#like maybe billy is much more in touch with his feelings in this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlemissmiller · 1 month

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𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔

Pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javier is your partner while on assignment in Bogotá. You can’t seem to resist him, as much as you tell yourself you’re done fooling around with him. One night, he comes home and the next morning, you finally realize your true feelings for him…

Warning: 21+ (drinking and smoking), semi-rough sex, ass slapping, slight power play, dom!javier, sub!reader, oral(m and f receiving), partners/friends to lovers

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: surprise! it’s pedro! i hope y’all enjoy this just as much as the tom fics (which i appreciate all the support once again, exceeded my expectations). I had this one in the vault for a while, but just went back and edited it so here it is! i have another billy and coryo fic in the works, but a girl has got to diversify her blog page no? also i do plan to post more pedro stuff (given my blog name 😅)ok enjoy! ❤︎

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

“This is the last time Javier.” You panted as Javier Peña pushed you up against the wall of a small janitor’s closet. A frequent place you had found yourself in once again, fucking like teenagers. Everyone had left the office nearly, but you still didn’t want to get caught.

“Yeah you said that last time sweetheart.” He growled into your ear as he readjusted you, hoisting you up further onto the wall. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and he was fucking up into you. His pants were only down far enough to let his cock out and he continued to push your tight pencil skirt up over your thighs and hips. You moaned into his ear which caused him to pick up his pace.

“I mean it we…we can’t keep doing this.” You moaned as his lips attached to your neck. He smirked and looked back up at you. His hand slithered up your throat and cupped under your chin.

“Really? Is that why you decided to wear this tight little skirt today? To get me to stop?” He panted

“I always wear these…” you lied

“Yeah well what about this blouse then hmm.” His hand slid down your throat to tug on your collar and then slipped inside your blouse to cup your breast.

“You know I can see right through it don’t you?”

“Maybe I was trying to get someone else’s attention…”you croaked out

“Mmm I don’t think so sweetheart. I know other people are looking but they wouldn’t dare to touch you.” He replied

“Why is that?”

“You know why…” he breathed into your ear “because you’re mine…” he picked up his pace and soon enough you were both coming undone.

He held you in place for a while and rested his forehead against yours. You both panted in exhaustion, your breathing in sync. He planted a soft kiss on your cheek before pulling out and setting you back on your feet.

“You should grab a drink with me tonight.” He suggested as he stepped back, readjusting himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and buckling his belt.

“Javi…” you sighed, shaking your head and smirking as you buttoned up your blouse “you know my rules…”

Ever since you and Javier started hooking up, you were very explicit about how your relationship would be. You had told him you weren’t looking for a relationship, but he convinced you to be “partners with benefits”.

Your rules were clear. No going out to bars or dinner, no flirting in front of your colleagues, and nothing more than just sex. Those were the rules left anyways. Javier had a way of convincing you to break them. At first, you had told him no hooking up at work, but about two weeks later and one too many tight dresses, you had broken that rule. And the rule not to show physical affection to each other outside of your activities. He couldn’t seem to help himself around you. He would always wait until no one was around, but occasionally he’d plant a kiss on your cheek or come up behind you and plant one on the back of your neck. It would usually turn into more, but occasionally it was just in passing and very quick.

“C’mon we can go as just co-workers. Then it’s not a date”

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes. You slipped your heels back on and started to fix your hair.

“You know what I told you. I’m not looking for a relationship, especially not with you.” You looked at him pointedly and he frowned “besides if you and I get together who else is going to fuck the hookers Escobar likes the have around.” You have joked raising my eyebrow

He rolled his eyes.

“They are informants and I get very useful information from them”

“Oh besides how they like it” you smirked reaching for the door

Javier stopped you. His hand wrapped around your wrist. He looked at you and you looked back at him intensely, snapping your head in surprise and confusion.

“Are you jealous or something?” He asked

“No!” You laughed “besides we get good intel like you said.”

He released your wrist and grunted in agreement. He traced his hand over your own, moving it from your wrist to your finger tip. He moved his fingers around your palm and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“You should still get a drink with me though” he insisted, continuing to stroke your hand. “Hmm…what do you say? He kissed your knuckles this time, which took you off guard but it wasn’t unwelcomed.

A part of you had put these rules in place mainly for yourself. You knew getting tangled up with Javier like this would be trouble and quite frankly a distraction. Maybe you needed a distraction, but with your own partner? Would that really happen? Maybe because you also knew, in the back of your mind, you had deeper feelings at play. You thought about it and, in that moment, you realized you were about to break one of your own rules again.

“Fine.” You started, dropping your hand to your side “just as co-workers thought. This is not a date or anything like a date.”

“Fine by me. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You opened the janitors closet and poked your head out. You looked around and stepped out. Javier followed after you.

“Let’s get going. And separate cars.” You commanded, looking at him seriously

“I figured.”

“Where are we meeting?” You asked

“That bar near your place. The one on the corner next to your apartment.” You answered

Of course he chose somewhere near your place. You thought he was gonna try and take you home with him after. Back to his place. You were wrong. You and him met at the bar and, what ended up being one drink became three, then a cigarette, and your night was pretty much set.

“This ain’t too bad hmm?” He asked

“I don’t mind getting a drink with you Javier. Just the principle of it I…struggle with”

He smirked at your answer “Is that so?” He slid his hand onto your knee which made you almost choke on the beer you were sipping on.

“Javi!” You gritted though my teeth in a low tone

“You said no flirting in front of co-workers or at work. Nothing about outside of work.” He smirked.

“I hope you understand that you’re not coming home with me tonight.” You remark pointedly

“Oh really why is that?” He asked rubbing my thigh

“Because we are just getting a drink as co-workers. Remember.”

Javier leaned back with a satisfied smirk on his face and downed his whiskey.

“You’re at least gonna let me walk you home?”

“It’s just around the corner.” You reminded him

“So?” He asked

“I’ll be fine, but I have feeling you’d follow me anyways” you joked

“You think I’m too overprotective of you?”

“Sometimes….” You looked at him and he looked at you not with lust but something else. A deeper longing and you knew in that moment what you had suspected for a while. Javier Peña seemed to have fallen for you.

He ended up walking you home and you begrudgingly let him in for “just one more drink” and soon after you found yourself back home with him, although you didn’t actually have sex. The two of you drank whiskey and just talked. Something you rarely found time to do. Simply connect with each other. You both sat on the couch, Javier took the liberty of your closeness to occasionally caress your thigh or play with your hair. It was simple, yet incredibly intimate. You and him eventually moved to your bedroom, where you cuddled up on him. Neither of you talked much after that. You simply lost yourself in that moment with him. You felt complete and your heart felt full. You slowly faded into sleep against him and without realizing it he had kissed your forehead several times after you had fallen asleep until he too drifted off.

When you woke up the next morning Javier was still asleep, sleeping on his stomach. You watched his back muscles as they rose and fell. He breathed heavily and you tangled your fingers loosely in his hair to try and wake him up. He kept sleeping, so you decided to take a shower. As the warm water poured over your head you thought about the way he looked at you the night before. His big brown doughy eyes that looked at you like a puppy dog. His hand on your leg, fingers playing with your hair and his charming smile. And the way you held each other until you both fell asleep. You realized that you liked him too. You had been resisting him and the idea of you two together. Especially given that you weren’t too sure how the DEA would feel about you and him having a relationship.

Would you not be able to work together catching Escobar worse get fired? You didn’t want to lose everything at work just to be with him, but you also couldn’t help but feel this way for him. Your thoughts are disrupted when you hear the shower curtain being pushed back. Javier stepped in behind you and came close, pressing his chest against your back. You kept your eyes closed as he wrapped his hands around your waist. He started placing light kisses on your neck and you reached up behind to cup his face. You could feel his cock getting hard on your ass and you reached down to stroke him. He groaned into your ear as he cupped your breasts.

“Mind if I stay?” He whispered

You spun in his arms and looked into his eyes. That same loving look from last night appeared on his face and you knew that he definitely had feelings for you too. There was no turning back now. For either of you. So you accepted that you were also in love with him and leaned into kiss him. It was passionate, with full force. He pushed your back against the shower wall, cupped your face with one hand while the other was planted on the wall beside your head. You moved up against him and moved your leg slowly up to his waist. He dropped his hand and immediately groped your thigh.

“Wanna stay in here or take this back to the bed?” He asked

“I don’t think we’ve ever done it in the shower before” you remarked

“We haven’t” he smirked

You reached back down the stroke his cock and smiled at him.

“Well Agent Peña…” you said as you continued touching him. “What do you want?”

His hands traveled along your body and settled on your waist. He spun you back around and pushed you back up against the shower wall, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back. You let out a breathy moan. You knew calling Javier “Agent Peña” turns him on. And you knew that it could make him go from the sweet man you cared about you so much, into a man hungry with lust. It makes him want to be in charge.

“I want you. And I suggest you behave. Got it?”

You moaned in agreement and nodded. He slapped your ass and tightened his grip around your wrists.

“Words sweetheart…”

“Yes sir…I’ll…I’ll be good” you reply somewhat begrudgingly.

Javier and you had this game sometimes when hooking up. You knew whenever you called him by his formal title, he was going to want to ravish you And you liked to give into him sometimes. Pretend you were a suspect or one of Escobar’s whores. It excited you, in a way you didn’t even know was possible. Makes you feel on edge and you like the anticipation that had control over you. Sex with Javier was usually always good, but when he was trying to find out where the next shipment was going to come in or where Escobar was going to be next he definitely had a few tricks up his sleeve. A few tricks to get girls to talk in bed.

Then he spun you back around as he grabbed your ass again. He rubbed his hand over it and slid it down in between your thighs. His fingers started rubbing your folds and you started melting up against the wall. Letting go of your wrists, he held you closer to him so your back was against his chest. He started pinching and twisting your nipples with his free hand. You let out a series of moans and whines. The hand in between your thigh snaked up and began to rub your clit. His fingers traced over it before pressing down and rubbing in a tight circle. You moaned and arched your back. He moved his hand across your sternum and pushed your back against his chest.

“Don’t move too much sweetheart” Javier demanded. “Just stay right here”

You held onto his biceps now that both of your hands were free. Your legs were shaking and everything around you was going fuzzy.

“Goddamn Peña you make me feel so good.” You whined

“I bet if you were actually one of Escobars girls I’d get information out of you real easy.”

You let out a mix between a moan and a laugh

“You flatter yourself Agent Peña”

With that he pushed you up against the shower wall some more you steadied yourself with your hands. You gasped in surprise at his sudden dominance. He pushed your legs open slightly, his hand grabbing the insides of your thighs. Then you felt the tip of his cock push into you and gasped.

“Would you tell me now?” He asked nipping on my ear lobe

“You’re going to have to do more than that to get anything out of me”

With that he pushed all the way inside you. He felt so full, so big. You couldn’t help but let out a long, staggering moan, but you weren’t about to say anything to him, about how good it felt. Not even say his name. It’s what he was trying to get out of you in this little game of yours. He started pumping in and out of you slowly at first, but he soon picked up his pace. You only let out a few soft moans as he worked his hips against your ass. You weren’t going to let him win that quickly, yet the pleasure was agonizingly good. He started pounding into you and you could barely contain your whimpers. His hand came down and sharply landed on your ass. He smacked it again and again. Each time you couldn’t help but let him hear you.

“Got more to tell me sweetheart?”

You shook your head and he growled into your ear

“C’mon now I know you wanna talk to me. At least tell me how good it feels”

You didn’t reply and he smacked your ass one last time. He pulled out abruptly, spun you around and turned the water off.

“I know what will make you talk…” he smirked

You stared up at him doe eyed, somewhat confused and scared and somewhat in anticipation. He pulled the curtain back then scooped you up into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs dangling from the crook of his elbow. He held your naked body against his tightly and walked back into your bedroom. He threw you down on the bed and you let out a slight yelp. He crawled on top of you and started kissing you again.

“If you won’t talk to me from me fucking you…then I guess I’ll just torture you with my tongue.” He whispered

He worked his way down your entire body, kissing every inch slowly. He was methodically in his actions. Kissing, sucking, and nipping on your flesh like an animal that just caught its prey. He slowly reached your core and began teasing the inside of your thigh with his lips and tongue. Your hand moved down to grab his head and move him where you wanted. He bit down on your thigh, giving it a hard slap, and looked up at you.

“If you want me somewhere specific you’re gonna have to use your words.”

You groaned in response

You watched him as he went back to teasing you. His mouth drew closer and closer to your clit, until finally. Your hips bucked up in his face slightly as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He held you down and started really going for it. He ate you out like he was starving for you. Javier lapped you up, sucking and teasing your core. His tongue was relentless and kept bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He could sense it too. So he kept you on edge for a while. Javier pulled back, gawking at you as your eyes and pouty lips silently begged him to return his mouth to your slit. He slowly rubbed you as he admired you. He stroked himself with his free hand and bent back down to kiss your thighs.

You squirmed when his lips touched your skin again, so desperate to cum for him. Javier kissed your clit again, his soft affectionate demeanor driving you crazy. You wanted to cry out, but you held back, still remembering that he’s trying to coax you into telling him how good he makes you feel. How bad you crave him. Javier made eye contact with you as he tasted you, his tongue delicately danced over your folds. You bit down on your lip hard, eyes never leaving his. He pulled back again, catching his breath. He rubbed your clit again as he looked at you.

“C’mon baby. Why don’t you tell me how good it feels hmm? C’mon let me hear you.” Javier nearly begged but you just shook your head. His face changed as he scoffed at you.

“Fine. Gonna be a stubborn little thing hmm? Two can play at that game.” He said, removing his fingers. You buck your hips up at the loss of his hand, your face scrunched up disappointment. He sat up on his knees and beckoned you to him. You crawled forward, eyes never leaving his. With his cock in one hand, he stroked the side of your face

“Well if you're not going to speak, then maybe you can use your mouth in a different way hmm?” He suggested. He cups your face and draws you close to his crotch.

You opened your sweet little mouth, and he traced your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You opened and took him into your mouth. He was so big, and you could feel the tip as it prodded the back of your throat. You gagged slightly and he cooed at you. He pumped into you, loving the way your lips became fat and plumb. He held the back of your head and he continued moving his hips. Javier tilts his head back in bliss, his grip getting slightly tighter in your hair. He looks down for a moment, reaching for your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Fuck that’s good.” He quipped. He looked back down at your mouth then back up at your ass. He ran his hand in-between your cheeks and started to rub your slick folds. His actions caught you off guard and you popped your mouth off his length. You moaned and gasped as your legs started to give out.

“Oh there she is. Can’t help it now hmm? Come on, tell me how good it feels.”

You held back for as long as possible, biting down hard on your bottom lip until you can’t help it anymore.

“Mmm mmm ooh fuck Javi fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..” you finally cried out, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You duck your head down, face against the mattress as Javier made you cum. You convulsed on his hand. He smiled, his satisfaction ever so apparent.

“Thaaaats it. Oh fuuuck, you’re so pretty baby. So pretty cumming for me like this” he moaned

You stared back up at him, eyes slightly wet and glossy from having him down your throat. With a finger under your chin, he guided your lips back up to his. As he kissed you, he gently pushed you back on your back and you spread your legs for him. He wanted to tease you still, catching you while you're still a babbling mess. He rubs your clit as he pushes himself inside you. It was overwhelming at first, and you clenched around his cock.

“Javi…I-I oh fuck your gonna make me cum again” you squealed

“Good. Tell me who makes you feel good hmm?”

“Y-you Javier ok. You win you win you win, I fuck, I-I…”

“Go on. Say it. Say it to me.”

“I want you. Not just, not just like hooking up…I want all of you please…please…”

The admission stumbled out of you and you almost regretted it as you said it but Javier simply smiled. As he pumped into, he leaned down and kissed you

“Ohh I want you too. I have for a while.”

His passion overtook him and he sped up his hips. He was practically possessed, letting his brain go numb as he continued to drill into you. Your fucked out face gawked at him, continuously looking at his face and then at the place where his cock had entered you. The feeling of pleasure consumed you, he felt so full and deep in you. You never wanted this to end and neither did he. Javier kissed you frantically, savoring you.

“That’s all I really wanted this whole time. To know you wanted me too.” He whispered

You nodded and he pumped into you more deliberately.

“Christ baby you feel so good. Not gonna last much longer.”

Mhmm go on. Fill me up. Fuck pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…” you beg over and over again until he came. His cum spilled into you, feeling warm and filling. He took a moment to catch his breath, kissing all over your face as he did.

“Mmm Javier, we’re going to be in so much trouble…” you muffled as he kissed you

“You really think…” he kissed you “that we should worry about that” he kissed you again “right now. In this moment”

You sighed against him and shook your head

“I hope you have a plan for figuring this out.”

“You know I’ll figure it out baby.” He smiled cockily

He cupped your face and continued to kiss you over and over again. You slowly melted into his touch and so did your anxiety. At that moment you didn’t care. You had him, as much as you had tried to resist him, you wanted him and now, now you had him.

꧁✹❂✹꧂

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agirlcandream84 · 2 months

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he fucks you too hard and you cry x reader w frank?

Thank you for the request! I almost feel bad for Frankie writing this! But I will anyway :)

Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 1,710

Minors DNI. ----------------

Stop. The word popped in your head with your knees smashed into your chest as Frank fucked you so hard that you felt the skin on the back of your thighs and ass grow tender and raw. Frank had your calves hugged to his chest, a bulky arm wrapped around your shins, as the slam of his hips left your hands scrambling for purchase in the bunched up sheets.

You had never established a safe word with Frank. The idea of it seemed almost silly. A word to keep you safe from Frank? The man was safety personified. He worshipped the ground you walked on. He protected you from things that didn't need protecting. He put you first, always. It wasn't as though you didn't want one with him, the idea of it had just never crossed your mind.

In fact, you typically loved Frank's restrained power during sex. You craved his passion and even a little pain-- sex with Frank was often not without its marks. His calloused hand squeezing the smooth silk of your neck. A stinging slap to your ass as Frank filled you thoroughly from behind. A firm tug to your hair, your back arching to grant access that much deeper. It was the implicit trust and safety with him that made these moments possible at all.

But in this moment, Frank's brows furrowed, his grunts erratic and laced with something like anger, all you could think was stop. You had already cum, twice and hard, but Frank was relentless tonight. You had sensed the set of his jaw when he came home after a meeting with Billy but he shrugged it off with a "nah, nuthin' a pretty girl like you needs to worry about." But you knew he was still bothered, catching him in a stare while his thumb drummed on the countertop.

Truthfully, you were already feeling sensitive. Your favorite dress from last season was feeling more snug than normal and you had gotten into an argument with a product manager at work. And maybe you weren't exactly in the mood for sex but the way Frank tugged you close after the shower, his nose taking a deep inhale of your freshly washed hair and his hand easily unknotting the towel around your chest, you let yourself be persuaded with his touch.

Frank will make it better. He always does.

What you craved was softness tonight. Reverence. Those nights were Frank spent what felt like hours with his face buried between your legs, only coming up for air to coo at how fucking good you tasted. Or something like slow morning sex, with your leg draped over his hip, him dragging his cock slowly in and out from behind you, his fingers giving your clit the attention it needed until you were a sleepy, smiley puddle of goo in his hands.

But what you got was different. And maybe if it were any other day you'd cum for the third time and beg him to go harder. But it was today and now and all you could think was stop. Please stop. Tears well in the corners of your eyes and you reach your hands to press against the tops of his thighs, an attempt to slow the force of him. To gain just a moment to catch your breath.

Frank misses the cue, mumbling "Fuck sweetheart," as he grips your legs and lifts your ass an inch off the bed, his pace quickening to a pound-pound-pound-pound so that your body feels annihilated and used.

The sob chokes out of your mouth almost involuntarily. Your hand flying to cover your face as you beg him to "stop, stop, stop."

Immediately he stops. A "fuck" flying out of his mouth, his brows twisted in confusion and he calls your name and bends to scoop you gently from the bed. Once the floodgates have opened you find the crying hard to control, your mouth gulping for air as your chest heaves.

Frank twists to sit on the bed with you held firmly in his lap, brushing the hair out of your face to find your eyes. Pleading evident in his tone as he says, "Fuck, you gotta talk to me doll. I hurt you? Did I hurt you baby?" as he rocks you slowly back and forth, the motion meant to soothe you and him.

"S-s-s-sorry," you attempt to start, the gulping breaths still winning over, "didn't feel it right."

"It didn't feel right sweetheart. I believe you. It didn't feel right," he repeats back, still swaying back and forth, his eyes darting around the room in panic. He makes to shift you slightly and you hiss, the movement aggravating the tender skin of your thighs and ass.

"Fuck fuck fuck." he mumbles to himself, assessing his damage, "Hurts there doll?" he asks and you nod your head.

"sensitive," you mumble, casting a glance up to his eyes for the first time and seeing the crumpled, devastated look on his face.

"Ok if I take a look sweetheart?" he asks, his voice so soft you barely him hear. "Would that be alright?"

"uh-huh," you nod and he gingerly shifts you in this lap to peak at the backs of your thighs and your ass, the skin angry and chapped. He lets a slow breath out of his mouth, an attempt to steady the bubbling rage directed inward. He'd find the time to hate himself later, right now he needed to make it right with you.

"Gonna lay you down on the bed, yeah?" he asks, meeting your eye again and nodding at you to confirm your agreement. You nod back and hold tight to his neck as he twists to face the bed and gently lay you stomach-down, avoiding the tender skin. He guides a pillow just along your side so you can hug it, propping your body on its side, positioning your top leg to drape across the pillow. He reaches for the lotion off the bedside table and takes three big pumps before working it between his hands.

"Need you to take a few deep breaths for me honey. Might sting for a minute but's gonna help, alright?" he instructs, his tone soft. You nod and squeeze your eyes shut at the slight sting of the cool lotion as Frank starts to delicately work it into your chaffed skin. "Doin' so well sweetheart," he offers, "almost done."

Once he's finished he tugs the blanket up to cover your form, again fixing the hair out of your face. "Sweetheart I-- " he starts but stops, releasing a deep breath. "Fuck sweetheart, I'm so sorry. So fuckin' sorry," he adds, an agitated hand swiping down his face as he kneels on the ground in front of the bed to be eye level with you.

"Frankie s'okay," you reply quietly, "I'm ok. Promise. Just...had a bad day. Feel so stupid," you add.

"Hey hey, no, none of that doll. I.... I got too rough," he says, shaking his head as if to rid it of the memory, "I fucked up. You don't deserve shit like that."

"Lay with me?" you ask, "please." He felt so far away. Despite the proceedings, Frank felt like the only safe space. You craved his dependable solidness. The safety of his arms engulfing you.

"You sure you want that sweetheart?" he asks, his thumb skimming your cheekbone and his eyes searching your face. You nod and grasp his hand, mumbling another "please" before he climbs in gingerly behind you, his body cupping yours and a big hand making long, slow circles on your back.

You weren't sure when you had dozed off but when you woke, Frank wasn't there. You gather the blanket around your naked body and pad into the living room, Frank seated in silence, the room dark but for the streetlight, jumping to his feet the minute you step into the room.

"What's the matter sweetheart? You alright?" he asks urgently, standing in front of you in three long strides and his hands landing on your hips. "Somethin' hurt?," he adds, his eyes raking over your form.

"No I just...." you trail off. "Don't do this. Please," you plead, beckoning Frank off the edge of self-loathing that he teetered on.

"I'm not -- you're not safe with me sweetheart. That's the truth," he rumbles, matter of fact but his toned laced with disgust. You bristle at his statement, the fallacy of it striking and obvious.

"Bullshit," you respond, his eyes snapping to yours. "That's bullshit and you know it," you assert, feeling indignant that Frank let indulgent self-loathing threaten the safe space you'd both created.

"It's not fucking bullshit," Frank retorts, anger fueling him, almost mad that you won't hate him as much as he hates himself. "I did this," he says spinning your body and lifting the blanket, the product of his effort on display. "Me. Fucked you like a monster and I hurt you. I hurt the woman I love," he adds, his voice close to shouting.

"Say it again," you ask him, refusing to look away from him.

"I fuckin' hurt you!" he shouts back.

"No, the other part," you demand.

"The woman I love," he says, his voice still raised but the simmering rage dissipating.

"Say it again," you reply.

"The woman I love," he responds, softening. "The woman I fucking love. Fuck sweetheart. Fuck I never wanna fuckin' hurt you but that's what I do. I get people hurt," he adds, the vulnerability cracking through. The rage and self loathing only flimsy shield to keep terrifying vulnerability at bay.

"I'm not afraid of you Frank. I'm not afraid with you. I'm safe with you. And I love you," you murmur, your hands handing on either side of his face, fingertips tickling in the bristle on his jaw.

His neck cranes down to lean his forehead against yours, his hands making their way back around your waist to tug you closer. "Don't wanna hurt you like that again," he says.

You nod in agreement, and he adds, "Need you to speak up too ok? Gotta tell me how you're feelin', yeah?" and you nod again before his big hand cups your jaw and you let your eyes fall shut.

"Come on sweetheart, lemme take care of you," he murmurs, bending to gently lift you from behind the knees and supporting your back and walking to the bedroom.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fluff

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hades-in-bloom · 9 months

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Scars

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: thinking of Leon’s scars (with a little bit of touching).

warnings & contents: fluff; assumed older Leon (more of RE6 and Vendetta, although I keep using ID! to illustrate); could be age gap, could be none; lots of cuddling; mentions of violence (sorta); the reader could be any gender; no mentions of y/n

a/n: a blurb, because I can. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

soundtrack: billie eilish — when the party’s over

***

Leon’s figure was resting on top of the bedsheets, his bare back exposed to one’s curious sight with his features relaxed, while he was catching up on hours of sleep he was deprived of this week; thanks to another one of those excruciating missions. You couldn’t hold back a small smile; he looked so peaceful, lying there with disheveled dirty blonde hair and not a glimpse of worry on his face—something you would die to see more often after everything he has endured.

You were doing your best to stay as quiet as humanly possible so you wouldn’t wake him up when your gaze got drawn to the network of scars, interspersed with moles, scattered across his pale skin. There were a couple of fresh bruises flourishing into purple and yellow blobs, too, adding to a rich picture. You winced like you could feel his pain. You’d never get used to seeing him this way—seeing him hurt.

Your touch was lighter than one of a feather when your fingers slid over one of his scars, tracing its shape slowly, with care. This one seemed to be old, fading away over the years, thus one of the rarest ones—as there were many more those anew, coming in different shapes and shades of pink. It didn’t matter, though, how many of them were on Kennedy’s body—you knew them all, keeping the count.

You pulled your hand away in a swift motion as you felt Leon stir. He was still half-asleep when he opened his eyes a crack, his gaze fixed on your features. You looked guilty.

“Hey,” he muttered hoarsely with a faint smile. He didn’t sound irritated—rather exhausted. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, sweetheart?”

You chuckled softly as you eliminated the distance between the two of you, and then rested your head on the edge of his pillow. His hand immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up.” You pressed your lips against his forehead. You kept your voice barely above the whisper, hoping he’d be able to go back to sleep.

He hummed, “It’s okay,” with his eyes almost shut again, as his mind stayed in the half-place between awakeness and dreams. His thumb caressed your side mindlessly, soothing himself down.

You put your hands on his back in a kind of hug, feeling the bumps of his scars under your fingers.

“You have never told me their stories,” you said quietly, cradling him with your touch.

Leon’s body tensed slightly, his face now hidden in the crook of your neck. His warm and even breathing sent shivers down your spine.

The man became silent for a moment, taking his time before he replied, “I don’t believe these are stories that I should make you listen to.”

He preferred not to bring his work home.

You didn’t insist—you have always respected his choices. You left a kiss on his temple while Leon hugged you tighter.

“I’ll listen to anything you’d be willing to tell me, handsome.”

He smiled; you could feel his lips stretching out on the skin of your neck. It wasn’t a trust issue; Kennedy could tell that much—but he needed time to gather the courage to drag you into his waking nightmare.

“Maybe one day, sweetheart,” Leon sighed deeply, his tone calm as he admitted; his eyes now closed. “Maybe one day.”

You spent the next minutes running fingers through his hair until he drifted back into a blissful sleep.

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bozowrites · 5 months

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starved man

tom blyth x f!reader : tom feels a way he shouldn't and lets those feelings get in the way of work. (angsty)

wc : 1.2k

a/n : couldn't help myself. i love this man. might write a parallel imagine of the scene in this as a billy x reader fic.

navigaton

maybe tom was wrong for feeling this way. well, he was—he knew that, but you can’t help the way you feel; that’s what tom keeps telling himself. he taps at his leg with his finger, anticipating the scene he was about to do with yn. he couldn’t wait any longer, he was ready to get going. it felt like this exciting and nerve-wracking whirlwind. like when you’re about to ask out your crush and can’t wait for their answer, but too scared to hear the answer at the same time. tom bites his lower lip, bouncing his leg. “dude,” daniel deadpans beside him. “you’re gonna burn a hole through her if you keep staring.”

tom laughs awkwardly, shaking himself out of it. “i was out of it, didn’t realize.”

“right,” daniel leans in closer to tom, keeping his tone low, “so you aren’t dying to kiss her in this scene?” tom gulps, raising a brow and eyes daniel. “who said i was?”

“no one, but its pretty obvious.” tom scoffs, rubbing his forehead, already annoyed, not with daniel but with himself. this wasn’t how these last few weeks of filming were supposed to go. yn was in for a few episodes of billy the kid, playing a character that billy would fall for, though, of course, wouldn’t get in the end. and, within just the few weeks he’d been getting to know yn, he wanted so much more from her. and, yeah, he was excited because, yeah, he was going to kiss her. this was an excuse to touch her body and feel her lips against his, no questions asked ‘cause this was for work.

“it is?” tom asks, looking over to meet daniel’s stare. “to me. i don’t know ‘bout anyone else.” he shrugs. “looks like they’re ready for you. try not to have too much fun!”

tom’s heart stutters. he shouldn’t be this excited. he can’t be. he takes his place, getting himself into it, into character, ready for the cameras. yn smiles wide at him from her spot across the set. he smiles back, he couldn’t not even if he tried. this scene wasn’t going to be the same for her as it was for him and selfishly, he hoped they’d have to redo the scene over and over again.

on cue, tom is his character. the scene is smooth sailing, he’s practiced his lines well enough with everyone to know what he is doing, but the closer he gets to the kiss; the faster he is with his words, desperate to get to where he wants to be. his heart feels loud and hammers against his chest. he really felt like a schoolboy waiting to confess his feelings. tom’s close to yn, staring directly down at her, her lips. he can’t seem to look away to save his life. she’s stopped talking, he looks up. what was his line again? he looks down at her lips again, he just needs to kiss her. “goddammit.” tom mutters. he dives for her lips. he groans the moment he feels her lips. his hands cup her face, holding her impossibly close. he needs to be as close as he can and touch her as much as he can this way. he's hungry for her, the touch of her. she’s soft and perfectly fitted against him. her hands hold his arms, steading herself as he pushes himself closer and closer. this is by far the best kiss he’s ever shared with anyone, and all be damned if he didn’t get to do it again.

“billy…” she moans against him. he stutters back, moving himself a step away, letting her go. they’re acting. she isn’t kissing tom, she’s kissing billy. “cut!”

the director makes a move over to them. “missed a few lines, tom, but that was great!” she goes on. tom’s only focused on yn. she’s not looking at him, she’s fidgeting with her skirt, glancing around the room and nodding along with the director. she’s nervous and undoubtedly startled. “alright, you two?”

“sorry?” tom shakes himself out of it, looking to meet the director’s stare.

“tom.” the director deadpans. “we’re going to do a quick take of you walking away after that kiss and we’ll move the conversation you two were supposed to have after the kiss to the next scene just before billy leaves.”

“oh, okay.”

“i know its a bit of a last minute change but so was that sudden kiss.” tom laughs with her, rubbing the back of his head. “right, sorry about that. i…forgot my lines and just went for it.” he excuses.

“don’t be sorry. i think that really added to the passion of the scene. more meaning.” tom nods, smiling. “okay, lets do it people!”

yn doesn’t look at him, avoiding his eyes. what has he done?

...

“billy—”

“don’t. i know.” tom sighs. he glances around, gulping. “don’t matter, i’m leaving anyways. best i do.” yn nods. “i’m sorry, billy.”

tom goes to mount his horse, the end scene of him riding off, but yn pulls him back. she kisses him. tom’s heart stops for a moment. her hands held his face this time, and he’d be dumb to not reach for her hips and kiss her back. she lets go all too soon, sighing, keeping her forehead pressed against his. “don’t forget me, billy.”

“i couldn’t if i tried.” he sneaks a quick peck, satisfied as all can be, and mounts his horse. the stare he gives her before riding off, he’s sure she can see the desire he has for her. maybe he really had gone crazy, but he could swear something was saying the same thing in hers.

...

the scenes with yn had finally ended, they were at the end of their filming for the day. tom was watching as yn indulged in conversation with the director. he sighs. though he felt satisfied by the kisses they’d shared, he needed more and that only fueled him further. the idea of never kissing yn again was weighing on his shoulders like a boulder. it's just a pair of lips, tom thinks. that happens to belong to the most perfect person ever. he groans, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “i’m going crazy.”

“crazy in love, maybe.” tom sits up, shooting his eyes over to daniel. “what? no.”

“it’s okay to admit you like someone, tom.”

“not when they’re taken.” tom sighs, rubbing his temple, annoyed. none of this would be so bad, but yn just had to be in a relationship, a happy one at that. tom just had to fall for her and deal with it, pretending to love hearing her talk about him so lovingly and so sweetly. that scene, kissing her, was his little chance into what a world with her was like, and by golly, did he want more. there wasn’t quite anything like the feeling of her lips on his and her moaning into him as her hands squeezed his arms to steady herself.

“tom—”

‘it doesn’t matter, i’ll get over it. plus, she’s done with this show, so i won’t be seeing her.” not like she wanted to see him. she’d been avoiding him after finishing up. she didn’t join them for drinks and she didn’t look at tom once.

he really had fucked things up.

#tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x you #tom blyth imagine #billy the kid smut #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #tom blyth smut #william bonney

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader PART TWO [35K] another year at summer camp, more broken kayaks, a change of plans, a lot of wondering. meet us in the afterglow.

PART ONE

Tell me that it's not my fault

“Steve!” You yelled the boy's name on instinct when you saw him the morning after the cabin incident. “Hey, Steve!”

He looked startled to hear you, to hear his name on your lips when it wasn’t snarled or yelled. But he stopped anyway, blinking at you in the sunlight as you jogged over to him, hair still damp from the lake, leaving your shorts unbuttoned over your swimsuit.

“Hey,” you said, softer now you were closer. “I heard about Billy.”

Steve made a face that you tried not to smile at, his expression somewhat regretful, like he was expecting you to tell him off, something you would’ve normally done. Instead, you turned your attention to the cut on his cheek, the small scratch that still looked too fresh not to hurt. There was a bruise forming around it, blotchy blue and purple, high on his cheekbone.

[THIS MUST BE THE PLACE (COVER) BY THE LUMINEERS]

You ached to reach out, to take Steve’s chin between your finger and thumb so you could pull him down to you, so you could kiss the mark better. “Are you okay?” You asked instead.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, eyes darting around the forest floor, at the trees and the sun, before they settled on you. He swallowed hard and tried not to watch the drop of water that was running from the nape of your neck down your chest. “Yeah, m’fine. No big deal.”

You huffed, a familiar sound that made the corners of Steve’s mouth pick up, because you still sounded soft, huffy in a way that made him want to fix it.

“That’s not what Eddie said,'' you told him, finally giving in and moving a little closer, toes of your sneakers pushed into the moss so you could peer at his injuries with concerned eyes. “He said you really went for Billy. That he’d never seen you like that before.”

Steve froze as you inspected his cheek, closer than you’d been in weeks. You still smelled the same, he noted, under your sunscreen and the lake water. Your perfume still clung to your skin and Steve watched with parted lips as you reached up to push some of his hair back in order to get a better look at his cheek.

You kept your gaze lowered as you did so, careful not to move too fast, wary about making eye contact. But Steve didn’t move away.

“S’nothing, honest. Just got out of hand.” Steve swallowed again, mouth too dry and Adam’s apple bobbing as his hand accidentally grazed your hip as he shifted. “Um, what else did Eddie say?”

You frowned, letting your hand drop from Steve’s face, albeit grudgingly. The boy was pleased to note that you didn’t move away. “Not much, apart from that. Why?”

Steve shrugged, feeling clumsy, feeling lovesick, like a teenager with a first crush, like a stupid boy who didn’t know how to function with a pretty girl so close. A month ago, he’d had taken this opportunity to pull you behind the kayak stack, nimble and sure fingers slipping down the straps of your swimsuit as he kissed you until you whispered his name the way he liked to hear.

Instead, he gave you a small smile. “No reason. Hey, do I, uh, still have sand or somethin’ in the cut? Feels itchy.”

Steve knew that the slice on his cheek was more than clean, he’d spent long enough cornered by Joyce as she squeezed cotton balls soaked in antiseptic over the injury, again and again until he batted her away with pleading eyes. But he was desperate for you to touch him again, to be this close to you without arguing. And if he couldn’t kiss you, well, maybe your soft hands on his cheek would just have to do.

You took the bait, whether you’d seen through his plan or not, Steve didn’t care. You leaned in, fingers careful on his jaw as you tilted his face this way and that, close enough that your nose almost skimmed his cheek. Steve thought you were warmer than the sun then, a heat against him that he missed even more than he’d realised. He held his breath, clenched his hands at his sides and tried not to touch you.

“Maybe there’s a little something,” you lied, “just there. Hold still.”

Steve did as you asked, frozen as you swept a gentle finger over the tender skin. You wanted to kiss the bruise, the mottled shape on his cheek that had darkened over night. But you kept your eyes lowered, movements careful, pretending to swipe away something that was never there.

“Think it’s some sand or something,” you whispered.

Steve licked his lips, hummed in agreement and let his gaze land on your face. You were just as pretty, he noted, even when you looked so sad.

“What do you think of Shelbyville?” The boy asked it so suddenly that you stopped what you were doing, your hand paused against Steve’s cheek, your fingers splayed over his jaw.

You wrinkled your nose, confused as you considered his question. “Shelbyville? Why?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just smiled a little weakly and made a half shrug with his shoulders, waiting for your answer.

“It’s nice, I guess,” you finally replied, still confused but answering honestly. “S’pretty. My aunt lives there, out by Blue River. I like it.”

Something in Steve’s chest grew, an elated feeling that felt a little like hope, like a new possibility. “Yeah?” He smiled a little more confidently, brows raised.

You still weren’t sure why he was asking, or why he suddenly seemed so happy but you couldn’t help but smile back. You nodded, squinting up at him through the rays of sun that had appeared through the tree canopy, turning you both golden.

“Yeah,” you agreed. Grudgingly, you dropped your hand from his face, fingertips trailing down his jaw until you had no choice to step back, finding no reason to be so close. Not now. “There we go, all clean.”

Steve nodded, smile dropping slightly as you moved away, and his hand reached up to his own cheek, to the same spot you’d held. Like he was chasing your touch. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, just as soft.

It hurt to walk away, it physically hurt. So you backed up slowly, like keeping your eyes on Steve for as long as you could would somehow help and the boy stayed where you’d left him, his hand on his sore cheek, staring at you as you made your way back to the dock.

Robin was there, a stack of lifejackets in her arms, the ones you’d dropped at the sight of Steve. You took them back from her, cheeks warm, gaze lowered. You watched as Steve finally left, almost walking into a camp sign, face burning pink as he frowned at it.

“What was that?” Robin asked, brows raised under her cap. It was on backwards and had been adorned with another patch, a purple Care Bear that had its middle finger lifted.

You stared at her, wide eyed, as if that would help feign ignorance a little better. “What was what?”

“Bitch,” Robin scoffed, amused. “Don’t even try it.” She dumped more life jackets into your arms, laughing when you protested. “You’re not slick, you know.”

You kept your head down, a small shred of hope blooming in between your ribs like new flowers. If you smiled, Robin pretended that she didn’t see it.

—————

“Capture the flag,” Hopper announced, standing to face the crowd of campers and staff alike. “Need I explain?”

The kids murmured excitedly and shook their heads, eagerly awaiting their weaponry as Murray weaved in and out of the groups with tiny balloons filled with coloured paint and an old, fraying piece of ribbon that was meant to be tied around an arm. “Red or blue?” he’d ask each kid, before grinning and giving them the opposite of what they asked for.

“Aren’t these supposed to go in paint guns, or something?” Lucas called out, squinting pitifully at the small balloon he held aloft. “These ain’t gonna do shi--”

“Language, Mr. Sinclair,” Hopper called back cheerfully. “And I’m so sorry, you seem to have mistaken our budget with Camp America. Take the damn balloons and pray you got a good arm, kid.”

The campers snickered and Lucas frowned, shoving a shoulder into Dustin who jostled Will and Mike, a red paint filled balloon popping prematurely and bursting over the smallest boy’s sneakers. Will sighed, a long suffering thing that was too weary for a preteen, and held out a hand for Murray to deposit another one into it.

“Maybe we can do some fundraising for next year,” Murray added, making his way back to the front of the group. “I’m sure Mr. Harrington can help arrange something, right Steven?”

Every pair of eyes shot to Steve as he stood slack jawed and wide eyed, gaze finding yours in the confusion. You were looking at him with furrowed brows, wondering what on earth Murray could have meant. Next year? Mr. Harrington?

“Uh…” was all Steve had to say.

Eddie snorted. Steve backhanded him in the stomach. You were still frowning.

“Team captains,” Murray announced, holding two more armbands aloft. These ones had a crown on each, penned on with black marker that had faded over the years. “Choose your leaders, people.”

It took approximately half a second for Eddie to shove Steve forward, sending him through a crowd of kids that squealed at the jostling. Unsure if it was planned or not, you swore when Robin did the same to you, nipping at your side so you squeaked. You glared at Murray when he approached, grinning wide.

“This should be fun,” he drawled, teasing. His eyes flashed too much mischief for a man pushing fifty and you grunted your annoyance even when you grabbed the armband from him.

You didn’t look to see if Steve did the same, but you heard his hissed argument with Eddie as you made Robin tie the material around your bicep, red cotton against your mustard yellow lifeguard shirt.

“Harrington,” Murray announced. “Look sharp and uh, let’s keep it clean, huh, kiddies?”

When you finally spared a glance, Murray was looking between you and Steve, still grinning and the boy was knotting the blue band around his arm, his features pulled together in frustration.

Hopper was pinching at his eyes, looking pained. “For the love of god, any destruction of property, will be coming out of your fu— out of your paychecks.” The man sighed, already tired and he huffed. “Take the damned flags and don’t trash my camp.”

And then the game began.

The camp was alive with noise and colour, the sounds of kids laughing and screeching as they launched tiny paint balls at each other, all strategy and planning out the window after Eddie and Jonathan launched a sneak attack on Robin, dousing her in blue paint that they dropped from a tree. Subtlety was gone after that and the kids ran amok, abandoning their positions until you were the only one left defending the flag, an old ratty, red thing that was shoved up high and behind the stacked gym mats inside the hall.

You were bored hearing the screams from outside, pacing the gym as you waited for either a teammate to return (Max and Will had left ten minutes ago for more supplies, but you heard the sorrowful sounds of Will being pelted with balloons mere seconds after leaving the gym. Max had snorted and left him behind), or for an opponent to try their luck at capturing your flag. You weren’t sure which option appealed less, as the semi silence you were left in gave you too much time to think.

Why did Steve ask about Shelbyville of all places? Why did Murray talk like Steve was going to be here next year?

Outside, you heard someone yell, someone shriek and then a casualty was declared as Dustin yelped about having paint in his eye and how Max was playing too mean. You considered leaving, going to check everyone had it all covered but you heard Joyce fuss, kids giggling and soon enough, the game kicked back off.

The late afternoon was turning to evening when the doors finally jolted open, a squeak and a whine of the hinges that let in the last of the golden coloured light, the sky turning pinky peach through the old, cracked windows.

You turned to face your opponent with a balloon in your fist, already raised and aimed at the doorway.

Steve.

You sighed, trying your best to seem unaffected even though you could feel your own heartbeat in your ears. You pushed the toe of a sneaker into the gym floor, making it squeak. “This seems clichéd,” you joked.

The boy snorted, a light huff of air that eased the pounding of your chest. “Right?” He agreed. “But Eddie got disqualified for unfair use of weaponry and fuck knows where Billy led Mike and Lucas.”

You frowned, genuine concern evident in your voice. “And no one thought to check on them?”

Steve shrugged, grinning. “S’fine. Mike’s been taking karate classes. Apparently.”

It was easy to joke like this. Just like it had been easy to forget about how Steve walked away from the cabin trap set by the kids, how you’d run to him the minute you found out he was hurt, how it was easier still to put your hands on his jaw, his cheek, play pretend and fake act nurse.

But suddenly the last few weeks, the last few months, caught up to you and you were more aware than ever that August was soon approaching. You wondered if Steve’s room back in Hawkins was already packed up, if his carpet was covered in cardboard boxes, if his mom and dad would travel to Arizona with him, if he already had his class schedule, if he still really wanted to go.

“What’s in Shelbyville?”

“What—?”

“Do you know someone there? And why did you hit Billy? Was it something to do with me?”

The boy was reeling from your onslaught of sudden questioning and the attention made him burn. “What? No,” Steve scoffed, trying and failing miserably to appear cool and collected. “Why? What did Eddie tell you?”

“What’s going on, Steve? Why’s Murray calling you Mr. Harrington, why are you—”

“It’s nothing!” The boy interrupted. “Nothin’s going on.”

“Stop lying to me!”

Steve swallowed and let out a sigh that hurt his chest, a stuttering, wrenching thing because your eyes were turning glassy and he saw the way you caught yourself as your bottom lip started to tremble.

“I’m no— I, fuck, I’m not trying to lie to you, it’s just…” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Princess, listen—”

A paint balloon landed on Steve’s hip, a barely there thump but the ball exploded with red paint, splattering across Steve’s clothes, his shirt, his forearm. He blinked up at you, lips parting in surprise.

“Don’t call me that,” your words were thick with emotion, your lips in a tight line as you tried your hardest not to break. “And stop lying to me. All you’ve done is lie to me.”

Steve was speechless, holding his arms out before letting them drop back to his side in defeat. “I haven't lied to you,” he said mournfully. “At least I haven’t meant to, shit, it’s been— hard, okay? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I know it’s been hard Steve, but god, tell me the truth! At least admit it to yourself.”

“What truth?” Steve yelled, grimacing when you flinched. He immediately felt awful, but the frustration in his chest was simmering over, clawing its way up his throat. “What do you want me to say, huh? That you were right? That I’m some kind of fucking loser that’s doing as daddy says? That I’m so stupid that only the way I can get into college is if I let my dad pay my way in?”

He threw a paintball at the floor, only feeling slightly bad when some of the colour reached the toes of your shoes, your bare shins. Bright blue streaked across your skin and you frowned, at the mess and Steve’s words.

“You’re not a loser,” you growled, annoyance colouring your tone. No one was allowed to talk shit about Steve Harrington. Not even himself. Not to you, at least. “And you’re not stupid, Steve. Stop it.”

Another paint balloon was thrown, this time by you, a careful aim that caught Steve’s chest. He swore, staring at the bloom of red over his staff shirt before he glared at you. “Hey, the fuck was that for?”

“You’re not a loser and you’re not stupid and your dad is a fucking bully who can’t be happy for his son’s own choices.” You launched another, huffing when Steve managed to avoid it, paint exploding over the gym floor instead.

“Stop!” Steve retaliated with his own weapons, chucking a blue balloon at your thigh, feeling a tiny flush of satisfaction when it burst all over your tennis skirt.

“Are you still going to Arizona?” You were near breathless, adrenaline high as you held another balloon in your hand, ready to take aim.

“No!” Steve burst. He swore, dropping the last balloon and groaning when the paint hit his feet. He scrubbed his hands over his face, streaks of blue over his cheeks and into his hair as he tugged on the ends. “I don’t know. Fuck, I— no. I don’t want to. I never fucking wanted to.”

You dropped your balloon too, red on the floor, on your shoes, your ankles. You stared at the boy, shocked as his admittance, despite how you’d known it all along. You weren’t sure what to do now, what to say. But tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, hot and heavy.

You sniffed, tears gathering at your lash line, making the boy before you blurry. You took a deep breath before your next question, wondering if this is the one that would hurt the most, but before you could, Steve spoke first.

“You said I didn’t call you back,” he sounded as wrecked as you felt, his words thick and clumsy, his eyes holding too much emotion to try and decipher. “That night, after the party, you said I didn't call you back. When? When did you call me?”

You were stunned. One, that you’d admitted that, and two, that Steve had remembered. The vodka you’d had that night made the memories blurry, but you could recall your head buried in Steve’s chest, his sweatshirt on your frame, his cologne and leftover campfire smoke amongst cotton sheets. A mumbled confession, sad words and sleep.

You shrugged, helpless. “Fuck, I— I called you the night after. The night after you told me about college. I rang and your dad answered.” You swallowed harshly, looking anywhere but at Steve. “He said you were busy. Said he’d tell you I called.”

If Steve had felt an annoyance, a disdain, for his father before, nothing really compared to the anger that burst in his chest like a bomb. “What?”

You shrugged at him again.

“Ba—” Steve groaned, tugging at his hair until it stood on end. He said your name, agonised. “I didn’t know you called. I— fuck, I would’ve called you back. I spent fucking weeks standing at the phone wishing you would, tryin’ to work up the balls to call you myself.”

Steve stepped forward, once, twice. “He didn’t tell me. My dad didn’t tell me you tried to get in touch.” Steve’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out and take your own. “I would’ve called you back. Fuck, I would’ve driven straight over to you and—”

Steve didn’t get to finish his sentence before you’d launched yourself at him. You didn’t know what any of it meant, not yet, not really. You didn’t know if Steve really was going to stay, what that meant for you both, what would happen next. Nothing could be fixed right now, not right away, not in the middle of the forest during a game of capture the flag, but you decided then and there - covered in paint - that eight weeks was too long to go without kissing Steve Harrington.

He caught you, arms around your waist as you crushed yourself to his chest, your hands finding the hair at the nape of his neck so you could tug him down to meet your lips. Steve went willingly, your toes barely skimming the floor, your T-shirt tangled between the boy’s fingers as he gripped you like he’d never dream of letting you go.

Not again.

Not ever.

It was a messy thing, that kiss. It felt new, like a reset, a restart, like the first time all over again. Your noses bumped and you breathed in the air that Steve blew out, a sigh, a swear, lips pushed together until either of you could handle it anymore.

“I thought you hated me,” Steve mumbled against your mouth, eyes closed tight and his arms still around you. “Fuck, I thought—”

“No,” you told him, hands covering his jaw, thumb soothing over the apples of his cheeks, the cut that was still there. “No, no, could never. Could never hate you.”

Your feet were back on the ground now, the toes of your sneakers pushed to the gym floor, stepping in paint as you both swayed slightly at the desperation of each other's grip. That’s all Steve seemed to need to hear, because the boy dipped his head back down to yours and kissed you soundly, with more confidence than the first time, like he suddenly remembered that he knew how to do this. His hands were up your shirt, fingertips skimming along your spine, palm flat to your skin to hold you to him so he could kiss you deeper, slower, longer.

And when you parted your lips for him, you weren’t sure who made the first noise. But you whined and Steve groaned, tongues licking over each other’s, four hands getting greedy, pulling and shoving at camp shirts to feel more.

“I don’t wanna go to Arizona,” Steve whispered, and you pulled back enough to soothe a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair from his eyes. He looked at you so seriously that you felt it in your chest, a sharp pang of hurt and relief for the boy. “I don’t wanna study finance.”

“I know.” You nodded, bringing him back to you, kissing over whatever part of him you could reach. His jaw, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his closed eyelids, his chin. “I know, it’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy, you know that right?”

Steve nodded too, nose bumping yours as he stumbled backwards, clumsy footing taking you both away from the middle of the gym. “I know, baby,” he sucked in a breath. “M’sorry.”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He had you up against a wall before you realised, head tilted down to you as he nuzzled at your throat, your head tipping back so you could let Steve do as he pleased. He nipped at the skin there, kissing along your neck until you cried out his name and god, the hands he had on your waist just squeezed tighter in response.

“Shit, Steve,” you sucked in a breath, overwhelmed. “I should be the one apologising, I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did, I should’ve—”

“Nonono,” Steve shook his head, catching your lips for another kiss again, swallowing your noises as you whined for him, fingers twisting and tugging meanly at his hair, the collar of his shirt. “Don’t wanna talk anymore,” he groaned. “Not right now, please…”

[MEDICINE BY HARRY STYLES]

“Storeroom,” you told him, nodding towards the double doors that led into the large cupboard, away from any prying eyes that would eventually come into the gym. “Now.”

Steve was apparently as desperate as you were, because he didn’t take his lips off of you, even as you both stumbled towards your chosen hiding spot. Feet tripped over each other as you made it across the gym, hands still in his air and tugging him down to you. Steve didn’t seem to mind, groaning loud when you sighed and tipped your head back for him, letting him lick and suck at your neck. There was paint smeared everywhere, splatters of red and blue mixing to make a lavender colour, streaking your skin and Steve’s.

And then the door to the storeroom was wrenched open and Steve was guiding you in with a tug of his hand. It was funny how your stomach flipped, a nervous excitement, an anticipation hooking in your stomach like this was your first time with the boy all over again. Except you knew what he liked and you knew how to make him fall apart so easily, which is why you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself at him, Steve’s back against the wall this time as your hands cradled his jaw and you pulled him down to meet your kiss.

Shoulders bumped old shelves, metal ball cages that were only half full now that the summer was coming to an end and there were stacks of old oars leaning against three kayaks, each plastered with patches of new paint that didn’t match the original colour. A quick fix it job that Steve had been tasked with last summer after he flat out refused to hand over the three hundred dollars Hopper demanded for a new boat.

You thought of that stupid jar on your managers desk and wondered if it would be worth it.

But once you’d pulled back, just a touch to look up at Steve, your mind was made up. The boy looked wrecked, tanned skin messy with paint, streaks of it running across strong forearms, dots of it somehow mixing with freckles across his cheeks and nose. You’d gotten red paint in his hair when you’d grabbed at it, making it messier than ever. But Steve didn’t seem to care, nor if the way he was looking at you was any indication. Heavy, hooded eyes on you, roaming unashamedly over your face, your frame, the way you’d pushed your thighs together for some relief. He was already hard, thick and strained against the zipper of his jeans at the very first touch of your lips against his.

Yeah, it would be worth it.

“Missed you,” he whispered, reverent, ruined. His hands reached out for you again, fingers twisting in the sides of your shirt to pull you back to him. “Thought that was it, thought I’d never get to have you like this again.”

You made a noise of protest at the thought, a hiccuping thing that Steve swallowed with a kiss, his breath coming out heavy against your cheek. You were impatient now, too worked up, desperate for him. Your hands snuck under his shirt, slipping up and over his stomach, smiling when the muscles there clenched and twitched under your fingertips. You raked your nails back down him, anchoring yourself to his belt loops, wondering if he’d let you do what you wanted him with, if he’d be patient enough.

Steve was working his mouth over your neck when you asked, his own thumb pulling at your shirt collar to try and stretch it out for himself, uncovering more skin to kiss.

“Steve,” you were breathless and he hummed, never stopping the way he sucked and bit down at the crook of your neck. “Wanna suck you off.”

The noise that left the boy’s lips was unholy, a needy, wrecked sounding thing that had you more desperate to get on your knees than ever. Your hands went to the button of his jeans, popping it with a finesse that made Steve’s eyes flutter.

“Please,” you added for extra effect, like you didn’t already know Steve would give you whatever you wanted.

“Fuck, honey,” Steve pulled back, just slightly, his head falling backwards until it thumped dully against the wall. His pupils were blown wide, his hold on your waist tightening, hands sneaking under cotton to steal a touch of your skin. “You want me to fuck you, right?”

You nodded immediately, lips parting at the thought, head going fuzzy at the idea of having Steve inside you again after what felt like a fucking lifetime. Two years of regular sex had spoiled you, and not even your own fingers in a private Sunday morning shower had gotten you past frustrated. “God, yeah, yeah I do.”

Steve nodded like he knew, like he understood your frustration and well, he probably did. He reached up to trace a thumb over your bottom lip, hand cracking your jaw as he pulled it from place, watching awestruck as it popped prettily back into place when he let it go. You whined, moving closer, chest to chest and wrapping your hands around his wrist, anchoring him to you.

Steve let out a quiet curse, breath uneven and watching you from under his lashes, bringing his thumb back to your mouth. He teased you just a little, rubbing the pad of it over the seam of your lips, taking it away every time you tried to part them. But when he saw you getting glossy eyed and restless, he gave in, sinking the tip of his thumb past your lips and resting on the soft of your tongue.

Steve groaned when you whined, pulling you closer by one hip and wedging a thigh between your legs for you to push yourself against. His gaze was locked on your mouth as he dragged his thumb out past your lips, just a little, just enough to see the slick skin and the way your tongue chased it, curling around the digit. His cock twitched with jealousy in his jeans.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered to your doe eyed stare, your wet lips. “Can’t let you get your mouth on me, princess, m’sorry. Wouldn’t last a fucking second.”

You bit down on his thumb as some kind of argument, frowning when Steve slipped it from your mouth. But before you could protest, he was back on you, hands carding into your hair and pulling you flush to him, tongue on yours in seconds. You moaned into the kiss, a heavy, dirty thing that made you lick into him deeper, grinding yourself down on the thigh he’d so kindly given you.

It didn’t take long for Steve to lose some patience - or maybe it was control - but he was effortless in the way he spun you both, trading places so he could pin you against the wall instead. You thought about resisting, thought about playing hard to get and keep up the pretence of still being mad but Steve’s mouth was on your throat and his hand was sneaking up the inside of your shirt.

“Baby,” you squirmed, lashes fluttering, body boneless against him. You clung to him for dear life, fingers clutching his shoulders, his shirt, his hair. “Please.”

You didn’t know what you were asking for, but it made Steve moan, a rumbling noise that vibrated through his chest to yours and he pulled back just to peck at your lips, your cheek, your jaw. “Say that again,” he murmured, voice thick with an endless affection. His lips were swollen, pouty and pink, his eyes glazed over for you. “Call me that again.”

Your body buzzed, your brain foggy and it took a few seconds for everything to catch up. Steve was still looking at you, pleading, his hands kneading at your hips, your thighs, like he didn’t dare stop touching you.

“Baby,” you repeated again and you see the relief in Steve’s gaze at the word. Affection, fondness, love, affirmation. He needed it too. So you pulled him back down to you, hands curled in the front of his T-shirt collar, kissing along his jaw and chin until he groaned and caught your lips with his. “Babybabybaby,” you mumbled against his mouth, sighing prettily between kisses, pulling him closer than necessary, scared he’d disappear.

It was a needy kiss that turned dirty, the ache between your legs making you nip at Steve’s lips, pull at his hair a little meaner, rake your nails down the back of his neck and pant into his open mouth.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whined, your declaration messy and garbled as Steve kissed you between words. “Missed you so much.”

Steve nodded his agreement, eyes half lidded and heavy as he let you yank at his shirt, pulling it off and launching it over his shoulder. It hung from some racks, old metal shelves filled with broken gym equipment and a box camp hats that no one was made to wear anymore.

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “Jesus Christ, c’mere.” Steve pulled you back to him, your own shirt joining his, your plain white bra the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He tugged at the straps until they slid down your shoulders, baring more skin for him to kiss. “Missed you too, you’ve no idea.”

Something about the admission seemed to kick everything into high gear and Steve was mouthing across your chest as he slipped a hand up and under your skirt, teasing at the elastic edge, fingers gripping and pulling until it snapped against your thigh.

“Kept dreamin’ about you,” he confessed, whispering the words against your throat like something unholy. “Kept wakin’ up with a mess in my fucking boxers like a damn teenager ‘cause I’d fall asleep and dream about how you tasted.”

His fingers slipped past the cotton barrier, swiping achingly slow through your folds, parting them and feeling the slick there. You both moaned at the feel, one foot coming up to rest on the edge of a kayak, keeping yourself spread open for Steve. He swore and you felt his grin, a pleased and proud smile that settled against your chest.

“Good girl, that’s it, keep your leg up for me, honey.” Steve didn’t bother taking your underwear off as he sank to his knees, he just hooked your thigh over his shoulder and his fingers into pink cotton, tugging them to the side. “Fuck,” Steve hissed, eyes flickering from yours down to the shiny wetness between your legs. “Look at her, honey, still just as fuckin’ pretty, she missed me too, yeah?”

Fire nipped at your stomach, a fast roll of electricity under your skin at the boy’s words and suddenly nothing bad had ever happened, you’d never broken up and Steve had you pinned against his shower wall, cold tiles on your back and sticky, dirty words pressed onto your skin. You whined, a loud cry that Steve grinned at and you nodded, quickly realising that you’d agree to anything Steve asked.

“Yeah, she did,” Steve cooed, moving closer to kiss along your thighs, nosing at the crease where your leg met your cunt. “She’s drippin’ for me, shit, just begging for a kiss, huh?”

“Steve,” you hissed his name, half desperate, half a warning, canting your hips forward until his lips brushed against your folds. He pulled back a little, smiling wide, like he was having the time of his life. “We’re hardly in the privacy of a hotel room, fuck, c’mon, please.”

“S’where I’ll take you after camp,” the boy promised, voice low and sticky soft. He ran his mouth over your folds, a barely there kiss that made rise up onto one set of toes to chase his lips. “Gonna take you somewhere real nice, princess, gonna make up for this summer, gonna fix it, I promise.”

He was babbling, eyes closed as he kissed up and across the soft of your lower stomach, nose dragging through the soft curls below until he could lick a line over you, not parting you just yet, just teasing, tasting.

You were breathless, body bowing over Steve’s head as you grabbed at his hair and held on. If you wanted to meaner about it, if it was two months ago and he was teasing you in your bedroom, laughter on his lips, you would’ve pulled his hair and rode his face, giving in and making him moan.

But Steve was whispering promises into your skin like apologies and even in your pent up haze, you still had questions. “What about - fucking hell, Steve - what about Arizona?”

“Later, I’ll explain later,” was all he said, before he parted you with two thumbs and licked a slow, wide stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Steve knew how you liked it, had two whole years to learn what you loved, where to touch, where to kiss, when to slow down, when to speed up. He kept his eyes on you as he swiped over your clit, a soft, little kitten lick and that made you squeak and buck your hips down onto his face. The kayak you had one foot rested on groaned in protest.

You heard him whisper praise into you, filthy, pretty words that you barely heard over your own heaving breaths and your head fell back against the wall when his tongue worked its way around your entrance, licking over you, nose nudging at your clit as he did.

“Fuck, princess, she’s just crying for me, isn’t she?”

You could only whine, a soft, high pitched thing that made Steve palm at his cock through his jeans, pulling you onto his face with his free hand. He kept up those slow, lazy licks through your cunt, only speeding up when you started to roll yourself over his mouth. He groaned, a dirty noise that made you want to grab at him but you were hurtling towards an orgasm that you’d hadn’t been able to give yourself for weeks.

“M’gonna come,” you whispered, your throat tight, your voice wrecked. “Steve, Stevie, please, I’m gonna come.”

The boy didn’t dare take his mouth away from you, not even to whisper encouragement. He just snuck his hand from your thigh to your ass, squeezing you tight and he coaxed you further onto his tongue, silently telling you to rock yourself over his mouth, to take what you needed. And as your noises got breathier, needy, little whines that turned into groans, Steve took your clit into his mouth and sucked at the same time he slid two thick fingers into you, hooking them in place and rubbing.

You gushed around his fingers as you came, a sob ripping from your lips as your body gave in and bowed over Steve’s, hands clutching at his shoulders, his neck, trying to keep yourself up. Aftershocks jolted through you as Steve grinned, tongue seeking out your clit even still, licking over it softly as you came down, holding you in place as you tried to jerk away.

“Steve,” you gasped at him, pushing softly at his forehead until he gave in, running kisses up your thigh and stomach as he stood. “Fuck, baby, fuckfuckfuck—”

“How’d you want me?” He gaped out, his chest heaving, his hair a mess from your fingers and his lips glossy from the way you’d ground yourself against his mouth. “Huh, princess? Tell me, I’ll give you it, I swear.” The boy was desperate, clinging to you, his hands on your jaw as he dipped in for a kiss, groaning wild when you licked yourself from his lips, sucking the taste of yourself from him.

You couldn’t really think, words coming out in strings of pleases and curses, begging for something you didn’t know how to ask for. So you pulled at the belt on Steve’s jeans instead, shoving the denim down his hips, just enough for you to pull his cock out and show it some proper attention. Steve’s eyes glazed over as you pumped him, thumb swiping over his leaking tip, your mouth kissing along his chest.

He groaned, a gasping, rough sound that you knew so well and Steve shook his head, batting away your hand before he came all over it. He patted at your hip, held his hands out for you. “Up,” he commanded.

You hopped easily, Steve’s hands catching your bare thighs, palms curving around your ass as he turned and set you upon the stacked kayaks. You were just the right height for him to slip into you, but he kept you waiting, playing with himself as he pulled down the cups of your bra, freeing your tits for him. He thumbed over an already hard nipple, watched in awe as it pebbled even more and he licked his lips, cock nudging at your thigh.

“Like this?” He asked you quietly, running a hand down your front, curling his fingers around your throat, squeezing gently at your chest, your hip. He was everywhere at once. “Could fuck you like this, or I could bend you over, huh?”

The kayak stand shook a little when Steve tugged at your calf, bringing you closer to the edge and his cock. You had zero faith the boats would withstand the movements that were about to ensue, but you honestly couldn’t find it in you to care.

You’d help Steve burn the camp to the ground, as long as he kept touching you.

“Like this,” you whined and god, you sounded bratty, needy, the way Steve liked it best. “Need to kiss you,” you told him and it was the truth. You were as desperate to kiss and hold and look at the boy as much as you were for him to finally fuck you.

Steve’s expression softened then, melting brown butter, his gaze sugar sweet. He leaned in, nose nuzzling yours as he kissed you, a one, two, sweet peck of a thing before your mouth fell open for him and you were gasping his name.

“Steve!”

He’d slid into you easily, caught your noise with his lips, kissing it away as he groaned through it too. You were soaked still, but the stretch and burn of taking him again for the first time in months was apparent. You whined, clutching at him, letting the boy coo and soothe you with kisses everywhere, scattered pieces of affection dotted over your nose and cheeks. He felt you clench around him, tighter than ever, and his hands found your jaw.

“Honey - Jesus Christ - baby, look, hmm? Look at me, baby.” Steve sounded almost serious, his tone low and soft, determined for your eyes on his. He caught your jaw, cradling it as he pulled out of you, just enough for the tip of him to stay inside of you, throbbing. “There we go, there, that’s it, princess.”

You could’ve let your eyes slip shut at the pleasure of it all, lips parting and jaw falling slack when Steve thrust forward again, a slow and steady rhythm that kept you stretched out and wet for him. But you knew that Steve wanted you to keep gazing at him, his own eyes heavy and half lidded as he leaned in, his forehead against yours, his stare hot as he picked up his pace.

“S’fucking amazing,” you moaned for him, almost unaware of the shuffling and banging noises you were both beginning to make. The kayaks were bumping into the wall with each rock of Steve’s hips. “Fuck, keep going, please.”

It turned harder, faster. A dirty snap of the boy’s hips against yours, his hands everywhere, one holding a thigh wide, the other tangled in the hair at the nap of your neck, a hot and commanding hot that made you arch your back for him. Steve grunted at the push of your tits bare against his chest, skin on skin and your bra, a tangle of wire and straps around your ribs, your skirt tucked up to meet it.

“M’really not gonna last long,” the boy admitted, his chest heaving, his eyelashes fluttering as he glanced down at your spread legs, the soaked cotton of your underwear stretched at the seams around one thigh, the slick, shiny wet of you coating him with each rock of his hips. “Fucking hell, s’too much, so fucking good.”

The sound of skin on skin and the rattle of kayaks filled the small room, the soft glow of the sunset coming in from the tiny window that was partially hidden by old gym mats. It turned you both bronze, shades of gold and rose and copper in the light, breathy gaps and whines that morphed into moans as you both reached the edge. You weren’t sure how long it had been, if the game was still being played, if someone had captured your flag - or Steve’s - if a whistle had been blown.

Fuck, it didn’t even matter that camp was ending next week, that you’d go back to Hawkins and live a life without the boy. Maybe. Maybe? Would you see him again? Before he left? Would you go to his parents house and stand in the same driveway you left him in and let him leave you? Would it hurt less or more after this, after you let him kiss you in the shadows, in the last bit of the sun? Would this fix it? Would it matter, once you had your clothes back on?

It was like Steve could tell you were floating away from him, like he could see you trapped in a box in your own head. He tugged gently at your hair, nudging his nose against yours and worked his cock somewhere deeper inside you. He tilted his hips up until you gasped for him and he smiled, nodding against you as you caught him for another kiss, swallowing his soft “there you go, honey, just focus on me.”

You couldn’t take much more after that, emotions and the feeling of Steve hitting that pretty spot inside of you over and over and over suddenly becoming too much. You blinked at him, body flush with his, clinging to his shoulder, his neck, his messy strands of hair. Neither of you mentioned your glassy eyes, the stuttering sob that broke in your throat when you told him:

“Need t’come, Stevie.”

Steve just kissed you sweetly, a lingering push and pull of his lips against yours that felt warmer and softer than a summer morning. Steve Harrington was still the afternoon sun and blue skies, those endlessly big clouds, the sound of a creek, the splash of a lake. He was blue raspberry popsicles and pink lemonade, he was the taste of honey, the smell of cedar and wild mint.

He was still yours.

You were sure of it.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, letting a hand fall to your cunt so he could flick over your clit, thumbing soft circles as he started a dirty grind of his hips into yours. “Gonna come for me, honey, yeah? Gonna come with me?”

And you did, easily. Too easily. Your whole body tightened around him as you came hard, crying out and blinking back tears. Steve was quick to follow, losing his rhythm as his hips stuttered, his face pressed to the crook of your neck as you petted his hair and whispered to him, pushing him closer and closer.

“Baby, where can I—”

It was strange to hear him ask the question. Of course, it had been asked before, a few times, years ago, when sex with each other was new and exploratory, when condoms were still used and the afterglow was filled with shy laughter and out of breath kisses.

Then comfort and familiarity grew between the tension, and intimacy took over from that new excitement. It was even better, knowing each other like that, being able to touch and feel and know what the other liked, the easiness of falling asleep stretched out beside each other, naked and ready for toothpaste kisses and a shared cup of coffee the next day.

You missed it.

You missed all of it.

“Inside,” you whined, eyes clenched shut as Steve swore and pulled you closer still. “Inside, please.”

Steve kissed you when he came, a mash of his lips against yours, an open mouth groan that you swallowed, a clumsy, aching thing that made you want to keep him this close forever.

But then the kayak underneath you squealed loudly, an ugly protest as it dug too hard into the stack beneath it, the shell of it splintering. You swore, clinging to Steve with both arms and legs before he could even pull out of you. He took your weight just as the boat cracked, a jagged hole in the bottom of it taking your count of destroyed call equipment to an all time high.

The silence was deafening.

Eventually, Steve spoke. His arms were still tucked under your thighs, his face at your neck, close enough that you could feel the twitch of his grin. “Maybe we could hide it. Y’know, before anyone sees.”

You laughed, a tired sounding thing as you tightened your hold around the boy’s neck. You wanted to kiss his cheek, his temple, his forehead, you wanted to love on him until either of you could take it anymore. You never wanted this to end - at least not with another broken kayak. But camp was almost over and August was crawling closer. So you hummed, shrugging. “We could throw it in the lake. It would sink, at least.”

—————

Neither Hopper nor Murray believed you when you told them you’d hurt your foot in the scuffle of capture the flag, as convincing as your limp may have been. And they certainly didn’t believe you both when you claimed Steve was there to help.

Hopper had narrowed his eyes at the marks on Steve’s neck, the mess of your hair, the rosy tint to each of your lips. You both shrugged, staring at the forest floor before Murray had snorted, breaking the tension and sending you both back to your cabins.

No other questions were answered that night, especially seeing as Murray was ten feet behind you both at all times, trailing you through the forest with a flashlight as he whistled jovially, ensuring you both ended up in your respective beds. So you took one last look at Steve and smiled, somewhat hopefully, maybe a little sadly, before you clambered up the porch steps and into the darkness of your bunk.

You didn’t get a kiss goodnight. Or was it supposed to be a kiss goodbye?

I don’t wanna lose this with you

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve took a deep breath and made his way out of his cabin.

It had been a long week, the last days busy and filled with games, tasks, a swim meet, a gymnastics competition, Eddie’s musical extravaganza show - his title, not yours - and a campfire story every night.

The kids were filled with marshmallows, made up of sugar and sunshine, tan lines and freckles littering their faces, messy hair smelling of sunscreen and the lake. Everyone was happy. That soft, slow kind of joy that faded into melancholy as the days turned over. For those last few days you’d spent at the lake, you regretted asking Hopper to let you run swimming with Billy more than ever before.

It kept you away from Steve, all the way across the camp so all you could do was try to keep your eyes on the kids in the water and wave at the boy when your eyes met. It was only a little embarrassing, that kind of childish, first crush kind of interaction, eyes meeting, cheeks warming, hand raised to say whatever it was you couldn’t to his face.

Not yet, anyway.

It was made even more painful with Billy lingering behind you, still sprawled on the same deck chair he stared the summer in, minus his sunglasses, because his broken nose was still too tender for them.

“Could you get more pathetic?” The boy scoffed, a little nasally, biting down on the toothpick between his teeth. “Honestly, Hawkins, you’re too hot to pine.”

You scowled, flicking your towel over your shoulder so the corner of it whipped at the boy’s shoulder. He glared at you as much as he could with his sore face.

“I’m not pining.”

“Moping then,” Billy offered, grinning. “Either way, it’s disgusting. I thought you two were over.”

“I wouldn’t tell you what I had for breakfast this morning, Hargrove,” you squinted at him through the sun, sparing a glance when Dustin pulled himself onto the dock, only to barrel roll back off of it. “What makes you think I’m discussing my love life?”

The boy huffed, a smirk on his lips, mean and cruel, like always. “Or lack of,” he commented. “You think one quick fuck can solve your problems? You think that what you got between your legs is good enough to make Harrington stay? Defy daddy dearest? Even Harrington isn’t stupid enough to turn down a free ride.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared stone faced at the water, watching the way the sun changed the ripples from white to blue to gold

Billy scoffed, taunting. “Keep dreamin’, princess.”

It hurt, his words. Billy Hargrove was a bully, a mean boy that liked nothing more than to make other people hurt as much as he did. You knew that. You’d always know that. But all that was left of you and Steve’s encounter in the gym was a fading lavender bruise on where your neck met your shoulder, a blurry bite of evidence that it had actually happened.

Your scowl deepened and you decided that being close to Billy wasn’t helping your mood.

“Fuck off, Hargrove.”

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, you sat in your bunk, wondering if you’d be brave enough to do something about the gnawing want in your chest.

You hadn’t been spying, not really, but it had become harder to ignore how often Steve seemed to disappear in and out of Hopper’s cabin. You’d spotted him through the window when the kids were eating lunch, everyone else distracted by the pizza party Robin and Bob made for the last weekend of the summer. But Steve was sitting with Hop and Murray, heads bent over the desk, pieces of paper scattered on the wood.

Hopper had looked pleased. Maybe even proud. Murray was chatting animatedly, hands waving, eyes bright.

Steve had looked the most hopeful you’d seen him in weeks.

But you didn’t get the chance to ask what was going on, because Nancy was dragging you out for one last hike and El was pulling at your hand, pleading for you to join them. You couldn’t say no and you were half way up the hillside when Steve eventually emerged, a folded piece of paper slipped into his back pocket.

And when you returned, bug bitten and tired, you tried to seek the boy out, only to find him through the office window again, his back leaning against the cabin wall as he bent his head, eyes closed and the office phone pressed to his ear. You couldn’t hear, not from so far away, not over the yells of excitement from the campers as Eddie brought out guitars and old drums, but you were almost certain Steve was yelling, a frustrated furrow between his brow before he dropped onto the sofa with the phone cord wrapped around his wrist.

You could’ve gone to him then. Knocked on the door and offered your hand, a smile, maybe a hug. And maybe Steve would’ve told you what was going on, maybe he would’ve explained everything. But it didn’t feel like the time, it didn’t feel right and Mike was pushing an out of tune guitar into your hands and challenging you to some sort of battle.

Steve returned to the camp pit soon after, his eyes a little red but his smile seemed sincere when Dustin ran to him, a faux sort of tackle that made Steve catch him round the middle. They grinned as they wrestled, laughing brightly and the air around the older boy seemed lighter than it had in weeks. When Steve caught your eyes over the kid’s head, he smiled. A real thing, pink cheeked and achingly full of love, that sticky sweet kind of adoration that you’d missed so much it had hurt.

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve knocked on your cabin door.

It was late, well after dinner and the kids were in their bunks full of sloppy joe’s and chocolate pudding, telling stories by flashlight, trading cards and secrets while they finished off their stashes of candy. Twilight had set in, that hazy lilac light that came after the sun had set and the forest was falling asleep. Cicadas buzzed in the depths of the trees and fireflies grazed the edges of the lake, that green-yellow glow that made you want to stay up a little later.

The knock came as Robin was painting her toenails, a cherry red she’d stolen from you, her damp hair wrapped up in a towel. She didn’t even look up at the sound, just slicked another coat of polish over her nail and said:

“That’ll be for you.”

You frowned from behind your book, setting it down with the pages splayed so you wouldn’t lose your place. The story of two star crossed lovers that pined for each other seemed more addictive than it usually would’ve been.

“M’not expecting anyone.”

Robin just huffed out a laugh and nodded at the door. “Don’t keep him waiting, babe.”

You padded barefoot across the cabin despite your confusion, sleep shorts high on your thighs and thank fuck you’d decided against wearing Steve’s staff sweater to bed, because the owner was standing on your porch when you opened the door.

“Hi.”

He had his shoved in his pockets and he looked flushed, slightly out of breath like he’d ran over. And maybe he had, considering it was lights out hours and no one was supposed to be out of their bunks.

“Hi.”

Steve smiled just as you did, a dopey, lovesick thing that felt awkward and lovely all at once. He shuffled on the wooden boards before he hooked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to something you couldn’t see amongst the trees. “D’you wanna go for a drive?”

It was the easiest thing in the world to nod your head yes, trying to hide the smile that was making your cheeks ache. You dipped your chin as you turned back to your bunk, grabbing the sweater you kept under your pillow, avoiding eye contact with both Steve and Robin as you pulled it over your head. The material dropped to your thighs, the boy’s name stitched over your heart.

“Have fun and don’t get caught,” Robin warned cheerfully. She waved her nail polish brush between you and Steve before you had the chance to pull the door closed. “If either of you come back crying, we’re having words.”

You snorted, cheeks warming as Steve ducked his head with the same awkwardness. “We are?” You joked.

“Uhuh,” Robin nodded, “full intervention. Eddie will be here.”

“God forbid,” Steve deadpanned, wrinkling his nose at you when you laughed. He tugged his sweater sleeve, his fingers brushing over your wrist. “You comin’?”

You looked down at Steve’s hand like you weren’t sure whether to take it or not, if you were supposed to slip yours into his, fingers intertwined. But you nodded again, that little, shy smile still on your lips that Steve hadn’t seen in so long. Together, you walked between the cabins, keeping to the treeline and the shadows, smiling fondly when you heard the giggles and whispers from inside the kids' bunks. You were almost at Steve’s car, the BMW parked up in the makeshift lot behind the gym, when you both stopped in your tracks at the sight of someone else out in the dark.

Murray was walking back from the mess hall, a mug of something hot in one hand, an oversized cinnamon bun in the other. He was in slippers and a tartan bathrobe, his jovial whistling coming to a slow stop as he spotted the two of you out of bed.

“Shit,” Steve groaned, squinting awkwardly at the man. He raised a hand, half a wave, half a sign of defeat. “Murray, we weren’t—”

“That’s weird,” Murray interrupted, looking around the wooded area theatrically, eyes wide. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone.” The man shrugged before looking right through you, whistling again as he passed.

“Wha—?” You were stunned, both you and Steve pivoting in the mossy ground, brows raised.

“Must be the wind!” Murray announced again, continuing his walk back to his own cabin. “But if it was a couple of rogue staff members, I’d be sure to tell them to be back by midnight. You know. If I saw any.”

Murray turned back before he took a turn in the path. He didn’t say anything else, but he winked and raised his mug before disappearing.

—————

You didn’t ask Steve where he was driving you. Honestly, you didn’t mind. Didn’t care. The passenger seat of the BMW was as familiar as your own bed, a sense of ownership and melancholy hitting you in the chest as you clicked your seatbelt into place. Steve smiled as you tucked your knees up, legs bare and feet shoved into unlaced converse, his grin widening when you fiddled with the radio dials until the mixtape he had playing turned up a little louder.

[TWICE A FOOL BY #1 DADS]

The windows were down as Steve drove down a road you’d travelled before, the wind still warm from the heat that made the day suffocating, the smell of pine needles and wild mint lingering on it. The breeze picked at your hair and Steve’s, lifting the strands until they were brushing your cheeks and sitting between your lashes.

It was all sunburnt cheeks and sore knees, achy and bone tired from a whole summer of hikes and swimming in the lake, chasing kids who were too adventures along the creek beds and hanging from tree branches when the sun went down.

The smell of sunscreen, lake water, lemonade, Steve’s cologne, wildflowers, home.

It was a broken heart that was still splintered around the edges, the anxious gnawing feeling of the possibility of loss, of something new and unwanted, something you couldn’t control. It melted into hope, into the idea of reaching out and holding Steve’s hand until he gave you something to cling to.

Steve wouldn’t drive you somewhere pretty and quiet and peaceful, just to break up all over again. Would he?

So you sucked in a breath - pine needles and wild mint and mountain air - and reached out to where Steve’s hand lay idle on the stick shift. Your fingers brushed his, cautious, nervous and he looked from the road to you with surprised eyes. Shock turned to warmth, like he’d spent the last ten minutes wondering the same things you had, sharing the same worries. He flipped his hand, palm outstretched, waiting for you to slide yours into his.

Your thumb found the scar on the back of his knuckle, the small silver line that he got four summers ago, from helping a tiny Lucas Sinclair try archery for the first time.

So Steve kept one hand on the wheel and his other in yours, a small smile on his face that seemed so content, full of a fondness that rivalled the warm comfort of the wind in your face, the lavender shade of the sky, the way the moon was just starting to rise over the mountains in the distance.

Everything was tall trees and the distant trickle of a creek, a long road that turned to gravel and dirt and Steve. You held his hand all the way to the lake.

It was the same one you’d been to before, two years prior with Robin on a day off, Eddie and Steve trailing with you in a last minute change of plans. The last time you’d been on this shore, you’d had an odd realisation that you didn’t actually hate the boy you were supposed to hate. Now, as you toed off your shoes and stepped into the same sand, you were overcome with the urge to ask Steve if he still loved you as much as you loved him.

Anxiety rippled over you the same way the lake lapped at the shore, and you suddenly hated the silence you once cherished. You could hear the wind between the trees on the other side of the water, the quiet trickle of the creek that fed into it, the soft huffs of Steve breathing.

Neither of you said anything when Steve shrugged off his shirt, letting it drop at his feet. His shoes joined yours in a pile and you watched as he closed his eyes, just briefly, the stress leaving his body. His shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenched and when he opened his eyes again, he was looking at you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t prompt you into anything, but you pulled off your sweater too - Steve’s sweater - wiggling your hips until your sleep shorts fell and soon you were in your underwear, some cotton mismatched things that were less than enticing.

But it made Steve grin, the daisy print on your bra familiar, one he’d seen so many times before. His belt buckle clinked in the night and soon, his jeans were on the sand and he was hopping out of them as you laughed.

It was the most simple thing to do, to follow him into the water.

[SKINNY DIPPING BY SABRINA CARPENTER]

The night made the lake cooler, an inky navy thing that nipped at your skin for the first few seconds. But you let it swallow you whole, waist disappearing, shoulders dipping under, hair slicked back and eyelashes dripping beads of it.

Steve followed suit, a warmth underneath the water that your body recognised, his own hair clinging messily to his forehead as he ducked under the surface, hands brushing your ankles briefly before rejoining you. It went like that for a little while, the sky getting darker, the lake ready to copy. There were stars on the surface, a mirror-like reflection when you weren’t making ripples. So you swam circles around each other, Steve’s car parked up on the sand, the mountains in the distance, tall trees all around. There wasn’t a sound except the small splashes of water, the soft bubble of laughter when either of you swam too close and your shoulders bumped.

Steve ducked under one last time before he resurfaced, swiping at his hair before he took a breath and told you:

“Hopper offered me a job.”

You blinked at him, lips parting so you could start asking one hundred questions. But Steve beat you to it, treading water as he smiled a little shy.

“The whole, ‘Mr Harrington’ thing, that’s what that was about,” he shrugged, seemingly embarrassed. Water dripped from his chest, his neck, rolling into beads from his messy hair. “Uh, him and Murray, they’re opening this community centre for kids. S’gonna be a year round thing. After school, weekends. They, uh, they want me to manage it.”

You gaped at the boy before the smile you couldn’t contain started lifting the corners of your lips, a ridiculously happy thing that made your eyes crinkle and your cheeks ache. You thought about Steve - your Steve - running after kids all day, tired but content, paint stained and giving quiet pep talks, glitter in his hair as he clapped his hands and yelled for order.

“Steve,” your voice was almost too loud in the night. It shook, a trembling, overjoyed sound. You were so happy for him, even if you didn’t know what this meant. “You’d be perfect for it— if, if you want to take it, that is.” The unsaid hung between you, the elephant in the room that was the size of a whole other state.

Steve held your gaze and smiled nervously. “It’s in Shelbyville.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” you said slowly, realisation dawning on you. Things were starting to make sense now. But instead you said in a whisper, “that’s much closer than Arizona.”

Steve laughed softly as you tried not to sound hopeful, but there was a sticky, cloying ball of emotion stuck in your throat and it was barely holding back the tears. What you were almost crying for, you weren’t overly sure, but Steve moved a little closer, ankles brushing yours under the water. You could count the freckles on his nose by moonlight, you could see the faded green ink on his bicep from where El had tried to give him a ‘tattoo’ two days ago.

“It is,” Steve agreed and there was a smile on his lips, a barely there thing that you wanted to rub your thumb over. “It’s so much closer than Arizona. Like, thirty minutes on a good day.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what Steve was trying to say. Hope bloomed between every crack of your ribs like wildflowers and it was overwhelming, breath catching, it made you want to make a break for the shore and beg the boy not to crush your heart again.

“Steve—”

“I don’t want to go to Arizona,” he interrupted. “I never wanted to go to Arizona. I— fuck. You were right.”

You shook your head. “That’s not the point, I didn’t want to be proven right.”

“I know, but you were. It was all my dad,” Steve smiled and it was sad. “He came in one night after a day of golf and like, eight martinis. Told he spoke to an old friend and boom, handed me my whole future on a piece of fucking paper.” Steve laughed, dry and humourless and you moved closer still, close enough that your thighs grazed his and you could see the hurt in his eyes. “He didn’t even ask, you know? Just sat down at the dinner table and told me what I was doing for the next ten years of my life.”

You could imagine it. So easily. Michael Harrington’s imposing figure in a sharp suit and slicked back hair. You’d always wondered if it was once as wild as his son’s, if he ever liked the same music or spoke about movies and games with the boy. Michael Harrington was a straightened navy tie and a leather briefcase, polished shoes and numbers on a sheet.

“He told me he knew what was best for me,” Steve continued and his voice hit a crack that he didn’t even blink at. “He told me that he was my only chance and making something out of myself, that without his help, I’d spend my thirties and forties stacking shelves and regretting having a kid with you before we were twenty five. He told me I needed his help, even if I didn’t know it yet.”

Anger bubbled inside of you, intense and hot enough that you were surprised the water around you didn’t bubble and hiss. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “Steve, you know that’s not true right? Your dad— shit, Steve, when was the last time you ever needed your dad?”

You waited as the boy thought, confusion on his features as he struggled to recall a memory. Eventually, he shrugged. “When I was sixteen, seventeen maybe. Crashed my first car trying to show off to my friends. I was shit scared on the side of the road. Everyone else ran. I walked to a pay phone and told him I needed his help.”

You raised your brows, waiting.

“He told me to fix my own mess.”

More anger, a surge of it, pushing at your chest, making tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you shook your head, hands coming out of the water to finally touch Steve. You clung to his damp shoulders, still warm from the sun even now.

“You don’t need him,” you whispered fiercely. “You never needed him. Not then, not now, not for your future.”

The boy smiled, sad and tired, if not a little relieved. “I know that now.”

“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did,” you swallowed hard, pride and stubbornness going down with it. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I didn’t make it easier for you, I was just so— so sad that you were going to give everything up for something you didn’t want.” You let your hand trail to Steve’s neck, thumb brushing the spot under his ear, an unbelievably soft touch. “You know I would’ve supported you completely if it was something you wanted to do, right?”

Steve nodded, his hands finding your waist, bringing you closer.

“But finance? Fucking finance?” You made a face and Steve barked out a laugh, a sharp bright sound in the dark and it made your chest ache, hearing such a happy noise from him.

He nodded again, humming in agreement before he gave in and hid his face in your neck. “Fucking finance,” he repeated. “I hate numbers.”

You laughed too, watery and happy at being so close. His touch was overwhelming, stubble on his jaw scraping at your throat, his lips ghosting at your jaw when he smiled. “I know you do,” you whispered and god, your voice was thick with affection.

There was more silence for a minute, a long, slow moment suspended in the water, holding each other, feet brushing the bottom, your arms wound around each other. An owl called out from a tree and somewhere in the distance, a car revved its engine.

“I took the job.”

You froze, unblinking, scared to move, scared to talk. Eventually, Steve lifted his head from your neck and he studied you, waiting for your response, cheeks pink and eyes nervous looking.

You wondered if your heart had stopped beating, if the world had stopped spinning. You couldn’t fathom another reason for the stillness you felt at his words. “What?”

The boy cleared his throat, his big hands squeezing gently at your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing the band of your soaked bra. “I took the job,” he said again, a look of amazement and incredulity on his features, like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “I told Hopper yes.”

Those wildflowers? The ones filled with hope that had wound their way into your chest? They flourished, blooming bright and big until the garden grew and grew and your bones cracked with the enormity of it.

“Steve—” you tried to say more, but nothing came out.

“My dad didn’t take it all that well,” he shrugged, grinning now, like he was suddenly weightless. He looked brighter, even in the night. “Yelled a lot, but I think we’re gonna have a talk when I’m back, a good one, y’know? He didn’t seem as… fucking furious when I told him about the job.”

“In Shelbyville,” you said, like you need clarification. You wondered if this was a dream, a really mean one.

Steve laughed, grinning all pretty. “In Shelbyville,” he nodded, looking at you through his lashes, tired and happy and feeling like things might just be okay. He hoped they’d be okay. “C’mon, let’s get you dry and warmed up, yeah?”

So you let him lead you out of the lake, a blanket pulled from his trunk that the boy wrapped you in first. You let him rub at your shoulders, your chest against his, sand sticking to your feet, water dripping from Steve’s hair onto yours. You were staring at him, still shellshocked, eyes wide and disbelieving and it made him laugh; soft, sweet thing.

You dressed with eyes on each other, wandering, lazy, greedy, seeking out the bare skin that you’d missed touching, kissing. And when damp legs were pulled through shorts and Steve’s sweater was back on your frame, you crawled into the front of his car and let the boy pull your calves over the console and into his lap.

He traced shapes there, copied the constellations from above onto your skin, joining freckles and scars until they made up a Milky Way and you could let your head rest against the window, languid, happy. You weren’t sure what all of this meant for you and Steve, but you’d go back to your bed happy, knowing that Steve was.

“Shelbyville isn’t far from Hawkins,” Steve murmured softly, his cheek against the driver's seat, his eyes on you. He smiled, shy, unsure. “Maybe you could check it out with me after we get home.”

You smiled, tired, the night a yawning thing through the windscreen. It was nearing midnight, the moon above the mountains and the sand glittering on the car floor. “That sounds nice. You think you’ll move?”

Steve nodded, shrugged, nodded again. “Maybe? Eventually.” The boy swallowed, nervous. “Could find a house by a creek, big yard. Big enough for a dog.” He squeezed your knee, a longing touch. “A start of somethin’ new, maybe. Somewhere different. Us. If you’d want.”

You thought about it, about the savings you’d both piled together, the extra shifts, the clip outs of apartment listings in downtown Indianapolis neither of you really wanted but could just about afford. You thought about the late night talks with your cheek pressed to Steve’s pillow, trying to hide your smile as you both whispered about houses with flower boxes and a tree you could hang a swing from, maybe a porch, maybe a lake you could walk to on the weekends.

‘Are we fixed?’ You wanted to ask. ‘Were we broken?’ You wondered.

And maybe Steve could sense your questions, maybe he just knew you that well. His hand swept from your knee to your ankle, fingers curling around, warm and soothing. His thumb stroked over the top of your foot, playing with your untied laces.

“S’okay, if you don’t want to,” he said. “I know you’ve got your job in Hawkins, I know your family is there. I don’t— I don’t expect us to just, you know, act like nothing happened.” Steve didn’t sound as nervous as before when he said, “But I know I love you. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t— that’s not changed.”

It didn’t surprise you, not really. You knew the boy still loved you. You saw it when he looked at you, when he frowned at Billy when he got too close, spoke too boldly . You saw it when you strayed too far, when he searched for you in the crowds of campers, when he helped your drunk self into his bed, when he refused to take his sweatshirt away from you. Still, relief flooded you and your breath hitched, emotion catching in your chest. You held out a hand, palm up on your lap, fingers spread for Steve’s to link between.

He let go of your ankle to do just that, fingers twisting, his thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. He looked just as hopeful as you felt as he gazed back, all shades of navy and lavender in the night.

It was too easy to say, “I know I love you, too.”

Meet Me In The Afterglow

[YOU’RE SO COOL BY HANS ZIMMER]

The last of the kids left Camp Upside Down the way they arrived: in a flurry of colour and sticky hands, forgotten backpacks left on porches, teary eyes as they hugged their favourite counsellors.

You were left behind with Steve as the rest of the staff left one by one, more hugs exchanged along with new email addresses and promises to visit different cities and states before Christmas. And when the parking lot was just settling from clouds of dust and dirt, Steve appeared from Hopper’s office, a small folder in his hands, signed contracts and a set of shiny new keys. He twirled them around one finger, a smile on his face he was trying to tamp down with a crinkle of his nose and you raised a brow at him.

“Hey, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve let out a low whistle, joining you in between your two parked cars. He leant against his BMW and made a show of looking you over. “Oh,” he grinned. “Say that again?”

You laughed, slapping at his shoulder before pinching the papers and stealing it from him. You looked over the print, smiling warmly at the official look of it all. Full time hours, managerial role, pension plan, holiday pay. Hopper and Murray’s signatures were at the bottom with Steve’s and you looked up at him and beamed.

“Are you happy?” You asked.

Steve seemed to consider the question for a moment or two before he nodded, hair falling into his eyes that he didn’t bother brushing away. He pushed himself off his car with a foot, taking the two steps it needed to lean in close to you instead. He brushed away an invisible piece of dust from your shoulder, took it as an excuse to brush his thumb across your neck, ‘cause two months apart made him feel like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore. But you did you both a favour and leaned into it, lashes fluttering when his big hand cupped your jaw. He let his thumb push softly against your bottom lip in lieu of a kiss.

“Yeah, I’m really happy, princess.” Steve let out a small laugh, a breathy thing full of surprise. “It’s stupid how I happy I am.”

You turned your head to catch his palm, pressing a soft kiss there that made the boy turn pink, a flash of affection warming his eyes and it only made him drop his hand from you to tug you closer, fingers catching the belt loops of your shorts.

“What ‘bout you?” Steve asked quietly. A hand crept up the side of your shirt, fingers seeking warm, soft skin and familiarity. “You happy?”

You nodded, pushing yourself closer to the boy, hands running over broad shoulders. It was easy to touch him again, even though your heart thundered like it was two summers ago and you were like a preteen with a crush. But you’d missed him too much to let that get the best of you.

“I’m happy,” you murmured. “We got jobs, roofs over our heads, friends, families that don’t wanna disown us—”

“Still to be determined,” Steve quipped.

You tutted. “It’ll be okay, handsome. And you’ve got me.”

Steve turned soft for you, brown eyes caramel and sugar, lips lifting back into a smile, thoughts of his parents forgotten. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. A promise. “Always got me.”

The words seemed to soothe him and if the birds above hadn’t stopped chirping at the right time, you wouldn’t have heard him whisper a ‘love you’ into your hair when he turned to kiss the side of your cheek.

“You’re gonna be a whole forty minutes away from me,” he grumbled, like it was an awful, awful thing. A hardship.

You were both - maybe more you - determined to take it slow before rushing back in. Steve asked you to help him find a new home, an apartment in Shelbyville, maybe even a small house. You’d agreed enthusiastically with the promise to talk about moving in together in six months or so. Despite the joy that leaked out of you like summer and warmth, there was a lingering sting of rejection in your chest. You knew it wasn’t the case, but you’d spent a while with thoughts that told you Steve picked Arizona over you.

“S’not far,” you told him. “I’ll stay over, you can come round on weekends, it’ll be great. We’re taking it one step at a time, remember?”

Steve stole a kiss, a barely there press because he was smiling too much. His contract was a crush of paper between you. “We’ll see.”

FIVE WEEKS LATER

Steve had found a house in Shelbyville that quickly became a home.

It was a small thing out by Big Blue River, a patch of land just outside of town where the river led into a creek and wild raspberries grew in the garden. You helped him move in, watched from your car as he hugged his mother and received a firm handshake from his dad. They didn’t help him into his new home, but they invited you both for dinner the following weekend, so it placated Steve enough.

So you spent days at your job in Hawkins, a bag of clothes always in your car so you could drive to Shelbyville after work, music blasting, engine sputtering. You’d take turns making dinner, cooking some pasta as Steve built a bookcase, a lopsided coffee table, hung up his favourite movie posters a little squint. But the house was filled with Steve and a little of you, photos of you and the boy dotted around the house, Polaroids of your friends stuck to the fridge with magnets.

It got harder to leave each time.

It got harder to leave when Steve kissed you senseless against your car in the evenings, a slow building, needy thing that came with wandering hands. It was lazy mornings with a shared pot of coffee, a bed with soft sheets that smelled like him and you, your body wash in his shower, your clothes in with his piles of laundry. It was long lies on the weekends with the promises of a walk along the river, lunch by the creek laid out on a blanket, the sun on your cheeks and Steve’s head resting on your lap as he made you laugh with stupid jokes.

Then one night your car broke down before you could make it out of the yard and Steve didn’t hesitate to pull you back into him, humming thoughtfully. He was all hands, sneaking up your skirt, pushing back your hair, lips against your neck, soft enough to make you shiver.

“Guess you’ll just have to stay,” he murmured against your jaw.

You snorted, “I need my car fixed, Steven.”

A shake of his head, his lips still on your neck. “S’a piece of shit anyway, princess, been yellin’ you for years.” It was cheeky enough for you to pinch at his side but the boy only grinned and took your face in his hands, cradling your jaw. He turned a little more serious, smile still there, but his words were determined. “I’m serious, babe. Stay. Please.”

“I just stayed all weekend,” you told him, your fingers tracing patterns along his collar. Your heart was thundering. “You’re not sick of me?”

Steve tutted, acting up. “You know that’s not what I meant. Move in. I want you to move in.” He nuzzled your cheek with his nose, smelling like cedar and mint and sunscreen. “Wanna live w’you.”

So the next day Steve gave you the keys to his car and painted the bedroom your favourite colour. You told your parents, who were unsurprised, packing up bags and boxes with your things, a bubble of excitement in your chest that you didn’t think would pop anytime soon. The drive to Shelbyville from Hawkins was like the drive to camp, and the same anticipation of a new adventure was in the air. You drove down roads lined with tall trees, wheat fields that turned golden past the old water tower, the beginnings of Big Blue River greeting you at the bridge.

And when you turned down the dirt lane that took you to Steve’s house - your house - it felt more like home than ever. The shutters were painted sage green, the flower boxes beneath the windows filled with blooms, and the old oak tree round the back looked the perfect height for a swing. A dog didn’t greet you, not yet, but Steve did, with all the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever.

Neither of you bothered with your bags, not right away, because Steve was pulling you from the front seat with a smile on his face that rivalled the sun. Steve Harrington was summer and sunscreen and lakes at night. He was mountain hikes with sixty kids, he was car racing out of town, he was sneaking out, sneaking in, he was lemonade, he was broken kayaks and hiding in the gym, he was arguing, he was kissing to make up and everything you ever wanted.

He was yours.

And he was staying here.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot

1K notes · View notes

darnell-la · 9 days

Note

dom mean billy x dom gentle sweet eddie x sub reader punishment smut.

at one point eddie is hesitant telling billy not be mad. Lots of praise degradation. Maybe at one point reader head is resting on eddies lap and he’s cooing her wiping her tears telling her ‘it’s okay, be a good girl for billy’

word count: 3.6k

warning: slight cnc (reader allows any and everything to happen), slapping, heavy choking, heavy cussing, face grabbing, hair pulling, begging, orgasms, creampie, face fucking, rough sex, etc.

note: in this story, Billy is a mean partner, but not as mean as we could’ve written him. don’t worry, he’ll be sweet by the end of his mission. the reader is also a bit toxic and confusing. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE CNC RELATED WRITING.

WE DO NOT ALLOW COPIES OF OUR STORIES!

————————————————————————

3rd person pov

Y/n is currently at a party her “partners” told her not to go to. She loves the two long-haired men, but toxicity is what started the relationship and they’ve only been talking for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months.

Being in a toxic relationship is not exactly what y/n planned. Especially with two people, but something happened, and she went along with it.

Now she’s at a party she knows she’s not supposed to be at, but she can’t help it. She likes seeing them upset, knowing if they were to ever make her upset, her heart would crumble, because why don’t they care about her feelings?

“Didn’t think I’d see you tonight,” a familiar voice said behind y/n, making her turn around with a smile on her face. “Well surprise,” she smiled with her pretty teeth.

“Where are you, you know, guard dogs,” Jason said, not knowing what they are to her and what he should call them, but he has an idea of what they claim her as.

“Don’t know, and don’t care,” she said then took a sip from her drink. “Hm — So you’re here alone tonight? What a bummer,” Jason took a look at her lips, watching how glazed they got from the alcohol she had just drank.

“Yeah, such a bummer,” she sarcastically rolled her eyes before laughing with him. The only time y/n and Jason talk is at parties. Flirting it teaming up drinking games is all that they’ve done, but Billy and Eddie are convinced they’ll do more if they hang out too much.

Billy and Eddie had just walked through the doors of the party they didn’t want to go to for obvious reasons, but they were forced after they came to their girlfriend’s dorm and realized she was gone.

They knew exactly where she had gone, and Billy quickly imagined the things she could’ve been doing alone, and if he saw anything he didn’t like, he warned Eddie he wasn’t going to leave there without y/n knowing to never go back again.

Eddie on the other hand is pissed too, probably just as much as Billy, but one of them has to be more calm about it, otherwise this night really wouldn’t go well for y/n.

“Split up and look for her. I hate this big rich prick house,” Billy said before walking off and going straight to the kitchen, knowing she usually drinks when she comes to parties.

Eddie took a breath before looking around patiently. It didn’t take long for him to see her laughing and giggling with Jason Carver.

“Goddamnit,” Eddie cussed as he made his way over to him. He’s pissed because he knew she’d end up talking to him and he specifically told her not to, and he knows for a fact of Billy sees this, he’ll flip shit.

“Y/n, let’s go,” Eddie wrapped his large hand around Y/n’s wrist and tugged. She moved a few inches until Jason came around and pushed Eddie off of him.

“Hey!” Y/n said, not liking the at Jason always gets physical with him. “Relax, sweetheart. Don’t touch her like that you freak,” Jason said, making Eddie chuckle at the old name.

“You don’t mean shit to me anymore, Carver, so I advise you to leave me and especially my girlfriend alone,” Eddie said, making people look our way. People have never heard it until now. He’s finally confirmed it.

“What? I’m not your girlfriend?” Y/n said, boiling Eddie’s blood already. How could she say that in front of all these people? In front of Jason.

“Y/n, don’t fuck with me right now. Let’s go,” he motioned for her to come with him, but she didn’t move. “Thinks she wants to stay with us, don’t you sweetheart?” Jason asked as he backed up and snaked his hands around Y/n’s waist.

“I-I have to go, Jason. Thank you for the drinks,” Y/n pulled away from Jason slowly with a slight smile. “Ah, c’mon, baby. Just stay,” Jason softly grabbed her hand, but she knew Jason.

He could either want her to stay to make Eddie jealous, to make Billy jealous, to get Chrissy jealous, or to get in Y/n’s pants, but she knows he wouldn’t actually want to be with her. Yeah, she’s sweet, but he’s still too worried about his reputation.

“I gotta go,” she said as she slowly pulled away then turned around and walked towards Eddie. Eddie quickly gripped y/n’s upper arm in anger. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought,” he said as he pulled y/n through the huge house to find a bathroom or the stairs.

“Let’s just go,” Y/n said, not wanting to be here anymore since the fun is over. “Oh, you’re not gonna get out of this shit that easy,” Eddie pulled y/n up the stairs, not caring if she was tripping.

“Eds, we can’t just walk through people’s houses like this,” she said as he checked every room, looking for a specific room for them both.

“You think I give a fuck about this dipshits house!? God, you’re so fuckin’ slow,” Eddie said as he finally found Jason's room. It’s never hard to tell what’s his and what isn’t.

“Eddie, this is Jason’s room!” Y/n said as she was pushed into the room. “And how do you know that?” Eddie asked, looking through her soul after he closed the door. Y/n stayed silent, not wanting to piss him off even more tonight.

“On the bed,” Eddie demanded, and for some reason, she went as quickly as possible. She didn’t see it, but Eddie smirked with a chuckle, knowing she’d always be submissive.

“Good girl. Maybe I will take it easy,” Eddie said as he took his jacket off, looking at his beautiful but bratty girl. “Just wished you’d stay that way for me, but you’re full of so many fucking surprised,” Eddie said with a forced smile.

“I-I’m sorry,” y/n spoke, making Eddie feel bad already. “Fuck,” Eddie said under his breath as he turned around and covered his face. He tried being upset and angry with her, but she’s just too sweet.

“I really am, Eds. I’m sorry I embarrassed you downstairs. I-I won’t do it again,” y/n stayed still on the bed, seeing Eddie’s body movement. She doesn’t know if he’s going to explode or forgive her.

“You can’t just walk around in the public and act free. This is why we don’t want you out. If Billy saw you before I did, you wouldn’t be in this position right now. Especially after you let that shithead call you sweetheart and baby in front of my face. Those are my words for you. No one else,” Eddie said now in front of y/n.

“You need to think more, baby,” Eddie softly grabbed y/n’s cheek. “I-I’m sorry,” she said again causing him to nod his head. “I know you are, but you can’t always get let off. I-I don’t want to hurt you or force you but you can’t just- You can’t do this shit and get away with it,” Eddie said.

“And I’m not breaking up with you, so the only option is you change or punish you until you learn, but I can’t always do that. Billy will,” he said as y/n moved off of the bed slowly.

“I’m sorry,” she said for the third time as she slowly went to her knees. “I know,” Eddie rubbed her cheek as she slowly tugged on his belt and jeans until she pulled him out.

Y/n wasted no time to take him in her mouth. “Augh,” he groaned as he threw his head back and pushed y/n further into him as he bucked his hips. He’s always so easy to pleasure.

“You’re just so good to me,” Eddie said with his eyes shut tight, feeling her tongue wrap around his tip every time she sucks up and then goes back down until she couldn’t take any more of him.

“So fuckin’ good,” he said. Y/n looked up at him, seeing his head still laid back and his mouth parted. She knew she had him right where she liked him. It always makes her think, should she let this relationship happen? Should she finally commit?

Eddie groaned at the speed change and her touch around his hips, moving him at a paste she wanted. Her gags were heard more and the head became sloppy, just how Eddie liked it.

She knew he was enjoying it by the way he moaned and his hips bucked. He was already twitching in her mouth.

“Just like that,” Eddie rubbed his face with both of his hands again, not believing he kept letting this happen. He hates complaining about it though because he loves it. He loves the way she sucks him up with those eyes he’s not even looking at right now. That’s how good she treats him.

“Got me close. Fuck,” Eddie said, finally looking down at her, watching his cock move in and out of her thick and soft lips. “Never lettin’ you go,” Eddie said as y/n hummed on his cock.

“Shit,” Eddie bucked, not wanting to cum yet but couldn’t hold back. Y/n sucked a bit harder, focusing more on the tip to suck him dry. She always wants it all in her mouth. No leftovers.

“Are you fucking serious!? You’re tooo her upstairs so she can suck your cock? She fuckin’ disobeyed us and you couldn’t at least fuck her face!? You just let her suck you on her own paste!?” Billy’s angry voice came through the door until he was standing next to the both of them.

“Dude, relax. Not everything has to be rough,” Eddie said as he softly pulled y/n to her feet. “Well, that depends on what she did. Did you fuck anyone tonight?” Billy asked, getting straight to it.

“No, what the fuck!?” Y/n said, upset that he always thinks she’ll open her legs for people. “Oh sure you fuckin’ didn’t,” Billy said with a chuckle. “Kiss? Dance?” He asked, hoping to get her on one of those, but what he didn’t know was that she was going to piss him off with something else.

“No Billy, but since you’re always in my business, I did talk, joke, and laugh with Jason,” y/n said with crossed arms. “Jason Carver?” Billy asked in a serious tone, not too loud and not too quiet.

“Yeah, and I had fun. So what I talked to him, that shouldn’t matter to you because we’re not officially!” Y/n yelled at him, making Eddie back up. He already knew she fucked up.

In a split second, Billy gripped y/n’s neck and forced her back on the bed until he was hovered over her kicking, slapping and yelling body.

“You’re gonna rub that shit in my face and think I won’t do shit about it!?” Billy yelled in her face as a little bit of spit splashed on her. “Get off,” y/n tried saying in a serious tone, but that didn’t work with him.

“You think ima get off, knowing you’d let any other dude her slip right into you pussy if the only thing they had to do was talk to you!?” Billy yelled the last few words, tightening his grip on her neck.

“At least they deserve it,” y/n said, not knowing what she was saying. Eddie knew she was just throwing words out there, but Billy? Billy couldn’t focus on that. He was truly angry.

“Oh, so now I don’t deserve you? All the days and nights I’ve fucked you and rocked your pretty little world, you wanna tell me I don’t deserve you?” Billy genuinely asked.

“Oh oh, but Jason does? Jason fuckin’ Carver does!?” Billy asked before laughing to himself. “You know what’s fucking sad, y/n? Do you!?” Billy waited for an answer. “What?” She plainly asked, trying to act like his grip was getting to her.

“If I were to go to any bitch here, you’d be upset. If I simply looked at Carol, Heather, or anyone else, you’d cry. You’d cry like a pathetic little bitch, but it’s okay for you to go after people we specifically don’t like? That’s sad,” Billy said.

Billy never knew what he wanted from y/n. Before he put her in her place, he always hoped for an answer to why she did this, but at the same time, he didn’t care, because whether she liked it or not, she belonged to him.

“Whatever,” a tear rolled down y/n’s cheek at the scenarios he gave. Eddie knows she’s sensitive when they mention their being with other women but Billy keeps talking about it.

Even though he’s not saying he’s going to do it and he’s just telling her how ignorant and selfish she gets, Eddie still finds it harsh.

“C’mon man, let’s just relax and let this one go. She’s already crying,” Eddie said. “Only if she promises to be right. Just be right, and we can be happy. It’s not that hard!” Billy said, but y/n’s always been stuck up.

She wants to be official, she’s always wanted to, but she’s afraid at times. She could say yes and have no regrets later, but because Billy’s threatening her, she refuses.

She’s always trying to out-dominate Billy, but that’s impossible. There’s no way she’s getting out of this situation untouched and unfucked.

“Get off of me. I’m going home,” Y/n said, moving her body to get off of the bed, but that triggered him. He’s had enough for tonight. “Goddamnit,” Eddie sighed with his head thrown back, knowing she fucked the night up for herself.

Billy harshly pulled y/n’s dress up before ripping her lace panties clean off of her. “Hey! I said I’m going home!” Y/n shouted, slapping at his arms, but that never pleased him.

Billy continued until he pulled himself out of his jeans. “Let’s see how demanding you are with a cock up your cunt,” Billy said before slipping into y/n so easily that it hurt at how deep he got in the first thrust.

“God, Billy,” Eddie felt bad as he watched y/n’s words get caught in her mouth. “Gonna keep talkin’ to Carver after this, huh? Huh!?” Billy slammed his hips into y/n as she cried in pain but so much pleasure.

She’s always been the type to hide it, but by the time she couldn’t hold it anymore, she would be too fucked out to tell him how much she loves him or Eddie.

“I didn’t think so,” Billy used his free hand to grab y/n’s face and squeeze until she whined. “Keepin’ those moans in will fuck you over by the end of the night, so I suggest you open your fucking mouth now,” Billy growled.

“B-Billy,” y/n seemed so lost in words that she didn’t know what to say to him. She can’t act like she doesn’t like this. She’s always loved the way Billy treated her. She loves it rough.

“Go a little easy on her, man. She's falling apart,” Eddie said, feeling bad for her, but he couldn't ignore the rock in his pants. He never can.

“Oh, shit the hell up, Munson. Don’t act like you wouldn’t fuck her just like this if she wants so submissive to you,” Billy grew angry at Eddie for always telling him to relax or take it easy.

“No, you wouldn’t take it easy. No one would. No one would take it easy on a slur like you,” Billy leaned forward to get a closer look at y/n who’s currently mind-fucked.

“No one soul. All they do is think about abusing your cunt like some fuck toy or some whore in the street. You need to be more grateful for us, baby. Needa understand that if it wasn’t for you, you’d be some worn-out slut for parties like these,” Billy said, stinging y/n but she loves it.

“You already whore for us. Open your legs so fuckin’ easy and cum in seconds. You really think I don’t notice how wet you are when I plunge into your cunt, y/n? I always fuckin’ notice. Always notice how easy you are for me,” Billy leaned down in the crook of y/n’s neck as he pushed deeper into her, making her scratch her shoulders and back.

“I’m gonna cum,” y/n said low and shrieky. “Ah uh, I didn’t say you can cum. You haven’t been a good girl. You don’t get to fuckin’ cum,” Billy said, thrusting a bit faster to be a dick as always.

“C-Can’t hold it,” she cried, tears streaming from her eyes. “You’re gonna fuckin’ hold it, y/n, because I tell you what. If you don’t, ima gonna fuck you so fuckin’ hard,” Billy moved both of his hands to connect to her neck, pulling her into his hard and harsh thrusts.

“She’s not gonna be able to hold it, Billy, just pull out or let her cum, man,” Eddie said as he got on the bed, seeing how he could comfort y/n in this situation but it’s hard to when she’s basically crying and grinding up against Billy.

“O-Off, off!” Y/n tried pushing Billy away, but he didn’t budge. Billy gave a few slaps to her face, telling her to stop fighting. “Take it, slut. Take my damn cock like the cock drunk whore you are,” Billy spat harsh words out as her body went stiff.

“Augh!” Y/n moaned loudly as her feet kicked the bed. “That’s it, keep cummin’ so I can punish you some more,” Billy whispered with an evil smile that Eddie saw plastered all over his face.

Eddie knew this wasn’t getting good for y/n, so he went under her and rested her head in his lap.

“S-Stop! Stop!” Y/n second orgasm washed over her so quickly she couldn’t even process the first. “You shut the fuck up,” Billy slapped a hand over her mouth with his one hand still gripping her neck.

Y/n reached an arm back on Eddie’s clothes, holding them tightly as he stroked the side of her forehead to calm her as Billy took what he wanted.

“Just relax, baby. He’s close. Take it for a little while longer,” Eddie whispered to her as her eyes rolled back and her vision seemed to get bad.

Billy’s groan began to sound wild. You’d think his anger would have calmed down by now, but he feels like he could go another few rounds.

“It’s okay, be a good girl for Billy,” Eddie heard a yelp from y/n as Billy dug his nails into y/n’s neck to force her moans out.

Eddie wanted to push Billy off but didn’t know for what reason. Was it to help y/n rest for a few minutes, or was it to take his turn from the hard-on he got again.

“Just cum again, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’ll help you,” Eddie said before leaning over to rub at y/n’s sensitive clit. “N-No! No more!” Y/n begged before Billy got the chance to bring his weight down on her mouth.

“Yes, you can, baby. You want Billy to stop right?” Eddie asked, long into the poor and horny girl's eyes as he wiped at her years. She didn’t nod or say anything as she got lost in his eyes, but he knew what she wanted.

“Then cum, baby. I know you want to. You can give us at least one more. Just one. Wanna taste you, baby,” Eddie said before seeing y/n’s eyes roll back once again.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” Eddie rubbed faster. “So good for us,” Billy groaned as his cock twitched. “Yes, she is. So fuckin’ good,” Eddie praised as her body shook uncontrollably.

“Gonna pump you full then make you talk to Jason and tell him what a slut you are for us. Shit, you’ll even show him how full you are,” Billy said, meaning every word he said.

Y/n mined at the thought of Billy and Eddie wanting to claim her this bad.

“Mhm, fuck yes. Fuck yes, baby, suck me in. Suck me back in, baby, fuck!” Billy slammed into y/n a few harsh times before hurting himself deep into her as he spilled into her.

“You’re always a good little fuck for me. Don’t need anyone else havin’ this lucky cunt,” Billy said as he pulled out with a groan, watching the way her walls tried pulling him back.

“Fuck,” Eddie said under his breath. “So pretty,” Eddie softly rubbed over her whole cunt. Billy finally got off of y/n, allowing her to breathe so much better and let out her whines.

“C'mon, baby. I wasn’t even that rough,” Billy said, feeling like he took it way easier than he planned. “Dude,” Eddie said before they both laughed.

“It’s okay — She’s a good girl and took it so well, didn’t you, baby?” Billy asked as he leaned towards her face, seeing how fucked out her eyes are. “So well,” Billy said before leaning in for a kiss.

Y/n whined in between her kisses, desperately trying to taste him, but it was hard. Everything felt hard to do right now.

“I like the idea of going down to Jason and showing him how much you belong to us, but I don’t want anyone else seeing how pretty this princess is,” Eddie said, softly slapping at y/n’s pussy, making her cry in pleasure.

“So how about you tell Jason you want him to take you to his room so he can see the mess you made. Then you can lay on his bed with us next to you, and spread that pretty pussy for his rich prick eyes,” Eddie said, wanting to hurt Jason as much as possible.

Billy pulled back and looked down at y/n, waiting for her answer. “O-Okay,” she said, not caring about how shitty that would be of her. She wants to make her partners happy and obey for once.

“Atta girl,” Eddie rubbed y/n’s cheek as she caught her breath so she could make it downstairs and not tip over from his good Billy rocked her world.

196 notes · View notes

deanbrainrotwritings · 1 year

Text

— JUMP ON INTO THE FIRE

SUMMARY : ben liked her more than he thought he did, more than he’d ever admit to her or himself.

PAIRING : soldier boy x supe!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : hughie campbell, billy butcher

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw (18+), smut, implied misogyny, breeding kink, angst, feelings?, drug/alcohol use

WORD COUNT : 4.4k

A/N : title from a song by radio company. I keep procrastinating on posting, but a bunch of inspirational posts keep popping up telling me to JUST POST. so, I’m being brave and posting, heheh x

Ben had been restless all day.

He stared at Y/N, but she focused on whatever Butcher was saying. She usually repeated what Butcher had said when Ben asked her and no one really cared that he doesn’t listen to the stuff in between. As long as he had orders he wanted to follow through with, they seemed fine with him being the way he was.

He took advantage of it.

He took advantage of a lot of things. For example, he took advantage of the fact that Y/N was attracted to him and that she was a quiet fuck. Still, the afterglow of her orgasm remained for a few hours, nearly giving away what they’d secretly been up to. Her glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, her swollen lips and the way she was relaxed when she’d been uptight and wound up all day from trying to come up with ways to bring down Homelander.

She was also a supe, which he thought was great for the intensity of the sex they had. She could handle him and could take more of what he wanted than a human would have been able to. He just didn’t like it when she used her powers to control him and stop him from initiating anything with the boys around.

He got the hint. He rolled his eyes at her when he stood behind her, pressing himself against her ass, humming as if he were listening to a word Hughie said. Hughie was complaining to Butcher about something, and usually, everyone jumped in to say their piece and that’s when he’d make his intentions clear to her. He’d feel a tightening sensation around his chest and he’d huff out in annoyance, knowing it was her that was telling him to stop.

He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and started to smoke one. He knew she hated when he did that and she narrowed her eyes at him when he puffed a little white cloud against the side of her face. Her eyes began shining a golden colour and an invisible shield stopped the second puff of smoke from blowing against her face, and he smirked at her, walking away to smoke by the window.

He hoped the boys would leave soon and that when they did, they’d make Y/N stay with him so he could finally bury himself inside her. He didn’t like keeping it a secret that they were fucking, but she always recoiled from his touch, so much so that he heard Hughie asking her if she was uncomfortable with him.

She brushed it off as Ben being himself and wanting to fuck all living creatures with tits. She even had the audacity to say that Ben preferred saggy grannies over someone as young and tight as herself. Hughie blushed at her obscene words, so flustered by her smirk that his mouth just opened and closed hilariously.

Ben spanked her for that when they finally fucked, her cute little ass was red and hurting from the sting of his hands. Unfortunately, she’d healed from that quickly, but it was enjoyable in the moment, for both of them. Even if she didn’t say it, even if she whined about it, he knew she liked it.

On his second advance, he’d passed by in front of her. He could have just walked behind her, but he moved in front of her, squeezing her ass while everyone argued for the second time about their approach. It was really unnecessary on his part, but the glare she shot at him made him laugh, deep and genuine that he was almost scared for feeling happiness and maybe a little something else that he wouldn’t admit to himself.

So, he went to his room with the intention of jerking off, but he found himself unable to go past the edge of his orgasm. Instead, he decided to suit up. He figured they’d leave again at some point because they had been discussing who should or shouldn’t go. And after about an hour and a half, they all left without telling him anything.

It irritated him, but once he stopped hearing them, he abandoned the computer where he was watching porn—hoping to get himself in the mood for a quick wank, but he just couldn’t and just stared blankly at it—feeling horny, but unable to cum. He grabbed another cigarette, smoked it on his way out of his room, looking for a sign that someone was still here. But, truthfully, he was just hoping to find Y/N still here.

He could smell food, his stomach growled upon catching a whiff of it and he walked towards the kitchen, and found just who he was looking for. He smirked, “finally, a woman in the kitchen without having to be told.” He knew it would get a rise out of her to say that, and he enjoyed her attitude when he made comments like that.

He put his cigarette in the ashtray, making sure it went out all the way so she wouldn’t tell him off before he sat down at the table. His legs were wide open and his arm was on the wooden surface, his eyes tracing the curves of her body in the tight sweater and jeans.

“Fuck off, I’m not here for your pleasure, I’m hungry,” she told him, looking over her shoulder to glare at him with irritation. He laughed loudly, wiping his mouth with his thumb to which she rolled her eyes. She turned the stove off and started to serve herself some of the food she made: waffles, bacon, and scrambled eggs.

“Breakfast for dinner?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Cravings,” she shrugged, putting too much strawberry jam on her waffles and an equal amount of whipped cream. He perked up a little at the word, his cock stirring in his suit at the idea of having gotten her pregnant. She started to put raspberries and strawberries on them, then laughed softly to herself when she finished.

“Cravings?” He asked, clearing his throat.

She moaned softly when she took a bite and he palmed his stiff cock, nearly growling at the sounds she was making. He was only getting harder with the hope that he somehow got her pregnant in at least one of the occasions in which they fucked.

“So fucking good,” she moaned, just like she’d say when he fucked her. “Want some?” She asked, finally turning around and licking away some whipped cream from her lip, sucking on her fingers. He stopped touching himself immediately and acted casually when he pulled his gloves off his hands.

“Yours are too sweet,” he grumbled, his eyes dropped down to her breast. Her nipples poked the soft, grey cotton, the zipper as low as Starlight’s suit so he could see her cleavage.

“I’ll serve you some, but you’re putting whatever you want on them. I’m not your mother,” she said seriously, grabbing a plate for him from the cabinets. He bit his lip, the sweater rising up to reveal the smooth skin on her back. She returned to the stove, serving him the last two waffles and the last of the bacon and eggs.

She put his plate in front of him and brought him all the toppings, ignoring him the rest of the time, to eat her waffles at the counter.

“You’re not gonna sit?” He asked casually, but his voice had a hint of disapproval in it. She easily caught the tone and turned to look at him, rolling her eyes. She grabbed her plate and sat down on the chair closest to him.

“Happy?” She asked, digging into her food when he huffed in response rather than answering with his words. He stared at her with raised brows, watched how slowly she ate and how she enjoyed every overly-sweet bite of her meal. “What?” She asked, pouting at him unintentionally.

He smiled and shook his head, “you’re eating like a pregnant woman,” he commented offhandedly, adding the toppings he wanted. She kicked his leg, despite not being offended by it. She told herself she was just annoyed by everything he said, but deep down she knew she cared about him. He glared at her. “I didn’t mean it in an offensive way,” he defended himself.

“I know,” she shrugged indifferently, “I just think you’re annoying.”

He continued to glare at her, watched her eat her bacon and eggs while completely ignoring him and the glare he was shooting at her. Had he been Homelander, she’d be cut in half; bloody and dead. He grabbed the leg of her chair to pull her closer and wrapped his arms around her waist to move her onto his thigh.

“I think you need to be fucked,” he said gruffly. His free hand began zipping her sweater down to reveal her naked chest to him. She grunted, annoyed by his blunt words, turning around in his lap when wiggling free wasn’t an option. She brought her plate closer and started to eat, finishing up with her waffle when he started to unbutton her jeans.

“This isn’t an invitation,” she said, smacking his hand away. “I made food, eat it,” she ordered, getting off his lap, and this time he let her go. He blinked at her, his eyes glued to her every movement, narrowing when she started to wash her plate, which she then placed in the dishwasher.

“Don’t order me around, Y/N,” he said, his voice deep and beautiful. It still had an effect on her that both aroused her and made her want to punch him. He crossed his arms over his chest and she rolled her eyes for the thousandth time today, and all the times it was because of him. “And stop rolling your eyes at me.”

She turned to face him again, unzipped her jeans and pulled them down, stepping out of them and leaving them in the middle of the kitchen with her sweater right on top of them. She stood in front of him, naked, except for the light blue underwear she was wearing and her grey socks.

“Please, eat my food, Ben,” she said sweetly, but he knew she was pretending, mocking him, teasing him. “And after, I’ll let you fuck me,” she used the same tone, stepping between his legs. Her hands held his face, silky and warm like the waffles she made, they moved until she buried her fingers in his soft hair.

“And if I want to fuck you first?” He asked, hooking his fingers on her underwear and tugging them down her legs. She let him do it, leaned down to kiss him hungrily, the taste of sugar on her tongue made him moan, but before he could get the upper hand and deepen the kiss, she pulled away.

“The food will get cold,” she stated with an infuriating amount of calmness. He hesitantly pulled away from her and started to eat his food. She grinned at him triumphantly and picked up her clothes from the floor, his eyes on her ass the whole time.

“Where are you going?”

“Just putting this in my room, I’ll wait for you there,” she told him, a little confused.

“No, you’ll come back down and I’ll fuck you on the table,” he told her casually. She stared at the table and he could tell she was imagining all the possibilities. After taking his request—or his order, really—into consideration, she smiled at him and nodded, making her way out of the kitchen completely naked. “Shit;” he murmured, shaking his head.

She really was something.

By the time she returned, he’d nearly finished. He may have eaten a little too fast, but she didn’t make a comment about it, just leaned against the doorframe as if she wasn’t a walking temptation. When he finished, he pushed the plate aside and she inspected it, as if he would leave any food when he had been starving before he came into the kitchen.

She smirked at him, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes made him suspicious about her intentions when she took his plate. She walked to the sink to wash it too, slowly. He rolled his eyes, started to remove most of his armour, the vest, utility belt, until he was only in the zipped-up shirt, boots, and his pants.

She dried her hands with a towel and smirked at him, “why’d you put all that on, anyway?” She asked, looking to the side where the curtain was drawn, the orange sunlight from the sunset leaking through. She covered her chest and made her way over to close it.

“Leave it,” he told her. His gruff voice made her lick her lips. She smiled to herself before turning around to face him. He stood behind her, glancing over her shoulder at the neighbourhood and turned her back around to face it. He slapped her ass hard, revelling in her little gasp, and massaging the flesh gently. “You’re so fucking hot,” he praised, watching the neighbors go about their day.

Ben hoped someone would look at her when one of his hands cupped her warm breast, pinching her already tightened nipple. He was rough with her, squeezing her chest roughly, his other hand had travelled down her tummy, where he wanted to fill her up and make her pregnant. His hand kept going lower, her back arched against his chest, her head rested on his shoulder, panting already with her eyes closed.

“Little whore,” he murmured, the sound vibrating through his chest and against her back. She puffed out an irritated breath, but when his fingers found her entrance, the lubrication of her pussy coating his fingers, she moaned with him. His fingers slid freely through her folds and he found her clit just as he watched the guy he had a quick chat with the other day—Clark, who was married—walk by the window about to close the curtains to his home.

Instead, Clark watched. At first, surprised at what he was seeing but when he saw Ben, fear made him close the curtains quickly. Ben chuckled, satisfied with the reaction, nearly missing Y/N’s sweet moans and the way she squirmed in his arms. He removed his hand from between her legs, licked his fingers clean and started to walk her to the table, but first, he wanted some payback.

He sat down with her in his lap, watched her shift a little to look at him over her shoulder with a puzzled expression on her face. She still looked forward, waiting patiently for what he was going to do to her. He hummed softly at her submission, kissed her shoulder tenderly, appreciative of the way she shivered.

He smoothed his hands up and down her sides, spread her legs with his own, but completely neglected her pussy to resume playing with her breasts. She could feel his warm breath by her ear, tickling her skin, with his fingers rolling her nipples between his fingertips, pinching them almost harshly, but mostly it felt good. So good, she started to squirm in his lap.

“I know what you’re doing, Ben,” she whispered, moving her hands from her thighs to rest above his hands.

“Getting you warmed up?” He asked, playing innocent. She took one of his hands and moved it down between her legs where it was before.

“Teasing me, you asshole,” she chuckled, tipping her head back on his shoulder to kiss his cheek. He laughed, humouring her by bringing his fingers down to her soppy cunt, gathering her arousal and unhurriedly brushing his fingers up and down her clit. She groaned in annoyance, her calves wrapping around his own. She moved a little, her torso twisting carefully to look him in the eyes. “I hate you,” she huffed, squirming in his lap and he tightened his grip around her so she wouldn’t fall out of his lap.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered, smirking at her. She chose to ignore him and snickered to herself, letting her eyes fall shut to enjoy the slow pace of his fingers keeping her on the edge. He purposely began to avoid her clit, feeling the new wave of wetness from her entrance, circling, teasing.

He cupped her pussy, slid two fingers into her soaked cunt and started to push them in and out of her. Languidly, he curled his fingers inside her, let his palm massage her clit so slowly the only thing that kept her on the edge was the fact that it was him touching her. Had it been anyone else, she would’ve been drier than sandpaper and she’d be sitting there in complete and utter boredom.

“Ben,” she panted, reaching out to grip the table in front of her. She slowly began fucking herself against his fingers, moaned his name softly, wondering in the back of her mind if Ben would even let her cum like this. It felt good, his fingers brushed against her g-spot in this position, and he started to grind his palm against her clit the faster she went.

He let her cum this time, her walls pulsed around his fingers, and her hips slowly came to a stop. She didn’t bother catching her breath when she moved off his lap and turned around to face him. She bit her lip, watched him sit back in the chair, a curious look on his face, waiting for her to do something if she had anything in mind.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, lifted his cum-soaked fingers up to his lips and he happily took them into his mouth. While he licked his fingers clean, she zipped his suit down, her lips immediately pressed against his exposed skin, marking his warm body, as her hands worshipped him. He gazed down at her, casually brushing her hair out of her face, his teeth digging into his plump lip.

He lifted his hips off the chair when she tugged his pants and boxers down his hips. Her eyes were on his for a few seconds, full of lust and excitement. He expected her mouth on his dick, but instead she stood up to sit in his lap and she leaned forward to kiss him breathless.

Her fingers slipped through his soft hair and she shimmied her hips forward impatiently, grinding her soaked pussy over his cock. He groaned against her mouth, kissed her back with equal force and passion. One of his hands tangled in her hair and the other grabbed her waist to pull her closer, stopping her from moving her hips against his just to lift her up.

Without breaking the kiss, he stood up from the chair, stopping when his thighs hit the wooden table. He sat her down on it, pulled away from her lips, breathless and hungry for her. He wrapped his hand around his cock and slid the soft weeping head through her folds teasingly. “You’re mine,” he murmured, just taking her in. Her eyebrows went up slightly at his words, but she didn’t mind the sentiment.

“Yours…” she mumbled in agreement, finding that she liked the way that sounded. Her fingers tightened in his long hair, just to hear him grunt. Her head tipped back and her lips parted when he focused his teasing on her clit. He latched his lips to her exposed throat, teeth grazing her skin, mouth sucking gently, his tongue soothing the marks he left behind.

“Gonna finish inside you again,” he murmured against her neck.

She chuckled, “why?” She spread her legs anyway, the throbbing of her clit becoming intense with each teasing stroke of his cock. He didn’t answer, he just lifted his face from her neck and smirked at her as he guided his cockhead to her entrance.

“Don’t you like it?” He asked with a grin, pushing in and almost pulling out of her all the way slowly. He stared into her eyes, biting his lip seductively.

“Your cum inside me?” She smirked, squirming a little before wrapping her legs around his slim waist. “Why do you like it?” He pulled his hips back and pushed back into her, he went slow, considered her words and debated on whether to tell her or not. But when she pulled his hair with one hand and grasped his chin with the other, roughly bringing him in for a kiss, he stopped thinking so much about what to answer.

“To have a fucking baby with you,” he grunted against her lips.

She pulled away from the kiss, completely breathless, and blinked up at him in surprise. He didn’t give her much time to let it sink in. He gently pushed her back on the table, and her hands released his face. He watched her lips part, ready to respond, but he grabbed her hips to stop her and thrusted into her harshly.

She dug her fingernails into his arm, gasping at the pace and the force of his thrusts that shook the table beneath her. She laughed breathlessly anyway, her walls clamped down on his cock as punishment, a long moan slipping past his lips at the feeling. Her legs remained wrapped around his hips and he smirked down at her still, seeing a defiant sparkle in her eyes that he couldn’t kill, no matter how many times he reprimanded her.

“Why me?” She raised a brow, licking her dry lips.

“I like you,” he shrugged, not wasting a single second to think.

She blushed, felt a little flattered for once as he fucked her. He treated it like it was nothing, but her silence showed him that it revealed a little too much, so he brought his thumb to her clit to take her attention away from his words.

He rolled his hips against hers, kept his thrusts sharp and deep, expertly brushing against her g-spot until she was arching her back off the table. Her legs squeezed his waist, a strangled moan tore from her throat, and her walls clamped down on him. He continued to rub her clit, drawing quick circles at first, her fingers tightening on his forearms as her walls pulsed.

The fire in his own stomach boiled over until he spilled inside her, cursing softly under his breath and muttering her name at the way her orgasm triggered his. Warmth spread through her walls, and he slowed both the thrust of his hips and the circles on her clit until her muscles relaxed on the table. He stood above her, let go of her hip to admire the way she shined so prettily after her orgasm.

“You think I’m annoying,” she murmured, trying to catch her breath. He chuckled, his eyes wrinkling at the corners in such a lovely way, he almost didn’t seem so intimidating and big anymore.

“Just be mine, angel,” he smiled down at her, his eyes glittering earnestly. It pulled at her heart, her stomach clenched, and he seemed so human.

“If that’s what you’re into…” she trailed off, trying to brush his words off, but inwardly, she was swooning. She pushed him away instead of being open and giving him the same vulnerability, hurt crossed over his face, but she was too busy avoiding his eyes to notice.

When he slipped out of her, he watched his cum start to ooze out of her, but this time, he was too caught up in his hurt to be aroused at the thought of getting her pregnant. She was behind her for the hand towel to clean herself up and he didn’t say anything, he just quietly lifted his pants and helped her down the table once she’d finished cleaning herself.

He took her face in his hands, in an attempt to make things less awkward, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips that was meant to be heated, but it ended up being a gentle one. A gentle kiss that she reciprocated for a heartbeat or two before she pulled away after regaining her wits to brush past him casually with the towel in one hand to wash it herself.

He blinked at the back of her head, a bunch of emotions bubbling up his chest, giving him whiplash and overwhelming him. He let his hands fall from where they were still holding the ghost of her face, a scowl replacing the peaceful expression that had been on his face.

“Forgot to tell ya,” she turned around to face him and he forced a smile. “They’re going after the TNT Twins in a few days, so.. be ready for that,” she informed him casually. “Herogasm,” she feigned enthusiasm, and turned away from him to go to her room upstairs.

“Fuck,” he groaned angrily, sliding a hand down his face.

He looked around the kitchen with irritation, found the drugs he kept hidden in the cabinet wall and took the best bottle of bourbon hidden in another cabinet. He opened the pill bottle, dumped a few on the table where he’d fucked her, and took his knife from the floor, using the eagle head to crush the pills to dust.

He kicked the chair forward with a foot to sit in it. Once he was lined up in front of the white power on the table, he leaned down and sniffed a long line of the crushed pills. He sighed in relief, cleaned his nose of traces of white powder before he opened the bourbon. He stared at it, swirled the golden liquid in the bottle as he thought about what he’d said to her. I like you? He scoffed with a shake of his head, be mine?

He felt more anger towards himself than he felt for her. Heat crawled up his face, shame and embarrassment made his hot cheek twitch and he downed about half the bottle for saying what he said. He replayed the look on her face, hated himself for feeling hurt by her indifference, but could he blame her?

➥ all i wanna do

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incognit0slut · 1 year

Text

Lock your door

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

All y/n wanted was for her coworker to pay attention to her. Spencer was more than happy to oblige. Based on;

cw: 18+ explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), face sitting

wc: 3,9k (I'm a very descriptive writer you have been warned)

a/n: (reposted because of some error) I’m currently doing an ongoing series but once in a while, I like to write random plots, thus begins another series in which will all be one-shots based on songs i currently enjoy listening to… so yeah, this will be fun.

requests are open if you have a song in mind!

MASTERLIST

“…you better lock your door, and look at me a little more…”

Y/N WASN'T A SENTIMENTAL PERSON, but there was something about the way he looked tonight.

The fluorescent light coming from the hotel room danced across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw. His eyes were in deep concentration as they scanned the document in his hand, his brows furrowed every time he came across something he couldn't comprehend.

Her eyes slowly raked down toward his Adam's apples, moving further across his chest, before they glided along the length of his arm. She couldn't help but notice the mesmerizing way his long fingers trailed along the words underneath his palm.

She always knew Spencer had nice, well-kept hands, but as she continued to observe them, she noticed how enticing they truly were. The size of them always surprised her, as well as the length of his fingers. But it was the veins running through the backs of his hands that really made her dry at the mouth, especially when the sleeves of his button-down shirt were folded above his wrists, showing off firm arms that didn't leave much to her imagination.

How long had she been staring at him? Gawking at him? It was hard to keep her eyes off of him when it was all she had been doing ever since she was introduced to the awkward twenty-four-year-old nerd that he was twelve years ago.

Twelve fucking years.

There should be some kind of reward for pining over your best friend for more than a decade. Y/n should be growing out of this yearning a long time ago yet somehow the more they worked together, the more it became hard for her to act as if every time his fingers innocently touched her skin there wasn’t this immense desire taking over her body, leaving her in a state of being completely swept away by the intensity of it.

Granted, Y/n knew she wasn't the only one attached to this infatuation. Words were never exchanged, although observing and analyzing people's behavior for a job helped her notice the exact same desire reflected in his eyes. She could tell in the way he looked at her, the way his pupils dilated every time he focused on her mouth.

But things between her and Spencer had always been complicated. Her early interest came unnoticed when the person he preferred to ask on a date was another one of their colleagues, and when he grew out of that brief crush and had the courage to finally ask her out, she was already in a relationship.

When that relationship ended begrudgingly and she needed a shoulder to cry on, Spencer's heart was already taken for a mysterious girl he guarded to himself. But that love affair only became a heartbreaking tragedy as it ended before it even began.

It was ever since then that Y/n made a mental note to never indulge her feelings toward one of the closest people in her life. She deemed it inappropriate after everything he'd been through, especially when he made it clear that getting involved with the opposite sex was the very last thing on his mind.

Until something shifted a few days ago.

She wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps it was the traveling into yet another foreign part of the country that made everything seem different, or maybe it was being in close proximity for more than forty-eight hours that had her watching him so earnestly.

But whatever it was, the sudden shift had her looking at the adorable young man he once was into this attractive, irresistible man she viewed as more than a mere friend. A man whose eyes glazed over her mouth this morning yet managed to be oblivious to how she was the one gawking at him now.

Maybe it was time to end their flirtatious dance. Maybe it was time to stop skirting along the what-ifs flowing in her mind. Y/n glanced at the man in front of her, watching the way his back hunched over the table as he buried himself further into deep concentration.

“Spence."

He hummed a soft response, his eyes still trailing the words printed on the document.

"Spencer."

He slightly tilted his head, an indication he was listening but kept himself busy as he continued his reading.

"Dr. Reid."

There was a certain cadence in her voice that sounded oddly pleasing. Spencer reacted to the low timbre of her voice with a glance, his eyes skimming along her leg which rested on top of the other, a glimpse of soft skin teasing his senses as the material of her dress lay softly against her thighs. His eyes snapped back to her face, noticing the lopsided smirk on her lips.

"What is it?"

"Aren't you going to take a break?" Her eyes shot toward the document in his hand. "You've been reading nonstop ever since I got here."

The latter statement was the one that caught his attention. "What's the reason you're here again?"

Y/n wondered whether explaining how she wanted to run her hands through his disheveled hair while he buried his face along her neck would be deemed appropriate. But she had too much pride to admit that. Instead, she uncrossed her legs with a satisfied glint in her eyes as she caught him staring.

She might not want to convey her attraction through words, but carrying out the art of seduction was a very different matter. Temptation had this alluring appeal that drew people in, a certain type of feeling that could often lead a person to do things they usually wouldn't do. And it was what she had in mind as she leaned over the table, the collar of her dress gracefully dropping with her movement, publicly displaying her cleavage.

"I thought you might need company," she simply said. "But I've been sitting here for almost an hour and you haven't engaged me in a conversation."

His eyes flared on the sensual way her breasts were pressed against her clothes before he quickly looked away. "Well, these documents aren't going to read for themselves."

She almost rolled her eyes at his response. "But aren't your eyes tired? Don't you want to take a break?"

He glanced at the stack of papers sitting on his side of the table. "I don't think that would be the wisest thing to do."

"Not even a five-minute break?"

"Especially a five-minute break."

She slumped in her chair as he diverted his attention back to his task, already engrossing himself in another document while ignoring the baffled look on her face. Was she looking at this differently? Was she wrong to think that some untold infatuation lingered between them all these years?

Y/n couldn't help but feel disappointed. Disheartened by the lack of attention, she abruptly stood up and moved along the carpet floor of his room. Her sudden movement caught him by surprise. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere that might actually appreciate my presence."

She heard him heave out a sigh as he got up from his seat. "You know you're welcome here."

"Am I though?" She taunted, her hand already on the doorknob as she threw him a look over her shoulder. "You barely glanced at me, Spence."

"I was working. You know I need to find any potential evidence from all these files."

A sense of guilt washed over her as she watched him take a tentative step forward. "I know. I just... all I wanted was for you to look at me." Her guilt-ridden concern was replaced by embarrassment when he didn't respond. She quickly shook her head. "You know what? Never mind."

An immense feeling of shame and embarrassment traveled through her body as she turned around. What else was there to do than to flee from his scrutinizing gaze? Her hand gripped the doorknob before she pulled it, ready to fly out the room when a hand suddenly hovered over the edge of the door, softly pushing it back into place.

The sudden silence unnerved her, picking the pace of her heart when she realized she was very much flushed against his body. She could feel herself trembling as her grip slipped off the doorknob. She watched the way his long fingers glided down the hard surface of the door in intense interest.

His rough hand engulfed the lock on the door and she felt his other hand grasp her hair, slightly moving it away for better access to whatever he had in mind. His tone was quiet but undeniably gruff when he mumbled, “It's not that I don't want to look at you, Y/n.”

This was not how she had expected the night would go. Well, maybe it was what she had hoped for, but now that it was actually happening, she completely froze on the spot. She didn't know what to do, the gears in her head were moving to initiate a proper reaction but immediately came to a halt when his other hand banded around her waist as he pressed himself to her back, murmuring into the slope of her shoulders.

"But a five-minute break is not enough for me…”

His breath was hot on her neck.

“…to do..."

Her head lulled back as he pressed a kiss.

"…the things..."

Her skin shivered as he flicked his tongue.

"…I want to do to you."

She watched as he turned the lock back to its place, the sound a distinct echo in the room.

Everything went completely still. The air charged with an electric sense of excitement and nervousness, the type of charge that lead to anticipation. Spencer could feel the erratic pace of his heart as a surge of arousal rippled through his blood. It was definitely not a feeling he was used to, but it was very powerful and overwhelming in its intensity as he swiftly grabbed her arm.

Y/n let out an inaudible gasp when he turned her around, not because of the way her legs were stumbling by the impulsive contact, but by the sudden grip of his hand on her waist, steadying her momentarily in the midst of her trying to register what was happening.

"Spencer," his name a sigh from her lip. A hot spike raced through her body as if she had been struck by some force. Y/n took a shuddering breath, already knowing she would be helpless against the tingling wave he was building within her.

"What happened to your confidence?" He whispered with a coy smile.

She was growing dizzy, overwhelmed with the feeling of him everywhere, with how clear his intentions had become and how much she welcomed them. "I guess you've rendered me speechless."

And then his large hand cupped her whole face, tilting her up. His fingertips felt electric, for wherever they touched her skin tingled in a frenzy of static. She was mesmerized, captured by the spell he had on her.

There was a warm gust of air over her nose as he breathed out, "Are you sure?" His nose gently brushed against hers. "I'll stop if you tell me to."

Her fluttering eyes shot up at him. "Don't you fucking dare."

A satisfied smile curled on his lips as she waited for the moment to come, to explore every inch of his mouth. He finally pressed his parted lips on hers—and true to her imagination, his kiss was divine.

His lips felt soft and her mind went hazy when he started to move them. The push and pull of lips were exhilarating, the lazy mapping of their mouths molding together ascended the desire inside her. She exhaled a moan the moment he nibbled her bottom lip with a gentle brush of his tongue, her body burning with a new sense of need.

He gripped the base of her neck, keeping her locked to his mouth in their exchange of breaths, their tongues grazing, dancing, colliding with one another. And between her breathless moan of pleasure, he was making his own delightful noises, the various groans and growls coming from deep within his chest only made her beg for more.

Spencer slowly pulled away, eyes slamming shut as his forehead met hers, gasping for the much-needed air. "You," he growled under his ragged breath. "Taste better than I imagined."

Her head was spinning. How could he consume her so much? They were practically pressed against each other like hot glue yet she wondered whether there was any possible way to crawl under his skin. It wasn't enough, she craved more. More than his kiss. More than his tongue—she wanted more of him.

Y/n slightly pulled away, her hands skimming along his arms before they grasped onto the bottom hem of her dress, and without warning, she managed to pull the piece of clothing over her head with one swift motion.

Spencer stood there, utterly impressed and furthermore aroused. His eyes raked over her half-naked body with absolute adoration. "I see you've gained your confidence back."

She threw her dress to the floor. "Most of it anyway."

There was nothing more bewitching than her half-naked form, yet he wanted more of her, he needed to have her fully undressed in his arms. Spencer carefully grabbed her hand and guided her further into the room. He slowly dropped himself on the edge of his bed and parted his legs, gently slipping her between them.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his hands gliding along her skin. "Gorgeous, just absolutely gorgeous."

Her hands skimmed along his shoulders before she ran them through his tousled hair as she stood between the firmness of his legs, enjoying the pure admiration in his eyes. There was something mesmerizing in those hazel orbs, tantalizing her self-confidence as her fingers moved over to the front of her bra, unhooking the clasp before it slipped over her shoulders so effortlessly.

When she was finally free from the confinement of her undergarment, Spencer let out a satisfied sigh, because right in front of him were the most perfect breasts he could ever possibly imagine. His hand danced across her skin, feeling her body tremble underneath his palm as he let a thumb graze over her already hard nipple. The moan she let out was unbelievably exotic and there was nothing else he wanted to do than to hear more of it.

So he let his finger trail down her stomach before he grabbed the edges of her underwear and finally, but oh so slowly, pulled them down her smooth legs. Once they were off, he leisurely observed her nudity, his eyes sweeping over her wet flesh, flushed and swollen, the warmth radiating from her core made every part of him swell. He slowly guided a hand up her leg.

"Spencer," she breathed, clutching onto him even tighter. "Please."

His fingers brushed her inner thigh, so close to where she burned but not close enough for her to feel the satisfaction she desired. "Please what?"

She whimpered desperately. "Touch me."

"And where do you want me to touch you?"

"Everywhere."

What was a man to do when he was asked with such urgency? Such fervor? Spencer looked up at her and smiled, placing a gentle kiss between her breast before motioning her toward the bed. "Lay on your back."

She did as she was told and when she was finally on her back with him pressed to her side, Y/n shuddered at the touch of fabric from his clothes. There was something vulnerable about being the only one naked, yet somehow the roughness grazing her skin merely intensified her arousal.

She inhaled a sharp breath as she was met with a pair of hooded eyes looking down at her with undeniable lust. She felt electricity in her body, hormones shutting down her higher brain, and from there on in it was all passion, intense, intoxicating. He leaned forward, a hand unhesitatingly pushing her locks out of the way to expose her slender neck. His rapid breathing sent shivers down her spine, his lips almost brushing her ear as she closed her eyes.

Spencer trailed small kisses along her jawline, down to her throat, and pressed another kiss on the spot below her ear. She let out a satisfied moan as he sucked the spot leisurely, feeling herself shudder at his touch, sending her into another trance of delight.

She writhed at the electrifying touch of his fingertips and the thread of control that seemed to remain in him snapped as he lunged at her, pressing into her mouth. She gasped at the force and like the man he grew to be, he took that opportunity to slip his tongue, tasting every corner of her mouth. Her taste overwhelmed his senses as he devoured her, hands sliding in her hair, tugging at her, twisting and moving her to his liking.

Her scent was filling his nostrils, her delicate fragrance intoxicating his brain, pulling him even deeper into the spell she was casting on him. His smile was wicked against her lips as his hand engulfed her breast, feeling her shiver underneath him, her breath becoming rapid as she felt his thumb stroking her nipple.

Her aroused nub tightened at his touch, screaming, begging for his utmost attention. He gladly obliged her desire, his mouth trailing down her collarbone, letting his tongue brush along the curve of her breast before his lips hovered above her swollen peak, ravishing it into his mouth.

She arched her back, a moan escaping her lips as the sensation shot through her body, a thrill of arousal pooling in the heat of her core. He pulled away for a moment before ravishing her other peak, gently tugging it with his teeth before sinking in her flesh with the heat of his mouth.

"Beautiful," he murmured to no one but himself as his eyes took in the sight of her naked chest. His tongue flickered out teasingly on her hardening nub before he looked straight into her eyes. "You're so beautiful."

Then his finger continued its teasing brush, gliding along her skin as she writhed uncontrollably, waiting for him to touch the place she desired the most. It was torture. Evil, wicked torture as he leisurely took his time into taunting her that she let out a frustrated sigh.

"Spencer..."

He smiled amusedly, feigning innocence. "What?"

Y/n was never one to beg. Her job taught her to stand her ground and to be resilient whenever she had to face any type of obstacle. But right now, as his touch burned her skin in ways she never thought possible, she really didn't care.

"Baby, please..."

The unexpected term of endearment sent a sensational thrill along his body before a satisfied grin stretched across his lips. "Now how can I say no to that?"

This time when his hand slipped lower, she slowly suck in an anticipatory breath through her teeth that she held until his fingers swiped achingly light over her slit. She let out an audible gasp when she felt the pressure of his fingers over her, teasing her ever so slightly as her eyes rolled at the back of her head. He ran his fingers between her folds, making her flinch at the sensitivity and without warning, without mercy, they plunge into her.

A heavy tide of delight hit her, tension snapping inside. Strong waves emanate from her core, ecstasy racing through every inch of her body as his fingers swelled inside her wetness, moving at a rapid yet lazy pace. Her hips bucked against his fingers, following every movement they made as they stretched inside her, building the most sensational feeling throughout her body.

She closed her eyes, ready to simply enjoy the thrilling pleasure he was bringing to her when he suddenly pulled his fingers out and she whimpered at the loss. He dragged his tongue along his lips before lying on his back, pulling her along with me. "Come here."

She followed him, her legs on either of his side when he motioned her to move forward. "No," he hissed. There was a sudden shyness in his demeanor but his eyes reflected an immense amount of determination. "Sit on my face."

She gaped at him.

Never in a million years did she ever imagine those words to come out from his lips. If anyone told her that Spencer Reid, a certified genius with an IQ of 187, would ask her to sit on his face, she would've laughed. Yet here she was, crawling over him as he proved to her how lewd he could actually be.

Y/n felt the heat creeping along her cheeks as she settled on top of him, but his reassuring smile threw away any doubt she had in mind. He softly kissed her inner thigh before she lowered herself. She gripped the bed frame in front of her while his tongue flickered between her slit, and hooked his arms around her thighs, holding her in place as he devoured her hot flesh like a man starved.

Oh, fuck.

She must have said that out loud as she felt the vibration of his laughter on her skin. She faintly looked down at him and found his eyes boring into hers, watching her intently as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked hungrily. The view was making her dizzy. The way his eyes bore into her own as his tongue wrapped around her wetness made her grind her hips, seeking more of the fraction.

He gave a long, languorous stroke with the flat of his tongue and sucked her into his mouth, tugging ever so slightly she could feel the pull in her throbbing clit. Then he spread his mouth wide over that sensitive nub and sucked even harder, a sudden stabbing sensation making her cry in pleasure. Her whimpers and moans grew louder as the coil in her stomach tightened, his tongue moving faster while he felt her clenching around his mouth.

Y/n could hear how wet she was as he worked her sex relentlessly. The cadence of his tongue was making her delirious. The warm, delicious tingle radiating from his touch was flooding over her that she knew she was approaching the end. His growl rumbled against her wetness as she spasmed, her face a mess of sweat and tears as he lapped up her folds, his tongue sliding into her and pressing on the walls.

And then she shattered—breathlessly, tiredly, heavenly. Her toes curled as she screamed out his name, releasing her grip on the bed frame before burying them in his tousled hair; pulling, grabbing, then throwing herself back as the intensity of the feeling rushed in her blood. She let out a sob as he eased her through her orgasm, rubbing her thighs while they shook around his head.

Her mind went completely blank a few minutes later. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t speak. She merely notice her body shaking with satisfaction as he carefully helped her down, settling her naked body on top of his. The gentle sound of his breathing filled her ears as she felt soothing hands running over her.

They stayed like that, drenched in her sweat with her head on his chest and her legs draped over him. Then after a moment of relishing each other's presence, his deep voice cut through the silence. "You're amazing."

She finally had the will to lift her head up and laughed. "Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"

The indicated compliment made him smile. Silence engulfed them and at that moment it seemed as if there were a lot of things to be said, but somehow neither wanted to initiate the conversation. He pulled her closer and she leaned in his embrace—then his phone rang suddenly before she could even relax.

She groaned. "How much do you want to bet that that's Garcia?"

"Or Hotch." Spencer's hand glided down her back. "We should probably see what they want."

"We should."

But they didn't move and his phone suddenly stopped its chime. Their peace was once again interrupted by another call that came from her phone this time. Y/n let out a sigh. "We should really go."

He nodded, but before she peeled herself off, her eyes cautiously narrowed on him. She could practically feel the blood and adrenaline pumping and coursing through her vein as a rush of hesitation enveloped her. "Can we... finish this later?"

But then her heart brimmed with affection at how his smile lit up, a wide, radiant grin that pierced her skin and traveled straight to her soul. And there he was, underneath the mature lines swept across his handsome face was the adorable man her heart had always ached for.

"Oh, absolutely," he spoke, his fingers trailing over her naked flesh. "We'll definitely finish this later."

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #Fanfiction #spotify

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medium-rare-bimbo · 11 months

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MINORS DNI

May contain Dubcon, piss, dark characters, pregnancy, stepcest, dark themes

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♡ MAFIA AU NOW!!!!!!! Screaming creaming !!!!

♡ Hopper is the boss with his wife joyce who loves to spoil you so good!! their little princess, always given the best of the best but only if youre good >:((( otherwise hopper will give you a spanking so hard you wont be able to sit down without tearing up OR he'll fuck you so rough you'll be able to feel him inside you weeks after hes fucked you. Joyce is so much more nicer!!!! So sweet and gentle with you, she always dresses you up in such pretty clothes, always let's you suckle at her tits as she rubs your achey and soaking cunt. Always lets you have a toy inside you just so you feel full (she knows how it feels after hopper has had a night with you) <3<3<3

♡ hitwomen! Nancy who was at first hired to kill you but changes her mind once she sees you with your hand between your thighs. Shes on the roof of a building over looking your apartment, she has a perfect view of you in your bed you're laying there in your panties, scrolling through your laptop before placing it down in front of you and reaching between you legs. She knows she should look away, she should've shot you by now but a part her tells her that she should leave you with atleast some decency rather then letting them find your body half naked but she knows it's a lie especially when she makes it her mission to talk to you in the street the next day

♡ bartender! Steve who loves to get you as drunk as possible just so you can hang off him and compliment how good his hair is. He loves it when you're soft and vulnerable free for him to do whatever he please with you. You kiss him back with so much force that you cut his lips several times, your body too heavy for your brain to operate correctly causing you to be a little heavy handed. You've always liked the bartender that played along with your drunk self, he treats you so well yet you're too embarrassed to make a move but it's okay steve has enough confidence for the both of you

♡ Maybe eddie gambles, going against your sugar daddy who was going to replace you with a new sugar baby. Your sugar daddy pays no mind to you all night passing you off to one of Eddie's men possibly hoping for you to distract them but unfortunately for him you do the opposite. Throughout the night you're picking up on the cues your girls (the waitresses) are giving. you puppeteering the men to not draw or bet, You make a show of getting cuddly with one of the boys making your daddy jealous enough to swoop you up and put you back on his lap, from there you make the final move giving them small hints and movements to let them win, eddie had picked up on your sketchy movements all night he hadnt known what you were originally or how you were doing it but he didnt mind the money your daddy gave. It's a shame your daddy bet his life. bigger shame that he doesnt know his loss yet but that's okay. You kiss him, parting his hair and pointing to the gunman behind him on where to shoot. Eddie takes interest in you after this sending you dozens of flowers and treats, writing you hand written notes about how hot you looked covered in his blood. <3<3

♡ OR hes obviously is a drug dealer, perhaps your husband didnt pay back a debt putting you in the centre of his wrath. But you're so pretty and sweet :(( you even invited him in when he came to your house, made him feel so loved, he cant possibly kill you, hed feel too bad, he'll just have to keep you with him perhaps you can make him some more of those cookies he likes

♡ robin who likes listening in on phone sex with your partner!!!! She touches herself to the sound of your voice and how it cracks as you get closer to your peak.

♡ loan shark! Billy doesnt get paid back with money but instead you. Naturally you hate him at the start, refusing to look at him or speak to him if it's not a spew of insults, you warm up to him tho <3 only because his cock is pretty and he buys you cute sets of lingerie

♡ men who race cars <3 aka Billy !!!! He likes the pretty little thing that waves the starting flag especially when she bends over his car with her ass in the air

♡ pool boy! Billy x milf! readers, hes so in love with the sweet thing that treats him to rewards when hes made her pool look so nice and treats her kids so well <3<3

♡ builder! Hopper!!! Big meaty man working with big heavy things!!! Want him to pick me up and throw me against the wall, want to seduce him into sleeping with me, a lonely housewife !!!!!

♡ teacher! Hopper being seduced by one of his nymph like students, he tries to be a strong man but soon gives in to the touches. Every "daddy" and the pressure of your body pressed against his body and the light kisses torment him he finally gives in

♡ boys teasing shy! Reader !!!! Its not mean teases though, they like you, they think you're cute but to get your attention is hard because you live in your own world. You barely talk or communicate in class unlike others they cant get to know you through talking across the classroom. It's a good thing you're moved to the back of the classroom away from people but also near the all mighty king steve.

"So what do you do?"

You shrug

"You dont know? Do you just sit in silence looking at walls or something?"

A friendship formed albeit a strange one, which soon caught the attention of eddie, who made it his mission to get you to date him

"What's your favourite movie?"

"Um- I dont watch alot of movies maybe halloween- "

"We have so much in commen let's kiss"

You also met billy who was shocked that you were so boring I mean come on! No first kiss? No sex? Never done drugs? Are you even living ?? Idk they like watching you blush and look away, mean men own my heart

♡ Eddie's kisses are sloppy and wet like severely. WET. You guys just drool over eachother its disgusting <3<3 you're like a pair of dogs just humping away at eachother covered in spit. gross

♡ jonathan has a camgirl/ onlyfans girlfriend !! he loves seeing you naked and posing for him, he loves knowing that the people who pay for you content will never have what hes having

♡ robin watching you(bimbo! Reader) through a hole in the wall as you shower while on a school trip, your bouncing on you pink sparkly dildo covering your mouth as you get yourself off. Shes playing with herself as she watches you cum but it doesnt seem enough for you as you refuse to stop reveling in the pleasure you're giving yourself. She cant look you in the eye when you come out especially not when your shirt is clinging to your still wet body

♡ 👁👁 phantom of the opera! Eddie x actress reader 👁👁 or vampire! Phantom of the opera! Eddie 👁👁

♡ camboy! Boyfriend 👁👁camgirl! Girlfriend 👁👁 camgirl! Reader

♡ so many thoughts there, maybe add a lil stalker! boy/girlfriend

♡ vampire! Eddie who cant stop biting you, you cant do p.e or cheer because you're covered in bite marks </3 and no he doesnt listen when you tell him to stop

♡ getting fingered under a table/desk <3 love the thought of their fingers taking their time with you as you're forced to endure the torture

♡ sadistic! Eddie!!!!! Likes seeing bruises on your body especially shaped like his hands <3<3 he loves knowing how easily he could break you, he loves knowing you fuck yourself silly to the marks he leaves on you. Pressing down on them as you cum to feel like hes there with you.

♡ masochistic! Billy !!! Who loves the feeling of the scratches you give him along his back, he demands you grow your nails longer so they last longer (and so he can brag) make him bleed like the bite marks on his neck!!! make him yours !!!

♡ steve x succubus milf <3<3 you have really creepy children who barely speak and never act human, s'okay tho you got big honkas

♡ Orc! Hopper x fairy reader !!! Big strong man ruining me for other men <3 grumpy old man meeting this bubbly little creature, he hates you at first he wants to be left alone but you're lost and you have no idea where to go :(( he thankfully let's you stay with him and soon realises he likes his dumb little housewife

♡ billy chokes you with his bicep as hes fucking you from the back

♡ santa hopper 👁👁 silent night? Try being silent on this dick

♡ Billy tricks you into sympathy break up sex just so he can get you pregnant, you're not leaving him especially not with his baby

♡ dog hybrid! eddie breaks into your locked room while you shower just so he can suck and hump your sex toys <3 they're not freshly used (much to his disappointment) the taste of you watered down from the cleaning you took to it :(( but if he thinks hard enough he can still taste your juices on them <3<3

♡ swim coach! Billy fucking his favourite student!! Pulling the swimsuit to the side as he holds you against the wall whispering in your ear to be quiet

♡ argyle loves watching you get dressed for him, the cute little fashion shows you do for him gets him so hard !!! Whether its shirts, skirts, dresses, bikinis, underwear he'll watch it all.

♡ jonathan forces you to have sex with him little do you know he records it and shows it to your boyfriend steve :(( </3 hes just going to have to put you back in your place, he cant allow you go around thinking you can cheat on him can he?

♡ hehe thinking about mike being mean to his babysitter (you <3) so you fuck his mom, it's only natural you do it though I mean who wouldn't want to be fucked silly by mrs mommy karen wheeler? nature is beautiful

♡ speaking of nature! Eddie has a new trailer neighbour Who happens to be a nudist!! Never in his life would he think he'd be seeing womens boobs for free!!!! Now every day he waits near his window hoping youd walk pass. You know hes watching, you've caught him multiple times without his knowledge, it's nice to be wanted shame he cant look you in the eyes when you both finally meet

♡ argyle and Jonathan make lil wooden sculptures for you !! Good thing you placed them in your bedroom now they have a perfect view

♡ hopper with his bimbo! Stepdaughter who clings to him as he fingers her

♡ stepbrothers! Eddie and billy who bully you, they pull your hair, nick your skin so you bleed, pinch your skin, trip you up and more :(( you cry so much and they just laugh. They sneak into your room when the house is quiet just so they can play with your unconscious body, you always wake up achey yet your clueless as to why. You soon find out when you're forced awake by a foreign limb assaulting it's way inside you, you're held down and have no other choice but to cum. You're their toy and you're going to cum until you fall back to sleep

♡ cashier! Reader x robber! Billy, he comes in demanding money when he doesnt get it he takes something else (you <3) he brings you back to his motel room holding you hostage, convinced hes going to kill you, you try to seduce him unfortunately for you hes not that dumb the camera has been rolling this entire time. I mean at first he was going to hold you for ransom but nobody is going to miss a criminals fleshlight

♡ chrissy makes out with you and brushes it off as best friend things, she knows you dont just want to be best friends but she cant leave Jason :(( you get invited to a sleepover with the girls maybe you drank too much and Robin had to escort you to the bathroom before you throw up on yourself, you confess everything and how you feel so used and disgusting :((( drunk make outs with robin <3 best girlfriend robin !!!

♡ an arranged marriage with vampire eddie, you hate him no doubt about it >:(( you try to poison him, sitting on his lap while he drinks the spiked liquid. He kisses you staining your lips with the toxic drink. "The antidote is on the kitchen countertop, drink it and come back here I'm not done with you" you think a little bit of poison is going to bring down a vampire?

♡ MASTURBATING WITH NANCY!!! your both blindfolded stuffed with dildos you both bought from a sketchy sex shop. You cant see eachother, your sight completely blacked out only focusing on eachothers breathing. This become a scheduled thing, you both say it's for future reference but you cant only get off to the sound of her :(((

♡ incubus! Billy likes cutting your neck (knife, rings, his nails anything) so he can spray alcohol on it and watch you squirm and cry. He loves licking up the blood that leaks out, infecting your bloodstream with his aphrodisiac spit

♡ stepdad! Hopper hates that his bimbo! Daughter dresses like a whore >:((( how dare you let men see you like that >:00 your boobs are out and your panties are almost showing !!! Get on his lap now >:(( you HAVE to be punished

♡ eddie cucking billy hehe you're the hottest most popular girl in hawkins and its obvious that billy wants you but you're simply not interested in him however you are interested in the freak that hosts the roleplay club or whatever they call it. Billy gives eddie such a hard time when he realises your into the cult leader :(( thankfully you've got a few tubes of paint lying around and a giant canvas, what's better than getting back at your bully with a abstract painting of you having sex with his dream girl ??

♡ hunter! Hopper takes in bunny! Reader and makes her his cute house wife <3<3 let's you have all the bunny babies you want

♡ steve only cums if you say you want his babies or if you tell him to

♡ eddie has extracted the contents from your lipgloss tube and mixed his cum into the gloss before putting it back. Hes gross and I love him <3

♡ internet boyfriend! eddie who makes innocent! Catholic! Reader blush like the virgin she is <3<3 you're both on video call, you hand between your thighs and his wrapped around his cock, your listening to everything he tells you to do. He screenshots/screenrecords your session, hes absolutely infatuated with you. He sends you porn to watch and buys you things <3 you exchange items, some of your panties and bras for a bottle of his cologne, pictures of your body in exchange for some of his shirts, some of his cum in a small vile in exchange for your slick. It's very romantic <3

♡ holding a fleshlight for Steve's sensitive cock, you're too occupied with reading whatever magazine recently came out to let him fuck you </3 you simply hold it while he thrusts himself into it

♡ pisskink with robin!!!! She likes sitting you on her lap, rubbing your clit until you cant hold your bladder <3<3 she holds you there so she can watch the warm liquid seep into her pants

♡ vampire! Eddie going into heat !!!!!!!!! He makes a nest for you and refuses to let you lift a finger!! He cant have his mate working too hard thats his job!!

♡ billy degrades your pussy. "Bet you've had so many men inside huh? Bet you wont be able to feel my cock" says the man who cums prematurely

♡ rockstar! Stalker! Eddie x popstar! Reader she doesnt know who he is as shes not in that type of scene but he knows ALL about her, he has all her posters, memorabilia, merch, albums EVERYTHING. He only fucks and dates girls that hold resemblance to you, you finally meet at a concert one of your mutual friends was performing, he finally meets you and creams his pants.

♡ being the rival of rockstar! Dilf! Eddies daughter, shes a freak who played on whatever sport team the school offered and you're a cheerleader match made in hell. She thinks you're a stupid bimbo whose like every other girl and you think shes annoying and miserable. You've had enough of her bullying and teasing and decide to follow her dad out to the parking lot, he came out to have a smoke but he cant resist the cute cheerleader bending over for him, safe to say he comes to all of the games now. Soon you'll be able to ground your own rival <3 stepmom for the win

♡ dilf! Steve isnt blind to the stares he gets from his cute little neighbour he always knows when your eyes are on him, cutting the grass? Your eyes dart across his uncovered torso, cleaning the pool? Your eyes cling to the wet fabric of his shorts, fixing the porch fence? Your eyes are staring at his hands as he rubs glue into one of the nails holes <3 he'll never call you out on it, he likes the pretty thing who cant help but fuck herself to sleep from the thought of him. By the way you should really close your curtains <3

♡ vampire! Eddie who doesnt like that you've moved into HIS house >:((( he tries to scare you off but he feels bad, he has no other choice but to let you stay especially when you give him such pretty shows in your (-his-) bedroom. He lives in the walls watching you <3 and they say romance is dead

♡ crytid eddie !! Creepy man who has no concept boundaries breaks into your house (your fault for leaving leftovers out) this stinky little guy scares the shit out of as you walk into the kitchen and find him croutched over the pasta you made the night prior oh and would you look at that he knows how to open the fridge (and all of your cupboards) you cant just kick him out hes scrunkly

♡ mountain man boyfriend! Mountain man boyfriend!! Mountain man boyfriend!!!! MOUNTAIN MAN BOYFRIEND!!!!

♡ mountain man! Hopper fucking the fairy he found near the river, you were searching for pretty rocks and he was searching for food

♡ chrissy always presses the shower head to your pussy when you're done with cheer practice, she likes watching you squirm as you try so hard to not let the other girls know what shes doing

♡ zombie boyfriend eddie <3<3 dumb bimbo reader takes him in and cleans him up, hes never had anyone do that for him before </3 he loves you

#stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington x reader #jonathan byers x reader #argyle x reader #001 x reader #henry creel x reader #chrissy Cunningham x reader #murray bauman x reader #enzo x reader #joyce byers x reader #karen wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #robin buckley x reader #jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 5 months

Text

No Other Gods

Serial killer! Billy Russo x Female Reader.

Billy’s POV mostly

Summary: Billy’s on the run, moving from place to place as he leaves a trail of bodies behind. When he steps into a church to hide, he stumbles upon someone that makes him want to stay.

Warnings: Dub- con, violence, gore, blood, blood smearing, so much murder, mentions of Billy's past assault attempt, suggestion of possible sexual assault attempts toward the reader, religious themes, blasphemy, sexual acts in a church, thoughts of non-con (no actual non-con), poison, restraints, oral, fingering, sexual intercourse, wax play/heat play, Devil worship.

If you want clarification on a possible trigger, I am happy to elaborate.

I took the dove out back, shot it, then resurrected it so I could kill it again. Be warned.

For my lovely @ittybxttykxttytxtty who was so instrumental in the design of this fic. This goes out to you, love, who reminded me that I shouldn't be afraid to write whatever inspires me.

He’s calm.

Each step he takes is slow, measured, he hears the echo of it on the quiet street, the drag of his shoe on the concrete sidewalk.

He turns the corner, and has to fight the instinct to hold his breath as they turn their heads to look up at him. The murder weapon tucked into the waistband of his jeans feels ten pounds heavier.

Even breaths, one in, one out, he knows nothing, he has no sense of concern, or worry. He blinks, feels trepidation wash from his skin.

Internally, he readjusts his course, doesn’t want to walk past the group of officers that are studying him from further up the street, doesn’t want to answer questions just yet, not until he has his story straight.

From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of the church and he changes his walk ever so slightly that it looks as though he’s been heading there the entire time.

When he’s at the closest point, he raises his head and smiles, gives a little wave to the officers, wishes them a good day, though he knows what they know, and it’s not a good day for them.

The church is pristine, unlike the other buildings on the street, it stands with fresh paint and the smell of almost dried varnish and scrubbed steps that tell him that this church is probably the most coveted place in the entire town.

Billy, having just cut a man’s throat in the High school gymnasium, steps past the door, and does not immediately combust.

Surely, that must mean he’s doing something right, that his cause is a good one, maybe even approved of in the eyes of God.

He’s not convinced.

For a moment, he thinks it’s empty, thinks he’s alone with God and his thoughts, up until the slight movement of shoulders draws his eye.

He’s in disbelief that he missed you the first time, the light of the stained glass hitting your sedentary form.

He takes some quiet steps forward, swears he feels the concealed knife grow warmer. He watches you, studies in rapt attention the way the coloured lights look on you, the way they illuminate your hair, makes his fingers ache to touch something that looks explicit in its forbiddenness.

Your dress is white, or a cream colour that tells him the outward state of your mind, the purity nurtured in your soul.

He moves faster now, eager to see you, to know what you look like, to hear your voice, to look into your eyes.

He turns when he makes it to your pew, sees the way the light caresses the planes of your face, and he wishes he could do the same.

You are radiant, undisturbed beauty, your hands clasped together beneath your chin, a small rosary wound between your fingers. He wants to touch your hair, swirl strands of it around his finger, he wants to feel your skin, hold your form beneath his palms.

Everything he wants, halts, the moment you turn your head and look up at him.

His lips part in surprise, he’s taken by you. You must be an angel, or something more.

“Hello.” You say softly, gazing up at him with unsure eyes.

“Hello sweetheart, I'm sorry to bother you.” Billy answers smoothly, as though he isn't desperate for you to get closer so that he can catch your scent.

You look like you smell like flowers, he thinks to himself, bristles with delight when you finally stand, the light streaming through the stained glass paints you with a myriad of colors.

“It's okay,” you soothe, “I don't mind helping.” You smile at him, an ease of trust in your eyes. Trust, he could so easily extinguish with the weapon concealed on him.

You extend your hand, giving him your name, he smiles, gives his back. In your eyes, he can see something he doesn’t quite recognize.

Too pure, Billy finally decides. You're too pure, there must be some wrong.

“I’m new to town,” Billy explains, leaning in so that he can stand in God’s light with you, in hopes that you can absolve him of the thing he has done.

“Got a little bit lost. Will you help me find my way?”

You smile, and it reminds him of warm fires in the winter, of standing in sunlight after being drenched from head to toe.

“Where are you going?”

One of the wives whispers something in your ear, Billy watches you tilt your head back laughing. You had this entire town wrapped around your finger and before he’d arrived, he’s sure no one had ever questioned your purity.

A white dress and blue cardigan, he wants to take you into one of the back rooms of the church and push his murderous hands under your dress, feel your gasp in his skin as his hands paw at your delectable thighs.

He wants to ruin the very image of you, reshape you for him, and him alone.

He turns his head slightly, observes that he’s not the only man here transfixed by you, but one in particular catches his eye.

The reverend, in the same clothes he’s just delivered Sunday sermon, gazes lustfully at you, his glasses balanced at the very tip of his nose to conceal the direction of his eyes.

He recognises the expression, knows it like he’s looking into the face of someone who once looked at him the very same way. The reason he started killing in the first place.

He feels the itch swell inside of himself, his fingers flex.

It seems as though it would be time to hunt again very soon.

“Lost again?” Someone says behind him while he’s picking out laundry detergent.

He turns, seeing you there, in a pale pink shirt, and tan pants that hide your figure from his view.

He smiles, watches the way you light up even more. A sweet, little morsel made for his fangs.

He holds up two different boxes of detergent for you to see.

“What do you think?” He asks.

You hum, deep in thought.

“This one,” You say, pointing at the item in his right hand, “smells too flowery for my taste, and you don’t seem like a man that likes to smell like flowers.”

He smiles, raises his eyebrows, intrigued.

“And this one,” You point to his other hand, “Oh, that’s the one I use.”

“So it must be the best.” He agrees, as if you made a proper suggestion, putting the latter into his shopping cart.

You smile up at him in amusement.

“So, how are you getting all of this back to your place?” You ask, tilting your head at the moderate amount of groceries in his cart.

He turns, looking at what you were observing.

“You’re right, I might have picked up too many things for my walk back home. I’ll have to put some things back.” He agrees with her implications.

“No way!” You protest, reaching to take his hand, tugging him with you.

“Pastor Wade brought me along with his wife, I’m sure they’ll have some extra space in the back for you.” He follows, feeling anger that Wade had found himself closer to you than before. You wave your hand excitedly at the reverend, and Billy smiles internally at the sour look he receives from the man himself.

The trunk gets filled with the reverend’s new items, and Billy smiles, looks at you as you tilt your head, trying to solve a problem of too many groceries and too many people trying to fit into one vehicle.

“Give it up,” He says, mouth angled near your ear, “I’ll find another ride-”

“Don't you dare,” You argue, “I promised you a ride home and I won’t back down now.”

He smirks, watches you pile yours, and then his items into the backseat of the car. When you’re done, there’s only just enough space for only one person to fit.

“That’s okay.” You insist, “I can sit on you, if you don’t mind?”

Of course he doesn’t mind.

“If you’re sure.” He taunts.

“It’s a great idea.” Wade’s wife echoes, too eager to have them both in the back seat and the journey started.

Billy does his best to appear aloof, he gets in, and looks up at you expectantly.

You’re hesitant at first, before looking around, and then climbing into the back seat of the car to seat yourself in his lap.

Billy takes a deep breath, exhales, watches the pores on your neck and collarbone rise when his breath touches you.

A few moments into the ride and you’re wriggling uncomfortably in his lap.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Warm.” You explain, reaching for the buttons on your pink cardigan, brushing his stomach with your hand as you tug it off your shoulders.

Billy watches, with rapt attention as you reveal a white shirt beneath your cardigan. When you almost slip off his lap, he reaches to grip your knees.

“Hold on, sweetheart.” He whispers, just so you can hear.

You hold conversation with Wade and his wife throughout the journey, talking about how excited you are for the upcoming Christmas season, and that dressing up as an angel at the annual concert is a highlight for you.

All the while, Billy keeps you seated in his lap, your ass right on his hardening cock, the smell of blossoms drifting from your hair.

He closes his eyes, tries to distract himself from thinking too much about you, but he knows it doesn’t work. When the road gets bumpy, Wade apologises for the rough ride, and you respond with something reassuring.

You stiffen after a moment, and he knows he’s been caught.

He knows you feel him when you turn your head to look at him in surprise, his cock, hot and hard below your ass, rubbing against you as the car sputters along.

He looks right back at you, meets your shocked look with a sinister one of his own, wants you to know what a man feels like, makes sure you commit him to memory.

In the rearview, he sees pastor Wade glance at the pair of you. Billy looks back, holds his eyes, gives the supposedly pious man a smirk.

The next Sunday, you sit beside him in church.

It completely unfocuses him from his next target, he tilts his head to look at you.

Such a curious thing, drawn to something you now know isn’t as wholesome as appeared to be. It makes him feral, makes him want to put his hand on your thigh, slide it slowly up until he’s at the apex, tuck his obscenely large fingers under the waistband of your panties, find you dripping, feel you aching, press a lone finger to your swollen clit, make your sweet little cunt gush in God’s sacred domain.

When it’s time to take his hand in prayer, he makes sure to do it as slowly as possible, dragging his fingers along your palm, your touch makes him feel blessed.

It becomes a habit, sitting beside him for Sunday mass, the eroticism of your touch right before you pray, before you ask God for forgiveness from all your impure thoughts and deeds, and Billy sits besides you, blood dripping from his hands as he imagines the ways he wants to violate you in this very church.

It’s a Wednesday evening when he steps into the church, the most desolate time possible. He knows there’s only two people here, him, and his target.

He moves slowly, cautiously, on the balls of his feet to avoid making too much sound. The wind blows, the front doors to the church groan.

He passes the stained glass windows where he’d first met you, he passes the pew he sits at every Sunday while thinking about you, he passes the doors at the back of the church that he thought would make a decent place to defile you.

He goes deeper, till he can hear the quiet familiar slapping of a man going at it.

He’s not shocked by it, or scandalised, he knows his wife barely touches him, he knows she has an idea of what goes on inside his head. Billy’s studied her too, looked at her while she watched the way he leaned in to speak to you, a spark of realisation in her eyes.

He makes gentle movements, turning the doorknob with two of his fingers at a pace so slow it goes unnoticed by the person on the other side of the door.

He gazes steadily through the small gap.

Pastor Wade has your pink cardigan pressed to his face. Billy remembers the last place he saw you wear it- in the back of Wade's car.

He has one hand to his face, and the other stroking his meagre erection. Billy waits, in the stillness, the only sounds are the preacher’s laboured breaths and the movement of his hand.

There’s a right moment to act, and Billy waits patiently, he doesn’t have to talk himself into this one as much as he’s done with some others before. This one comes easily, in part because he’s grown accustomed to the feel of blood spilling onto his hands, almost craving it now, but mostly, it’s because Wade’s next intended victim is you.

In front of him, Wade groans, tilting his head back pace quickening. Billy pushes the door open. The wooden door doesn’t groan like it did before, Billy had greased the hinges just last week in preparation for this.

Billy stands behind the man, waiting for the precise moment, and when the preacher lets another groan loose from his lips, a warning of impending release, Billy strikes.

The man comes just as his throat is cut open, blood spraying from his neck as semen spills from his cock. Warm blood pours over Billy’s hands, as he supports the man as he drops, not wanting to cause more noise than necessary.

He lies on his side, turns his head upward, mouth parting in surprise as he sees Billy’s face.

“I wish I could punish you more, but I’m not worried, I know the Devil is going to take his sweet time with you.”

He watches the words register behind the dying man’s eyes, and Billy smiles wickedly as life leaves him.

He tugs your cardigan free from Wade’s hand, it’s partially soaked in blood and will need to be properly disposed of, he doesn’t want anyone finding it and linking you to the crime in any way.

He studies the soft pink material, smiles at the thought of you. He brings the material up to his nose, catching the smell of blossoms just barely clinging to the fabric.

The fluttering wings of a bird above makes him glance upwards, and he figures one must have found its way into the space between the ceiling and the roof, searching for a comfortable space.

He uses your cardigan to clean his knife, before turning, and heading for a sink to wash the blood from his hands.

He brings a casserole to the deceased’s house the evening they discover him dead.

It’s just a little something to help out, he explains to Wade’s widow when he greets her in the kitchen. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, crying from the moment she’d heard the news, no doubt.

He doesn’t stay with her too long, excusing himself despite her attempts to hold onto his hand, the women around her gazing at him, more intrigued than ever about his culinary skills.

He wants to find you, to see you. There’s an itching inside of him that won’t go away until he knows you’re here with him.

When he finally catches sight of you, something inside of him unknots itself. You’re standing in the middle of a large group of concerned people, you look like you’re fighting tears with everything you have. A woman touches your shoulder, and you raise your head to give her a brave smile.

He pauses on the outskirts, wonders how he’s ever going to get your attention.

But he doesn’t have to worry, because your eyes lock with his as soon as he stands still, as if you’d been seeking him out this entire time. He gives you a small smile, something of an icebreaker from so far away, and you take it as an invitation, running right to him with tears already spilling down your cheeks.

Your body collides with his, and for a moment, there’s only you, and the softness of your form, and the smell of your hair and he’s quietly reassuring you that everything is going to be okay.

He enjoys it, the way you grip his shirt, the way you cling to him with every ounce of strength you have. He hugs you back, finding a way to the soft loveseat in Wade’s living room. You don’t pull your head from his chest as you cry, you shake with big, heaving sobs, and he tries his best to comfort you.

If you’d only known what Wade’s intentions were with you, you wouldn’t be crying. After a while you calm, and you continue to cling to him while you sniffle, his shirt damp with your tears and he wears it like a badge of honour.

So many people stop in to check on you, more and more with each passing hour. Billy thinks more people are concerned with your wellbeing than with Wade’s actual widow.

It amuses him, that so many people are drawn to you, that you have such influence on everyone, that they care so much for you, and here you are, tucked into his body, turning your head into his chest to cry every now and again, growing less frequent with the more time that passes.

Later, he offers to take you home. He’s just been able to afford a slightly beat up car, and he asks if you’d be okay with being driven by him. You accept with sleepy eyes, and he smiles internally, going to find Wade’s wife to bid her goodbye.

He overhears one person speaking with another about the state in which the body was found, covered in his own blood and semen, throat slit from ear to ear. Billy is delighted to hear it, he wants everyone to know, he wants to shame Wade’s name, even in death.

His widow is sad to watch Billy leave, she grips at him once more, trying to wrap her arms around him the way you do. When he mentions your name, he watches her stiffen, mouth set in a grim line, something in her eyes like accusation, or knowledge of something that she cannot say to another soul.

She doesn’t speak her accusations to him, and he leaves, wraps an arm around your wobbling form and helps guide you to his car.

You’re so tired, and you fall asleep in his car as soon as you’re buckled in. He drives slowly, takes the long way, anything to be by your side longer. Your cheeks are stained with tears, he thinks about how beautiful you’re going to look in black.

You hum sleepily, reaching across, he blinks in surprise when you take his hand in yours.

“I heard how he died. Can’t wrap my head around it. Someone just decided he shouldn’t be alive anymore. Can you believe that?”

The lord giveth, and the lord taketh away, he wants to say.

Out loud, “I’ve seen it a couple of times, back in New York.” he says instead.

You squeeze his hand.

“Do you think you could ever take a life?”

His breaths pause, it was time to confess to you.

“I have,” He clears his throat, “I have killed people, I was in the army.”

Your head swivels to him in his peripherals, he glances back with a sad smile.

“I just thought you should know.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

You continue to hold his hand.

“You- you’re not- you don’t hate me?”

“It’s not in me to hate, I have to believe that the path you’re on was necessary to bring you to me.”

“To you?”

“So I can help you.” You answer, squeezing his hand.

He wants to rip you apart and reshape you with his own hands.

When he finally gets to your house, he helps you out of the car, helping you up the few stairs and supporting your weight as you get the door open. When he tries to let you walk on your own, you stumble, and he has to catch you before you fall.

“I’m really tired.” You explain to him, and he hums in understanding.

He takes you up to bed, watches you collapse onto the soft surface, knee length dress rucking up so that he catches just the quickest glimpse of your underwear.

His hands clench into fists. He wants to push your skirt up, bury his face between your legs, taste your little cunt, worship you until you come on his tongue.

“Will you stay?” You ask, arms spread out, legs slightly bent as they press together.

He kicks his shoes off decisively.

“What will people say?” He teases.

“You don’t strike me as a man who’s ever cared about that.” You whisper softly.

He grins, climbs into bed beside you, reaches around your hip so that he can pull your body against his.

“Goodnight, angel.” He whispers as your eyelids flutter, struggling to stay conscious.

“G’night, Billy.” You respond, touching your face into his chest once more before you doze off completely.

It's too much power, and you must know it. To fall asleep so easily right beside him, every temptation to be like the predators he hunts. He could press his palm to your thigh, drag his hand up to your hips, you would never even know. He could do so much worse, pin you to the bed, pull his cock out and take you right here, watch you wake in shock while he fills you. Watch his cum leak out of your little hole. What could stop him? You? God? Everything he's wanted at the tip of fingers and all he has to do is take.

In the end, he doesn't do it. He lies beside you and thinks of all the vile things he could do and doesn't act on a single thing and he doesn't really know why.

He thinks it's because of the consequences. Doing that would mean you wouldn't want to be around him, and he needed you to want to be around him.

By the time morning comes, and you wake, he's spent the entire night memorizing the feel of your body against his. If you feel his aching erection, you say nothing of it, and he's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

He finds you right after the funeral, lighting the candles that have gone out when the doors had been wide open to allow the coffin through.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, approaching you, swallows as he finally has a chance to fully appreciate your funeral attire.

It's loose, giving you an almost formless shape, to hide from everyone's view, your skirt is just a little shorter than usual, probably something you haven't worn in a while, resting at mid thigh and no doubt giving the women something to chat about in hushed voices.

You glance at him with a little smile, before continuing your painstaking process of relighting each candle.

“I'm alright. The lord gives, and like natural order, the lord takes.”

He blinks.

“That's right.”

“What do you think about the Devil?” You ask suddenly, not looking up, simply tilting your head to continue your work.

“What do you mean?” He pries.

“Is he evil? Or is he just the way God made him?”

“He's both.” Billy answers.

You smile, and finally turn to look at him.

“Do you think God loves him?”

“Doesn't the Bible say God loves all his creations?”

You smile wider, nodding. For once, Billy feels like he doesn't have the upper hand in a conversation.

“Are you worried about eternal damnation?” Billy asks, taking a step closer, ready to reassure you that someone as sweet as you couldn't possibly end up in Hell. If you were damned, well that didn't bode well for him.

“I'm not afraid of Hell, I can handle fire.”

Billy watches you raise a hand, and hold it closely over one of the candles. He hisses, grabbing your wrist and pulling it away.

He turns your palm to check for any serious burns, but he'd withdrawn your hand just in time.

“I'm alright, Billy.” You reassure him, leaving your hand in his, and using the other to continue with your previous task.

It's the first time he realises that there is more to you than he'd initially thought. He'd seen you as a pristine painting before, something to be looked at, forbidden to touch, to love from afar. Now? You were an enigma, a puzzle whose pieces were made to be handled, to be solved by the right person.

Billy wanted to be that person.

“-He wants to be here with you, the lord is one with everything, he’s in everything you see, and everything you touch. You just have to close your eyes and let him in.”

From around the corner, Billy listens to you speak, your hands holding the other woman’s, who’d stumbled into the church an hour ago, searching for someone to speak with.

“I’m not worth the forgiveness.” The woman sobs.

Billy is ashamed to admit that the very sound of your voice turns him on. He feels sick, that listening to you speak about the lord makes him hard. If he closes his eyes, he swears you talk about God as if he’s just another person in the room,

“He believes in you. You’re here, you found me, because that’s what he wanted. You found the strength to come in, to open yourself up to being judged just a little, and I know he appreciates that. He loves you, and I do too.”

Later, when the woman leaves, with a promise to be here on Sunday, Billy finds you, shuffling and reorganising reading materials near the altar.

“You’re good at this.” Billy murmurs.

You smile.

“I’m just doing what he commands.”

Jealousy stirs in Billy’s chest.

Before he can stop himself, he’s stepping into your space, you look up at him with wide eyes, as you try to back away.

“You’re so selfless, don’t you know what people say about you?”

You blink in surprise, your body lowering as you descend the stairs, away from the altar and toward the pews.

“It- why should it matter what people say?”

“They call you a temptress, you’re the reason Wade’s burning in Hell. I heard his wife say it herself.”

“That’s not my fault.” You defend.

“It’s not? You’re telling me you have no idea of the effect you have on men?”

You go down another step, he follows.

“I- I don’t- I’m not-”

He feels so large, looming over you, frightening you.

“You don’t?”

“I only want to serve.” You whisper.

“Who?” Billy taunts.

“What?”

“Who do you serve?”

“The Lord.”

The back of your legs bump the wooden pew. Billy watches you gasp.

“And what if I wanted you to serve me?”

He doesn’t let your confused expression last for too long.

Billy acts fast, sitting on the pew, and gripping your hips to drag you onto his lap. He guides your legs over his, spreads his thighs so that you’re forced open too.

You suck in a deep breath, head falling back onto his shoulder. You look up at him, mouth parted, eyebrows drawn together.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your body still on top of his own, he realises that you’re not fighting him like he was worried you would.

He shushes you, gently presses the tips of his fingers right above your knees, takes his time dragging them up.

You reach for his hands, covering them, unsure if you should stop him or not.

“I’m giving you what God can’t.” He simply says, looking up at the altar before them, listening for anyone walking in as he brings a veined hand up to cup your mound.

You let out a little whine, fingers gripping his wrist, unable to pry his hand away.

“This is wrong.” You whisper, tugging at his wrist.

“I’ll make you feel right in a minute.” He answers, moving slowly to push his hands into your panties.

This is what your cunt feels like, is his first thought. Billy bites down on his bottom lip, his fingers feeling over your pussy, exploring, learning, and when he finally dips his hands lower to find you wet, he can’t help chuckling to himself.

The wrongness of your situation turns you on, and Billy uses it like fuel, lights a fire so readily, eager to watch everything burn.

“This is all an act, isn’t it?” He jabs, “You pretend to be so pure but that little cunt is dripping on my fingers.” You shake your head in protest.

He’s gentle when he finally touches your clit.

You gasp, let out a strained moan, trying to fight a losing battle with your body.

He circles his fingers on your little bud, pulls your legs open wider when you try to shut them. He’s slow, he’s careful, he feels you tremble, feels your breaths get faster.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to cum already.” He chides, “I’ve only just started.”

A soft cry is your only response.

When the sun is at the right angle, it shines through the stained glass and paints you both in multitudinous colours. He looks down at you, your face is one of mindless pleasure while the hues dance on your trembling skin.

“Look at you,” he murmurs reverently, “sinning in God’s light.”

Your eyes roll back in your head, mouth parting with the start of a loud cry, he slips his free hand over your mouth, muffling the sounds of pleasure you make.

You rock on him, cunt spilling more and more onto his fingers, his mouth begs for a taste.

Your nails dig into his wrist, he welcomes the feeling, delighted to have given you something only he could give.

When he’s sure you’re going to be quiet, he slips his hand from your mouth, and after a few moments, he pulls his hand from your panties.

His fingers go right into his mouth, eyes closing in bliss at your tart taste, he licks his fingers clean, runs his tongue over them one more time to make sure he’s gotten every drop of you.

You look at him with parted lips, caught in your own amazement, coloured light still spilling onto you.

He smiles, pulling your skirt down, closing his legs which close yours.

He pauses when he feels your fingers touch his chin, he looks at you in surprise to find something calm in them. You part your lips, like you’re about to say something, and then you startle when the doors to the church are pushed open.

You slip off his lap, rising to a stand, you smile, welcoming the people coming in.

Billy is waiting in the confessional booth for you to pass by. You’d been so exhausted recently, trying to help the newest preacher get settled, and then someone else had been murdered. A woman working at the bank had been stabbed repeatedly in the face inside the bank vault. Her body had been found on a pile of money.

It was odd, Billy thought he was the only one of his kind in town, to know there was another out there, made him want to look out for you more than ever.

This, was not him looking out for you.

Rather, he was waiting to pull you away, to be your distraction from another funeral, to save you, if he so dared call it that.

He hears footsteps, identifies you from the click of your familiar shoes on the church floors.

He hears the large wooden doors at the front open to allow the coffin in, and while everyone looks in the direction of the doors, he slips out, wraps his hand around your mouth, and pulls you, struggling into the confessional.

You stop fighting when you see him, and he smiles, bolting the doors closed from the inside.

He looms over you, cock hardening in his pants, presses a finger to his lips with a smile.

Your mouth parts, curious about him, and when he presses you back, settling your body onto the wooden bench, you don’t have much choice but to obey.

He watches you, fire in his veins. You look up at him with the sweetest eyes, and he knows he’s ready to defile you right here.

Instead, as the funeral begins, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling your panties down your legs so that he can worship you with his tongue.

He keeps you right on edge for the entire sermon, licking you slowly, your hands in his hair, your breathing deep and low to avoid attracting attention.

He edges you, echoes the prayers being said outside into your heated core, licks at your sweet bundle of nerves, doesn’t stop for a single second.

When the congregation takes up a gospel in praise, he waits till the voices are at their highest point to let your orgasm take you.

He tastes you greedily, thankful to have ever crossed your path.

He closes his eyes, decidedly not done with you, peeling at your virtue until nothing remains.

He takes you home that night, helps your exhausted form like he did before, hands gripping your waist to support your fumbling steps.

“You need to stop expending all your energy like this.” He chastises, lips in your hair, breathing in your scent.

“I’m fine, I just need to sleep.” You protest.

He guides your key into your door.

“Will you stay again?” You ask hopefully.

“If you want me to. But if someone sees me leaving-”

“I know, they’ll have reason to call me a whore.”

“Don’t say that about yourself.” His voice is maybe too sharp with you.

You let out a little laugh.

“Right. Sorry.”

He gets you up the stairs, feels you take a deep breath as you yawn.

“Help me get out of this dress?”

God, you really were tempting him.

He watches you fall back onto the bed, clad in only your underwear. He finds it impossible to look away, when your body looks so divine.

He gulps, wants to kiss every exposed inch, wants to make you see heaven any way that he can.

You watch him while he watches you, he’s transfixed by you.

“You want to touch me, don’t you?”

He curls his hands into fists.

“I always want to touch you.”

You give him a sleepy grin, arching your back, reaching behind to unclasp your bra.

“Can you bring me a dress from my closet?” You ask softly, and he stiffens to obey.

He pulls the door open, searching through the delicate things suspended from hangers for something for you to sleep in. He finds a sheer dress, smiles as he pulls it from the closet, he glances back at you to find you already asleep, your breasts exposed to the cold air.

He smiles, turns back to close the door, pauses when something shiny catches his eye.

It’s behind the wooden walls of your closet, shining through the slats. Billy’s eyebrows draw together, leaning in to press against the spot, the entire panel of wood shifts, and he realises that the closet has a false back.

He tosses your dress over his shoulder, reaching for either side of the wood, he presses down gently, and the entire thing shifts upward, allowing a space for his fingers to fit in.

He pulls, the piece of wood is heavier than expected, turns, and tucks it against one side of the closet.

What he finds… washes his mind blank of any rational thought.

It’s an altar, but it’s not for God.

There’s an inverted pentagram painted onto the wall in something that Billy, with his years of experience in the matter, knows to be dried blood. On the pentagram, there are photos pinned, polaroids of him that he’d never seen you take, taped to your wall with little hearts scribbled on. There’s other things as well, the dog tags from his bedside drawer, the pocket square he’d thought he’d misplaced after Wade’s funeral. So many little items of his, in this space, and he realises that he has no idea who you are at all.

On the floor, is the pink cardigan soaked in Wade’s blood, half burned from where he’d tossed it into a quick fire in the woods behind the church. Billy kneels, fingers brushing the handle of a knife with a blade embellished with flowers, stained with blood. The skull of a goat, surrounded by black and red candles.

He knows he should be feeling fear, but there’s no ounce of it anywhere in his body. He licks his lips, plucking a photo of himself from the wall, he feels his lips curl up involuntarily.

He stands, turns to wake you, to confront you, and halts when he finds you already behind him.

You look sleepy still, swaying on your feet, body still bare, and before he can say anything, you raise a fist, and blow a strange powder directly into his face.

It stings when it touches his eyes. He groans, drops the photo of himself he was holding, presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and stumbles. His throat tickles, he coughs, body trying to expel whatever you’ve dosed him with. He can’t see, and he reaches for where he knew you were last, only to find formless air.

He tries not to panic, if you wanted to actually hurt him, you would have by now. Perhaps you just didn’t know what his reaction was going to be and you were safeguarding yourself.

He feels the handcuff wrap around his wrist, but he fights it, his eyes sting too much for rational thought.

“I’ll help you if you cooperate.” He hears you say.

He huffs out a breath, extending his cuffed arm for your guidance.

You pull at him, bringing him to your bed, and cuffing both his arms to the frame. His eyes sting when he tries to see through them, his face burns too, like it’s on fire.

The next thing he feels is a cold cloth on his face, and then there’s instant relief.

You place a damp rag over his eyes, and on the lower half of his face, leaving his nose exposed for him to breathe.

“Let it sit for a little, it needs to neutralise the poison.”

Poison? He thinks in shock.

He tries to calm himself, tries to tug on his restraints as little as possible. He tries to run through everything he’d learned in the past few minutes, sort them into his head, solve puzzles he didn’t even know existed.

You were entirely not who he thought you were, not even a little, not even at all.

No, not true, he’d seen it, glimpses of the real you from the very start, too pure, he’d thought, too pure that there must be something wrong.

He should have seen it from the minute you took his hand, from the minute you sat on his lap, when you felt his erection and still flocked to him. Billy should have known. It was in the way you thrived under the attention, the memory of you holding your fingers over the candles in the church. He’d seen it all, and had been unable to put the pieces together.

He hears movement, feels the bed dip as you come closer to him, feels your weight settle on his hips, straddling him.

The rags are pulled from his face, and you use the edge to wipe the remnants of something he can’t see.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t want to hurt you, but it was this or hitting you over the head with a bat.” You smile down at him, he can still see you there.

You don’t look like a new person, you only look more relaxed in his presence, his eyes drop down to find you wearing the dress he’s picked before he’d discovered your secrets.

“You don’t worship God.” He starts.

You smile.

“No I don’t.”

“But you go to church, you help other people find God.”

“You think that saves them? No one in that church is free of sin, no one is made better by being there, they’re only better at hiding it.”

He blinks, tilts his head, waits for you to continue.

You reach for a box of matches, striking one, you light the candle sitting on your bedside table.

“I go to church, because every time I step in there, I spite God.”

He watches you reach to strike another match, lighting the candle on the other side of the bed.

“My Lord, the only one I pray to, is the Devil himself.”

Billy blinks, tilts his head.

“You tempt everyone there with your innocence on purpose.” He says, thinking out loud.

You make a sound of disagreement.

“Not exactly, I’m just charismatic, and the fruits fall where they fall. My intention isn’t to tempt, it’s not my fault that men are so easily… tempted.”

He raises his eyebrows in amazement at your point.

“Look at Wade for example, I was only as nice to him as I was with everyone else, but he took it another way, I’d finally decided to kill him when he touched my thigh for too long… I was watching him from a small space in the roof when you came in.”

Billy watches, hypnotised as you drag your palm over your stomach, your ass grinding gently against his semi-erect cock.

“I watched you stand behind him, waiting for the right moment.” You whisper, hand slipping under your sheer dress, working its way down the front of your panties. Billy’s teeth clench, pulling at the handcuffs.

“I watched you cut his throat,” You groan, “There was blood everywhere.” Your head tilts back as he watches you touch yourself to the memory of his past crimes.

“You took my cardigan. I knew there was something about you before, but it was only then that I knew I had to have you.”

He watches you, fingers hidden from his view as you pleasure your little cunt. He feels rage at not having any control.

“The woman in the bank,” Billy tries to think with you so close, “That was you.”

You nod, smiling down at him.

“She was a bad person. I wanted to give Satan someone to play with. Just like he gave me you.”

Billy’s hands are in fists, blunt nails pressed to his palm.

“Let me go.” He grits out.

You smile dreamily, shake your head.

“Not yet. I want to have you first.”

His breath halts in his chest, desperate to ask you what you mean, but he thinks your intention is clear enough.

He pulls harder on his restraints, not wanting to be bound the first time he feels you.

“Don't fight it, Billy. Let me have you how I want, and then, maybe we'll see about those cuffs.”

He stops struggling, takes a deep breath, goes still.

You smile, undoing his belt as quickly as you can, and then tugging at the buttons of his shirt until his torso is bared to you.

He listens to you hum with delight, feels your scorching tongue lave at his chest, over his heart, flicking at his nipple.

He begins to understand how feral you are, listening to your hums of appreciation as your tongue drifts over his neck. He realises, that you’re just a small thing, searching for someone exactly like you in a world full of people pretending.

When you open his pants, his mouth goes dry, his jaw drops open as you suck on the tip of his cock for just a small moment, enjoying the taste of him before you’re slipping your panties to the side to take him in.

Billy closes his eyes, swears, low in his throat. You feel better than he’d imagined, your walls fluttering around him, pulling his cock deeper into you so naturally that he swears it was always meant to happen.

You moan loudly, head tossed back.

“I would have let you fuck me in that church.” You confess, “I would have let you fuck me in a pool of Wade’s blood.”

Billy groans.

“I’d fuck you in the bare earth.” He grunts, supporting your conversation, “I’d make you beg me to.”

You clench tightly around him, and Billy swears he sees stars for a moment. Your breasts bounce as you roll your hips on him, and after a moment, you pause, reaching for one of those lit candles beside your bed.

Billy looks at you, keeping your steady gaze, trying to prepare himself for the possibility that you might drop hot wax onto his skin.

But you spare him, instead, you tilt the candle, letting a few drops of molten wax fall onto your thigh.

He feels you tighten, grunts in pleasure at the vigour your pace takes on.

He’s so captivated by your enjoyment of it, that he can’t help but ask.

“Do it to me.” He asks.

You smile, hovering the candle over his chest, and when the first drop hits, he gasps. It stings, burns like fire, but then something sweet fills the space, his body somehow asking for more.

You don’t give him any more though, placing the candle back in its original spot, and beginning to rock your hips in tandem.

You’re struggling to achieve orgasm in this position, and he feels amusement rise within him, knowing more about your own body than you seem to know.

It finally makes him relax, knows that no matter how hard you try, you still need him to get you off.

He waits, and waits, and finds that he can be patient when it comes to pleasuring your cunt.

You pause, pouting.

“Poor little girl,” Billy chides, “Can’t manage to come on her own. You need my help, don’t you?”

Your eyebrows are drawn together When you look down at him, trying to make sense of his words.

“N-no, I can, uh, do it myself.”

He grins sharply, relaxes.

“You’re so out of your depth.” He taunts.

“Nuh uh.” You hum, still trying to use his cock to pleasure yourself. Billy turns his head to study his restraints, the wooden pillar he's cuffed to on the headboard is wobbly, he figures one sharp pull at just the right angle would get that hand loose. The other pillar however, is too sturdy for a move like that.

He has to move fast when he does it, find a way to get you to release his other hand.

But first, a distraction.

“You're beautiful like this,” he says truthfully, “Your true self is so much more than I'd imagined and- well maybe we are right for each other.”

He watches you nod eagerly, still trying to reach your peak, your head tilts back, lulled into a false sense of security.

Billy takes his opportunity to strike.

He pulls as hard as he can on the wooden pillar of the headboard, muscles flexing almost painfully. He almost thinks he's going to fail but right at the last second, the wood gives, freeing the handcuff and allowing movement.

Your eyes fly open, and you reach for something behind you, pulling out a knife.

He catches your hand, twists your wrist so that the knife falls free, and pushes it off the bed.

Before you can scramble off of him, his hand grips your hair harshly.

“Unlock me.” He hisses into your terrified face.

Despite your obvious fear, he still feels you clench around his cock, and his desperation to have you exactly how he wants, increases.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” He clarifies, “But you're mine now, so unlock me.”

Your eyelids flutter, your eyes glancing at a spot beside him. He doesn't turn to look, simply leaning his body with yours, hand still fisted no doubt painfully in your hair.

He looks from the corner of his eye, as you tug the bedside drawer open and stick your hand in.

“You better not be reaching for another knife. It wouldn't take much for me to squeeze the life out of you, even with one hand tied.”

He feels you clench around him again.

“You like that? That I could kill you without a second thought? Your cunt’s gripping me so tight, baby.”

You let out a little whine, withdrawing with just a metal key pressed between your fingers.

“Good girl,” Billy praises, feels even that go right to your cunt, “Now unlock me.”

You do his bound hand first, and then pull the other cuff from around his wrist. Your eyes cling to the reddening bruise on his wrist from pulling too hard.

When he's finally free, he grins, right in your face, before pulling you off his cock and flipping you over.

You gasp in surprise as your back hits the bed, Billy leans away to get a good look at you.

He can see your delectably shaped tits through the white sheer dress, he admires the way it looks- like innocence and somehow pure sin wrapped all in one.

He thinks, for the first time, he finally sees you, finally understands what he has, looking up at him with careful eyes.

“You said something earlier. That the Devil sent me here for you,” he leans forward, cups your breasts through the dress, stiffening your nipples, watches you writhe beautifully under him.

“But I'm not your plaything, little girl,” His fingers pinch down, pressing your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, watching you gasp in pain and pleasure, “You're mine.”

It sets off something inside of him, and like an avalanche, any semblance of self control he'd ever had, just crumbles.

He leans down, lips pressed to yours, he feels an ache inside of him lessen.

You kiss back, with forceful lips, your hands gripping the back of his head, fingers in his hair to stop him from pulling away.

His hands press against your shoulders, feeling their way over the sheer sleeves of the material, gripping your hips, fingers catching on the fabric as he touches your body for the very first time.

Your legs wrap around him, it makes him so delighted, that you want him, that he's going to use that against you.

He pulls back, grinning when you whine, reach for his mouth once more, his hand finding your throat too easily, gripping it to push you back.

“Where did my little fighter go, hmm?” He leans forward to lick your cheek, enjoying the surprised expression on your face.

“Please,” you whisper, “I need you to make me come.”

His nose brushes yours.

“Why? Don't you touch yourself all the time?” He taunts, already knowing your responses before you say them.

“I haven't been able to- since you touched me.”

He laughs, watches you get more and more demure with each moment.

“You haven't been able to come since I put my hands on you? I wonder why?”

“You feel too good.” You confess to him.

He tries to fight it but it makes him laugh again, he buries his face into your neck, amusement so heavy in his body and he has to let it out.

“Sorry, It’s just that- you haven't even seen what I can really do yet.”

“Show me.” You beg.

His hands caress you gently, he nods his head, and then, tears your dress into pieces.

You’re so turned on, aching for him, you shudder as he pulls the remnants of your dress from your skin.

His touch is frantic, his palms skate over your skin, gripping, feeling, your thighs, your legs, your arms, it makes you so much more aroused to be felt like this. No part of your body is safe from his wandering hands, it feels as though he’s trying to learn you, and you are so eager to let him.

His lips are next, kissing the top of your breast, working his way between them, the feel of his lips on your skin makes you feel more connected to him than before. He pulls your panties off in a swift rush, kissing at your knees when he finally gets them off.

“Want to know why my touch feels good? Because I know you. I know what your body likes.” Billy says, you lift your head to look at him, his hand sliding up between your thighs, the tips of his fingers making delicious sparks.

He touches your slit, tracing the seam of your cunt so gently, desperation pooling under your skin. He presses a single finger against you, until he just brushes your clit with the very tip of his finger.

“You need this little bundle here touched, kissed, and it can’t be too harsh.”

You cry out when he just softly strokes your clit. Pleasure burning through you at just the simplest move.

“You think that just because you like pain, that this has to be rough too, but no, your pretty body craves a soft touch.”

He proves it to you, his gentle fingers massage your clit, he makes it look effortless, eyes drawn to your centre, looking up at you with dark eyes every now and then.

It’s the burn of his slow movements that make you lose your mind. The worst part is that he’s right, you’ve never touched yourself so gently before.

“Does that feel good, baby? I’ve killed so many people with these same hands. But I bet that makes your little cunt even wetter.”

You mewl, nodding, remembering the way you’d seen Billy kill. The amount of blood he’d left behind, such a messy crime scene.

You bite down on your bottom lip, back arching, hands gripping your sheets.

Just a little bit more, you think, gasping, quietly urging him on, hoping that he doesn’t stop his movements.

“That’s it,” Billy praises, “Just like that, show me exactly who owns you.”

Your breath stutters in your chest, your vision goes white as pure euphoria overtakes you. It comes in waves, cunt fluttering around nothing, your body shudders as your brain tries to process pleasure beyond your comprehension.

It takes you a moment before you can breathe through it, and like before, it feels like you’re floating, somewhere deep in your subconscious.

His face comes into your line of sight, a proud smile on His lips, beautiful in every way as He hovers above you.

You suck in another breath, it helps you feel your body, and the remnants of your still occurring orgasm.

“The first time I saw you, I couldn’t look away. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. I wanted you all to myself. Now that I have you here, now that I see you, I want you forever.”

You nod eagerly, smiling up at him, gripping his hand to press your cheek into his palm. You wanted that, you wanted to be His as well.

“Now be a good girl and stay still.” He whispers, lowering his body once more, burying his face between your thighs for the second time in your life.

You almost want to scream. His tongue pushes its way to your clit, flicking softly, dipping down to lick at your entrance.

You hear Him moan between your thighs, you shudder, arching your hips into his face.

He slaps your thigh, a warning that he intends to uphold the discipline of His instruction, you simply clench in response.

You wanted- so much more than you could admit.

You'd thought, for a brief moment, that he was the personification of Lucifer himself, that Billy was a reward for your years of devotion, but somewhere in the back of your head, you were starting to feel something different, new, that not even your devotion to Satan himself could match.

He licks you like he's starving for it, hands on your thighs, tongue in your cunt you want to struggle just so He has a reason to hold you down.

You say His name, you feel your thighs tremble, His lips kiss at your swollen clit.

You don't know what you're feeling, something in your chest, that tugs everytime he touches you.

Drunk on His mouth, you hiss when his pace increases, unsure if you'll even be able to have another orgasm so close to the last.

He's careful, dexterous, precise, he licks cunt the way he kills- with careless precision, a spectacle to be admired, spoken about in hushed tones.

Billy doesn't ask, he simply manipulates your body until you're wound so tightly on edge once again, unable to comprehend how you got here in the first place.

You groan, your grip on sanity crumbles away, all you can think about is Him, and the way his beard feels, scratching between your thighs, and the darkness of his hair and the grip of his fingers on you, holding you to him, daring you to struggle.

There’s a loud rushing in your head when your next peak finds you, your back bowing off the bed once more, something pinches in protest but you can’t focus on it, the pleasure too important to give up just because you’re a little uncomfortable.

He licks at the arousal spilling from you, moans into your body with each taste, making you see stars, or fireworks or maybe even just flashes of bright lights and colours.

It somehow reminds you of the stained glass of the church, makes you feel adjacent to something that’s on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find the right words for it.

He draws back, beard wet with your slick arousal. It’s gorgeous, and you watch him tug his black shirt off- that he’d worn to the funeral of the woman you’d killed- and use it to dab at his chin.

Your eyes roam down his body, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a man as sculpted as he is, lean and muscular, small bits of hair on his chest and a spot right below his navel that your tongue aches for.

You sit up, looking at him, pressing your thighs together as he pushes his pants all the way down his legs, his cock already solid and leaking for you.

You remember the first time you felt Him, the way you knew without a doubt that you were going to have him, before you even fully understood what he was.

He reaches for you, grips your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. You gasp at his easy display of strength, watching as he strokes himself for a few moments before lining his cock up with your dripping entrance.

Your past orgasms have made you more sensitive, each inch of him he presses in makes you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to breathe through the overwhelming pleasure and the stretch associated.

“You're so tight.” He utters with a strained voice.

You can only moan, reach to touch Him, the light of the candles flickering on his bare skin in the dead of night.

Your fingers graze a circular scar on his lower abdomen, and at the same time, he thrusts the rest of his cock fully into you.

You cry out, the sudden bliss of being stretched, goes right into your head, you gasp, your body begs for more, begs to be undone by him.

You swear you can taste blood in your mouth from biting down on your bottom lip too much, unable to vocalise your appreciation of him, he draws his cock out, before making another harsh thrust.

Your back arches, you don’t feel like you’re in your body, or maybe you feel too much in your body, the only thing you know for sure is the pleasure that fills you, that threatens to swell under your skin and explode outward.

He keeps his motions swift, harsh, deep, following through with each shift of his hips fully before beginning another.

“Who’s your God? Tell me.”

“L-Lucifer.” You utter automatically, but it’s the wrong thing to say. He stops, hands gripping your jaw tightly, bringing all your focus to him.

“What was that?” He grits out.

“Lucifer?” You whisper, voice light with pleasure.

He shakes his head, leaning away and reaching for something nearby.

You tighten around him when you spot the burning candle in his hand.

“Say that again.”

“Um…” You stutter, unsure of what to say.

You gasp in surprise when the first drop of hot wax hits your hip. It stings, just for a moment, before leaving the sweetest tingle in its place.

“Please.” You moan, pressing your hips upward for more of his torment.

“Can Satan do that?” He asks, rutting his cock into you at a slow shallow pace. When you don’t respond, you feel another heated droplet sting the skin of your hip.

You peek at him through parted eyelids, watching the way he looks at you in amusement, before tilting the candle again, this time to allow hot wax to fall onto the opposite side.

“Billy.” You moan, and you watch him grin.

“Answer my question, little dove.”

You shake your head.

“N-no. Satan can’t make me feel like this.” You whisper.

He moves, drips wax onto your thigh, making you gasp in pain, feeling it heighten your euphoria.

“Do you like feeling this way?” He asks, and before he can finish his sentence, you’re nodding, raising your hand to your chest to roll your nipples between your fingers for his appreciation.

“I like it, Billy, I love it.”

“Then tell me who your God is.”

You think you finally understand what he's trying to say, his cock pressed deep inside of you. He's the reason you feel so good, he's been the person occupying most of your thoughts from the day you met. He's someone you'd be willing to kill for.

“You.” You finally answer, and he smiles, moves his hand, still holding the candle, wax dripping onto his fingers, he tilts the candle and lets a few heated droplets touch the skin over your womb.

You gasp, the skin there is a little more sensitive, the burn is more intense, more pain than pleasure but He doesn’t seem to care, simply continues to smile as he blows the candle out, putting it back on your nightstand.

There's still another candle on the other side, allowing you to see, though everything is just a little dimmer now.

Your skin tingles, warm, the dried wax on your skin cracks as you move, but you don't get a chance to focus on it too much, because as soon as Billy lets go of the candle, he's pressing into you with renewed vigour.

Your thighs tremble, tears pool in your eyes, He's rough, grunting with each stroke he makes, earning a reciprocated cry when his cock bottoms out inside of you each time.

Skin against skin, sweat glistens on his chest, you want to taste him.

“Say it again.” He commands, leaning over you to brush his lips to your ear, “Who do you worship?”

“You, Billy.” You respond eagerly, gripping his shoulders, pressing your nails in, listening to him hiss in response, gripping your jaw to bring you into a bruising kiss.

It's messy, his tongue dipping forcefully into your mouth like he owns you, his cock doing the same, taking everything as if it's owed.

You bite down on his bottom lip, hears him grunt out a manic laugh in response.

“You're all fucking mine.” He grits, leaning back and pulling your boneless body up until you're on top of him, his hands gripping your hips to keep you moving on his cock. You tuck your head into his neck, unable to be anything more than a receptacle, to take Him, over and over until he's finished with you.

“How does it feel to be saved by your new God?” He grunts between thrusts.

You can barely find the words to speak.

His hand slaps the flesh of your ass hard, demanding a response.

Cruel, you think, that He wants you to speak, that He thinks you're even capable of thought.

“Feels good.” You hum, fingers gripping his neck, nose to his jaw, taking what he gives, you tears dripping onto his collarbone.

He groans into your ear, it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard and you finally begin to understand true devotion.

“Please,” You beg, “Please.”

He grunts out a chuckle between thrusts.

“You don’t have to beg, I’m here, I’m not leaving.”

You tilt your head up, vision hazy, your body tingling with something too intense to be just bliss.

He kisses you softly one more time before dropping you back onto the bed, pushing your knees upward so that they’re almost to your ears.

He feels so much deeper this time, fucking you hard, merciless thrusts that has your cunt fluttering again, warning you that you’re on the right path to an orgasm.

He doesn’t stop, looking right into your eyes as he pushes his cock into you, over and over and over. You see stars, you see him, you see nothing else.

He licks his thumb, lips wet with saliva, he slips it between your bodies, angles it right against your clit, swipes gently from left to right.

You make a loud sound, followed by a flurry of pitiful whines, trying to warn him, to implore him. He doesn’t stop fucking you.

Your toes curl, one small breath of air before the most intense rush of ecstasy takes root in your body. You’re lost in the rapture, taken by the experience to even register the sounds you make.

You feel fire, you feel sparks, tingles that rush all over your skin, your inner walls gripping him so tightly as you’re forced to experience bliss at His hands.

He groans loudly, and before you know it he’s fucking into you rougher than before only for a moment before he makes a sharp sound of relief, cock pulsing as he spills himself into you.

You clench around him, making sure he gives you every drop of himself. Knowing that this is the right way to show your devotion.

There’s a moment of insecurity, when he crashes to the bed beside you, eyes closed, his breathing is quick, as if he’s just run for miles. You worry that once he’s had his fill of you, that he won’t be interested any more.

Your head is turned to look at him, lungs still heaving, the bliss of your orgasm hasn’t left you completely yet, and you watch him, curious to observe what he does next.

He peeks an eye open, mouth pulling into a smile that bares his teeth, he pushes himself up, crawls closer till he’s in the space between your body and arm, kissing at your cheek and shoulders softly.

It opens something inside of you, to feel that, to know without a doubt that He meant every word He said.

You raise your hand in wonder, fingers gently brushing His cheek, before pressing your palm to His face.

He looks down at you, moves his own hand to run the backs of his fingers against your face, two people, finally seeing each other, finally showing themselves, unafraid.

It’s more than you could have ever hoped for.

Billy stands in the shadows, waiting.

He watches his targets leave the bar, two men, laughing with each other as they head to the nearby bus stop.

He follows, observing the way they move, trying to figure out just exactly how drunk they are. One wears a leather jacket, with his hair slicked back, the other wears a plain white t-shirt, and jeans.

They talk loudly, confessing to things Billy already knows about.

When one of them looks up, and sharply elbows the other, nodding to a place ahead, Billy knows what they see.

You lean against the bus stop, face buried in your phone, too occupied with it to notice that you’ve been spotted.

You’re beautiful, Billy muses, white dress, denim jacket, a little purse hanging from your elbow, standing under a small streetlight. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

The man in the leather jacket gets to you first, looking over your shoulder, peering into your phone looking at what you’re doing for a moment before saying something to you.

He watches you startle, look up at both men as they approach.

It’s like a dance, the way your fright gives them confidence, the manner in which you step back, warning them that you’re going to run before you actually do.

He smiles as you slip from their reaching grip, running into the nearest alley, he watches them take chase.

He moves faster, making sure there’s no chance of putting you in any real danger.

When he gets there, they’ve got you cornered, your back against a wall with them closing in. They’re too focused on you to ever notice him.

He takes a breath, waits for a moment, enjoys the thrill of what he’s about to feel.

When one of the men reaches to put his grimy hands on you, Billy strikes.

The man in the leather jacket makes a gurgling sound as his throat is cut wide open, splashing mostly on himself, but some of it gets on your dress and he knows he’ll get on his knees later to apologise for getting your dress messy, even though he knows you like it.

The other man can only make a single sound of terror before he’s falling to the floor, mouth agape as the handle of a knife protrudes from his eye.

He’s still alive, though not for long as Billy watches you drop to one knee, pulling the knife from his skull to plunge it into his vocal cords next.

You look up at him, with bright eyes, excited to be doing this with him. He bites down on his bottom lip, thinks you look adorable when you’re seeking his approval.

He doesn’t care if the men are in their last moments, he reaches for you, grips the collar of your jacket and hauls you up, manoeuvring you until your back is pressed against the wall of the alley.

He drops his head, angles to place a fierce kiss on your lips, smearing blood on your face when he grips your jaw.

Billy pulls away, breathless, heart hammering with the thrill of murder, he looks into your eyes, and finds himself looking back.

He’s not surprised- simply acknowledging to himself that it’s what he’s been seeing the entire time, what he couldn’t put a name to when you first met, he now knows.

“And the lord said ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me.’”

It makes you look up, to meet Billy’s eyes.

You watch the corner of His mouth twitch in amusement.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #my writings #billy russo smut #dark!billy russo #serial killer!Billy Russo #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #just overall bad #everyone is evil #there is not a redeemable character in sight #Forget 'I can fix him'#reader just said 'watch me make him worse'

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