanging from the door handle, you move to redress yourself, but are abruptly stopped.

“Wait!” Eddie calls out frantically.

“A deals a deal,” you complain while rolling your eyes. “You had your show, feel lucky I actually took my top off instead of doing a quick little flash.”

“What do you want for me to touch them?” he asks, completely ignoring your previous statement.

This takes you completely by surprise. “Wh- what?” you stutter out.

He’d never initiated before, it was always you asking for a favor and him telling you what he wanted. On top of that, he always had a nonchalant air about him when he made these deals, like he couldn’t care less whether or not you let him bruise up your neck with his teeth. This eagerness wasn’t just rare, it was unheard of. And you feel a sense of pride when you wonder if this meant you had finally had the upper hand, at least for tonight.

“You heard me,” he responds, his eyes never leaving your body. He sticks out his tongue to wet his lips, and the action has you suddenly forgetting all about your want to be in control. “Whatever it is, name your price.”

“Um…” you start, thinking through all the possibilities. Truthfully, there wasn’t much more you wanted from your friend other than for him to mercilessly ravish you, but you couldn’t very well tell him that while remaining indifferent. So instead, you rake your brain trying to come up with anything that would seem like a semi-fair trade. “You have to be available to give me rides at any time for the rest of the week. And,” you interject, pointing your finger in his face directly between his eyes, “You have to let me play my music. Whatever I want, no complaining.”

“Mhm, for sure,” he mumbles, still distracted by your partial nudity. The fact he didn’t raise his brows and make a comment about how he’ll ‘give you a ride anytime you want, princess’ lets you know just how in deep he truly is. You suspect he would have agreed to anything.

“Ten minutes,” you add, as this was usually the point in which you two would work out the specifics of the deal. How long, what was off limits, that kind of thing.

“Thirty minutes,” he negotiates.

You’d let him feel you up for hours, if you were being honest with yourself. Imagining his calloused fingertips gliding against the soft supple flesh of your chest makes your thighs involuntarily squeeze together, but you refuse to let how desperate you are for him show. “Twenty,” you supply, and he seems pleased enough with this compromise.

He forgoes answering you aloud, and instead nods his head rapidly while raising his hands into the air and making grabby motions like a child. Stifling your laugh, you glance behind you to the wall clock and take note of the time.

“Okay, it’s 6:15 now,” you begin, “So when the big hand’s on the seven, your time is up.”

“Yup, uh huh, got it,” he says.

You hesitate for a moment until he gestures you over to himself, and you square your shoulders before taking a seat on his lap. Your skirt flares out as you perch yourself on top of him, and your legs are puzzle-pieced together with one of his thighs in between the both of yours. His hands tickle your side as they slowly trail up your waist, before settling just under the fat of your breasts. Holding your breath, you brace yourself for him to make his next move, and swallow a moan when his nails scratch up your skin, his fingers moving on either side of your nipples.

He massages your chest slowly, taking his time to savor the moment. After a while, his palms catch on your erect nipples, causing you to gasp, and his hands briefly lose contact so he can take them between his fingertips. He rubs the nubs between his thumb and index finger until you can no longer hold in any sounds and are a moaning mess.

“You like that, huh? You like me touching you like this?” he asks, though you can tell from his tone he doesn’t expect an answer. “God, you look good like this, tits out and sat on my lap. I can feel how warm you’re getting on my thigh, are you turned on baby?”

You ignore him. He already knows how wet he’s making you, so there’s no use in admitting it and making his head any bigger.

“Hey,” he whispers with a smirk, “For all the rules we like to come up with during our private time, we never actually said I could only touch you with my hands.”

Your eyes open and nearly bulge out of your head. “W- we didn’t?” The implications of his statement has your mind racing as your breathing stops in anticipation of his next moves.

“We didn’t,” he confirms, “and kissing is really just touching with your lips, wouldn’t you say?”

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you try your best to fake like you aren’t as affected as you are and feel his hands slip away from you as you shrug your shoulders stiffly. “I guess it is,” you mumble after swallowing down the saliva pooling in your mouth.

The gasp that escapes you when his pillowy lips first make contact with your perky nipple is impossible to resist. His masterful fingers stay massaging your left breast, while his mouth gives its full attention to your right. The gentle kitten licks he gives you just barely graze over the erect nub and you bite back a pathetic whine.

“E- Eds,” you breathe out with as much dignity as you can muster, “Don’t tease.”

“Aw, but you like it when I tease you,” he accuses, and you hate how much he’s right. “I can see it all over your face, I can see you squeezing your thighs together. Such a needy whore for me.”

You make a futile attempt to hide your embarrassment by covering your face, but Eddie is fast to pin your hands together behind your back, as if he knew what you were going to do before you did.

“Don’t hide yourself from me,” he orders, his voice full of dominance. “You look so beautiful right now, eyes all big, lips bitten. And fuck, such pretty tits,” he practically growls this last compliment. “I’m gonna mark ‘em up. You gonna let me, baby?”

His touch traveled back to your front after he pinned your hands behind your back, but you remained frozen. Your fingers found their way around your forearm and your nails dig into your skin as you gravelly moan out, “Yes.”

You yelp out as his teeth sink into your flesh. It wasn’t hard enough to break skin, but when he pulls off to give the same treatment on the opposite side you look down to see defined teeth marks on the top part of your breast, exactly where your cleavage would show in a low-cut shirt. You have a sneaking suspicion he did that on purpose. He bites you again, leaving a symmetrical mark, this time sucking the fat of your chest into his mouth a soothing over the sting with a lap of his tongue. Any pain you might have felt is overcome by pure lust, and although you know the bruises will be sore later you find yourself excited to feel that dull ache as a reminder.

“Fuck, princess, are you gonna cum?” he asks, his voice smug, “Go ahead, rub yourself on me, use me for what you need.”

Only when he says this do you realize you’re grinding on his thigh. Surprised by your own actions, you flinch back, and after looking down are humiliated to find that his pants have a dark patch of wetness where you sat. As you’re pushing away, scrambling to get off of him and apologize, he roughly grabs you by the waist and pulls you back to him, using his hold on you to rock you back and forth.

“And just where do you think you’re going? I didn’t say you could stop,” he laughs, “Times not up yet, babe.”

Glancing back up to the clock, you find the big hand hasn’t even reached the five, and you still have just over ten minutes to go.

“What’s wrong, afraid you won’t be able to hold it off? Afraid you’re gonna cum while riding my thigh like the good little slut you are?” he asks after you show your frustration by groaning. “Come on, I know you want it. Just let yourself have it.”

The worst part is that he’s right. But as much as you want nothing more than you finish while fucking yourself against thigh, you know he’ll be insufferable if you give in.

He starts to kiss up your collarbone. “Th- that’s not my chest! This definitely wasn’t a part of the deal!” you stutter out in protest, but he doesn’t let up even slightly.

You feel his lips stretch against the delicate skin of your neck as he smiles into you. “Funny,” whispers near your ear, “I don’t see you pulling away. You don’t want me to stop, do you princess?”

“No,” you answer truthfully without thinking, “But this wasn’t in the agreement!”

“Fuck the deal, fuck the agreement,” he curses out harshly, “You wanna cum, I know you do. You want to be my little slut. Let yourself feel good, princess.”

Any qualms you previously had about trying to hold onto any power had vanished without a trace. The only thing you could think of was how good it felt to grind your clit on his denim. Finally, you gave in and started humping his leg without restraint. You feel your climax rising in your belly, that tight coil ready to snap, when Eddie interrupts with a question you never expected to hear.

“What do you want for the panties you’re wearing?”

Your brain short circuits. “... Excuse me?”

“The underwear. That you have on right now,” he continues, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “What do you want for them?”

Your hips pause in your confusion, but his grip on your waist forces you to keep moving against him, your clit rubbing on the rough fabric of his jeans so sinfully. “I- you- you want… what?” you stutter, trying to decipher if this moment is even really happening or is just a wet dream.

“I know you heard me, princess. I’m getting impatient,” he growls into the dip between your breasts before kissing back up your chest. “I’m going to make you cum, and I’m going to keep these panties. So what do you want for them?”

“Uh, I uh… um,” you search your brain but come up empty. “Fuck, Eds. Just make me cum and they’re yours.”

He chuckles softly into the crook of your neck and says, “My pleasure.”

He starts rocking with you, and you throw your head back as you feel his hard cock rutting against your own thigh. This only gives him better access to your throat, which he happily abused with his teeth and tongue.

“There you go, princess,” he murmurs to you. “So fucking pretty, getting yourself off on me. Sound so good. Show me how good girls cum.” As he’s talking, you get the sense that he’s speaking without really thinking, like this is just a stream of consciousness.

“Come on, baby” he pleads, “I need to see how pretty you are cumming on top of me. Don’t you wanna be good for me?”

“I do!” you call out, your movements growing frantic.

“I know you do. Keep rubbing that perfect little cunt on my leg. Get those panties nice and dirty for me. You wanna know what I’m gonna do with them?”

You’d like to tell him that you don’t want to know. That he can keep his twisted perversions to himself. But deep down, you want to know more than anything. “Wh- what are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna stuff them in my mouth while I jerk off,” he answers shamelessly. “Then, when I’m close, I’m gonna rub them on my dick til I cum right in the crotch. Then I’m gonna make you wear them when we’re around our friends, so you can feel the dry crust whenever you walk or shift, and you’ll know that you have a little bit of me right between your legs. Just like I know you so desperately crave.”

The picture he’s painting has you shuddering, and you feel your orgasm rushing toward you full speed. But, you still feel the need to act defiant. “And what if I don’t have any more ‘trade-off’s that I want to do? How are you gonna get me to wear them after you defile them?”

“Oh, you’re gonna do it,” he laughs again, this time more heartily, “Because you’re a fucking slut, and you want to be defiled by me.”

With this, he bites down where your neck meets your clavicle hard enough to bruise, and sucks sharply, clearly trying to leave a sizable and very much hard to conceal hickey. As you feel his wet, hot tongue flatten against your skin, you cry out in pleasure and spasm against him. Your orgasm is more intense than you would have guessed, given that he never actually made direct contact with your pussy. The waves of electricity rocket through you

With shaky legs, you brace yourself on his shoulders and stand up, your knees almost giving out when you try to put your full weight on them. He quickly reaches out for your waist to steady you and lend support, and you show your gratitude with a squeeze of your hand.

“You good?” he asks, and any trace of smugness you expected to hear in his voice is absent, substituted by pure adoration and care.

“Mhm,” you confirm with a hum, untrusting of your own voice to not break.

“You did so good. So good for me,” he says, so low you barely heard it. “You were so perfect. You are so perfect.”

And despite the fact that you didn’t think it’d be possible for more blood to flow to your face, you feel your cheeks warm with his compliments. With your hands still using his shoulders for balance, his hold on you loosens as they trail down past the hem of your skirt before traveling back up, lifting the garment until his fingertips meet the cotton of your panties.

“A deal’s a deal, right princess?” he asks, his voice unsure.

You nod and let go of him to take the bottom of your skirt, holding it up by your belly button. He hooks his fingers into the elastic of your underwear and starts to pull them down, but your arousal has the crotch clinging to your lips, and you turn your head in humiliation as you feel how he has to literally peel the fabric off of you. When you finally feel the cool air of the room on your hot center, you hear how Eddie breath gets stuck in his throat. He offers you support once more as you bend your knees and raise your leg, allowing him to slip his prize off of your body.

Now that they’re in his hands and you can see them fully, you realize just how much of a mess you made on him. The panties were completely soaked through, and the section of his pants around his thigh is stained darker with your wetness. However, his sizable hard-on making a tent in his jeans and straining against the zipper is enough to calm your worries.

He stands up next to you, and you side step to give him space. Your stomach flutters as you watch him lift the dirty panties to his face before inhaling deeply, and although this act is incredibly vulgar, you can't help the intense wave of arousal it brings to your already dripping cunt. You want nothing more than to just drop this game and be able to have him whenever you want, and even though you know he feels the same, your stubbornness is too severe. He tucks the dirty underwear into his back pocket and winks at you.

“Well,” he laughs, “I’m for sure looking forward to the next time you wanna borrow something, baby.”

[hippiegoth97]

Dr. Feelgood: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by Me :)

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Description: You meet up with Eddie to buy some weed from him. You've never smoked before, so he helps you get the hang of it. And the effects of the drug make you both very forthcoming about your feelings...

Content Warning 18+ Only: Drug use, swearing, female reader, smut, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, mentions of anxiety/depression and social pressure

Word Count: 5.2k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Dr. Feelgood

You've been so anxious and stressed about your midterms, you spend every waking hour lately studying. Flash cards, note-taking, reading the same vital textbook passages over and over. You know your stuff and are sure to ace everything, but your mind will not quiet down. Constant thoughts of potential failure outnumber everything else. You have so much pressure put on you by your family to do well. You haven't had the highest quality homelife, and have often gone without the things others thought of as a given. You've worked hard through all your years of schooling, trying to prove yourself worthy of something better.

Since your grades were unmatched by anyone in your graduating class at Hawkins High, you'd been awarded all the scholarships and grants you could have dreamed of. Your parents were so proud, but made a point to tell you to not ever let this greatness slip. Because the moment you do, none of your hard work matters anymore. One mistake, and it all ends for you. You know they just want you to succeed, to give yourself better than what they could manage to offer you growing up. Better than what they got from their parents. You can't let them down, let yourself down. Some days these thoughts are so overwhelming, they make your head want to explode.

You need some relief, or you're definitely going to do the one thing you've always been told you can never do. You'll blow it all and fail. You need to give yourself a break. You need something to calm your endless nerves. So you call Eddie Munson, your local dropout drug dealer. When he first picks up, he seems surprised that you even know his number. You'd been given it by a close friend before graduation, you weren't even sure Eddie lives in the same place. But he does, and he's more than happy to do business with you. You agree to meet at the picnic table in the woods behind the high school. His famous selling spot. You dress casual, just wanting to get your weed and get out, and you head on your way.

Eddie makes it to the spot before you, as you find him sitting atop the table. He has his feet on the seat, and his hands are resting in his lap. He hears you approach, looking up at you with a grin. "Well, well, well. You finally made it. You know, you're not very punctual for a bookworm." He hops down to take a proper seat, gesturing for you to join him. "Step into my office."

"Okay." You take a seat across from him, keeping your distance. You don't remember him being so cute before. But his joking nature and overall look seem to be having a special effect on you. You fidget with your hands nervously, not saying anything. You want him to do all the talking, you feel somewhat embarrassed just being here. It isn't like you to do this sort of thing.

"So, what's got you calling me for illicit substances, Y/N?" He looks at you, seemingly at least slightly concerned. He notices your hands, and your leg nervously bouncing up and down. "You know, we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can pack up shop and leave right now. We can pretend it never happened." He starts putting his 'goods' back into the lunchbox he brought it in. But you don't want him to leave, you don't want to chicken out. You know you need this.

"No!" You say a bit louder than you mean to. He looks at you cautiously, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, I just-" You look down at your hands, unsure how to form the right words. You sense him still staring at you oddly. You meet his gaze again. "I'm just having trouble coping. With school. I'm working on studying for midterms and I know that I know my stuff. I've been testing myself nonstop, for weeks. I can barely sleep, or eat, or think. I just-" You pause. Realizing you're just dropping all this on him when he doesn't need it. He's not your friend, or your boyfriend. He's just here to make some quick cash. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter to you. You aren't here to listen to my problems. But money is no object, I've been saving up from my job at the supermarket. So just give me whatever you recommend, and I'll get out of your hair." You look down again, cheeks burning bright red at your over-sharing.

He must think you're stupid, just another goody goody who can't handle the pressure. You're sure he'll tell all his D&D buddies about it later and they'll have a good laugh. You're holding back tears now, he'll probably laugh in your face if you cry. You sense his weight leaving the table, and he walks around to your side. He sits down beside you, legs facing outward, back leaning against the table. He lifts your chin with his finger to get a look at you. He notices your eyes threatening to let the floodgates open, and he gazes into them kindly.

"It does matter though. I may just be a lowly dropout who deals drugs for money. But I make a habit of hearing who I'm dealing with telling me why they need things from me. I don't want anyone to get hurt, that's not what drugs are for. At least not to me." He smiles gently, no ounce of joking or mocking to be found. "So, please, continue. And don't hide your face anymore, it's too pretty for that." He lets his hand fall away, but you keep your head up. He's waiting attentively to hear the rest of your story. You're taken by his genuine interest in you, what you're saying. You suppose it could be he doesn't want any accidental deaths on his hands. Nothing more.

"Well, I just have myself all amped up over the exams. Like, what if I fail? Then all of my hard work is null and void. I'm just another disappointing member of my broke family. Working dead-end jobs for the rest of my life, struggling to get food on the table. I can't go back to that. I can't let them down, Eddie." You start to sob, tears rushing down your face. He just listens quietly, nodding along. "I can't be what everyone thinks I deserve to be. Always poor, always below everyone, always having less. The world doesn't respect people like that."

You can't talk through your sobs anymore, and they make your body shake violently. You feel sick, stupid, exposed. You move to put your face in your hands, wanting to hide. But Eddie stops you. He takes your hands in his. Eddie's hands are large, warm, and soft. You gasp slightly through the sobs, your palms tingling excitedly at his touch. "Y/N, I am so sorry you feel like this. But I think you've got it all wrong."

"What?" You knit your eyebrows, preparing to yell at him for mocking you. But you wait to see how he explains himself.

He takes notice of your change in face. He shakes his head. "What I mean is, you are the smartest person I know. Fuck it, you're probably the smartest person in Hawkins! I understand the stress and pressure you're feeling, I got that a lot until I was deemed a waste of time."

"Really?" You don't mean to sound doubtful of him, but he doesn't take offense.

"Yes, really. But I think your issue is that you think the whole world is watching, waiting for you to screw up so it can turn on you. But it's not. I also think that because you're the first one in your family to get this far, it's scary. It's unnatural territory. It's okay to be scared, but you can't let the fear overtake you. You'll work yourself sick trying to keep up with unrealistic expectations. I know you'll pass those tests, but even if you didn't, it doesn't matter. At least not as much as you think it does. One failing grade isn't the end. You get far more chances than that. I should know, I used all of mine! You just don't know since you've never failed in your life before. Does that make sense?" He asks. His hands leave yours once your sobs have mostly subsided.

"It does make sense. But it's not that easy to make the thoughts go away. Can you help me quiet them down at least?" You gently place your hand on his thigh. He tenses slightly at your touch, but he puts his hand over yours, squeezing it.

"Sure thing, princess. If anyone deserves some stress relief, it's you." He turns to reach for the lunchbox, dragging it over with his fingers. You figure it's time for you to get ready to pay him, so you reach for your purse. He swats your arm, shaking his head again. "Oh, no. You're not paying today. Consider it a gift from an old friend." He smirks as he portions out some weed for you. He puts it into a plastic baggie, and zips it closed. He hands it out to you. But you realize you have no idea how to use it properly. "What? Are we being picky now, Y/N?" He's genuinely confused.

"No, I-" You feel embarrassed again. "I just haven't done this before. I'm not sure how to, either." He must really think you're stupid this time.

"That's no problem, I can help you." He says matter-of-factly. Eddie places the bag back onto the table, and pulls out some rolling papers from his box. He looks over at you a moment, noticing your burning cheeks again. "Really now, Y/N." He tuts at you. "There's no need to get all flustered and embarrassed about it. Everyone has their first time. Even I did once, a long time ago." He winks at you, focusing again on the task at hand. He opens the bag, and sets to work rolling a blunt for you. When he finishes, he shows it to you with a flourish. "Ta-Dah! Your first blunt!"

"Well done, Munson" You giggle at his theatrics.

He chuckles back, then gets down to business. "Alright, now I'll light it for you and show you how to inhale properly." He gets up onto the table again, sitting cross-legged on one end. He gestures for you to follow suit, and you move to sit in the mirrored position. He lights the blunt, inhaling deeply. He holds the smoke in a moment, smirking at you when he lets it go. You giggle again, taking in how strangely hot he looks doing that. He hands it over to you, and you just copy him. You inhale, and do your best to hold it in. But you end up coughing violently, letting all the smoke out. "Shit, I should've told you to take it easy at first. Sorry 'bout that." He smacks his forehead at his forgetfulness.

"It's fine, it's my own damn fault for trying to dive right in like that." You make a second attempt, gentler this time. You successfully hold it in and release it. Eddie applauds you, making you blush again. You hand the blunt back over to him. You take turns passing it back and forth in silence until it's all burned away. After a short period you start to feel the effects. You feel like you're moving through molasses, like in dreams. Your head is light and airy, your body buzzing. And then you find yourself in a giggle fit. But you can't seem to figure out what's so funny.

Eddie begins laughing too. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've got a giggler!" He gestures at you, laughing heartily. He leans back, almost falling off the table. You lunge forward to catch him, moving to his end of the table. You just barely grip him by his shirt collar, saving him from the fall. You pull him back into his original position, but you're still gripping his shirt. Your face is very, very close to his. You're both silent now, the only sound is your panting breaths fanning towards one another. You let his shirt go, moving back slightly.

"Almost lost you there, freak." You joke, a quiet laugh shared between you to break the tension.You sit directly in front of him now, your knees touching his. Your eyes are fixed onto his. You reach your hand forward to touch him, and he grabs your wrist.

"Whatcha doin' there, Y/N?" Eddie asks, giving you a curious smile.

"Can I?" You gesture at his face, almost compelled to see what he feels like. He nods, assisting you to caress his cheek. He lets your wrist go, and you continue to touch him. His eyes flutter closed as your hand moves slowly down his jaw, his neck. You stroke his chest over his shirt, and then move to his arms, using your other hand now too. He hums lightly at every move you make, eyes still shut. You move to his ankles, knees, thighs. Your fingertips feel so strange while touching him, but it feels so good you don't want to stop. But he opens his eyes again and stills your movements. You look at him, confused.

"It's your turn now." He says quietly. He reaches forward, touching your face now. Your skin lights up in flames and buzzes as he mirrors all your movements. He reaches your chest, apprehensive to make moves there.

"It's okay, go ahead." You whisper to him. He wastes no time, gently running his fingers along the curves of your breasts, and your own eyes close now. You moan slightly, you've never felt these sensations before. It's like you're flying, but still grounded. He moves to touch your ankles, knees, thighs. His hands stop, laying gently on your thighs. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. He looks different now, feels different. He looks at you with his mouth slightly agape.

"Do you want to keep going? It's okay if it's too weird." He says, not wanting to pressure you.

"It's not weird. It feels really nice. I want to feel more, if that's okay." He nods, leaning his face closer to yours. You lean in as well. Your lips are just a whisper apart. You're both panting again, waiting to see who makes the first move. You decide to be brave and close the gap, pressing your lips gently into his. He kisses you back, his hand reaching behind you to grip your hair. Your hands pull on his shirt collar, yanking him forwards as you lay down on the table.

"Mmm." He grunts as you're moving him with you. Eddie's leaning over you now, his knees on either side of yours. The kissing gets rougher, he bites your bottom lip. You gasp, allowing his tongue to slide in. You moan as he explores your mouth, his hands still tangled in your hair. Every movement, every touch is amplified by your weed-induced state. It's like you're moving in slow motion, each kiss lasting hours. You never want it to end.

"Eddie, everything feels really good. Is that normal?" You ask dumbly.

"Well I would hope so, Y/N. Don't tell me you've never done anything sexual before either!" He teases, smiling down at you. You playfully smack his chest.

"Of course I have, Eddie. I just mean, everything feels...I don't know...just better I guess?" You stumble over your words as they lazily fall from your mouth. It's hard to keep any thoughts straight like this. You find yourself giggling again.

He chuckles slightly. "That's one of the many magical perks of marijuana, doll. Everything is better. Food tastes better, movies are funnier, sex is mindblowing. Emphasis on the last part." He lowers his head down again to start kissing your neck. You moan loudly. It's like he's lighting fireworks on you with his mouth. Your hands go into his hair now, and you can't resist the urge to tug at it a bit. He groans when you do so, looking up at you from where he was working on your neck. "I see you've found one of my weaknesses, princess. Be careful with that information." He grins, before returning to his work. His hands move to grope your breasts, squeezing them roughly. It causes you to moan again. He moves one of his knees between your thighs, grinding it slowly against your clothed core. You're so wet, you're sure he can feel it through all the layers between you.

"Fuck, Eddie!" You whine, feeling so many sensations at once. You swear you could cum just from his current actions. He chuckles into your skin, and nips at you.

"We'll get to that all in good time, Y/N." You laugh at his poor joke. You pull his head up to yours, smashing your lips together again. It's as if your whole body is being boiled alive, and you're desperate for more. You pull away from the kiss again, trying to lift your shirt over your head. He helps you, discarding it into the grass and fallen leaves. The cool air hits your skin, making you gasp. "Too cold?" He asks. You shake your head.

"I couldn't possibly be hotter right now." You sound so needy, becoming embarrassed again.

"Well, I disagree. Just you wait until I'm through with you." He just can't help himself, can he? He lifts you up to reach your bra clasp, undoing it with ease. The bra falls down your shoulders, and you toss it away. He takes a moment to get a good look at the view of you topless. Your tits are at attention, your nipples hard in the cold air. His breath hitches at the sight. "Goddamn, you look so gorgeous like this. You have amazing tits by the way." He leans down and starts on your neck again, using a hand to massage your left breast. You moan his name. His lips slip down your neck and chest, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the way. He licks the valley between your breasts, then nibbles the skin. He moves to your right one, taking the hardened bud into his mouth.

"Jesus fucking Christ, everything feels so good. Too fucking good." Your breath is fast and hot, your body reacting to every touch to an unbearable degree. His knee is still working your core through your jeans, making you so unbelievably wet. You tug his hair again, wanting to get some reaction from him. He groans loudly even with his mouth working on your tits. You realize Eddie still has all of his clothes on. You push him off of you gently. "You're overdressed, baby." He sits upright, pulling his shirt over his head. You take a moment to look him over. His tattoos, toned chest, and the simple necklace make your eyes widen with lust. "You look so beautiful, Eddie. I hope that's not weird to say."

"Not at all, darling. I pride myself on lookin pretty." He smirks, still upright. You reach up to pull him back down to you, and you run your hands up and down his chest. He groans when you drag your nails down it, leaving red marks along the way. "Careful with the claws, babe." Your arms reach onto his back, scratching him again. He moans even louder. "Fuck, you really like pushing my buttons, don't you? You're playing with fire, exploiting my weaknesses like this."

"I guess it's just nice to know you have them." You reply, smiling up at him. A mischievous grin forms on his face.

"Well I'm sure you have plenty too. I mean, you've already been pretty vocal so far. Sounds like I don't have to do much to make you come undone." He says, his tone laced with danger. You lay here silently, realizing what you've gotten yourself into. He gets off of you, and stands in the grass next to the table. "Move to the edge of the table, love." He says plainly. Like an order.

"Okay." You obey instantly, sitting at the edge, legs dangling over. He stands between your thighs, putting his hands on your waist. He kisses you softly, leaning you both so you lay down. Once you are, he stands up straight again, moving his hands to your thighs. He squeezes the flesh roughly, rubbing his clothed erection against your core. "Fuck." You mutter as you watch him.

"Let's get you fully undressed, shall we?" He slips your sneakers off, and your socks. He undoes your jeans, pulling them off roughly. You're only in your underwear now, feeling very exposed again. He brings a hand up to slowly stroke your heat through your panties, the wetness you've built up seeping through the thin fabric. "Mmm, you're so wet. Is that all for me?" He asks as moans fall repeatedly from your lips. He pulls your underwear off, putting them in his pocket. You open your mouth to protest, but he shushes you. "I'll consider them a gift from an old friend." He chuckles, taking a moment to drink all of you in. Your shocked face, your perfect tits, your beautiful legs. His gaze falls on your pussy, and he can't help but stare. You're so wet and shiny for him, dripping slowly onto the crisp leaves below.

"See something you like?" You slyly question him. He meets your gaze with lust-filled eyes. He doesn't reply, only nodding. He drops to his knees in front of you, gripping your thighs again. He kisses his way from your left knee to just before the spot where you need him most. You moan when his lips meet your inner thigh. He continues on the other side, teasing you with his pace. He's directly in front of your pussy now, his warm breath fanning over it. "Eddie, please don't tease anymore. I need you." You plead. He responds by licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. "Fuck!" You practically scream. Eddie takes your curses as fuel to the fire. He licks your bundle of nerves ferociously, like the man is having his last meal. He inserts two fingers into you, pumping in and out at a punishing pace. You keep involuntarily bucking your hips off the table, causing Eddie to grip you tighter in place. His tongue and fingers work you over. Curses, moans, and Eddie's name spill from your mouth like a mantra. He's got you under his spell, and he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

"You taste so good, Y/N. So fucking sweet." Eddie says breathlessly. He resumes his work on you, tying the knot in your belly tighter and tighter with every stroke and lick. He worries his teeth on you gently, causing you to gasp. You're so close you can't stand it.

"Fuck, Eddie! Please, right there! Make me cum, I'm so close!" You cry out to him, desperately asking for release.

"That's my good girl. Make a mess for me. Cum on my face." He says just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. You feel the knot snap, and you swear you've been shot into outer space. Your legs shake violently, and you feel yourself dripping onto Eddie's face. He licks up every last drop he can, causing your cunt to spark as your high subsides. He finally gives you a break, standing up to look in your fucked-out eyes. "Fuck, Y/N. You are so unbelievably hot." He leans over you, pressing a kiss into your lips. You moan as you taste yourself on him. He stands again, bringing the fingers he used on you to his mouth, sucking them clean while staring at you.

"It's your turn now." You slide off the table, kneeling before him. You grasp his belt, using it to pull him closer. He assists you in undoing it, and you pull his jeans down to his ankles. He kicks his shoes off, and tosses his socks away. He steps out of his jeans, leaving him just in his boxers. You reach up and palm him through the thin material, causing him to moan. You pull his underwear off, letting his cock spring free. You waste no time taking it in your hand. You stroke Eddie slowly, before licking the tip in circles.

"Shit, Y/N." Eddie gasps, letting his hand fall to your hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail. You take as much of him in your mouth as you can, swirling your tongue as you move back and forth on him. He lets out moans and curses frequently as you work him.

"Mmm." You hum around him to rev him up further. You drag your nails up and down his thighs, leaving light red marks behind. He falters, his other hand gripping the table behind you. He's breathing heavily, you look up at him. He looks so gorgeous like this, a light sheen of sweat on his skin, mouth agape, eyes screwed shut. He opens them briefly to look down at you, smirking again.

"It feels so good, Y/N." He breathes out. "Keep going, I'm almost there." You nod at him, picking up the pace. He moans again as you pump him mercilessly, gagging yourself as he hits the back of your throat. "Jesus, fuck." He chokes out, falling off the edge. You feel his release spilling into your mouth, making sure to swallow every drop. You release him with a pop, smiling up at him. "My, my. You're a master at giving head, darling." He offers his hand to help you stand up. Then he grabs you by the waist, lifting you onto the table. His lips attack yours, his hands roam all over your body. Eddie moves his mouth to latch on your neck again, you cry out when he bites you roughly.

"Christ, Eddie. I'm not a chew toy." You sigh contentedly. "Feels pretty fucking good, though." He responds by biting the other side of your neck. You gasp, digging your nails into his back. He stops to look in your eyes again.

"The weed will wear off soon, we should move this along." He lets you go, climbing back on the table. You turn around to see what he's got in mind. He lays down, motioning for you to come to him. "Come here and ride me, princess." You go to him, positioning yourself just below his cock. You lean down to kiss his neck now, leaving plenty of hickies on him. He moans loudly when you bite down on the skin. You lift yourself to your knees, taking his length in your hand. You move his cock slowly back and forth against your folds, causing both of you to whine. You look down at him, grinning as you sink down onto his dick.

"Fuck, Eddie. You feel so good inside me." You start to bounce gently on him, moaning his name over and over as he fills you to the brim. He's the perfect size to hit your g spot each time you come down on him. He grips your tits with his hands, squeezing them roughly, teasing your nipples between his fingers. Your moans grow in volume, and the sound of your skin slapping together echoes through the woods.

"You're doing so good, Y/N. You take my cock so well." He says, low on breath. You're both slicked with sweat, which makes the slapping even louder. He lets go of your tits to squeeze your ass. He moves you into a new angle in his grip. You practically scream as your g spot is being hit harder and better than before. Eddie also makes a point to thrust himself up into you occasionally, your moans catching in your throat.

"F-uck."You roll your hips as you ride him into oblivion. You sense another orgasm coming on. Waves of pleasure crash over you, building to a hurricane. Your pussy starts to clench around him involuntarily, and Eddie can tell how close you are. He moves a hand to rub your clit in gentle circles, making the waves crash harder over you.

"Keep going, darling. I'm close, too. Cum for me." He rubs your clit rougher now, and you feel the tropical storm overtake you.

"Oh, fuck! Eddie!" You scream, juices leaking out of you and onto his stomach. Your cunt clamps down on his length, which makes him groan as his own release overcomes him. Eddie's load spills into you as you keep riding him through your high. Your orgasm subsides, and you collapse onto him, still seated on his dick. You're both breathing heavily, and you can hear Eddie's heart pounding in his chest. His arms wrap around you, and he kisses the top of your head.

"You look so pretty when you cum, Y/N. Wish I got a picture of that."

"You can have one next time." You reply, not fully realizing what you just said until the words have left your mouth.

"Next time, huh?" He questions. Your cheeks burn as you realize he probably doesn't want to see you again. Why would he? You're nothing special. "It's a date." He says, and you sit up to look at him.

"You really want to see me again?" You're in disbelief, thinking this might be the joke now.

"You don't have to act so surprised, Y/N. I like you, and clearly you like me too. Now, maybe we should continue this conversation when I'm not still inside you. How's that sound?"

"Okay." You say quietly, feeling rather silly. You lift yourself off of him, your mixed release pouring out of you and onto Eddie's cock. You both look at it in lustful shock. You lean down to lick it all up, not leaving a single drop behind. Eddie watches you with wide eyes, and you just smirk at him.

"Jesus, Y/N. You just keep getting sexier by the minute." He pulls you into him again, kissing you passionately. He groans at the taste on your lips. You break the kiss, hopping off the table to gather your clothes. You hand him his, and you both dress quietly. Once you're fully clothed, you sit back down at the table. He's sitting with his legs outward again, and you're positioned sideways on his lap. You both playfully rub each other's arms and legs, sharing kisses and giggling. The weed has worn off now, and you wonder if that's all this was. But you still feel a fire burning inside you for Eddie. You're just worried he doesn't have one for you.

"Are you sure you like me, Eddie? It's okay if you don't." You look down at your lap, afraid of what he might say now that he's sober.

He lifts your face to look at him again, looking deep into your eyes. "I can tell you right now Y/N, I really like you. And I'm not one to lie. I get that you're worried about it just being the drugs, I can't say I wasn't either. But I want to be with you, high or not."

You don't say anything else, you just grab his face, pressing your lips onto his again. He returns the kiss, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

The end.

[myfictionaldreams]

Hiya! Can I request something for the Mafia!AU? What if Reader is out on their own one day and gets kidnapped and Steve and Bucky save her? The more angst the better. ❤️

The One Weakness // Mafia!Stucky x fem!reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! And I can't thank you enough for the header as well!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, fluff, violence, blood & injury, kidnapping, hostage, restraints, drugging,  protective steve & bucky, oral (f receiving), overstimulated, multiple orgasms, praise kink, possessive

Words: 5.1k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“I’ll be back in 15 minutes, it’s only down the street, I’ll be fine”, you had stated confidently to your boyfriend Steve, grabbing your purse and preparing to leave for the local coffee shop. Unbeknown to you however, this would be the last sentence you’d say before everything turned dark.

Steve had been adamant about someone accompanying you, it was a dangerous world after all, especially being the girlfriend to the Rogers mafia leader and the second in command. There was a target always hanging over your head and for the most part, there would always be a bodyguard by your side, either Steve or Bucky but most recently it had been Sam.

However today, everyone was preoccupied with the arrival of a new shipment and as you mentioned, the coffee shop was only a few minutes away.

This was your first mistake, that giant target didn’t take a break, there was never a moment where you weren’t in danger, therefore, you shouldn’t have even risked a second let alone a walk to the coffee shop. Your next mistake was the lack of vigilance. Of course, Steve and Bucky had trained you on what to look out for but as the years passed by, never having been alone, you weren’t ever having to look for trouble, that would be your bodyguard's job. Your negligence to this was your downfall.

Maybe it wasn’t as simple as the same car following you every day, no, in fact, they made sure to always have a new car so it wasn’t as simple to notice. Next, they made sure that they had different guards to sit and watch, once again making it more difficult for anyone to notice someone had been following you for a number of weeks. 

They didn’t make their move immediately, buying their time, waiting for the perfect moment and that came when you were on your way back, hands busy with carrying the tray of coffees for a few of the gang members. No one else was on the street, not until one of the men exited the grey van that had been sitting and waiting for you to be alone.

You didn’t even have a chance to scream. One moment you were smiling to yourself, thinking of your plans later to surprise Steve and Bucky with a certain costume, and the next there was a sharp, stinging sensation from your neck. The tray of coffee dropping to the floor was the last thing you saw as your body became heavy and you fell unconscious.

The world was spinning as you began to awake, feeling as if you were on a boat during a stormy day, causing your body to sway. A breathtaking migraine was causing your ears to pound from the effects of whatever drugs had been injected into your neck. Stomach felt unsettled by this motion, enough so that you gagged heavily causing your body to lean forward but nothing came up, especially as it would have had nowhere to go with the cloth stuffed in your mouth. It was tied around your head so tight that you couldn’t close your mouth and stretched the skin of your cheek, any saliva was caught in the cloth or dribbling down your chin, leaving your throat unbearably dry.

With each passing minute, you became more aware of what was going on, the adrenaline now pouring through your veins causing your body to uncontrollably shake, only to add to the anxiety. With these movements, you could feel the tight restraints of zip ties against your bare wrists and ankles, holding you to the uncomfortable metal chair.

There weren’t any other places that felt injured and you were still fully clothed, thankfully. Attempting to take the situation one step at a time, you concentrated on your breathing. Slow long deep breaths through your nose, reminding yourself thatyou were alive, you weren’t seriously injured, and you would get through this, if you lost control now there would be no hope.

How much time had passed? You were unsure but from the corner of your eye, there were still streaks of daylight through the open windows, a warm breeze brushing against your skin. Maybe a few hours had passed or was it a different day? 

This last thought had your stomach twisting further. Where were Steve and Bucky? Are you even in the same state anymore? The thought of how worried they’d be when you didn’t return from the coffee run had tears springing to your eyes, wishing to be with them so much that your chest ached.

‘Deep breaths’, you tried to imagine Steve was kneeling before you, in his low calm voice, he was always so good with calming your panic down. They would find you, that hope was still strong in your heart, they would do anything to find you. 

The next step was to see how secure your restraints really were, giving a hard tug, attempting to use the moves that had been taught to you all of those years ago. But you were not strong enough and with each attempt, the plastic rubbed against your skin until it was sore, you were thoroughly attached to the chair and going nowhere.

Glancing away from your bound wrists, you observed the room you were being held hostage within. It was difficult to do at first as the migraine caused bright lights to dance around in your vision but from what you could make out, there wasn’t much to note.

The room was bare, undecorated save for another chair, slightly dusty and there were two doors, one leading into the hallway and the other to a separate room. However, it was the person sitting in the other chair that had stolen your attention.

Helmut Zemo was sitting casually, knees spread wide, arm lazily hanging off the back of the chair, head tilted slightly to the side with a sickening smirk on his face.

“I’m surprised you haven’t started crying yet”. You were thankful for not crying yet, hating his assumption of your weakness and even though there was nothing more you wanted to do than cry, beg for your life, desperate to be home - this was something you wouldn’t do, needing to stay strong even if it wasn’t your first instinct.

Due to the gag still tightly wrapped around your face, you were unable to respond and simply held eye contact with him. This was where your first sign of weakness was revealed as you had to look away, deciding instead to stare at the floor, wiggling your wrists once more, ignoring the burning sensation from where the zip ties were rubbing.

Helmut’s chair creaked as he sat forward, grasping his hands together as he didn’t take his eyes off of you. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?”

Once again you didn’t respond. You’d heard about Helmut Zemo’s incident. Not only was he nearly arrested due to the actions of the Rogers mafia but all of their equipment had been stolen and used for profit by the orders of Steve, it was all business and something he’d down hundreds of times before, even if Helmut did have a reputation, that wasn’t going to stop Steve.

“Of course, you know”, he answered his own question, standing up now and taking a few small steps towards you, taunting your anxiety. It was almost impossible to hide your trembling body as he moved, eyes still glued to the floor, in your peripheral vision you could see his leather boots taking each step. “Your boyfriend has cost me a lot of money”.

“Ah, but it’s not just one boyfriend, is it? You’re also fucking his best friend”, as he finished his words, he squatted down, so you were both at eye level. Your entire body warmed in embarrassment at his words, hating the way in which he referred to your relationship with Bucky, degrading it.

“It’s getting boring having a one-way conversation”, Zemo muttered more to himself as he reached to undo the cloth around your head, pulling it free. It was instant relief being able to properly close your mouth, jaw aching slightly and finally being able to swallow.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? Months. We’ve been tracking you closely, day and night but those overbearing scumbags wouldn’t leave your side for a second however, the waiting paid off because here you are!” Helmut opened his arms wide, causing you to flinch in response, assuming that he was going to hit you then after realising those weren’t his intentions, you felt shameful for showing weakness once more.

“So what is it then? Have you suddenly become mute? Let’s have a conversation, I want to hear you talk princess, I’m not going to hurt you”.

You almost wanted to laugh at his blatant lie, instead deciding to keep it coy, “likely story”.

Helmut’s smile beamed across his face, “Ah she speaks! What a joyous day indeed”. His arrogance was really starting to grate on you.

“You’re dead”. Your words were meant to be intimidating, showing no fear and in truth, he was more than dead when Steve and Bucky found him.

“See that’s just the thing Princess, I’m actually looking forward to meeting your beloved boys. Truthfully, I’m surprised they haven’t turned up yet, it’s already been 3 hours and I’ve even done them the courtesy of sending a little video of you to them, just for a little bit of motivation”.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, thoughts of Steve and Bucky watching a clip of you unconscious and tied to a chair, it was enough to feel sick once more. At least he answered the question as to how much time had passed.

Zemo continued on the one-sided conversation, “Now you may be wondering, why would I want the most prolific and blood-thirsty gang on my doorstep? That’s because I have their one weakness, you. Do you really think they’re going to come in here, all guns blazing with you in the firing line? I don’t think so. One wrong move and their precious whore will be dead, giving me the perfect opportunity to have them vulnerable”.

A wave of emotions poured through your mind. Burning anger, so sharp that you wanted to rip your restraints off and kill him yourself, even if you died instantly, you didn’t care, the safety of the boys was in danger. Then overwhelming anxiety, losing any ounce of control that you’d been desperately holding onto.

“You’re dead! They’re going to kill you-!” your outburst was cut off by Helmut rolling his eyes, lifting the gag up to your mouth.

“Yes yes, I’m a dead man walking, blah blah, I’ve heard it all before Princess. Now let’s have this conversation again whilst I’m standing over your boyfriend's bodies”. You shook and pulled ruthlessly against your restraints, crying out now in fear as he forced the gag into your mouth once more, tying it extra tight to make your eyes water further.

A single knock sounded at the door and Helmut clapped, turning towards it, “Ah finally! Let the show begin!”, he referred to the knock, as it was a sign that the enemy had arrived.

You truly felt like you were going to pass out with how heavy you were having to breathe to try and calm down, listening to the fight out outside of the door, hearing men and women in conflict from somewhere else in the building and the noise only grew as they got closer to the room you were being held in.

Zemo reached into his large coat, pulled out a handgun than without a rush, casually stepped behind you and out of view. Even though you couldn’t see him, the feeling of the cool metal against the back of your head was undeniable as he pressed the gun against you, waiting and waiting for Steve and Bucky to arrive. 

From the sounds of it, the men waiting outside of the door were quickly shot by the loud bangs followed by the noise of them slumping against the door just before it was pushed open.

You released a distressed cry at seeing Steve walk in first, blood splattered across his clothing, eyes ablaze in anger but also fear as he zoned in immediately on your form in the chair. The gun gripped securely in his hands was then pointing at the man standing behind you but he faltered as Zemo pushed his own gun further into your head so that you had to look at the floor once more.

Steve and Helmut took a second to size one another up before the man holding the gun to your head broke the silence with his arrogant tone. “Ah Mr Rogers, you’ve finally decided to join us?”

“Point that gun somewhere else, Zemo”, Steve's voice was firm and almost like ice.

“You see, I don’t think you are in any position to be giving me orders, Rogers. Not when this pretty thing here could have her brain splattered across the wall.”

You whimpered at his threat, still trying to pull your arms and legs free of the restraints, hoping for some miracle that one of them would snap.

“She has nothing to do with this-”

“That’s where you’re wrong! She has everything to do with this, in fact without her, I wouldn’t even be able to be in the same room as you to make my demands”. You could just about see Steve’s shoes from where your head was bent, watching as he tried to take a step forward but still didn’t drop his gun. “Not so fast, why don’t you start by unloading your gun and kicking it over to me”.

Steve made no move to unload his gun, instead continued the conversation. “Did you really think, taking what's mine, hurting her and holding her hostage was a smart move? I’m going to skin you alive Helmut, every single bone in your body is going to be broken for even thinking you could take her away from me”.

Your thundering heart thumped in your ears at his venomous words, knowing that he meant every single one of them.

“You see, how could that possibly be true when I’m the one with a gun pointed at her head, all it would take is one single shot and everything you ever loved would be a distant memory”.

Steve took a single step forward again at the threat. Your mind was in overdrive, knowing that if Steve got too close, it wouldn’t be you who would be dead but in fact him with Zemo’s plan. Steve was falling for the bait.

Unbeknown to you however, Steve had another plan that he was completing. Keep Zemo talking, distracted away from the windows that had Bucky silently climbing through, having scaled the side of the building.

Bucky’s footsteps were silent, only Steve knew he was even in the room as he kept his eyes trained on Helmut.

The first sign you had that Bucky was even in the room was when the gun was suddenly not pushing against the back of your head as Bucky tackled Zemo away, they collided bodies smashing into the spare door in the room, tumbling into the other room.

As the two of them continued to fight out of eyesight, Steve was kneeling in front of you in a single large step, his gun now lying in your lap as his hands cupped your cheeks to have you looking at him, his eyes a great deal softer than they had been upon entering the room. “It’s ok baby, I’ve got you, let’s get you out of here”.

Steve pulled a knife out of the sheath attached to his belt, nimbly snapping the ties off of your feet first, then your left wrist.

“Drop the knife”, Helmut ordered, entering the room once more, gun raised and pointing towards you, with Bucky nowhere to be found. Zemo was now bleeding from multiple scratches on his face, eyes seething.

You thought for a moment that you were going to be sick at not seeing Bucky coming out of that room, what had happened to him? Steve and Bucky were almost invincible in your eyes with the number of fights or trouble that they’d been in, never once losing but now, the horrifying thought crossed your mind that they might have met their match.

Steve dropped the knife, holding his hands up as he looked at the gun and then behind Zemo, looking for Bucky as well, nostrils flaring when Bucky didn’t come out.

“Move away from her”, Zemo continued to instruct, stepping further into the room and towards you. Steve didn’t move immediately, taking a second to get his bearings and to stand, moving like he was going to step in front of you and the gun but Helmut only waved the gun further in your head’s direction, showing that he shouldn’t make such a move.

Through this interaction, your thoughts were heavily on the gun that was lying in your lap. You’d been trained how to use one, but with the intention of never actually having to use one in a life or death situation, the niavety of one of the gang members always being around was a fool's mistake to make. The thought of hurting someone was horrific but in this situation, Steve’s life on the line and Bucky nowhere to be seen, you had to make a split-second decision, hoping to god that this wasn’t the wrong one.

As Steve continued to stare down Zemo, the later who had been staring at you with his gun trained, made the mistake of looking at your boyfriend which meant you could move quickly before he reacted.

Making a split-second decision, with your left hand that was not restrained anymore, you picked up the gun, pointed it towards Helmut and shot. It hit him in the side, not enough to kill immediately but the shock had him faltering for just one single moment which was enough time for Steve to take the gun off of you, and fire five more rounds into Helmut’s head and chest.

Zemo collapsed to the floor dead.

Steve was once more kneeling in front of you before you could process what had happened, cutting free the last restraint and easing the gag out of your mouth. With a gentle touch, Steve cupped your cheek, turning your face away from the sight of the dead man, so that you could look at him. His entire demeanour was different now, there was no sign of anxiety or anger, just a relaxed facial expression.

“Don’t look at him, you’re safe now my love, let’s get you out of here”, he tried to encourage you to stand but there was only one person in your thoughts right now.

“Bucky”. As soon as you’d ushered the name, you were out of your chair, stumbling slightly from the aftereffects of the drugs, Steve was there to catch you though, aiding in your journey into the other room. “Bucky!” you shouted desperately having stepped over Zemo’s corpse and into the other room, seeing Bucky lying on his front, unmoving, a wound at the back of his head from where he’d been hit with the broken vase that scattered across the floor.

In an instant you were crying as Steve crouched next to his body, the stiffness returning to his features, hands shaking slightly as he reached to feel for a pulse, sighing dramatically when he felt a strong one. “He’s alive”.

Steve helped you to turn Bucky onto his back, careful with his head wound as Steve ripped off one of his sleeves, using it to apply pressure against the spot to stop the bleeding. There you lay with his head in your lap, one hand holding the compress and the other stroking his cheek.

Not long passed before his body began twitching and his eyes drifted open, staring up into yours, a sly smirk spreading across his face. “Hey Doll” he croaked.

You couldn't hold back the sob as you leaned down to kiss his forehead tenderly, the ordeal was over, and you were safe.

Eventually, after much argument about going to the hospital or the office, Bucky was helped out by Steve as you followed behind, stepping over the countless bodies that littered the corridors from Zemo’s group. Almost shouting in relief at seeing Sam waiting by the car, instantly running up to him and accepting a hug that melted away the tension in your muscles. They had decided to go to the office where Bucky could be stitched up, he didn’t want to mess around with hospitals.

As this was happening, Steve thoroughly checked every inch of your body for any injuries, noting the pinprick hole in your neck that was tender to the touch due to the injection and where the zip ties had been on your wrists and ankles had caused the skin to bleed slightly. Carefully, he wrapped each other them, his large fingers delicate and then finally, the three of you were ready for home, beyond exhausted.

Steve refused to leave your side, even for a second as he helped with changing your clothes. You couldn’t get out of your clothes quickly enough upon entering the bedroom, needing to shower desperately to get rid of the essence of the day but not being able to due to the bandages. Instead, you opted for a fresh pair of underwear and one of Bucky’s old graphic t-shirts that had seen better days.

Said man was sitting on the bed, massaging his temple for the lingering headache that he had from being hit around the head by the vase. As Steve finally peeled himself away, you saunter over to Bucky, standing between his legs and allowing him to nuzzle into your stomach, both of his hands cupping around your back as your hands ran over his shoulders, holding him close.

Neither of you said a word, nothing needed to be said and if you thought about it too much, you were certain to have a mental breakdown so you tried to keep the mental barrier up for another day. Just need to be in the moment, and feel that you were very much alive and in the embrace of the person you loved.

Steve's body warmed you from behind as he joined, wrapping his arms around your middle to lay one hand on your chest and the other on  Bucky’s shoulder, needing to feel each other at this moment. Forgetting about the world, and trying to remember that this was real and everyone, other than the injuries, were alive and safe in each other's touch.

In all honesty, you were more than prepared to stay like that all night but as you glanced down at Bucky and saw the dressing on his wound, you decided he needed to rest. “Come on Buckaroo, you need to get some rest, I think we all do, let’s lie down.”

He did as instructed without a single word, helping you onto the bed, allowing you time to get comfortable in the middle of the bed so that he could then lay his head on your stomach, arm draping over your hip. Your fingers played with the short hair from where it wasn’t covered by a dressing, watching as Steve knelt on the soft bed, hands wandering up your bare legs until he was sat between them, staring at you both.

“I know we’re all tired but I need to just say this. What happened today, will not ever happen again. You will never be in harm's way and I can promise that you are safe with us. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to find you, I’d walk across the world to find you again so even if things feel dark, I will always find you.”

A lump formed in your throat as you looked at the intensity of Steve’s gaze down at you, you knew his words were true, but never doubted for a moment the length that he would go to, to get you back. You were unsure as to what to say, fearing that you may cry so you simply whispered the words, “I know”.

He nodded his head relieved, hands trailing delicately over the sensitive skin of your thighs. “Good. You’re always my priority” he muttered to last words as he towered over Bucky to kiss your lips softly before sitting back on his knees between your legs, glancing down to your underwear-covered centre.

On instinct your hole was clenching in arousal at the stare, biting your lip as his fingers drifted closer. “Bucky needs to rest”, you whispered, still stroking through the brunette’s hair, wanting nothing more than to fulfil whatever Steve had in mind but also sometimes moments like this took away rational thoughts, trying to have Bucky’s welfare in mind and not wanting him to be left out.

The man lying on your stomach began to respond, his voice vibrating through you, “I think what Steve has in mind won’t be too strenuous for me, mama”.

“How is having sex not strenuous?” you asked, body flushing with heat as Steve’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear.

“Because we are not having sex, this is only about you. After today… I just- I need to taste you, feel you against my fingers, my tongue, need to hear you happy and crying out our names, because you’re OURS. I need you to feel good so you’re going to lie there as I make you feel good, I don’t want you to worry about our needs, just your own”.

The flimsy material of your underwear snapped beneath his fingertips and you made no move to stop him, watching through heavy eyelids as he lowered his body until he was lying on his front. Tentatively, he places both of your legs over each of his shoulders, hands cupping around your thighs and holding you in place.

From his position, you couldn’t see his face anymore as he descended lower, with Bucky in the way who was watching everything closely, his metal arm reaching for both of your hands to hold them both down onto the bed so that you were entirely at the mercy of them both.

First, you felt Steve’s warm breath against your folds, this had your breath hitching slightly with anticipation. Then it was his glorious tongue, delicate at first, trying to map out your cunt by exploring every area, tickling the nerves and drinking the juices that had begun to form. He lapped up everything you had to offer, not moving to penetrate just yet but instead, dancing over your clit in different rhythms. Making sure to truly build up your arousal, back and forth, in a circle, spelling your name with the tip of his tongue.

You were already breathing hard causing Bucky’s head to dip up and down but he didn’t mind, loving the desperate little noises that were coming out of your mouth. Steve was a master at work, not rushing to do anything, his eyes were closed as he memorised every single way that your body moved, and clenched, and the moans of his name were his particular favourite.

“Please, please don’t stop”, the sensation in your cunt was clenching harder, your orgasm so close to reaching its peak. Steve didn’t stop his movements, and kept at his steady pace, knowing it was driving you crazy but it was well worth it when your cunt suddenly began to spasm against his chin as the orgasm tipped you over the edge.

Your eyes were glazed over as he gave you 30 seconds to recover, a happy grin celebrated on your face, expecting Steve to crawl up the bed but he didn’t, he stayed exactly where he was, in between your legs.

His long, warm tongue was suddenly breaching your hole, once again licking up all the juices that had leaked out of you, his nose knocking into your clit, causing your head to tip back as you released an almighty cry of pleasure. Everything was slightly sensitive post orgasm but it was perfect.

Steve was a man on a mission, seeing just how many orgasms he could get from you with just his lips, tongue and teeth, nipping every so often against your precious clit, loving the way you squirmed. It felt like he’d been doing it for hours, unsure how he was even able to carry on without getting an ache in his jaw but he never stopped, not even for a break as continuous orgasms were being drained from you.

All the whilst, Bucky had begun to praise you endlessly, still watching his friend closely from where he lay on your stomach, your arms still very much pinned to the bed.

“You’re doing so good for him, mama”. “Is he making you feel better? Tell me how good he’s making you feel”. “You look so beautiful with Steve’s tongue in your cunt, our beautiful girl”.

With each praise, your cunt was clenching viciously around Steve’s tongue, they both knew exactly what they were doing to you, making you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world all whilst only pleasuring you, never expecting anything back, it was pure perfection.

Eventually, your speech was being more slurred and your head lolling to one side as your energy was drained from feeling so good, they knew you were reaching your end soon. “One more baby, let me just see and hear one more orgasm, you’re doing so well”. It was Steve this time to speak, his voice silky from between your legs.

You cried out as his lips formed a seal around your clit, sucking on it hard and both men had to really try to hold you down as you let out a deep scream that ached your throat. It was the most intense orgasm yet, your mind absolute mush as you were also certain you’d squirted slightly over Steve’s face from the chuckle from Bucky, his praises increasing as Steve desperately licked up every drop he could find.

“Alright baby, we’re stopping, that’s a good girl”, Steve encouraged, easing your floppy legs it felt like your clit was slightly swollen as you bought your legs together for a second, everything was so sensitive that you had to keep your legs apart.

Steve finally crawled up the bed, his face red and chaffed slightly but he didn’t care, the broadest grins across his face as he settle an arm underneath your head, lying on his side next to yours. Glancing down, you’d notice the wet patch on his underwear from where he had come just from watching you cum.

Bucky remained where he was, lying on your stomach the grip on your arms relaxed now but you didn’t make any attempt to move them, already trying to fight off sleep long enough to say, “I love you both, so much and nothing would ever change that”.

Steve smiled softly against your temple, “we love you too.”

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: eddie takes a drive down memory lane, a situationship is revealed, clove finds herself in some harrowing situations in a feeble attempt to cope with eddie’s return.

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark! fic, dark themes, ddlg type of relationship but not what you would think, controlling behavior in a relationship, controlling finances type of abuse, narcissist behavior, emotional abuse, hint at sex trafficking/ trading sex for business 18+. drug use/addiction etc.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

That night Eddie didn’t sleep. 

He watched your figure bounce to what he assumed was the dressing room as he sat in solemn silence for what felt like a decade, your eyes engraved into his. 

Jeff understood, or rather wasn’t too upset when Eddie called it a night, dropping off the beers you had poured. He was preoccupied with one of the girls, twirling her pigtails as she sat in his lap, crimson lip stains on his deep cheeks. 

The sweet dew of spring night air met him as he pushed the door to the club open, letting the night’s darkness swallow him as he crunched through the gravel to his motorcycle. 

Turning the opposite direction from where he should have been heading, Eddie cranks the handlebars to head downtown. The lonely hotel mattress could wait another hour before he slipped his body into the pilling worn sheets. 

The steady rap of his bike hammered into his chest as he drove down the broken unwelcoming streets of Hawkins. Down town was desolate, the Radio shack was boarded up and closed, graffiti tagged and windows shattered. Melvald’s windows showed handwritten posters for heavily discounted items. Newspapers tumbled along and caught on light poles, Hawkins resembled a town post apocalypse. 

He couldn’t remember what it used to look like. 

Back then his biggest worry was leaving and taking you with him. For all he knew, Hawkins could have always looked like this. Getting you away from here, that was the only thing on his mind. 

Pushing the thoughts away he cranked the throttle and sped through the streets, unconsciously driving further, his memory taking over. 

He drove past Hawkins High, vague memories formed like wisps of smoke around the parking lot. A younger version of him and you sitting in his van listening to his new Motörhead cassette before Higgins would eventually stroll the parking lot and hand out each of you detentions. 

Hawkins Middle School where he doodled in the margins of his composition book and passed you notes about Mr. Walter’s toupee. Your giggle hidden behind chipped fingernails and a fresh tattoo, eyes squeezed tight to stop from laughing. The memory burned a hole in his heart.

The familiarity drove him on, leading the path down to where you and him used to call home. 

The dust kicked up when his tires wove around the gaping holes of the driveway to Forest Hills Trailer Park. His chest was tight, all air punched from his lungs at what lay before him. 

The trailer he once called home was standing like a decrepit omen. The tires it rested on were flat, wires bulging from the rotting rubber. The entire trailer had sunk into the soft earth beneath it, creating a funhouse effect to the back side, putting it on a tilt. 

The windows that weren’t busted out by rocks were covered with foil, a cheap attempt to keep the sun out. 

What was left of the aluminum siding glistened in the moonlight, taunting him. 

From the way the door stood wide open, and the accumulation of last falls foliage littering the entryway, he guessed that no one lived here anymore—save for the fat mice that kept the trailer cats fed. 

Years of decay and neglect replaced any sort of nostalgia he would have felt being back here. The bad memories came easy, it was the happy ones that he had to dig for. 

Glancing behind him he didn’t notice it at first. The frail frame of a burnt trailer. The roof was swallowed in on itself, charred and soot surrounding the dead grass. Whatever caused this fire had taken the trailer fast, engulfing its matchbox body like kindling. 

His one tiny flicker of hope that maybe you still lived here, maybe he could catch you when you weren’t working, was put out like this fire surely wasn’t. 

Ghost flames danced in his eyes as he blinked back tears. The agony of years away filled him with grief. He didn’t grieve for his loss. He had no reason to. Al Munson was the last person he needed closure from. He hoped for his death. Wished for it. Hoping that some inner dimensional being would crush him like a coke can. But he’d never get that lucky. 

People like his dad, and yours, seemed to live forever. Cockroach luck with bodies that were pickled by alcoholism— they’d roam until they saw ninety, tainting everyone they got close to, poisoning their veins and stealing their dreams.

As he rode away, tears spilled down his face, not for him and his misfortunes. But for you. A little girl lost. A girl he had failed. 

—

1974

ping, clink

You could hear the radio through his bedroom window, the new * tape he had bought  crooning out in muffled tones. 

clink, ping, clink

“c’mon!” you muttered under your breath. The rough cinder block you were balancing on was starting to dig into your bare feet, jagged rocks and concrete stuck out every which way. 

She hadn’t come back. 

Hours had passed and she said she was going to the store with the baby, getting some milk and cigarettes. You watched as the short hand on the clock moved from 3 then 4, 5 to 6, and now it was at 11, moving closer to 12 with each tick that went by. 

Dad wasn’t home, spending the night with friends in Indianapolis looking for “fresh meat” whatever that meant. 

You were left home alone. Not a first time occurrence, but definitely not on a night when the wind was howling like a wolf. 

The trailer groaned, shadows appeared in all shapes over your shared empty room. Scary faces with pointy teeth. Long witch-like arms that scratched against the aluminum siding, the air vent whistling against the tin roof had you yelping, hiding beneath your covers. 

When the power went out, it took the tiny brightness from the shell nightlight with it, leaving you in an eerie darkness, and you had enough for one night.  

Eddie’s trailer was one down from yours, a quick 15 second run through the tall weeds would get you there in no time. Tucking the oversized shirt you wore as pajamas into the waistband of a pair of cotton shorts, you opened the trailer door, your blankie tucked safe into the crook of your arm. 

The screen door was ripped from your hand by a large gust of wind, but you couldn’t be bothered with that upon realizing that the entire trailer park was cast into darkness, not a single stitch of light to be seen. 

Your feet found the familiar path from Eddie’s trailer to yours with ease as you raced past the Peterson’s chained up rottweiler. His bark loud enough to scare a grown man into hiding. 

Racing up the front steps you knocked quietly, not wanting to wake up Eddie’s dad and deal with his wrath, his fuse shorter than your own fathers. Wiggling the handle you realized it was locked, which was strange considering that the Munson’s didn’t even own a house key. 

And that was what led you here, knocking on Eddie’s window at 11 o’clock at night, standing on tiptoes on the cinder block used as a step ladder. 

“Eddie!” you whisper yelled into the night, your voice traveling away with the wind, “Eddie! P-please, it’s me!” 

Giving up on silent little knocks of your knuckles against the glass, you hit the window hard with a fist and an open palm, tears flowing down your cheeks in desperation. 

The sheet covering his window that served as a curtain, moved back quickly the same time a round orb of light shined in your eyes. 

His hair was a god awful mess, smushed to his head from sleep, curls limp and frizzy. He mouths your name in a question, tucking the flashlight under his chin, his fingers work to lift the window up the broken track. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, like I was…hey are you okay?”

The tears slip down your face faster than you could stop them, and you wipe them away hastily with the corner of your blankie. 

Eddie moves stuff from his dresser, sliding books into a milk crate and plastic army guys to the floor. 

“Put your foot there,” he instructed, pointing to the siding of the trailer, “like if you were climbing a tree or something.” 

You do as your told, and Eddie leans through the window, grabbing your hands and hoisting you into his room. 

When your feet are on the warm carpet you take a shuddering breath, “thanks, the wind is—”

“Scary, I know, that’s why I have the stereo on… makes it hard to hear it.” 

You stand there for a few seconds, fingers fiddling around the hem of your blankie, embarrassed, not sure what your plans were after making it inside. “Your door’s locked.” 

“Oh, my uncle Wayne is here, he must’ve done it, I dunno.” 

Your face stays puzzled, “your uncle?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie chirps almost gleefully, “Took me to supper and then we went bowling! I’ve met him once or twice, seems cool.” 

“Cool.”

Eddie whispers loud, “Hey! I know some good ghost stories if you wanna have a sleepover?” 

“Um sure, okay.” 

You help Eddie arrange his room, placing the flash light on his bed and angling it towards the closet so he can find an afghan he swore was in there. 

When all was said and done his bed held a thin sheet and a frumpy couch pillow. A smile on his face as you sat side by side, backs pressed into the thin walls.  

Your voice was small when Eddie placed the flashlight under his chin, illuminating his face and casting shadows against the walls, your blankie tucked beneath your nose.  

 “Eddie, I—I changed my mind, don’t wanna hear any scary stories tonight.” 

“Yeah, ’course,” the flashlight falls between you to shine lazily on his dresser, and he hesitates a question that had been burning since you crawled through his window. 

“Clove, where's your mom? Didn’t see her car when we left, or when we got back.” 

Tears squish against your eyelashes as you try to stop them from falling, and your chin quivers. “Th—the store.” 

His voice is soft, “Is your dad home?”

You shake your head, pressing your face into the worn comfort of the thread bared blankie. A hand lays consciously on your back rubbing in a little circle between your shoulder blades. 

Eddie hadn’t had to comfort someone before he wasn’t even sure he was doing it right but he just kept trying. Hoping whatever he was doing would make it better. 

After a few minutes you perked your head up, wiping the wet from your eyes and looking at your friend with swollen eyelids.

“Do you know any happy stories?” 

Eddie’s lips stretched into a small smile as he leaned partly off his bed to find a cream paperback from his nightstand, “The Fellowship Of The Ring” written on the cover. 

He holds it towards you, “Wayne gave me this… I haven’t read it yet but he said it was good.” 

You nod your head, “okay.”

He wiggles his hips down into the blanket, and hands you the flashlight, clearing his throat he begins. 

“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton…..”

—

1989

“…wake up..”  

Bilbo was very rich and very peculiar, and had been the wonder of the Shire for sixty years, ever since his remarkable disappearance and unexpected return. 

“fuck, did you hear me?”

…The riches he had brought back from his travels had now become a local legend, and it was popularly believed, whatever the old folk might say…

The young boy’s reassuring voice morphs into a woman's panicked squeak. The warm arm that was buddied next to yours, the soft lumpy texture of your blankie, the Pert shampoo smell of the percale pillowcase drifted away like smoke from a fire. Traveling higher and higher into the sky until it blended with the atmosphere, weaving and connecting until it was nothing more than a euphoric elevated induced memory. 

You close your eyes to try to find your way back to Eddie. To hear him, see him, feel his voice booming in theatrics as he changed characters. The solace he brought you just by being him. 

A splash of something cold and wet hits your face causing you to gasp, sputtering from the passed out dream land you were in. 

“Oh my God! Shit, Clove! I almost called 9-1-1!” 

Veronica was standing before you with a glass in her hand, water dripping from the mouth of it, falling in unison with the ones from your chin, your hair. 

Her eyes were larger than the moon, staring down at you like she was looking at a ghost, a hand pressed to her chest in relief. 

“Cold,” you muttered, wrapping your fingers around your arms, teeth chattering. Looking out from the confined corner of the cooler, sheltered by cases of beer and an empty keg.  

“What are you even doing in here, thought you left already.” Veronica asked, lending a hand down to help you up. 

“Inventory,” you say motioning around you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and she was being ridiculous for even asking. 

“Oh..” Veronica’s voice goes small, “you looked… dead.”

You chuckle to hide the shake in your voice, straightening your wet shirt. 

“Never heard of throwing water on the dead, but you’re into that weird voodoo shit so it makes sense.” 

Your joke falls flat. 

Her green emerald eyes let on that she's not stupid enough to think that you had just fallen asleep. Her eyes stare back at you and you roll yours, “swear I just got a little tired and sat down for only a minute, haven’t been sleeping much lately.” 

Veronica knew better than to challenge you. She was your friend, and like Jolene had done with you, you’d  taken Veronica in like a school pet, teaching her the do’s and dont’s of the industry. 

“Okay.” she says in defeat, and you lower your shoulders a bit to look relaxed.  “I thought you’d left already, Rick’s looking for you, he’s called twice.”

Shit.

—

Hawkins was quiet this late. And the drive to Rick’s house gave you just enough time to get your shit together. 

Eddie always came to you in your dreams but never that vividly before. It was almost as if it were real. Just two kids, finding solace in one another. 

God you’d give anything to go back to those simple days.

When the solution to being scared was just a few steps from your trailer found between the pages of a paperback book and the heart of a best friend who knew you better than you knew yourself. 

Books were a luxury, an easy way to escape reality when things were worse than they’d ever been. Outside of a car magazine in the bathroom and the black book that held numbers, dates and dollar amounts, your parents didn’t keep anything like that around, not even a cookbook. 

But the fantasies kept you company, kept you safe, and Eddie’s voice was like a lullaby, always keeping you grounded. 

It was simple when your demons weren’t fought alone. The armor Eddie wore then was scuffed and scarred by countless swords, its job of keeping you safe accomplished. 

But the armor was tossed aside and you had to put it on yourself—finding it heavy, digging at your shoulders, metal pinching your skin, bruising your body in places. The armor wasn’t made for you, it was made for him, the gaps between you bared yourself to the danger, and before long— the strength of the armor was challenged, broken down. 

Did he know? That you were defenseless? That the armor didn’t fit you? 

Rick’s house was dark when your headlights shone against the cedar plank siding. Steering wheel cranking to straighten your tires, rocks crushing against the concrete. 

Grabbing the nightly ledger and the tin lock box from the passenger seat, your door swings open with a grinding thud, and clanks back into place when you slam it shut. 

A single table lamp was glowing when you knocked with a tight grip on the front door. A cleared throat and the burning end of a cigar meet you on the porch, lounging in a wicker chaise. 

“I don’t like tardiness young lady.” leaning forward into the moonlight, Rick finally showed his face. 

The breath you were holding goes out in a shudder, but you plant one of your famous smiles on your lips and twist your body towards him, landing softly between his legs on the corner of the lounge chair. 

“I’m hardly younger than you are,” you tease, offering up the deposits like you’re bestowing him a gift. “b’sides, I’m not that late anyway.” 

“Tardiness and back talk?” He questions bitterly, “surely this won’t be a habit for you?” 

Grabbing the tin from you, his cologne burns your nose, a minty scent you’ve always hated. “You have enough little habits the way it is, niñita.” 

His thick fingers rattle a pill bottle out from his pocket, but keep it just out of your reach, as he counts the intake from the night. You waited silently as he thumbed through the large stack of money, looking over the ledger and ensuring that everything was all there and accounted for. 

The girls were allowed to keep their tips from the stage, but anything more than that.. other services that kept the laundromat in business with bedsheets, went to Rick. 

He leans back against the lounger when he’s satisfied,  setting the tin box down and carding fingers through his short brown hair. “Tommy stopped by tonight, had a lot to say about your little attitude problem.” 

fuck, Tommy has had it out for you since high school… but that’s a story for another day. 

“I guess I’m confused on who you think you are, Clove.” 

Cocking an eyebrow you shift your shoulders, “I know who I am.”

“You’re late, mouthing off, do you not remember the things I’ve done for you?” 

Of course you remembered, it wasn’t that long ago when you were made into his. Traded like a baseball card. One good for another. 

“Such a shy little thing when you came to me, but I taught you well bunny..” 

In all the time you had known him, Rick never raised his voice, and he didn’t now. His tone was almost formal, and he spoke with sophistication licked with malice that made your blood run cold. 

“…I-I know.”

His head cocks, and he leans forward, peering down at you. “You forget so easily how your life was before me…” he coos, running a finger along your jaw. “Would you like to go back to that?”

Not answering, Rick continues, “sharing a room with whatever loose pussy your daddy was fuckin’?” 

You shake your head, remembering countless times how your stuff would be ransacked with each new “talent” that had the misfortune of crossing paths with your old man. 

“Fending for yourself and your sister for weeks on end?” 

His fingers dig into the skin on your neck, pressing harder with each reminder, and you suck a breath through your teeth.

“Crying yourself to sleep hoping your whore mama would come back home…” his voice drops an octave and he whispers into your ear, the heat of his words itching your skin, “..or maybe you’re still waiting for that Munson loser to show up?” 

“Quit it,” the tears were welling in your eyes now.

“Aww, did I strike a nerve?” he holds your cheek, “that deal was the best thing to ever happen to you, but I'm afraid you’re starting to forget who you belong to.” 

“I’m not,” you blink, “I promise.” 

Rick’s eyes watch as the tear travels down your cheek.

“Maybe you have too much freedom, living in the apartment complex with the other girls?… Do you need to come back here? Have me treat you like you’re insubordinate and reckless?”

“N-no, plea—”

“Then why do I have to listen to that inbred spit complaints about you? Do you think I want people coming to my home?”

You shake your head, fingers working the hem of your skirt. He hooks a finger under your chin, making you look up at him.

“I thought my expectations were clear… or am I deceived?” 

Rick liked power, he got off on the idea of submissive relationships. Dominating weak and frail women was his main job, drug smuggling was a hobby. You’d been playing his game for years now, and you knew what he wanted to hear. 

Your hand skirts up his thigh and rests daintily, “I’m sorry, I understand my place…always have.”

Like any other dick driven man, Rick was easy to please. 

“Good,” his lips close around yours and your stomach rolls, the sickly sweet cigar he was smoking lingered and surrounded you in a clutch you couldn’t get away from. 

“Stay tonight,” a command not a question, “my flight leaves in the morning.” 

Looking in the window you notice his house is still dark, “what about Karen?” 

Rick places his hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the front door, “she's with her husband tonight, graduation party.” 

The pills rattle in his robe pocket, and the sound of them sets your teeth on edge, aching for the high. Rick’s hand engulfs the knob and he swings the door handle open, holding up a baggie filled with white powder, “what do you think little rabbit?” 

—

The highway was anything but quiet behind the rickety bricks of the motel walls. Semi engines braked loudly adjusting to the sudden speed limit change, teenagers squealing their tires out of town to impress their girlfriends. 

It was a mistake going to Forest Hills, what did he expect would come from it? You haunted him wherever he went, but being back home was a deeper kind of pain he hadn’t felt in years. 

A cricket played a lonely song in the corner of the outdated room, teasing him by being just out of reach, hidden away.

Watermarked ceiling tiles and a countless number of sheep later, the clock still hadn’t seemed to move. His eyelids showed him your face, the horror of realization when you recognized who he was. 

Pillow pressed into his eyes he couldn’t see anything else, and maybe he didn’t want to. 

He laid there motionless, bare chested in the chilled room, air conditioner broken on the coolest setting. Regret looming around him. 

Back then it was life or death. He didn’t have a choice, he wondered if you ever figured that out. He couldn’t tell you that then… probably not even now. 

He was a coward then. 

Sitting up he tossed the pillow across the room, folding his knees up to rest his forearms against them. Sleep wouldn’t come, not when your eyes were playing in his head whether he was awake or asleep. 

Your face. 

Something else was written between your brow when you saw him tonight, just a small flicker, a ripple to your eyes, but it was there— plain as day. 

Fear. 

—-

Rick had passed out next to you, his naked body slung over yours in some lame attempt of cuddling. You didn’t know how many lines you had done, or the number of shots you took, before stumbling in here. 

Didn’t remember the lick of his tongue in your mouth, the feel of his hands on your curves, your was body numb from the drugs and to him. All you remember is right now, waking in a puddle of tears, the taste of blood on your lips, your nose full of it. 

Peeling Rick’s limp form from you, you make for the bathroom connected to his master bedroom. Your reflection was horrific. blood dripped from your nostrils and coated your teeth, eyeliner dragged down your face like a halloween mask gone wrong. Your body, stark naked except for a purpling hickey on your collar bone, and white residue between your cleavage. 

You look away in disgust, hatred for the eyes that stared back from the mirror.  

It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up like this. Having spent the better half of every night for the last seven years the same way. Reaching for his hand, watching him slip through your fingers. Voice hoarse from crying, yelling, screaming his name. 

Reaching for the plush hand towel Karen kept, you plop it into the sink and turn the faucet to hot, wetting it completely. 

“So I'm a stranger now huh?” 

Eddie’s words from early stuck with you long after you had left. Eddie fucking Munson. Seven years…No high or amount of time could ever make you forget his face. 

The pain was always there. You were only able to paint over it with each new high you could conjure. But no matter the number of brush strokes, no matter the opaqueness of the paint color, Eddie always showed through. Like a ghost in the background of a photo. 

The sink was nearly overflowing before you pulled the towel covering the drain, wringing the scalding water from it as you sat on the toilet lid and draped it over your face. The heated temperature having your skin raw and burning, a welcomed kind of pain.

Seven years and here he was, waltzing back into town like he hadn’t left you in shambles. Although him being back brought forth memories you wished would stop, seeing him alive and in the flesh settled a sore in your soul. 

It also dug up anger. And under the wet towel you saw red. 

Answers. That’s what you needed from him. You were just a kid then, you couldn’t understand, and maybe you still didn’t want to know why. But you craved to know, your mind gnawing at your skull to make sense of why he would decide to leave. 

You had adapted to your surroundings, learned how to survive. He couldn’t. He was weak and spineless, that’s what everyone had said, and after a while you believed it too.

Stronger than Eddie Munson had ever been, you kept going. Living this god forsaken life because you didn’t have a choice. 

You had your own place, a cute little two bedroom apartment. One you decorated to your liking. You had a job that paid your bills. You had someone that loved…someone that took care of you in ways you didn’t know were possible. 

You were different, and so was he. What did he have? Nothing. No one.

The towel dripped water onto your bare thighs, and you concentrated on that little tick rhythm until it picked up, sending water down in almost a wave. 

Maybe that’s how he wanted his life to be, maybe that was why he left in the first place. Maybe you were standing in his way the whole time like a roadblock.

You didn’t realize the heave of your chest, how your breathing was uneven and shallow, choking off. 

Then you heard it. The gut wrenching sobs coming from yourself. 

It didn’t work anymore. Quite frankly you wondered if it ever had. 

Pretending Eddie was an asshole and that you were better without him was the only way for you to deal with him leaving in ‘82. 

The lies you continued to tell yourself about Eddie were falling flat. Your brain could be fooled, but the space he lived in your chest couldn’t be coerced that easily. He was inescapable, nightmares or not, you yearned for the hours when he would visit you. 

In your dreams he was real. Still in Hawkins. 

Your sobs turned hysteric. Lungs burning with no reprieve as you felt the same loss and emptiness that burrowed in your chest seven years ago. 

Why? How could he leave without you? 

The towel fell with a slap to the floor. Your body slinked alongside it like a doll falling from a child’s fist. Hugging your naked body, you wept on the cold tile for an unknown amount of time. It wasn’t until dawn broke through the window and Rick’s alarm clock went off that your cheeks were finally dry. 

taglist: @mmunson86 @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @tlclick73 @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @chrrymunson @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @mopeymopeymouse @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @corrodedcoffincumslut @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @littledemondani @eiightysixbaby @usedtobecooler

[justmeinatree]

Cocaine, Side Boob, …

Summary : harry wants to go to the beach. and there’s cocaine.

TW : smut, drugs, choking

Word Count : 2k

A/N : WTF YALL okay, i’ve been writing for literally years, i have so so many blurbs and some fully finished multi chaptered fics. i finally feel like i want to share some with you, so please be gentle !!! ✌️ also, i absolutely suck at endings dont come at me

“are we there yet ?” you grumble, stretching your neck. 

“keep driving,” harry mumbles, concentrated on the small tray he found god knows where in this van, tapping a bit of the white powder onto it.

“harrrryyyyy,” you whine. “i’ve been driving for hours. when you said you needed a break, i didn’t think you were gonna be snorting coke in my face.”

“would this make it better ?” he asks, large dimple-showing smile as his finger extends towards you, a small bit of powder on the tip.

“yes, yes it would. thank you honey,” you hum, inhaling the little bit of snowey white off his finger.

the year was 1968, you were with your boyfriend, harry, driving off to the beach. it sounded like a great idea when harry presented it to you this morning, all just “lets take off to the beach for the day, s’gonna be fun !”

and in retrospect, the fact that you lived absolutely nowhere near the beach would have been your first clue that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. but you were smoking your morning joint with him when he asked and well here you are. you’ve been holed up in harry’s van for the better part of the last 7 hours and the beach better be fuckin close.

“want more,” you hum, nodding towards his little tray, feeling your body relax a bit, the knots in your neck and shoulders seemingly not as bad.

“you’re driving,” harry looks at you incredulously. “can’t have my sweetie cakes crashing my van because she’s high on cocaine.”

“shoulda thought of that before tricking me into the longest stretch of driving so that you could get fucked up,” you scold him playfully, dipping your finger in the powder to sniff it yourself. “besides, i can see the water, if i crash now, at least the beach is walking distance.”

harry rolls his eyes at that, letting you be and watching you visibly relax the more substance you take. he gets cozy in his seat, just wearing an old pair of tattered and ripped light wash jean shorts and a bandana wrapped up on his head, keeping the stray flyaways out of his eyes.

his head rolls over to look at you, eyes raking over your body as the high has definitely hit him. his entire body feels like it’s floating. he notices the tan on your legs from the lengthy summer days spent enjoying the sun. you were also in ripped light wash jean shorts, albeit yours significantly shorter than harry’s.

his eyes continue their trail up your body, fingers reaching out to smooth his fingertips over your arm, sending a zap of electricity through his fingers. harry loves the effect you have on him. loves it even more when he’s high out of his brains, makes everything move slower, more intense. everything feels so much more too.

harry watches you stretch, your arm high above your head, hand gripping the awful orange shag carpet that lined the entire interior of the van. it may have been 1968, but even then, you find this van just awful. and harry knows it, loves teasing you about it.

it’s what harry notices next that makes him want to park this van right here, even if he can literally see the entranceway to the beach. your tanktop had ridden up, your stomach poking out the bottom and he wants to reach out for you so bad.

but as his eyes rake up towards your face, they settle on the view you’ve unknowingly given him. you obviously chose to forego a bra this morning, the arm hole on your loose tanktop having ridden a bit forward as you’re stretching and harry’s staring right at the swell of your breast, full side boob on complete display for harry’s hungry eyes. 

this time, he really can’t resist you even if he tried. the fogginess from the drugs on his brain making him lurch towards you, his teeth sinking into your soft skin, making you flinch.

“hey !” you scold playfully, giggling as you swat at his head. “m’trying to park this monstrosity of a vehicle and you’re biting my boob.”

“but look at it,” harry groans, and you can hear in his voice how gone he is. “s’calling my name, listen,” he adds in a hushed voice. “harry, harry, bite me,” he giggles, unable to even finish his own joke.

you roll your eyes at him, finding a good spot on the sand to park the van. you reach over for harry’s little tray, inhaling back one of the lines he’s already created. you feel like you need to catch up, watching him in that fuzzy, giggly phase and wanting nothing more than to join him in the basking glow of drugs.

“can i do something while you’re snorting that ?” harry asks, making you nod as he urges you to switch seats with him, getting cozy in the passenger seat as harry takes over the steering wheel, turning the van around so the back of the van faces the water.

“c’mon, not gonna stay holed up in the front,” he hums, nodding his head towards the back of the van, both of you climbing over the seats to open up the back doors.

the warm blast of beachy wind hits you both as the doors are swung open, the saltiness to the air invading your senses. by the time you were pulled up at the beach, the sun was already sitting low in the sky, sure to set within the next hour or two.

“so, you dragged us all the way here,” you giggle accusingly, absolutely no malice to your voice. “what do you wanna do first ?”

without a second thought, harry replies “you. m’so fuckin hard for you lovie.”

you know it’s the drugs talking, takes a lot more than a peak of side boob to get harry going that much, but the cocaine is hitting you both like a ton of bricks, the hot air making you feel the high even more, if at all possible. and now the more you think about it, the more the idea of harry’s hard cock splitting you open is probably the best offer you’ve had all day. 

his hand is roaming your side, slipped under your tanktop to feel your skin, as his mouth attaches itself to your neck, sucking soft kisses. 

you hum, nodding, unable to turn down the offer, your body feeling all of his touches so much more with the drugs fuzzing your brain. you register harry’s hands tugging on you to come straddle his thighs, which you do, quickly, wanting to feel his mouth on yours. 

his kisses are eager, full of clashing teeth and tongue swipes, hands buried into your hair to hold you as close as possible. you get completely lost in the kiss, unsure how long it’s been as your hips roll down on his throbbing cock.

you both moan loudly into each other’s mouths, the buzz in your body making that the most delicious bit of friction. you feel harry’s blunt nails digging into your skin, a small whimper coming from your throat.

his hands smooth over the crescent indents of his nails, mumbling an apology, “felt so good lovie, m’sorry. want more though, can you get up for me ?”

you stand between his legs and take note of how intense everything feels. the warm salty air, the taste of harry’s mouth lingering on your tongue, the golden hue of the impending sunset hitting the inside of the van, including harry’s face. the tingling static you feel all over your skin. and how harry’s hands have unbuttoned your jeans, slipping them down your legs.

“christ lovie, no underwear at all today, hmm?” he asks as his eyes make contact with your bare cunt, a strand of arousal still connected to your shorts as he pulls them down.

“s’the beach,” you shrug, too buzzed out to feel any embarrassment, knowing he loves it anyway.

“remind me to bring you to the beach more often then,” he hum, smiling at you cheekily, his hands coming back to rest on your hips. “turn around for me sweetheart, dont want you to miss the view,” he murmurs as he’s turning you around, bringing you back into his lap.

harry’s got your legs spread wide, on either side of his, your back pressed to his chest as he kisses your neck again, sucking soft bruises. his hands roam your inner thighs and you feel like complete jelly. you’re slumped back towards him, one hand reaching over to tangle into the back of his hair as a way to anchor yourself.

his hand grips his rock hard cock, lining himself up with you, thrusting upwards. the intrusion of his member making your head lull back onto his shoulder, giving you the opportunity to ravage at his neck.

you’re both so high and so sensitive, your impending orgasms are already approaching the more harry ruts his hips into yours. one hand comes down to rub at your clit, your head rolling forward again as you whimper.

“been so worked up lovie, m’not gonna last,” and you can hear the pain in harry’s voice, his body trying hard to fight off the orgasm that’s quickly approaching.

the sun is starting to set over the water, the last bits of warmth being felt on your skin as his other hand, the one not working your bundle of nerves, makes its way around your neck.

you groan loudly, harry’s fingers wrapping around your throat, “cum for me baby, need to feel you.”

that’s all it takes for the burning coil in the pit of your stomach to snap. your body trembling as your orgasm rips through you, harry’s hand tightening momentarily around your neck as his cock starts spurting thick white ribbons inside you.

you gasp for breath as he lets go of your throat, his hand gliding down your chest, slipping under your tanktop to keep feeling your skin. “so good lovie, so soft,” he hums slightly incoherently, his brain completely foggy. 

“fuck harry,” you mumble, leaning your head back against his shoulder to kiss his jaw. “can bring me to the beach any time.”

harry laughs against your shoulder, gripping into your hips to lift you off of him, a shudder making your body tremble as your pussy now clenches around nothing. you start to take note of the cooler air now that the sun is just dipping past the horizon.

“getting cold ?” harry hums, reaching behind himself to grip a knitted sweater and pull it up to cover you.

“thanks honey,” you smile, cuddling into him and the sweater, watching the pink hues in the sky. you take a moment to thank whatever force is on your side, the beach completely void of any other humans. you weren’t sure you’d really wanted a family walking by and seeing that.

“can we stay here tonight ?” you ask harry quietly. “would love to be able to get some sun, go in the water.”

“‘course,” harry nods against your neck, smiling as an idea pops into his mind. “dont have to wait for tomorrow to go in the water though.” he smirks at you, getting out of the van and dropping his shorts, running off into the water.

the sight of a naked harry running off into the water making you laugh loudly, shrugging his sweater off, along with your tanktop and running off after him towards the water. 

harry catches you in his arms when you’re both about waist deep in the water, lifting you and twirling you around. “love you so much sweetheart, no one i’d rather be here with.”

your heart bursts hearing him, moments like this burned on your brain. harry loves taking little soft moments with you to drop some of the sweetest things your ears have ever been blessed to hear.

you peck his lips, sucking softly on his bottom one, “never been so happy with anyone in my life.”

Part 2

……

masterlist

any and all feedback is welcomed. i hope everyone enjoyed ! i’ll post more blurbs soon ✌️

[dumbslxtclub]

just a taste | e.m - part one

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: a summer pool party at the harrington residence emboldens you to make a move on eddie

content warnings: fem!reader, 18+ for eventual smut, adult language, adult themes, mentions of underage drinking and drugs, reader is 19, brief mention of male masturbation, sexual tension

word count: 2.4k+

a/n: this has been living in my drafts for far too long, so I'm posting it as motivation to actually write the *smut*. big love to @dickfics69 for helping me with this one xx

The raucous and completely off-tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ fills the balmy night air, undoubtedly disturbing the sleepy neighbors surrounding Steve’s property. Hoards of your senior classmates crowd the backyard, beer sloshing against concrete as they jauntily sing at the top of their lungs, hoarse from an evening of inhaling far too much smoke. A forgotten bonfire crackles in the corner, one or two figures passed out in the warm glow. Sweat clings to your skin, the thin material of your summer dress far too claustrophobic in the sweltering heat of the night. No reprieve from this warmth is granted as Robin’s arm wrap around your shoulders, practically blowing out your eardrum from the volume she’s singing. One of those ecstatic inebriated moments of youth, surrounded by people you’ll never see again after graduation, living for today. A perfect night. There’s only one thing missing.

You’ve been eyeing Eddie all night. Liquid courage has fueled your interactions, boldly brushing against the sinewy muscles of his bare arm, complimenting the scratchy tattoo job adorning his forearm. Nothing out of the ordinary, the pair of you close friends who have spent many a night leaning on one another as another movie flashes across the TV screen. But tonight, you feel emboldened to make a move. You’ve tried, and failed, to rationalize your attraction to one of your best friends. His charismatic nature causes anyone who gives him the time of day to fall under his spell, with Eddie remaining blissfully oblivious to his effect on people. Over the years, you’ve watched him transform from a meek boy into, well, a man. Unaware of how he’s grown into his body, lean muscles built from endless nights of loading band equipment into his van. Trading in his buzz cut for an unkempt mane of curls, which somehow always seem to fall into an effortless frame around the sharp bone structure of his face. What has always remained, however, is that boyish smile. Dimples hollowing deep into his cheekbones, causing you to trip over your words whenever they’re flashed in your direction. God, you’re in deep.

With a deep huff, Steve blows out the two pathetic candles Nancy pulled out of the bottom drawer and stuck haphazardly into the thick icing at the last moment. A loud cheer booms from the crowd, sending their drinks skywards in celebration.

“To Steve!” Robin practically screams, sloshing a fair amount of her cider down your already damp chest. 

“To me!” The birthday boy, grinning madly, tips his head back and empties the contents of his lukewarm beer down his gullet. He’s long since discarded his shirt, proclaiming “it’s my house and I’ll do what I want”, leaving nothing to stain as a steady trickle of liquid slides down his bare chest. 

The party is at its peak, electricity coursing through the night as unsupervised teenagers give into their impulses. Couples stand devouring each other in the corner with little regard as to who’s watching, some of the jock’s cannonballing into the pool. The brush of bodies around you clear, illuminating Eddie giving Steve a hearty hug and firm pat on the back. Now’s your chance. 

Shrugging Robin off your shoulders, you grab her wrist and lead her over to the pair, ready to cash in on her promise of playing wing-woman for you tonight. 

“Great party, Steve.” Addressing the younger man, you watch as he pulls a candle out and licks the icing off the base.

“Would you expect anything less?” He quips back, a cheeky smile taking over his face before he wraps a sweaty arm around your shoulders.

“I’ll expect you’re in for an ass-kicking when your parents get back on Monday.” Robin chimes in, clinging to you like a buoy for support.

“Pfft, cleaning up is tomorrow’s problem. We live for tonight!” Wow, Steve is sure getting into the spirit tonight. Eddie shakes his head at his friend’s antics, turning his attention to the sickly-sweet dessert.

“Want me to slice this up, big boy?” Ringed fingers slide along the skirting of the plate, but his eyes are elsewhere. You feel his gaze raking up the expanse of your thighs, oblivious to how your dress has ridden up amidst the sweaty excitement of the evening.

“Sure, could only help to soak up the alcohol at this point. I’ll grab a knife from the kitchen.” Stumbling backwards, he shoots a half-lidded look in Robin’s direction. “And where did you put my beers? Thought you said they were in the fridge.”

“They are, dingus. On the bottom shelf next to the lump that was probably once cheese but now could be studied for science.” 

“They’re actually not. And if someone stole them, they’re gonna have hell to pay.” “Oh my god! They are…” Their bickering trails off through the sliding doors into the house, leaving you and Eddie alone. Time for some world-class flirting, brain flicking through the Rolodex of teen magazines on how to make a move. But before your brain is capable of firing any neurons, Eddie beats you to the punch.

“The uh- the cake looks good.” Oh great, we’re going down the small talk route. It’s cool, totally cool. You can work with that.

“Oh, thanks! Robin and I baked it yesterday.” Off to a cracking start.

“Well, if you had anything to do with it, I bet it tastes as good as it looks.” Is he-

“Sure does, I’m a master baker. Go ahead, try it for yourself, see if your theory holds up.”

Eddie quirks his brow at you, and you give a small nod in the direction of the frosting-covered mound. A small smile creeps across his face as he dips his forefinger into the lip of the cake, a glob of white icing and sprinkles stuck to his fingertip. Raising it to his mouth, he slowly places the pad of his finger against his tongue, licking a long stripe of sugary cream onto his taste buds. You feel your cheeks burn at the sight, breath hitching in your throat. 

“Mmm, ‘ts good.” Satiated, Eddie’s lips curl into a smug smile, is he getting a rise out of seeing you like this? Masochist. But you’re nothing if not competitive. 

“You’ve uh, got something…” Pointing to the corner of your mouth, Eddie mirrors your action and wipes a small dollop of remaining frosting stuck to the apex of his lips. Pulling his hand back to study it, you take a sure step towards him, closing the gap. Wrapping your fingers around his, you bring the digit up to your lips and place his fingertip against the groove of your tongue. Lips curl around his finger, causing his eyes to widen. You know exactly how you look right now, grateful for the veil provided by the inebriated guests to prevent this gesture from being seen by anyone other than Eddie. Glancing up at him, you hollow your cheeks out slightly as you withdraw his finger from your pursed lips. You shoot him a honey-sweet smile, turning on your heels to find Robin.

“Yep, definitely tastes as good as it looks.”

After three bottom-shelf tequila shots, two generous slices of cake and one group rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody later, you’re feeling on top of the world.

And hot.

Like, stiflingly hot.

The living room is stuffy, thick with haze and balmy humidity. The party has begun to wind down, designated drivers loading up their cars with the inebriated to transport them home. And you, Robin and Steve are sweaty messes post-Queen performance doubling over with laughter on the dance floor. That’s when Steve loudly announces: “Everyone in the pool!”

He’s met with a mixed reaction, a few of the popular girls shooting him a dirty look as they resume their couch gossip session. But with your dress now acting as a sweat rag rather than a garment at this point, you jump at the idea. The three of you beeline into the mostly empty backyard, bar a few smokers lounging around on Steve’s deck chairs.

“Here comes trouble.” A voice chuckles through the billowing smoke, Eddie leaning forward on a recliner as you kick your shoes off haphazardly to the side. 

Steve, with little to discard besides his jeans, shucks them off and cannonballs into the pool, spraying the partygoers scattered around the rim with water. Robin quickly follows suit, diving in next to him, maroon tank top turning a shade darker as it intermingles with the liquid. You chuckle at how they immediately take to dunking one another under the surface, hoping an accidental drowning isn’t on the cards for the night. You turn to Eddie, who is shaking his head and taking a steady drag of his cigarette.

“You coming in?” He glances up at you, expression dropping slightly as he contemplates his answer.

“Nah, someone’s gotta play lifeguard tonight. Make sure Harrington doesn’t drown.”

“Suit yourself, then.” Grabbing the hem of your floral dress, you’re quick to shimmy it up and over your head. The cool breeze hits your clammy skin, providing the immediate relief you’ve been craving all night. Tossing it carelessly to the side, you feel soberingly exposed all of a sudden. Standing on the edge of the pool, water droplets tickle your bare feet as your friends splash about. Cool air caresses the groove between your breasts, intermingling with the sweat droplets accumulating between your lacy bra. The unlined cups provide further relief, a mere suggestion of material against your sensitive skin. On one of the rare occasions you elected to wear a matching set, you’re grateful for the cheeky cut design of your panties, allowing more airflow to cool down your body.

In your slightly drunken indulgence, you don’t notice Eddie unable to tear his eyes away from you. Drinking in your curves far more eagerly than any whiskey he’s consumed that night, committing every square inch to memory. Face to face with the body he’s only ever envisioned in his most private of moments, desperately trying to fill in the blanks as he stroked languidly along his cock, chasing the release only you can grant him. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it. You’ve become his guilty pleasure, the only satisfying image in his mind’s eye. And now, standing in front of him, it’s better than he ever could have imagined. He’s still running off the high granted from the sensation of your lips wrapped around his finger. So warm and soft, your wet tongue flicking against the pad of his finger, sending shockwaves coursing through his body. Grateful for your swift departure, before you had the chance to notice the tightening bulge in his jeans. Blood rushed directly to his crotch, rendering him slightly dizzy from the whole interaction. Fuck drugs and alcohol. He was completely intoxicated by you. 

“Dude, help me out!” Robin extends her wet hand out to you, hair completely drenched from her underwater battle with Steve. With a smile, you reach out to your friend, grasping her hand in yours. With a swift tug, Robin’s grin is manic as she pulls out into the pool with a squeal. Water crashed around you, submerging you in a tepid ocean of relief. Bobbing back up to the surface, you feign annoyance before bursting into laughter. “God, you’re too easy sometimes!”

Stevel, floating on his back, looks unbelievably content gazing up at the night’s sky, another successful party in the books. Robin takes to doing laps of the pool, using up any excess energy she’s accumulated through the night. And you can’t help but notice the outlier, still sitting in the poolside lounge. You wade over to the edge, looking up at Eddie.

“It’s nice in here.”

“I’m sure it is.” Taking another drag of his cigarette, he shoots you a small smile. It’s sheepish, unlike him. 

“Didn’t bring your bathing suit?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“I can see that.” Eddie chuckles, respectfully averting his gaze.

“Can I have a quick drag?” You don’t usually smoke, but when in Rome. Eddie obliges, holding the butt of the cigarette out to you, just out of reach. Pressing up on the pool’s ledge, you hoist yourself up high enough out of the water to lean over and take the cigarette between your lips.

What you fail to notice is the way your breasts are pressed together, hands hip distance apart on the rough cement to just enough to accentuate the groove of your bust. Water droplets accumulated on your delicate skin, glimmering like the impending Autumn dew on grass under the moonlight. Ancient Greek artists could only hope to carve such a divine sculpture, striving for unattainable perfection as they tried to capture your beauty. And then, through the wisps of your lashes, you look up at him. Doe-eyed, cigarette perched between your parted lips, gaze boring into him. And Eddie feels the ground fail beneath him, no longer providing unconditional support. Head growing light as his blood rushes elsewhere in his body causes him to quickly clamber to his feet.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m just, um- not feeling great. Just gonna head inside for a bit.” And with that, Eddie averts his gaze and beelines for the sliding doors, disappearing into the house. 

Fuck. 

So much for playing it cool, it looks like tonight isn’t your night.

“Is Munson okay?” Steve floats over to your side, plucking the cigarette from your mouth to claim it as his own. 

“I don’t know, he said he wasn’t feeling well. Should someone check on him?”

“Nah, probably just smoked too much. I’m sure he'll just grab some water and settle down.”

You hope Steve is right, but five minutes turns to ten, and you begin to worry. What if he’s passed out in the bathroom? You need to go and see if he’s okay, he would do the same for you. Pulling yourself out of the water, you ring the remaining chlorinated water from your hair. In your drunken excitement, none of you possessed the foresight to bring towels out with you. And so, you concede to pulling your floral dress back onto your damp frame, sure Steve will let you borrow some of his clothes later on. Trailing water droplets into the carpeted living room, you peak around for any sight of Eddie. With no one left in the kitchen besides a couple shoving their tongues down each other's throats, you elect to head up the stairs. The bathroom is empty, as is the master bedroom, both doors ajar and rooms dark. 

“Eddie?” You approach Steve’s bedroom door, noticing the light seeping out from under the threshold. Hand meeting the door handle, you give it a shake and notice that it is unlocked. Tentatively pushing it open, you remain quiet in case a poor drunk girl is napping on the bed, not wanting to wake potential inhabitants.

The image you are instead presented with is far less innocent.

[sdr2lovemail]

Diggers accidentally drugs himself because he refuses to clean his van. (GN Reader)

Synopsis: Diggers gets coated in his own bubble solution and seeks you out in his high haze.

Notes: Before I got to requests I wanted to get a feel for writing the Reverse 1999 universe. I love this stupid white boy and his magic bubbles. I also love making headcanons from one off lines. Take a shot every time I say 'solution'!

Requests are open!

The sound of banging metal rings sharp in Diggers’ ears as someone knocks on the door of his van. The door slides open, and the arcanist shines with a bright grin upon seeing you. With relaxed arms, he brings you into a hug. Your face is pressed against him while his hair tickles against your face. 

“Baby, what’re you doing ‘round here?” He smelled like citrus and something more earthy. Despite his lanky frame, his body ran pretty warm. “If I knew you were coming, I woulda cleaned up a little.”

The messy disaster that was his van wasn’t anything new. Records stacked in piles, his guitar lying haphazardly on the ground, and many jars and buckets to make bubble solution. It was a miracle that he could move around without hurting himself. 

“Well, maybe if you had a telephone, I could tell you when I’m coming over.” You chided as he guided you to a bean bag in the corner. 

Diggers let out a huff. “Telephones blind us from our real-world connections. We forget the importance of face-to-face conversation when tethered to machines.” He rants while looking through scattered jars.

“That’s a lot of words to say you can’t afford one.” You teased, watching him move around the cramped area.

Finding the specific glowing liquid he was searching for, Diggers turned back towards you. “The dependency of consumerist behaviors will be the topic of another day. Right now, I have to show you my latest creation of inspiration.” In front of him was a bright pink jar of solution.

The bubble-blowing arcanist loved showing you his art. When he would be making different creations, you would always be in a part of his mind. Love is a form of art, and he strived to make beautiful works with you, to live together in a peaceful utopia where creativity flourished.

“This is my latest solution! With this, I can-!” He’s abruptly cut off as his foot catches on the strap of his guitar. He tumbles back, and the jar slips from his hands. The sour-smelling liquid spills over his body, leaving him with a bubbly sheen. “Ah! Bullocks! Maybe it won’t kick in…” His speech started to slur in an act of cruel irony. 

After spending so much time with Diggers, you’ve learned how to counter his bubbles. There have been too many incidents of you getting caught in the crossfire and blacking out, leaving you with no memory of what happened. You pull out a face mask infused with your arcane magic from your pocket. It was a simple and effective way to deter his hallucinogenic solutions. 

You help him sit up, brushing the soapy hair out of his face. His eyes were unfocused and hazy, and his pupils were blown wide, nearly swallowing the green iris. “Diggers, are you alright?”

The sound of your voice draws his attention more than your touch. “Ugghhh… My muse, your voice is a gift from beyond. A true work of art. I would carve it into a record if I could.” He rambles on in a haze. Leaning further into your touch, Diggers slumps against your body, pressing his shiny cheek onto your shoulder. The position is pretty awkward, but he is content.

“My reverie… my perfect reverie. As long as you’re with me, peace will surround me.” With two fingers, the arcanist makes a peace sign, holding it out to you.

Mimicking the sign, you press your middle and pointer fingers into his. It was an affectionate gesture that Diggers came to you with. You don’t fully remember when and why he started doing it, but it was sweet. It was something so charming and uniquely Diggers like. 

Taking your hand fully in his, Diggers lets out another groan. “There might be too many crystalized herbs in this solution… My head won’t stop spinning.”

“Please don’t throw up on me.” You spoke bluntly. It wouldn’t be the first, and probably not the last, time it’s happened. Your partner had a rather sensitive stomach. 

“I’m trying my best not to.” Feeling that sitting up was too much of a chore, Diggers slumps over further until his head is on your lap. With him looking up at you, you could see his eyes were less cloudy and more focused. The soap bubbles must be starting to wear off now.

“You look positively inspiring at this angle. I should save up money for a camera. Then you’ll be by my side all the time. Hm, is there anywhere to get film developed nearby?” Though he was still rambling, he sounded much more coherent.

With your free hand, you start to play with his drying hair. “I think there’s a camera store on 10th Street.” 

“Maybe I’ll learn to develop the film myself. Then after I learn how I can teach you.” Diggers spoke with his usual exaggerated hand gestures. He was feeling much better now that the soap was starting to dry. But of course, he would love to stay in your lap longer.

With a hum, you idly twirl his hair. You found it cute how he always wants you to feel included in his life. Whether it’s telling you about his latest solutions or inviting you to start some mischief in the name of peace and creativity, Diggers always wanted you to be around. 

“It seems like you’re back to normal. Are you feeling better?” You asked while cupping his face, his stubble scratching against your skin.

Letting out a near-dreamy sigh, Diggers pushed his cheek further into your palm, relishing in the warmth. “A moment in your arms is like a moment in heaven. If anything, your caring touch is what nursed me back to perfect health.” 

Though you tried to keep it in, a small laugh passed your lips. “That was so corny.”

“I know, but it made you laugh.” He smiled. With a small grunt, he sits up from your lap and pulls you into an embrace. Diggers hooks a finger onto your face mask and pulls it down; leaning in to give you a tender kiss. “I do feel a lot better. Hmm, but I need the solution’s effects to last longer. I guess accidentally drugging myself was a worthy sacrifice for knowledge.”

“Please don’t keep drugging yourself just to test your bubbles…”

[intersexbookclub]

Discussion summary: Left Hand of Darkness

Published in 1969, The Left Hand of Darkness is a classic in science fiction that explores issues of sex/gender in an alien-yet-human society where the aliens are just like us except in how they reproduce. These aliens, the Gethenians, can reproduce as either male or female. They spend most of their lives sexually undifferentiated. Once a month, they go into heat (“kemmer”) and their sexual organs activate as either male or female (it’s essentially random).

Here's a summary of the discussions we had on 2023-08-25 and 2023-09-01 about the book:

HIGH LEVEL REACTONS

Michelle (@scifimagpie): even though it was written by a cis straight perisex woman there is a queerness to the writing that feels true and that she nailed. There is a queerness to the soul of this book that still holds up, that's true and good, and I cannot but love and respect that.

Elizabeth (@ipso-faculty): this book is such a commentary on 1960s misogyny. Genly is a raging misogynist. It takes a whole prison break and crossing the arctic for Genly to realize a woman or androgyne can be competent 👀

Dimitri: [Having read just the first half of the book] I wonder if it keeps happening, if Genly keeps going "woaaaah" [to the Gethenians’ androgyny] or if he ever acclimates. It's been half the novel my guy

vic: yeah a book where a guy is destroyed by seeing a breast makes me want queer theory

vic: [it also] makes me feel good to see how much has changed [since the 1960s]

THE INTERSEX STUFF

A thing we appreciated about the book was how being intersex is contextual. The main character of the book, Genly Ai, is a human from a planet like Earth, who visits Gethen to open trade and diplomatic relations.

On his home planet, and to Earth sensibilities, Genly is perisex - he is able to reproduce at any time of the month and is consistently male.

But on Gethen, Genly becomes intersex. On Gethen, the norm is that you only manifest (and can reproduce as) a given sex during the monthly kemmer (heat/oestrus) period. 

The Gethenians understand Genly as living in “permanent kemmer”, which is described as a common (intersex) condition, and these people are hyper-sexualized and referred to as Perverts.

At this point it’s worth noting that depiction is not the same as endorsement. Michelle pointed out the book is very empathetic to those in permanent kemmer. LeGuin does not appear to be endorsing the social stigma faced by these people, merely depicting it, and putting a mirror to how our own society treats intersex people.

Throughout the book, Genly is treated as an oddity by the Gethenians. He is hyper sexualized. He undergoes a genital inspection to prove he is who he says he is. 

When Genly is sent to a prison camp and forcibly given HRT, he does not respond “normally” to the hormones, the effects are way worse for him, and the prison camp staff don’t care, and keep administering them even if it’ll kill him. 

Two of us have had the experience of having hyperandrogenism and being forced onto birth control as teenager, and relating to the sluggishness of the drugs that Genly experienced, as well as the sense that gender/sex conformity was more important to authority figures (parents, doctors) than actual health and well-being.

Another scene we discussed the one where Genly is in a prison van en route to the gulag, and a Gethenian enters kemmer and wants to mate with him and he declines. He is given multiple opportunities over the course of the book to try having sex with a Gethenian, and declines every time, and we wondered if he avoided it out of trauma of being hyper-sexualized & hyper-medicalized & having had his genitals inspected.

We discussed the way he described his genital inspection through a trauma lens, and how it interacts with toxic masculinity - in vic’s terms, Genly being "I am a manly man and I have don't trauma"

Those of us who read the short story, Coming of Age in Karhide, noted that once the world was narrated from a Gethenian POV, the people in permanent kemmer were treated far more neutrally, which gave us the impression that Genly as an unreliable narrator was injecting some intersexism along with his misogyny

WHY IT MATTERS TO READ THIS BOOK THROUGH AN INTERSEX LENS

Elizabeth: I’ve encountered critiques of this book from perisex trans folks because to them the book is committing biological essentialism, and dismissing the book as a result. I think they’re missing that this book is as much about (inter)sex as it is about gender. I think they’re too quick to dismiss the book as being outdated or having backwards ideas because they’re not appreciating the intersex themes. 

Elizabeth: The intersex themes aren’t exactly subtle, so it kind of stings that I haven’t seen any intersex analyses of this book, but there are dozens (hundreds?) of perisex trans analyses that all miss the huge intersex elephants in the room.

Also Elizabeth: I’ve seen this book show up in lists of intersex books/characters made by perisex people, and I’ve seen Estraven listed as intersex character, and it gets me upset because Estraven isn’t intersex! Estraven is perisex in the society in which he lives. Genly is the intersex character in this story and people who misunderstand intersex as being able to reproduce as male & female (or having quirky genitals smh) are completely missing that being intersex is socially constructed and based on what is considered typical for a given species.

WHAT THE BOOK DOESN’T HANDLE WELL

The body descriptions. As Dmitri put it: “ Like "his butt jiggled and it reminded  me of women" ew. It was intentional but I had to put the book down. It reminded me of transvestigators and how they take pictures of people in public.” 🤮

Not pushing Genly to reflect on how weird he is about other people’s bodies. We all had issues with how Genly is constantly scrutinizing the bodies of other humans to assess their gender(s) and it’s pretty gross.

vic asked: “how much of this is her reproducing violence without her knowing it? A thing I didn't like was how he always judging and analyzing people's bodies and realizing others treat him that way. And I wish there was more of his discomfort about this, that it made him feel icky.”

Dimitri added: “I really wanted him to have a moment of this too, for him to realize how much it sucks to be treated this way. As a trans person it's so uncomfortable. What are you doing going around doing this to people?”

Using male pronouns as default/ungendered pronouns. Élaina asked why Genly thinks a male pronoun is more appropriate for a transcendent God and pointed out there’s a lot to unpack there.

OTHER POSITIVES ABOUT THE BOOK

Genly’s journey towards respecting women, that he still had a ways to go by the end of the book. vic pointed out how “LeGuin was straight, and she loves men, and is kinda giving them the side-eye [in this book]. Her writing about how Genly is childish makes me really happy. It’s kind of hilarious to watch him bang his head against the wall because he’s so rigid.” 

To which Dmitri added: “I agree with the bit on forgiving men for stuff. I don't know how she [LeGuin] does it but she really lays it all out. She gives you a platter of how men are bad at things, how they make mistakes that are pretty specific to them. She has prepared a buffet of it.”

Autistic Estraven! As Michelle put it: “autistic queer feels about Estraven speaking literally and plainly and Genly not getting it”

The truck chapter. Hits like a pile of bricks. We talked about it as a metaphor for the current pandemic.

The Genly x Estraven slowburn queerplatonic relationship

The conlang! Less is more in how it gets used

MIXED REACTIONS

The Foretelling. For some it felt unnecessary and a bit fetishy. For others it was fun paranormal times.

Pacing. Some liked how the book really forces you to really contemplate as you go. Others struggled with a pace that feels very slow to 2023 readers.

WORKS WE COMPARED THE BOOK TO

Star Trek (the original series) - we wondered if LHOD and Genly Ai were progressive by 1960s standards, and TOS came up as a comparison point. We were all of the impression that TOS was progressive for its time but all of us find it pretty misogynist by our standards. The interest in extra-sensory perception (ESP) is something that was a staple of TOS that feels very strange to contemporary viewers and also cropped up in LHOD

Ancillary Justice - for being a book where characters’ genders are all ambiguous but the POV character is actually normal about how they describe other characters’ bodies.

The Deep - for being another book in a situation where being able to reproduce as male and female is the norm. The Deep was written by an actually intersex author, and doesn’t have the cisperisex gaze of scrutinizing every body for sex. But oddly LHOD actually winds up feeling more like a book about intersex people, because it features a character who is the odd one out in a gonosynic society. In contrast, nobody is intersex in the Deep - everybody matches the norms for their species, which makes the intersex themes in the work much more subtle.

Overall, as vic put it, “there's something to be said about an honest depiction that's not great, especially when there's no alternatives”. For a long time there weren’t many other games in town when it came to this sort of book, and even though some things now feel dated, it’s still a valuable read. We’d love to see more intersex reviews & analyses of the book!

[scandinavianfairytale]

Wanting

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Warnings: Consumption of alcohol, consumption of drugs, discussion on drugs, friends with benefit (somehow?), cursing, sexual themes & smut (DUB-CON, grinding, police van sex, drugged out sex, mention of public sex, mention of rape, mention of revenge porn (not towards Reader), mention pornography, mention of non-consensual filming, fingering, one pussy slap, unprotected sex, hard sex - Walter is not gentle & sees it like a punishment, multiple orgasms, drooling, crying, squirting, chocking, creampie, little bit of praise)

Walter disliked being on call on Friday nights. Ever since the new drug, Houdini, started popping up everywhere the police has been running around in circles, trying to find the main supplier, but has repeatedly come up short.

Houdini was a mixture of ketamine and ecstasy. A party drug that is supposed to highten your senses and drive up your sex drive. Sounds like a perfect mix, but what the dealers left out was the memory loss, the dehydration that followed and complete lack of mobility.

It was a mess all over the damn country - the rape cases skyrocketed, revenge porn sites were having a field day because of all the public fucking taking place, the emergency rooms were stacked with people on gurneys and everyone had to deal with victims with memory loss.

Everyone was having a bad time - the victims which were pilling up by the minute, the police that was understaffed had to do even more over hours and the doctors that had to triage almost every Friday night.

Yet people were still taking that stupid drug.

Walter was pissed off, to say the least.

How are people this stupid?

He thought as he watched a group of drunk women giggling after just snorting the Houdini. His blood boiled knowing damn well that he couldn't do anything about it. The amount of people taking this drug was too high for everyone to get arrested or booked. Priorities his superiors loved preaching.

One of the women left the group to get some drinks. Her dress barely covered anything, leaving very little to the imagination. He shook his head as he watched several heads turn after the woman. She definitely got the attention she wanted.

"Walter!" He heard and looked around to see who was calling him. Out of all the damned people, you were the woman in that short dress. The one that just snorted the Houdini. Walter clenched his jaw and his grip on the beer he was drinking tightened.

How can you be so stupid?

"It's been a while." You smiled at him. He could see how drunk you already were and he also knew the drug will take effect soon, if it hasn't already.

"You should come meet my friends!" You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards you, stumbling a few steps back as his massive weight crashed into you. Walter let you drag him to your friends, also because he knew that whatever attention you had on you would dissipate once he was next to you.

"Girls, this is Walter! The friend I told you about!"

"Oooooh, the policeman." One of your friends slurred.

"Are you here to arrest us? We're just trying to have a good time." Another winked.

"Oh stop it! He's the nice policeman. He would never arrest us." You leaned into him.

It already started taking effect.

You weren't aware of it yet, but you started lightly grinding on his leg. He heard how your breath came out laboured, and he knew he had to get you out of there. Grabbing your arm, he started dragging you away from your friends.

"Walter, what the hell?! Let me go!" You yelled, trying to resist his grip.

"I can't believe you out of all your stupid friends are acting this way." He grumbled. "You know better than anyone what's going on these days."

"I was careful." You whined, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around to glare at you, making you shut your mouth.

"Careful? You don't even realize that the drug has started taking effect. You can barely stand and I'm pretty fucking sure that if I let you stagger back to that bar you'd get lost."

"Fuck you."

"Right." Walter started dragging you to the police van parked in the small street.

"Get out." He barked at the man that was inside, surveilling the cameras around the city. The man tried to object but one stern look from Walter sent him out. Water threw you in the van, climbing in behind you and closing the door.

"What is your problem?" You yelled at him, tugging your dress down when you realized you were much more exposed than you were comfortable with.

"Now you're trying to cover up?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're more than happy to bare your ass to strangers but with me you get shy? What the fuck were you thinking taking the Houdini?" You never realized he was so big as just now that he was towering over you. Your pussy clenched as your eyes lingered on his cock.

"Tammy took it before and she said she had the best fuck of her life. I just wanted to see how it felt like." You bit your lip as he crouched down to you.

"You're taking advice from a drug addict. Are you stupid?"

"I didn't take the full dose." You defended yourself. "Just a taste, to see how it feels."

"And? How does it feel?"

"Antsy." You swallowed, trying to decide whether or not to tell your very angry friend what you were thinking. You shifted on the floor a bit and the cold steel flooring touched your soaked pussy, making you gasp.

"I see the Houdini is in full swing." Walter observed you.

"Can you help me, please?"

"I'm not going to be nice. You need to learn a lesson, and maybe next time, you won't go around experimenting with drugs." You nodded before Walter pulled your collar down, exposing your breasts. His hand cupped one and pinched your nipple, making you moan.

"Keep tour mouth shut." He slammed a hand over your mouth, grabbed your hips with the other, spinning you around, and pushed you into the wall of the van. He kicked your feet further apart, making you stick your ass further into him. You could feel your nipples harden at the contact with the cold steel material. His hand then traveled to the center, under your dress, before finding your clit and circling it, making your hips buck.

"You're dripping." He said into your ear before he forced two of his thick fingers into your still clothed pussy, making you moan into his hand that was still clamped over your mouth.

"Completely soaked." Walter commented. "That's the Houdini doing its magic. Imagine if I left you there, you'd be grinding up on some coked up asshole that'd fuck you right in the middle of the bar. Anyone could record you and you'd end up on some porn site, where strangers would jack-off seeing such a whore like you get publicly fucked out of her mind. Maybe a coworker of yours stumbles upon it - bye-bye that stellar career of yours." His voice was low and raspy. Somehow, that made you even more aroused. Your pussy had a mind of her own as you realized you have been incessantly humping Walters fingers.

"Mmph." Moaning, your tongue licked his fingers, making Walter tsk. You could see your release, just a few more grinds.

"You're getting hornier by the second." He chuckled and withdrew his fingers, taking away that sweet feeling, making you whine. "But I'll be nice and I'll take care of you." He rasped into your ear before he spun you around and bent you over the control table, your head laying on the keyboard. Tugging your laughably short dress up, he exposed your core to him. He slapped your pussy, making you yelp. He tsked again when his hand made contact with your drenched and sticky thongs. His fingers wrapped around the string, pulling it away before releasing it back on your skin. Throwing your gead back with a loud "God" your pussy clenched at the impact and your back arched at the sensation.

Walter chuckled as he watched your cunt throb as he started unbuckling his belt. He finally pulled down your thong and ran his leaking cock up and down your puffy pussy. Your chest heaved, and you made sounds you didn't recognize. All you wanted needed was his cock in your cunt.

"Remember that I'm not being nice." He warned before he seethed himself in you with one powerful thrust, slamming your hips into the control table. It hurt, but in the most delicious way that you have never experienced before. The pace he set was brutal, the letters of the keyboard scratched your face, adding to the mix of pain and pleasure you were feeling.

Your orgasm hit you fast and hard, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your body spasming on his cock, but Walter just continued fucking into you. He was like a man possessed, grunting and moaning above you, his pace never faltering even after you clenched around him. He immediately pushed you into your second orgasm, making you moan out loud as juices squirted out of you.

"Fuck." Walter cursed as he felt your squirt wet his thighs. "Let's see if you can do that again."

His hand moved from your hip to your stretched pussy, circling the spot where you were joined, making you gurgle. His pace switched, his cock was slowly stretching your walls and with your drugged state you could feel almost every vein on his organ.

Mindblowing.

"Stop drooling over the keyboard." He stopped his adminitrations and grabbed a fistful of your hair to push you away from any electronics before returning his hand back.

"You're completely stretched, must be painful." He commented as he circled your full hole. You choked on your words and tried to shake your head.

"No? Good, you're taking me quite well." He praised you, making your legs shake a bit. His fingers lightly stroked around your pussy, purposefully avoiding your clit, making you whine.

"Walter...please..." You choked out.

"What is it?"

It was hard to formulate words, your body was on fire and it felt like cumming was the only thing that would put it out. But in the state that you were in, all you managed to let out was a hoarse "Cum.".

"You want to cum?" He mocked your meager attempt to communicate what you need.

"Mhm."

"So, if I touch you here," Walter tapped your clit which made your hips buck and him smirk. "then you'll cum almost immediately?" You could feel him starting to prepare himself for another round. One that you knew you were losing soon, not that there was anything to complain about.

His fingers framed your clit and his other hand grabbed at your throat. "Let's see how much you can take."

His pace again hardened, his first sharp thrust made your hips slam back into the edge of the control table, but this time he kept you firmly pinned by your neck, preventing you from slipping away. His fingers were rough on your engorged clit, but that just added another layer to your rapture.

You couldn't form a sound anymore. Your body just locked when the orgasm hit you, but then when your juices squirted out, you started convulsing. But he just kept going completely overloading you, your hand fruitlessly reached for his hand, trying to shove it away from your clit, but he wasn't bothered.

You couldn't handle another orgasm, but you had no choice but to take it. Both of you could feel how close you were to another peak again.

"That's it, come on, I know you have another one in you." His grip on your throat increased, making you release a choking sound, tears welling up in your eyes, but it also made your pussy clamp down on his cock, making you squirt again. A few thrusts more and finally Walter released himself into you. Feeling the few spurts painting your womb and his cock go slack, you finally let out a relieved sigh.

It was over.

"Good girl." Walter cooed, kissing your shoulder. He carefully let go of your throat and pulled his cock out and your body finally slumped, completely exhausted. Observing your abused and puffy pussy, his cock twitched as it refused to close. It really was a sight to see how his spend oozed out of your hole and he resisted the urge to push it back in.

He buckled up his pants and carefully pulled your thongs up, sitting you on the only chair in the van. He rummaged around to find a jacket before draping it over you, before he opened the van door again and carried you out in his arms. Your head lolled as your consciousness wavered.

Walter walked past the man who was previously thrown out of the van and the man immediately knew not to comment or bring up the situation again.

"Shhh, don't worry. I got you. Just rest now." Walter shushed you as you tried speaking. Nodding weakly, you let the darkness consume you.

Thank you for reading! 🙈

The GIF belongs to the amazing creator! 😊

[powderblueblood]

YES, NURSE RATCHED - a hellfire & ice retelling of chapter eight's most pivotal moment, from eddie's pov

a special treat for my love @deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth eddie munson x f!reader, reader is nicknamed lacy, reader's last name is also mentioned, this is lore-filled and handsy so if that's not your thing keep it truckin, minors dni i do not like you go away warning for strong language, smut inthe form of public fingeringgggg, drug usage, extremely bad parenting (al munson klaxon), evoking the feeling of a comedown, billy hargrove gets his shit rocked, excuse all typos it's redacted o'clock and i'm a little buzzed word count: 2.6k

The first thing you should know about the following occurrences is that they are preluded by a whole lot of next thing Eddie knows. Things snapping his attention to the left, to the right, knocking him over the head, rearing up on him with little to no warning.

Number one? His dad showing up at Reefer Rick’s, eyes bloodshot and sleep deprived and frantic, putting on a pantomime of being so psyched to see his boy! Rick snapping to attention and falling into his role of affable associate of Munson Senior immediately, despite the apology he’d tried to press against Eddie right when Al crunched the gravel of his driveway. What followed was a bender that Eddie couldn’t help but give into. Al has that effect on people, even him, even Eddie in his angry, angsty resoluteness that he should know better. 

You try knowing better when you're all bewitched, bothered and bewildered and shit.

Cue cut lines and records blaring until daylight broke over Lover's Lake– then Eddie, rising at noon but barely landed from his previous (ill-advised and bad-parentally-supervised) high, got it in his head that he ought to show up for school. At least for a little bit. 

Because they’d tossed your last name around a little last night, Al and Rick. Doevski this, Doevski that, in weird, vague terms that Eddie didn’t all the way understand. And the more weed he smoked and the more Jim Beam that got passed around, the less he remembered.

Which, dumb, right?

You’d tell him that was dumb.

You’d tell him he should have stayed sharp, listened up, gathered information.

He passed out on Rick’s sagging couch, mind searing with nothing but thoughts of you nagging him for intel.

Eddie woke up cotton-mouthed with your name on his lips. 

He needed to see you.

To catch one of your avoidant, barely-there glances as you flit through the hallway or maybe even spy you smoking a cigarette on the outdoor bleachers, reading in silence with Ronnie or Wheeler.

He’d think of what to say to you in the moment; probably spurned on by the sneer you’d give him– which he’d totally have earned, for having the nerve to ignore you for so long. 

Forgive me, he'd say, hands held aloft in Christlike composure, I just couldn't look you in the eye knowing you were getting willingly boinked by some Ivy League sweater monkey.

And then you'd have to admit your little bullshit college boyfriend wasn't Ivy League, and he'd prod you with that for a while, and things would eventually ebb back to whatever shade of normal you two were pretending to be. So? Okay!

But.

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s peeling into the parking lot and the first thing that he sees, bada bing, is you. All however many feet of you, steel true and planted on the hood of Billy Hargrove’s fucking Camaro, wielding a baseball bat like a sword.  

Eddie’s heart stops for the full entirety of a what fresh hell is this filter-focused second before he skids the van to a halt and launches himself from it. 

He advances this helluva scene just in time to hear you holler out, right in front of God and everyone,

“One thing you can say for Eddie Munson, is at least the motherfucker can get hard!” 

Eddie’s tread stutters and he wonders if this is what people mean when they use the expression taken out at the knees. Can he get a fucking encore, please? 

But then there’s the issue of the rabies-ridden Hargrove, the kid who’s snorted so much of Eddie’s dubiously cut supply that it’s no wonder that word has gotten around that he can’t keep his johnson rigid. There’s a thread dangling somewhere that makes Eddie wonder how familiar you are with that concept but. Alas. Digression. 

Hargrove calls you a cunt, and Eddie’s vision is replaced with a swathe of red. 

How ‘bout you try playing it cool, hearing someone talk to your girl like that, after a night of fun family drug-taking? 

Wait. His what? Hold on--

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s side-swiping Hargrove like a dirty bumper car, yak yaks something kind of funny (he hopes) and does not turn to look at you standing backlit like a holy fucking statue. Because he knows you’ll look beautiful up there, white hot with rage, holding a weapon poised for minor automotive destruction. He can’t handle beauty, not right now. Because of that thing from before with his knees. 

“...now her snooty ass is spreading it for half of Hawkins! Desperate! Stringin’ you along like the dumb piece of shortbus shit you a–”

It’s impossible to say whose hair trigger that tugged first, yours or Eddie’s. That’s like chicken vs egg. That’s like Han vs Greedo. That’s like, irrelevant. 

That baseball bat clatters to the pavement, a hearty overture to Eddie’s surge of empowerment, of rage, of insisting that she isn’t, I’m not, she isn’t, I’m not, nobody talks about her like that–

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s sitting beside you. Outside the principal’s office. Hand split open and aching, nose backed up and a little bleeding, coming down like the fucking Hindenberg. Reckoning with the fact that he wouldn’t need to be a little morning-after zipped on coke to throw a punch for you, if it came down to it. If it came down to it, he would have tried caving in Billy Hargrove’s other eye socket. He would have made him look like the Elephant Man if you needed him to. 

He liked that Eraserhead movie you made him watch. 

“He needs an ice pack…”

The soft mumble from you makes Eddie take this breath that makes his chest feel like it might concave. You, you. Reckless, unbuttoned, unlaced, off-kilter you, that still had time to snap at him after he’d tried to freeze you out, that still had eyes that asked him did it hurt? 

Eddie eavesdrops on as much of your grilling with Higgins and the hot guidance counsellor as his damaged eardrums will allow. Temporary insanity. Disgusting prank. He wonders what that’s about… and again, didn’t even think to question what brought you onto the hood of Hargrove’s car. He just saw you. He just acted.

He just keeps doing that. 

And then he hears. College. Application deadlines are within touching distance. 

“I can turn this around.”

Of course. Eddie hadn’t even thought about that, because he’s him. And it was something you were probably worrying yourself sick over, because you’re you– you wanted out of here. To get up, go, be someone great.

“New York, ideally,” you’d said to him once, tightrope walking across the broken bleachers outside; you’d been waiting around for him to give you a ride home, but he had a deal to make first. You were weirdly patient, weirdly pensive that day. “Someplace I can go and burrow in and absorb everything and grow out of a crack in the sidewalk, new.” 

Eddie’d held your hand, helping you step over a gap in the bench, “Not taking Manhattan by storm? Hurricane Lacy?” 

You–and he remembered this–had held onto his hand for a few more minutes, a cigarette dwindling in the other. Your fingers were cold; they clutched at his a little tighter when you spoke again. 

“No. Not Manhattan, not midtown, not big business. I have precipitated a change in my weathervane.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means that someone taught me the difference between being important and being significant.” 

Back in the room. Eddie drawls out some stupid crack to Higgins, who he’s still supplying with enough benzos to take out Jonestown a second time, which is the only reason he hasn’t been booted out of Hawkins High for absolute and final good. And then you’re alone again, the two of you. Together. 

“Wanna get out of here?”

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s spending the last of his energy like it’s burning a hole in his pocket, horsing around on the nurse’s saddle stool while you rifle through her office. You are all edgy and commanding because you have no idea how to say sorry you got wailed on by Hargrove for me.

Good. He likes you better like this, at least for right now. Likes to watch you attempt to pirouette on the razor’s edge of your relationship to one another, mostly because your attempt is more graceful and easier to watch than his is. And he likes to watch you. Watch you do anything, really. 

Watch you snap at him to get on the bed. Fuck. 

Watch you tear and dab at his busted knuckles. Fuckfuck. 

Watch you talk about Cat People and press his hand to his chest and tell him he’s injured and wrong and watch you watch searing, singing alcohol on his split lip dry up. Eddie watches your eyes brighten and darken with curious affection, like those twinkle lights that fade in and out, steady as breathing. His breathing is anything but steady. His knees have come apart, letting you stand between them.

You dab and he lets this broken sound loose from him, because the proximity of your body to his feels like a fresh fucking spring breeze and god, god, the way you’re touching him with such gentle, measured movements, like you’ve choreographed every one–

You’re so exact. You’re so organized. He wants to unexact you.

Eddie uses his good hand, not that either of them are really any good, and presses as much of you into him as he can. The flush of your front, the flush of your mouth, he even has to stop those shorn denim-sheathed legs of his from wrapping around your hips. Eddie’s grip, it travels, hitching tweed up the curve of your ass. 

You don’t push him away like he figured you might, you don’t indignantly demand what is going on?! You don’t. You weave your hand up the line of his thigh, to the hard edge of his crotch where he is straining, a rigidity that’s been building since you went all Nurse Ratched on him. 

A rigidity that’s hard to keep down around you, badum-tsssss. 

Fuck.

Eddie almost knocks the word loose with a low groan that’s pressed into the supple flesh of your cheek, your lovely blushing fucking cheek, a cheek he goes to kiss or bite or something but misses by a hair because you’re straining your neck back. To look at him. Not soberly, he hopes. 

Someone down there is wishing him death by dick.

Not the wettest, wildest, filthiest dreams that he’s had about you (and categorically, there have been many) could have prepared Eddie Munson from the earth-shattering consequences of this tiny gesture. Your tongue, perfect and pink, darts to his lip, stinging and sore and comes away with the tiniest drop of ruby-red blood sitting on its tip. 

And you suck his bottom lip between yours, eyes fluttering closed.

Eddie’s cock jumps as his heart does, not a second out of time, as you clamber up, into his lap– so completely un-Lacylike, so totally… unexact. How, in all the vastness of Heaven and earth and Middle Earth and Hell and the Bookstore and the closet and his bedroom and the van could he be so fucking stupid?

“Just friends, right?” Eddie is deaf to how pained it comes out sounding.

His good hand travels. He finds your thighs, the softness there giving way to easy indents for his fingers and he knows, he knows that this is where his hands should be–unless, higher could be good? Higher, high up past those offending, incriminating lace top stockings that drilled through Eddie’s mind like an ice pick, giving him whatever the opposite of a lobotomy is. Haunting him with a fervour, begging him to snap them, but there’s no fucking time for that, god it hurts but there’s no fucking time for that because you. Two. Are. In. The fucking. Nurse’s. Office. 

But the world has ceased turning. 

Eddie’s mouth opens in a silent attempt at a moan as his fingers push past to the beating, radiating core of you that the throbbing, radiating core of him longs for. 

You’re so wet, and soft and lush and it rings through is head like a fucking hallelujah, you’re wet, you’re wet for him.

More than anything, he needs your encouragement–he needs to know that you want him to keep going. That you want him, that you want him, that–

You nod, frantic and undone, and Eddie kisses you for it just before he realizes he has no idea what he’s doing. But nothing in his body tells him to zoom out–in fact, the only thing he wants is more in. More you, more of you wrapped around him. He moves his hands with a clumsiness usually uncharacteristic of him, fucking guitar guy, fucking painting miniatures and shit guy. But it works, according to you and the way you keen against him with your beautiful, spit-shining lips parted and pulling against his. 

These little noises, chirps and swallowed moans of yours– it’s like music. He wants to choke on them.

Eddie’s voice kind of cracks open again, letting a little air and a touch of begging out. He strains, pained, cock aching against the hitch of denim. “Does he do this? Does anyone do this for you, Lacy?”

Because you’re lonely, and Eddie knows that, with his fingers stroking you deep. You’re lonely, or would be, were it not for him. And it feels like now, in the heady swirl of these few moments that are stretched into an infinity, that he’s using it against you, but he’s not. He should be the one doing this for you, he should be the one making you feel this way, making you tremble even as he clumsily thumbs at your clit, because he thinks knows you and he thinks you want it unmeasured and unshackled and washing over you in a wave of sheer blind devotion and that’s why his tongue is all over your neck. 

That’s why his knuckles are split. 

That’s why there’s no malice in Eddie’s voice when he croaks, “Just friends? Lacy?” as you rock and spasm, hands clutching him around the shoulder and whimpers barely deadened against his lips. He can feel the texture of your pinched brow against his own. 

He wants to clutch you as close as he possibly can, but he’s got one good arm and it’s between your legs.

Between your legs. Jesus fucking Christ. 

Sobriety hits like a tidal wave as your breath returns to its normal rhythm; Eddie’s doesn’t quite have the same rebound. He’s still huffing a little, out of exertion or out of nerves, as he slips his hand out from under you, brushing what was off on his jeans. A small patch of his own bodily fluid collected there too, making sure he’s wearing the both of you like Hester Prynne’s scarlet letter as he walks around for the rest of the day. 

Eddie, throat starting to tighten up, pulls you in for one kiss, to give you one last taste of where he’d been split open for you. Melodrama dances around it; shades of we shouldn’t have, but we did, but we can’t, but now I have to fucking live with the fact I cracked open this Pandora’s box and I’m sorry. 

Or something to that effect. 

And you see right through him, because you always do. Hair in a muss, lips flushed, adjusting your skirt, re-exacting yourself, you clean up any evidence that this had ever happened. At least, on a surface level. 

Eddie dares to look at you once more, and you dare to look back at him. And thank god he’s sitting down, because that look shoots him right through the fucking aorta. You, wide-eyed and small-looking, pupils darting and unsure, are asking him why. Pleading with him, why. Why do this. Why now. Why at all, ever, why did you have to. Even though you know. 

“I–”

“No, I know. I know. I certainly know.”

Because you’re Lacy. You know everything. 

Eddie does think about going after you for a second, after your curt nod and dash through the door but he knows that it’s a zero-sum game. He has nothing good to say. It’s not even you that’s rendered him speechless– funny thing, you usually do the opposite. You always give him something to say. He just has nothing good to say. Nothing worthy of you. 

So he sits there, on the examination table, waiting for the mythical Nurse Lydia to tend to his wounds. 

First he’ll will himself soft, then he’ll will himself sane. 

Famous last words.

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Forget-me-not - Eddie Munson x Reader

Forget-me-not (Myosotis) - Meaning: Don't forget me, remembrance

Summary: Reader visits Eddie's grave. Little does she know what awaits her there.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 958

Warnings: Drug use (reader smokes weed), ANGST (with a happy-ish ending), dead!Eddie, Reader was part of ST4 events, cemetery setting, Vampire!Eddie, blood

Day 17 is another angsty one but I think it ends on a positive note. I love Eddie, and I fully believe the Cas storyline is what we'll see in season 5 cuz there's no freakin way I will just forget about this sweet metalhead, you hear me Duffers??

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

You held your breath for as long as you could, feeling the smoke invade your lungs before sputtering it loose. The smoke filled the inside of your shitty beater car. You knew you’d reek of it for the rest of the day but you didn’t care. 

You hadn’t cared about much for the last few months. Not since Eddie died. 

Taking another hit, you glanced over at your passenger seat. A bundle of fresh cut flowers — white daisies, the flowers Eddie had brought you on your first date because he heard they were your favorite. A pang of sadness hit you right in the gut, like a punch and you blew out the smoke, feeling the calming effect of the weed. 

You’d only been here a few times since the funeral. It was difficult to bring yourself here, to stand where his uncle had buried an empty coffin and pretend Eddie was down there instead of stuck in the hellish landscape that was the Upside-Down. 

God, everything was so fucked up. 

The whole town was convinced he was a bloodthirsty maniac who deserved what he got. Only you, Wayne, and Hellfire club knew him for what he’d been. A sweet, brave, incredible guy who lived in his imagination because reality was difficult. 

He’d called you ‘princess’ and ‘love’ and drove you to and from school every day in his van, holding your hand the whole way there. He planted kisses on your cheeks when you passed in the halls and wrote you little love notes that he snuck between the pages of your notebook or textbooks so you’d find them later. 

He’d been so gentle when he took your virginity (after having listened to your long-winded feminist rant about how virginity was a “bullshit patriarchal concept”). Every touch and sigh and moan etched on your memory forever. Afterward, he cleaned you up and wrapped you in his lanky arms and told you he loved you for the first time, his big doe eyes shining in the dim light of his room. 

You’d been so incredibly, irrevocably in love with him. And he was gone. 

If you didn’t get out of the car now, you never would, so you stubbed out your blunt and grabbed the flowers and got out. The cemetery was quiet, despite being next to a busy highway. It was early evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and casting everything in an orange glow. Walking through the rows and rows of headstones until you found the familiar name. 

‘Edward Munson’

‘Now at Peace’

Except that wasn’t the truth. His body was rotting in another dimension, probably torn to shreds and completely unrecognizable by now. 

“Hey, love,” you said to the chunk of granite. “I brought daisies.” You crouched, laying the bouquet in front of the headstone before plucking out a few longer blades of grass that threatened to obscure his name. 

You sat down in front of it, not really sure what to do. Talk to him? Cry? Another long feminist rant about how you hated the idea of marriage but how you would’ve married him in a heartbeat? 

Because you would’ve. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said, absentmindedly picking at the grass around you. “I should’ve gone with you and Dustin. I could have dragged you back so at least you’d be here and not there. If I’d been there, you’d be home. Or maybe you…” you trailed off with a long sigh. “It’s no use living in the past, is it? Except that’s where you are, it’s the only place you are right now and I can’t — how do I keep going on without you? I just want to hear you laugh again, Eddie. Feel your arms around me one more time…” 

Tears spilled down your cheeks. The gaping wound in your chest reopened and you doubled over, letting yourself sob. You cried until the sun disappeared, at some point laying down on your side in the fetal position. 

At some point you must’ve fallen asleep, because you woke up sometime later to a brush against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open and you shivered in the chilly night air as you sat up, looking around. You had the strange feeling you weren’t alone. 

The sound of leaves rustling behind you made you turn, and you choked on your gasp. 

Sitting on top of his own headstone, looking a little worse for wear but still beautiful, was Eddie. His clothes were torn, but free of blood. His curls were frizzing out under his bandana, and his rings glinted in the moonlight. 

He looked up at you from under his brow and smiled wickedly, “Hello, princess.” 

You scrambled toward him, a fresh wave of tears falling down your cheeks. Eddie met you in the middle, kneeling in front of his headstone and welcoming you into his embrace which you dove into, clutching his leather jacket and burying your face in his neck. 

“Shh, princess, I’m here,” he muttered soothingly. Placing kisses from your cheek down to your neck, you barely registered a pinching pain from his teeth. He groaned. “Ohh, you taste so good. Missed you so much, so sweet for me…”

You sniffled and pulled back from him to look him in the eyes — his big brown eyes that you swore you could drown in — but your gaze was drawn down to his chin, covered in something that made it dark. With a shaking hand, you reached up and traced his lower lip, gathering some of the substance. 

Blood.

You looked back at Eddie, who was still holding you and gazing down at you like he always had. Full of love, hope, all-encompassing joy. 

And then he smiled, revealing two long, razor-sharp fangs.

[blackdollette]

OFF TO THE RACES. - kappa

✩♬.ᐟ now playing: off to the races. - born to die: paradise

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: my old man is a bad man...

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @livingdead-materialgirl @iiheartsai @vanlisbon @oliviah-25 @lankysimp @livingdead-reilly @yungbloodsuxca

female!reader x kappa

word count: 846

contents: house invasion, mention of drugs, alcohol consumption, fingering, slightly toxic relationship, a little manipulation, praise

a cult leader, robber, and a killer. you couldn’t deny that he was a bad man, but it didn’t matter when he shattered the glass window of your house, gazing at you in the dark like a predator watching its prey, taking hold of your hand and your heart in a single grasp. he quickly was able to weave himself into your life, causing you to become just as corrupt as he was, spoiled and materialistic. but he loved you more and more each day with every beat of his cocaine heart.

he watched you swimming in your glimmering pool, discarding each piece of your soaking wet bikini one by one until you were stripped bare for him. you trailed your hands down your dripping body, fingernails painted the shade of deep red that always had an effect on him. he whistled you over to him, pulling you onto his lap with his fingers shoved inside your mouth as he rubbed slow circles onto your hard pearl, swigging from a bottle of vintage champagne as your cum glistened on his fingers.

he called you his good little bunny, and you did whatever he asked of you without questions. and he repaid your obedience by spoiling you with an endless supply of wealth, giving you whatever you wanted with the snap of his fingers. 

he sped down the highway in his van, you sitting pretty in the passenger seat with your bare feet resting in his lap. you sipped from a bottle of golden rum, watching the scenery go by as you got completely wasted in his presence. he saw you as a wild little flame, and he was the fuel. you felt he was the only man who could deal with you. you were imprisoned by your addiction to him, knowing that you could never get out.

kappa was a timeless being. you’d believe whether or not he said he was 30 or 300 years old. he was as tough as nails, but as sweet as blood-red jam. as addictive as he was, you knew he couldn’t be good for you. but he was exactly what your tar-black soul had been craving all your life. that’s what he told you, anyway. he constantly reminds you that if it weren’t for him, you’d still be living your old, broke-down lifestyle and that you owed him everything you had. and without a second thought, you gave it to him.

he took you to the most high-brow hotels in the country, especially because he couldn’t stay in the same town for a long time without attracting the wrong attention. you didn’t mind always being on the run or the police chases. if anything, it made you admire him even more. he made sure you were dressed to the nines for every occasion. he loved having his girl looking good at all times, even though you were becoming a complete mess as a result of this lifestyle. 

you loved him to death, but you knew that you were going down. getting into all sorts of trouble on a daily basis. getting tangled up in crimes and even needing to get bailed by him from time to time. but you’d simply give him that innocent little smile and be in the clear again. you couldn’t stop your reckless behaviour, but you didn’t much care to anyway.

you watched the red and blue lights flashing one night, watching as your old man got taken away right in front of you. you cried and cried as you realized that you were all alone again. it had been long since he wasn’t right at your side, and you were helpless. you prayed for many hours that night, begging that he would come back to you. you weren’t afraid to say that you would die without him. after all, who else would put up with you this way? you needed him, he was the air you breathed and you couldn’t afford to leave him now. they would all rue the day that you were alone without him. on that same night, you lay in your bed, crying to the gods that they should release him. your prayers were interrupted by the sound of that same glass window shattering, and there he was, right at your fingertips once again. he took you into his arms, holding you as you sobbed into his chest. he looked down at you, a cigar hanging from his lips as he said, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you look this beautiful, hon…”  

he was back, and worse than ever. you and him raced all over town, raising hell wherever you went. with a toss of his hair, you were all over him again. following his every command and being a good little pet just for him. and you knew he got a sick thrill from it all. he was crazy, but you would love him forever, guaranteed. and you were committed to following him until the day you died. 

you were fully convinced that he was your one true love.

author's note: i like this one 🤭