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solarmorrigan · 4 months

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I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things post s2 AU #stranger things #this one is a bit long just as a heads up; about 4.6k #is it good? I dunno but I had fun writing it and you guys seem interested so here we go!#eddiesteve #solar wrote

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luveline · 7 months

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bombshell!reader getting caught sleeping over at spencer's before making their established relationship public & the team still thinks spencer is uncomfortable with r's approaches. 🤭

Spencer bought you pyjamas. You're sick with secret pleasure at the fact, staring at yourself in every passing window and reflective surface. They're simple skinny knitted sweatpants and a matching hoodie, and it's not necessarily something you'd buy for yourself, but why would you ever complain? Spencer got you new clothes as a gift with no occasion or motive; you'd marry him now if you thought he'd say yes.

Too bad he's still sleeping.

You turn away from his kitchen window back to your cooking, an oiled frying pan sizzling hot on the stove, eggs browning at the edges as Spencer likes. Two twin mugs of hot coffee steam on the counter next to two plates of crispy bacon and toasted english muffins, deconstructed breakfast sandwiches. You're ninety percent sure he likes breakfast sandwiches.

It's odd knowing enough about Spencer to fancy yourself in love with him, but being in a relationship that's so new that there are a thousand gaps. You know how he likes his eggs but not his bacon. Does he like melted cheese? Does he drink orange juice this early?

You'll have to ask him. If he's brave enough to ask you to stay the night, you can ask him about breakfast.

It's getting way too hot in the kitchen. The opened window isn't cutting it. You hook your elbow into the hem of your hoodie and pull it over your head before folding them to set neatly aside. You feel cooler in your vest, if a little exposed. Good thing it's just you and Spence—

A knock rattles the door. "Reid, you home?"

Well, I brought that on myself, you think with a laugh. You take the eggs off of the heat and wipe your oily fingers clean on a dish towel as you meander to the door. It's too early for running.

"Hello, Derek," you say, opening the door with a put upon casualness. He blinks at you. He's wearing gym clothes, a sleeveless t-shirt and tight sweatpants. You wolf whistle before he can say hello himself. "Looking good. Early run?"

"You're kidding," he says.

"Am I ever? You look great! Did you want to come in– woah!"

Deft-fingered hands pull you out of the doorway and firmly behind it. Spencer steps into your place, closing the door to a slit. "Hi, Morgan."

"Reid. You're both kidding."

"I don't know what you mean." Spencer rakes a hand through his sleep mussed hair. You try to ignore how much you enjoyed him moving you around.

"Reid, I just saw her!" Morgan laughs more happily than incredulously. You can't see him but you can picture his smile and his slightly slouched posture, his arms crossed over his chest. "Since when do you guys bunk up? You're a jerk, you know that? I'm always telling her to stop bothering you, but now I'm thinking you like being bothered."

"I never asked you to do that," Spencer says weakly.

You nudge Spencer aside gently, popping your head back into Morgan's view. "My AC broke, my apartment's a hot hell. Reid let me come over."

"Oh yeah?" Morgan asks, rolling his eyes. "That why he tried to hide you? What's so secret about broken AC?"

"He's a genius, he's not perfect. I'm sure he was just trying to protect my decency. I'm not dressed for company." You put a more than friendly hand on Spencer's back, the dip of it like a tempting line under his thin sleep shirt. You want more than anything to dig under his shirt and feel along the curve of it. You'd pictured it this morning, eating eggs and drinking coffee under his arm, your fingertips tracing the short wall of stretch marks he has just above his coccyx.

Spencer rolls with your lie as well as he's able to, which, having been caught off guard, is not very well at all. "Right. She's not wearing a bra."

You snort. Morgan laughs and almost turns around to walk away.

"Did you want breakfast?" Spencer asks weakly. He sounds resigned to his fate. Skewed, he uses the hand furthest away from you to reach behind his back and squeeze your hand in a swift apology.

"I'll pass, man." Morgan pulls his cap down a touch. "Sounds like you're having breakfast fit for two."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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romanoffsbish · 3 months

Text

Discovering Paradise

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | Sapphic best friends wrapped up in a familiar warm embrace, who knows, they might even kiss… | WC: 1,336

18+ | Minors DNI

Warnings: Idiots in Love

Smut: Dry Humping (Non-Con) | Wet Dream (R) | Mommy (N) | Hinted at Fingering / Oral

A soft blue light cast out into the otherwise dark living room of your shared apartment; Natasha watched your face in anticipation as an action packed scene broke off on the screen. You didn't even flinch, but had you been awake you would have buried yourself in her to hide from the bloody mess and to her that was amusing.

Natasha snorted softly at the recollection, then she settled down with her arms crossed on your chest, chin propped up to observe you over the film. This was the woman's favorite thing to do, movie nights where you never failed to pass out by the second film. Leaving her the time to appreciate your beauty and it not be weird.

——

Whenever you catch her staring, which is rarely, you always gave her a dopey smile and cluelessly teased her about the crush she very well did have. For Christ sake here she was lying on top of you, but you’d failed to get it and it was never clear to the trained spy if the look of adoration in your eyes was platonic or romantic.

Poor woman was head over heels for you and all she could do was to pine in the quiet moments like this.

Then you broke her trance as you whimpered softly, “Natasha,” and her eyes were wide and moving up. Natasha shifted ever so slightly, trying to see if your eyes were open now, but something about the way her hips moved made you moan loudly in your sleep.

“Oh,” she realized what was going on, her cheeks flushed red and her irises blew. You were best friends, but deep down it was clearly more than that, because what 'best friends' sleep with their fronts pressed together, in the tiniest sleep shorts and whimper their names and moan like that at the softest of touches.

Only the ones with a sapphic prophecy to fulfill...

"Fuck," Natasha groaned her frustrations, her core now alit with a throbbing need, one you seemingly share. The redhead rubbed her face against the exposed side of your neck and swiveled her hips more noticeably.

Once again she was rewarded with a moan, alongside a subtle twitch of your own hips. Natasha paused, pulling away to see your scrunched up expression.

"What are you dreaming of detka?" Natasha posed the question that couldn't yet be answered. "Is it me?" She continued to firmly press her covered pussy to yours, "Fuck, I really hope it is detka, I-I need this so badly."

With the sudden urge to cross the line and make you hers, well, the humping intensified; to a point where you were both far too wet to consider this encounter dry anymore. The intense course of pleasure that rolled through your body woke you with a frightened moan.

"Natty?"

The redhead practically squealed, your sleepy voice was too attractive and it made her entire body quake. "Good morning sweetheart," she husked against the shell of your ear, her wet tongue flicked over the warm skin and you whimpered so deliciously that she nearly came. “You were begging mommy in your sleep…”

Natasha chuckled as you whined, your hips now moving in sync with hers as your orgasms built. It was clear she had more to say, so before she could continue teasing you, you turned your head and sloppily kissed her lips, catching her off guard; rendering her silent as she met your eagerness with her own intensity.

In a matter of seconds she took total control of the kiss that had sent her heart and mind racing. It was exhilarating finally being able to taste and feel you. Knowing that you were not upset but eager to continue this made Natasha stutter in her movements, it was hard for her not to use her fingers on you instead but she knew you were both so close and it would be even hotter if you finished with her bare minimum touch.

To keep herself from giving into her urge Natasha's strong hands fell to your hips, and with the strength of a superhero she flipped your positions, using the moment of shock to slip her tongue into your agape mouth. All the while her firm hands began to help you roll your hips in sync with the way she jutted upwards.

"That's it detka," she murmured against the skin of your throat, you were now panting, breasts heaving against the redhead’s chiseled jaw with every breath you took in. The shuddered release against her cheek with every press of your throbbing core to hers.

“I-I’m clo—.” Natasha cut you off with a breathtaking kiss, she was in the same position as you but for some reason she just craved the simple intimacy to bring her to the edge. “Let go detka, come with mommy.” It was like a landslide the way that you fell over the edge with your roommates command, the abrupt release as you felt the entirety of your body tingle with pleasure.

The way you moaned against her cheek and wet her abdomen through your shorts made the redhead feel a returned stamina but she could tell you needed to rest so she guided your lips to hers for a kiss, just in case this moment was a once off test of chemistry for you.

For now Natasha would hold you close, and pretend that there’s nothing to figure out now. It was once she felt your lips lose their fight that she guided your face into her neck. “Mommy will take care of you, but first you need to rest..." You were lost in your head, unsure of the care she promised, but you unconsciously smiled against her skin at her soft attempt at reassurance.

Thoughts aimlessly swirled around your head while you steadily came down from your orgasm: ‘does she love really me too? — of course she does idiot’; ‘do I tell her? — who knew that dreams really did come true.’

As the haze faded one major thought remained, and it was that you wanted an entire life with Natasha. Not just one wet dream inspired encounter, it would break your heart but you also respected your friendship...

No matter what though, you knew you'd be okay, which is why you broke the metaphorical silence.

"We should probably talk," you chuckled against her neck and you felt the rumbling of her own laughter. "Or we can just finish the movie, take a nap, then I'll take you out to dinner then return to have dessert..."

You, begrudgingly, pulled back from the warmth to catch the look in her eyes. The resentment faded when you saw a deep, genuine swirl of affection in her eyes that was paired perfectly with a natural smirk. It was clear she was patiently waiting for your reply but it was delayed by your need to simply admire her beauty.

The freckles on her face had just begun to pop with the increased sunshine and they looked so pretty alongside her blush. The blush that the steamy sex with your best friend caused. It was unreal that you witnessed the reason for never harboring feelings. Because, yes, Natasha was always going to hold that title, it was never a question, but she's not limited to it either, and she's always been a self-proclaimed a jack of all trades.

So, if she was to be the love of your life you’d hoped she wouldn’t mind and would accept the offer with joy.

When her lips turned into a frown you leaned in to peck them briefly before nuzzling back into her neck where you left a smattering of lazy kisses. "I could use a nap."

Natasha pinched your hips playfully but it was all in good fun because she knew your teasing well enough. Her lips softly pressed to your temple before she shut the TV off and let the sound of your calmed breathing ease her into the best sleep she has ever gotten.

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swingsuckerswing · 2 years

Text

Gentle With Me

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x Virgin!Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, Eddie Munson x OFC

PART 2 HERE

Rating: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Reader asks Hawkins High’s favorite freak to deflower her before they graduate. Reader has had a crush on Eddie since forever and only trusts him to do it right. Unbeknownst to her, Eddie has also been crushing hard. He takes extra special care of her ;)

Warnings: NSFW, vaginal penetration, safe sex, mentions of blood, first time, deflowering, loss of virginity, fluff and smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), he talks you through it, constant checking in, aftercare

Word Count: 7,908 (sorry, this got super long!)

Hope you like it! :)

This was probably the worst idea you had ever had. In fact, you didn’t realize you could even be this stupid. Hey, cheers to you, jackass!

Your fingers were sweating around the tightly folded note. You had taken forever just to fold it, not to mention the eon it took to come up with the short yet somehow super fucking intimidating message.

“Woods. 4:30″

Seriously? It had taken you almost the entire lunch period to come up with that? God, what if he thinks I’m gonna like jump him or something? But it would have to do, time was running out and if you didn’t do it now you know you’d only chicken out later. God you’re such a fucking idiot for this.

You looked up to scan the lunchroom. All the other tables, including your own, were too enthralled in their conversations to notice you hunched over your notebook as if you were plotting an assassination. Seriously, you had to calm down. Its just a note. A note for a certain metal head who you were hoping would take your virginity...Yeah...totally not a big deal and super normal. You fucking dunce.

You let your eyes wander to the table, a beloved lunchtime activity of yours. Eddie Munson was throwing his head back in a loud, deep cackle as the entire table erupted into fits of laughter. It looks like Dustin, one of the freshmen, had just snorted milk out of his nose. Charming. You watched in envy as the boys hunched over themselves with the kind of laughter that makes your abs burn. “Dude....I’m gonna..... be sick!” you hear Jeff choke out in between his giggles. The whole scene coaxed a tender smile out of you.

Mike, the only other freshmen at their table, was handing Dustin napkins while wiping tears of boyish joy from his own eyes. Eddie leaned into the group and said something too low for you to make out. Whatever he said caused another wave of debilitating laughter from the guys before he stood up, took a bow, and walked towards the exit. Probably off to get one last cigarette in before class. With Eddie out of the picture, it was now or never.

The bell rang, jolting you out of your paralysis. Shit, this has to happen right now. “Aren’t you coming, Y/N?” your friend asked. Your group already had their books in hand and were standing around the table waiting for you to join.

“Uh yeah, I’m just finishing up this last problem. Can’t turn in another late homework!” you chuckle, trying your best to act as inconspicuous as possible. Your friends shrug and wave as they head towards the hallway.

You glance back over to the Hellfire table. Perfect, only Mike and Dustin were left, still trying to dry Dustin’s shirt with the now tattered napkins. You make a bee line towards them.

“Dude just hold sti-”

“I AM holding still, Mike. AND STOP RUBBING YOU’RE ONLY MAKING IT WORSE! You have to dab!”

“Oh my GOD, shut up Dusti-”

“Hey guys!” you interrupt their bickering. They both freeze and stare up at you, mouths agape. Dustin is holding his arms mid-air so Mike can dab at the front of his shirt (but lets be real, he really was only just rubbing the milk into the fabric). They simultaneously retract their arms at the speed of light, making you giggle.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt! I was just wondering if you could uh give this to Eddie when you see him?” you slide the note across the table next to Dustin’s tray.

The freshmen can’t seem to form words, in fact they’ve completely forgotten how to form syllables. They weren’t used to senior girls coming up to ask them favors, or ask them for anything at all really.

It was Dustin who snapped out of it first “Oh! Yeah! Totally!” he picks up the note and inspects it. “What is it-”

“Its nothing!” you reply way too fast. Shit, just chill out. Even if they read the dumb thing they’d just assume I was buying weed or something. “Oh, uhm, okay.” Dustin steals a questioning glance at Mike before tucking the note into his pocket. “We’ll uh make sure Eddie gets it!” Mike assures.

“Great, and uhm one more..teeny tiny request...” you look over your shoulder to make sure Eddie hadn’t miraculously appeared behind you. The two boys lean in, entirely wrapped up in the secrecy of this whole charade. “When you give it to him, could you not mention who its from? Just tell him its a surprise, or whatever you wanna tell him! I trust your judgement.” you end with a sweet, innocent smile. Me? Scheming? Noooo.

The warning bell rings, causing the boys to shoot up in a panic. They struggle to gather their things, bumping into each other and fumbling around with their trays as they both promise you that your note would be delivered safely and discreetly.

You give them your best smile and thank them before turning on your heel to get to class. Alright Munson, see you at 4:30.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You look at your watch, the green blinking digits read “4:32″. What if they didn’t give him the note? You make yourself sick with worry, its a favorite pass time of yours. What if he thought I meant a different part of the woods? Wait, did I specify the picnic table? You pick at some of the splinters jutting out of the decrepit tabletop. I think all I wrote was ‘the woods’, fuck. What if he’s now lost out in the woods because of me!? Shit shit shit this was such a stupid plan. I’m so over my head how could I be such a dumb bitc-

“Hey...” comes a familiar voice from behind you. You flinch and a small gasp escapes your lips as you turn to face him.

Eddie holds his hands up as if he’s calming a wild horse and chuckles “Ha woah, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you” the corners of his lips are turned up into a shit eating grin. It’s still annoyingly charming, even if it is at your expense.

You watch as he comes around to sit on the opposite side of you. He rests his black tin lunchbox on the table as he shimmies off his layers of jackets. You spot a few tattoos you had never noticed before and your stomach threatens to drop to your knees. Is it too late to ditch and run? You realize you’re gawking, so you avert your eyes to the table as he continues to make himself comfortable.

He can’t help but notice just how tense you are, or how you hadn’t said a word yet. He remembered you way back from middle school, you had even had a couple classes together here and there. You were never really friends, but he always remembered how sweet you were, even to a social pariah like himself. He takes a stab at what’s eating you.

“There’s uh...nothing to worry about. Okay? No one ever comes out here.” he tosses his jackets onto the table as he sits on the rickety bench. “We’re safe. I promise.” he adds for good measure.

His words make you want to melt into this seat, become a permanent fixture. You smile and tuck a few strays behind your ears "Yeah I uh...I know...thanks” you’re still looking down at your lap. He nods, relived to have gotten something out of you, and pops open the lid of his box.

Assuming you were here for drugs, he begins his pitch. He grabs a clear plastic bag “I’ll do you a half ounce for, uh...$20. What do you say?” he holds the baggie out to you for you to inspect. “Plenty of bang for your buck. Should last you a while.”

As much as you’d love for this to be just a simple drug deal, you realize you’re gonna have to break it to him sooner than later. “Eddie,” you hold your head up to look him in the eye. He freezes, the baggie gently swaying back and forth in his grip. “I uh, didn’t ask you here to buy drugs...” Although maybe I should in case this goes south and I need to forget it ever happened.

Now caught completely off guard, the boy shifts his weight on the seat as he slowly drops the baggie back into the box. “Okayyy...then why, pray tell, did you leave me such a cryptic note?” a playful smile warms his face as he raises his eyebrows at you. He rests his head in both hands as if utterly fascinated.

Seeing a perfect opportunity to stall, you take it without looking back. “It was pretty cryptic wasn’t it?” you chuckle as you bring your elbows up to rest on the table, mirroring Eddie’s posture.

“I thought I was gonna get jumped!” Eddie exclaims causing you both to laugh at your predicament. Shit, I knew it.

“Well what was I supposed to write!?” you try to defend yourself.

“Literally anything else!” Eddie’s eyes are practically twinkling as he continues to playfully chastise you “better yet, you could’ve just, oh i don’t know, asked me in person like a regular human being??? And WHY all the anonymous shit??”

You’re laughing out of utter humiliation “I don’t know, okay? I wasn’t thinking, I was on auto pilot! It seemed like the thing to do! Were you at least surprised when you saw me?” you don’t quite know how you want him to answer this.

“Huh? Oh, nah those twerps ratted you out within seconds” Eddie huffs as he tries to stifle his laughter.

“WHAT!?” your mouth drops to the forest floor. “Those little fuckers, they swore on Dustin’s mother they wouldn’t tell!” you cross your arms and pout in protest of this vile betrayal.

“Sweetheart, you don’t trust freshmen with anything, m’kay? That was your first mistake. I mean you should see them try to recruit for Hellfire, its pathetic...frankly” he snickers.

You scoff and look up to the blue sky, still unable to believe you had been sold out. Eddie admires you while you’re not looking. Whats a pretty girl like her doing out here with a guy like me? he wonders. He brings his hands together in a fist on the table and taps the back of his rings along the gnarled wood.

“So, you gonna answer my question?” he drops his chin and looks up at you through his lashes, a smug expression on his face.

You come back down to earth to see Eddie looking at you expectantly. You narrow your eyes and playfully tap your finger on your chin a few times “Hmmm which waaaas...?” Please can we just keep harmlessly flirting a little longer before I ruin this?

“Don’t play dumb with me” his tone a little more serious this time. “Why am I here, Y/N?”

Oh. You’re not sure how he made your name sound like some heavenly prayer, but you’d do anything to hear him say it again. Stop. Focus. You take a deep breath in. Just do it, rip the band aid off.

“So uh...I um...I’ve never- at least not yet I mean... I’m still uhhh....” Holy shit, maybe I should've rehearsed this before.

Eddie can tell whatever this is must be a big deal to you. Although you were quite cute all flustered, he didn’t want to make this any more difficult. He dips his head down to catch your eye “Hey, its okay. Take your time. No rush, I promise.”

You close your eyes and exhale a few counts before looking back up at Eddie. His doe eyes full of concern and patience. Fuck, man. You groan before letting it spill out.

“Okay, look. I’m still a virgin. In fact, I haven’t really even had a proper first kiss yet. I mean Jason kinda kissed me at a party once but he was drunk and he missed my lips entirely, and I didn’t even WANT to kiss him, he just kinda threw himself on me, and WOW I’m just now realizing how kinda fucked that was but anyway yeah I just don’t think that should count, right? And we’re supposed to be graduating in a couple months and I don’t want to get to college and not know what the fuck I’m doing!”

You had expected his eyes to be bulging out of his head like a cartoon character, but he just looked...normal. Like you had just finished telling him something as mundane as how your day was. His eyebrows were slightly raised, but it was the only indication that he was even listening. You bite down on your lip waiting for him to say something, anything.

Eddie clears his throat “So, let me get this straight.” he leans further in “You want... me... to... deflower you?” His eyes narrow at the question, but his tone was more disbelieving than judgemental.

“Well....yeah, yes. I do.” you nod absentmindedly as words just continue to topple from your lips “And you can TOTALLY say no, I know this must be like the weirdest thing anyone has ever asked you and I totally get it if you don’t want to.” you take another breath to slow yourself “Its just... I want my first time to be...gentle...”

Eddie can’t help the blush that spreads across his cheeks like wildfire, the red glow even reaching the tips of his ears. “And... you think that I can be gentle?” his stare softens as his brain tosses this idea around.

You smile thoughtfully and chuckle “I think you’re a big softy who likes to play ‘big bad wolf”. Eddie’s eyebrows disappear under his mess of bangs as he chuckles, the observation hitting closer to home than you would ever know. While you have him smiling, you take the opportunity to play your final hand.

“It also doesn’t hurt that I’ve uh...liked you since middle school” your eyes are glued to the table. You don’t even dare to blink. Well its all out there now, no going back.

Eddie’s heart threatens to rip through his chest. You had always been on his radar, he just figured he could never be on yours. Your confession momentarily stuns him before his smile turns devilish. He wants to milk this moment for all its worth. Of course, without giving away the fact that he’d drop down on his knees for you at any given moment.

“You could’ve asked me on a date, y’know.” he teases you.

You huff as you meet his eyes “You’re right...I could’ve. I should’ve” you correct yourself. Something as simple as a date never occurred to you, but then again Eddie Munson wasn’t simple.

A comfortable silence falls as you take a moment to look each other in the eyes, swapping dreamy smiles back and forth. Eddie shifts his gaze down. Your lower lip was practically war torn from all the biting you had inflicted upon it. He’d like to leave a few marks of his own, and it looks like he might finally get the chance to.

“So!” Eddie claps his hands down on the table with a loud THUNK, his smile growing wide with mischief “When am I popping your cherry?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You couldn’t believe Friday was already here, not to mention that you were riding shotgun in Eddie’s rust bucket he called a van. It had been fairly simple deciding the where and the when given that Eddie’s uncle worked nights and you could tell your mom you were sleeping over at a friend’s house (not technically a lie, just maybe not the whole truth).

You pull up to his trailer and Eddie quickly gets out of the car and jogs up the steps to open the front door for you. He bows his head and gestures for you to enter “Welcome to my castle” he says sarcastically.

It was hard not to notice the millions of trucker hats decorating the walls inside. You quickly deduce that these must belong to his uncle, although you’d love to imagine Eddie wearing any one of them. As you slowly spin around the parlor to take it all in, Eddie straightens up a bit as he passes a few stray beer cans and empty cigarette cartons. “Sorry, the maid’s on vacation” he jokes. You get the feeling he might be just as nervous as you are, but he’s doing a better job of hiding it.

As Eddie tosses the last can into the trash he looks up to see you quietly admiring his home. Your smile is soft as you take in every detail. You look enchanted just to be here, which made Eddie feel a lot better. He quietly walks over to you, not wanting to disturb your wonderment, and he gently takes your hand. You’re still looking around as he says “You wanna see the rest of it?”

His voice brings you back to reality. You look down to see his large hand enveloping yours. “Hm?” you softly hum, not tearing your eyes away from the skin to skin contact. You feel your palm begin to burn as he lightly squeezes it. “Come on, I’ll show you” his voice is like warm honey, you’d follow him wherever he decided to take you.

He pulls you towards the hallway, pointing out his uncle’s room on the left and the bathroom on the right, before reaching the desired destination. “And this is uh... my room” he stops in the doorway, letting your hand go so you can explore on your own as he watches.

Its messy, but its exactly what you had pictured. Band posters litter the walls, clothes are strewn haphazardly across the floor and his dresser. There’s an ash tray filled to the brim with cigarette butts. He has a couple of guitars dangerously balanced against the walls, but there’s one very unique guitar on display hanging over his mirror. You cross the room to inspect it further, you had never seen anything like it and it must have cost him a fortune. You raise your hand to touch it, but you catch Eddie’s eye in the mirror. He has a sly smile “That’s my baby” his voice is full of pride.

You smile back at his reflection “Can I...?” slowly moving your fingers closer to the gorgeous instrument.

“Go ahead. She’s meant to be touched” his gaze turning darker.

You duck your head and smile bashfully, knowing full well he can see you blush in the mirror. You stroke your fingers up the long neck and glide over the strings, teasing a ghostly hum from the guitar. As you continue to strum, your eyes wander to the wall where something shiny is dangling from a hook. It takes you longer that it should to recognize them as handcuffs. Your lips part, your eyelids becoming heavy. You feel a tickle between your legs. Oh.

Eddie notices you’ve frozen, no longer interested in the guitar. He follows your gaze to the item stealing all of your attention. “Ha!” he walks over and takes them off the hook, not wanting to scare you. Your eyes don’t leave the shiny metal, looking even more appealing in Eddie’s hands. He notices your fascination with them, and the fact that you’re not running away screaming makes him want to marry you on the spot. He sees the hazy, far off look in your eyes and recognizes it right off the bat. His lips curve into a delinquent smile “Not tonight, sweetheart” and he tosses them into the abyss of a drawer

“But-” you try to object, convince him you need a demonstration and you’d happily volunteer, but before you can get another word out Eddie holds a hand up in protest. “Sorry, honey” he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently tilts your head up to look at him. “I thought you wanted gentle, hm?” his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear.

His closeness, the words, his touch... it should be illegal. “I- I uh I did- I do! I do want gentle...I- I want...you...” you stutter out, making Eddie’s smile grow wider and more smug. He loves how flustered he makes you... but he loves teasing you even more.

He suddenly releases you and takes a step back “Great! What kinda pizza you like?” he asks, stepping backwards towards the door.

You’re a bit dazed “I uh..what?”

“Pizza! I mean, I’d cook for you, but you might end up dying a virgin so...” he chuckles.

You giggle, not realizing being wined and dined was a part of the deal. “Um, would you think I’m weird if I asked for ham and pineapple?” you narrow your eyes, bracing yourself for imminent mockery.

“See? I knew you were a freak, Y/L/N” he throws a brilliant smile your way. “One ham and pineapple coming up!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You laid together on his bed, the discarded pizza box somewhere on the floor below. He had rented Plan 9 from Outer Space, and the two of you had nearly choked to death laughing at the B-Movie cheesiness. Any jitters you had about this night were long gone, it was hard to feel nervous being tucked up in Eddie’s arms. Over the course of the movie, you had somehow become one conjoined life form. Your legs were tangled together, your head nestled on his shoulder as he rested his chin on your hair. You were like two perfect puzzle pieces. The sun had set a while ago, and the dark only made you feel more cozy.

But at some point, it became harder to focus on the movie. You had become hyper aware of how close his hand was to your ass, and how if you moved your knee juuuust a little you’d be grazing his dick. You felt the room getting hotter, and you thought he might be feeling it too as he started to squirm a little under you. With a sudden burst of bravery, or maybe just desperation, you slowly begin to arch your back. Your steady movement causes Eddie’s hand to ever so slightly slip closer to your backside. Before it can reach its desired destination, however, he digs his fingers in your flesh, stopping you in your tracks. He takes your chin in his other hand and forces you to look up at him. “What are you up to, hm?” he asks with a smug smile.

You screw your eyes shut and wrinkle your nose, embarrassed at being caught. “Hey...look at me” his voice is so gentle you could hardly bare it. You take the bait and look up. You weren’t expecting his gaze to be filled with such concern or to be so penetrating. It was like he was searching for something deep inside your soul. He moves his hand from your chin to gently cradle your jaw. His fingertips tease the sensitive place behind your ear, his thumb rests on your cheek. “You still sure about this, sweetheart?”

You have to swallow before you answer “Yeah...I’m sure”. It came out barely above a whisper. You’d never been more sure of anything in your whole entire life, the thought of it actually happening with him was beyond electrifying. The tickle between your legs returns, this time with more urgency.

He considers your answer for a second before continuing “Cause we can stop whenever you want, okay? You just say the word and I’ll take you home, no questions asked.” his voice is serious, and his worry only makes you want him more.You always knew he was the one, the only one.

His eyes begin jetting back and forth between yours, his calm demeanor slipping away, something more desperate taking its place. You can feel his grip around your waist tightening, bringing you closer to his warm body. He’s right on the edge with you, but he won’t make one move until he’s certain this is what you really want. He swore he would do this right, and goddammit if Eddie Munson was not a man of his word.

Seeing him worked up is the last straw, you’ve been good for as long as you could bare. “Eddie...” a pleading whimper escapes your lips and it was more than enough to break him. Before you knew it, Eddie’s lips were on yours.

His kiss was all consuming, it wrapped you up and tucked you in tenderly like a cozy blanket on a cold winter’s night. With his hand still holding your jaw, he ever so slightly parted his lips to deepen the kiss. The feeling of his hot breath brushing against your lips made you dizzy. He barley grazes your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, causing the fire burning in the pit of your belly to flash white hot.

Eddie had to constantly remind himself to keep it slow, desperately trying to ignore the feeling of his hard cock straining against his jeans. Gentle, Munson...keep it gentle. He nearly cries when you slip your tongue into his mouth. If only you knew how much he wanted to devour you, heart and soul, until there was nothing left. If only you knew how many times he watched you laughing with your friends, jealous that they were getting all of your attention. How your voice was sweeter than any song, how all you had to do was say his name and he was yours. You could have asked him for anything in those fucking woods and he would’ve given it to you. He’d do anything to keep you here in his arms forever.

He rolls over so that he’s slightly above you, not wanting to crush or smother you, but he just couldn’t get enough. The movie is still playing in the background, thankfully drowning out your needy moans, until Eddie mindlessly rolls his hips down into yours. You could feel the rough fabric of his jeans and his rock hard erection through the thin fabric of your skirt, pressing against you in just the right spot. You don’t even realize you’re loudly moaning his name until you hear him snicker “You can be loud if you want. No one’s gonna hear, we’re safe. I promise.” he whispers into your ear, stealing a few kisses there. He rolls his hips again, wanting more than anything to hear you moan his name again.

He brought his hand down from your jaw to rove over the rest of your body. He lets it rest over your neck for a second and gives it a delicate squeeze. Its not enough to choke you, but the pressure makes his tongue in your mouth feel all the more vital. Like a lifeline. Its a gentle reminder of who you belong to in this moment, who’s in charge. For a fleeting second you wish he hadn’t been so quick to ditch the handcuffs.

He traces your collarbones, down to the underwire of your bra, tickles your ribs, and finally arrives at your skirt. His fingers halt, just tucked under the waistband. Liking the direction this was going, you rest up on your elbows and begin to peel your shirt off. Eddie gives you the space you need, and watches in awe as more of your supple flesh is revealed. He admires every detail, down to the smallest freckle, making an internal map so he’d never forget.

You toss your shirt somewhere into the oblivion of his room, not really caring whether its lost forever or not. You look at Eddie hesitantly, the rush of cold air reminding you that you were only a bra away from total vulnerability. You bring your hands up to cover your belly, starting to feel a little self conscious, but then you see the look of absolute worship in Eddie’s eyes. Like he was standing before an altar, you were his temple. Eddie realizes he’s been staring without speaking for a while now and he looks you in the eye “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Y/N” he says a little out of breath. You smile with absolute giddiness, quickly moving your hands from your stomach to bring him back into a deep kiss. While you embrace, Eddie frantically starts pulling at his own shirt and you assist him in taking it off.

The feeling of his warm chest against yours sends you into a nose dive of indescribable sensation. You wanted to feel his skin everywhere, scratch your fingernails down his spine, play with the soft tufts of curly brown hair on his tummy. Deciding you needed more contact, you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra. Eddie keeps his eyes shut tight, mouth fixed to yours. He’s abundantly aware that you’re now completely naked from the waist up, and he just knows that if he looks at you for one second he’ll lose all control, the very little he had left. Instead, he blindly brings his hands up to your tits and rubs over your hard nipples. It only makes you moan more, practically driving Eddie to the brink of madness until he can’t wait any longer. He has to know what you feel like on the inside.

Eddie breaks away from your embrace and props himself up on his side to look down over you. He returns his hand down to the waistband of your skirt and tugs, raising an eyebrow at you for permission to remove the obstacle. You nod and smile, your heart starting to beat like the wings of a hummingbird. He wiggles the skirt down your legs and gingerly tosses it to the side. He places his hand over your underwear, his fingertips aligned perfectly over your slit. He rubs upwards, feeling how wet you are through the fabric. You jump a little as bolt of lightning shoots through your core. It makes his heart sing to feel how ready your are for him. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart” his voice crackles like firewood as he continues to rub you through the fabric. He watches your every move as he tends to you, utterly consumed by how beautiful you are.

With every touch, it sends a shock wave of pleasure through your entire body. Electricity building in your fingers and toes. And just when you think it couldn’t get much better than this, Eddie slips your underwear off and slowly slides in just the tip of his middle finger. You sigh as he enters, pure ecstasy rolling over you. He smiles down at you “Thats my girl, how does that feel?” he asks as he gently slides his finger in and out of you, never completely taking it out.

You’re drunk off of his touch, and you really have to concentrate in order to forms words “fuuucckk....Eddie...amaaazing.” He chuckles softly at how completely out of it you are. “You want it deeper?” he brushes a few strands of hair from your face as you rest your head against his arm. All you can do is desperately nod, if you open your mouth you might start drooling.

Eddie slides his finger in deeper, just to his knuckle. You feel a little pinch, but nothing too bad. He turns his hand over while inside of you so he can play with your clit with his thumb. “yes yes yes...” you whimper. The sensation soothing any tiny discomfort you had felt.

He only speeds up when he feels your slick start to drip down his hand. “Fuck, Y/N. I’d love to watch you cum, sweetheart. Do you think you could cum for me?” he asks like you’re doing him a favor, and he plunges his entire finger, up to his ring, in your pussy, causing you to yelp and giggle. Your body felt like it was going to vibrate off the bed, and you could feel something tightening deep inside. You concentrate on the feeling, like a volcano about to erupt. “E-Eddie” your voice is shaky “I..I th-think...I’m g-gonna....” you hold onto his arm for dear life as you ride your high. You moan and cuss loudly as Eddie continues to finger fuck you through your aftershocks, gradually slowing his pace until you’re panting below him.

He slowly slides out of you and immediately licks your slick off of his finger. You watch in awe as he closes his eyes and revels in your taste. “Mmmh...cherry pie...my favorite” Eddie teases you with an ear to ear smile. You smack his chest and giggle before curiosity gets the better of you “C-can I try?”. Eddie’s eyes beam at you with a kind of pride that you couldn't fathom. He dips his finger back into your slick and brings it back up to glide along your bottom lip “Knock yourself out”.

You take his finger into your mouth and suck. A mixture of sweet and salty coats your tongue, and you’re amazed at the fact that you actually taste good. With your tongue lapping at Eddie’s finger, he gets another brilliant idea. He removes his finger from your mouth and quickly pops into into his, sucking the rest of your slick and saliva off, before getting up and kneeling at the foot of the bed. “Hey, where are you-” you try to protest, but he’s already got you hooked by your knees and pulling you down to meet him. His face between your legs quickly shuts you the fuck up, awaiting whatever command he deems you worthy of. He sees your eyes going wide in anticipation, and he smirks before furrowing his brow. “Has anyone ever kissed you here before?” he already knows the answer, but he wanted to hear you say that you were all his. He watches you as he nips at your inner thighs, waiting for your reply.

You’ve gone dumb, not a single thought in your head. He has you completely transfixed. “I-uh..n-no...never” is all you manage to spit out. Your innocence makes his cock throb, but he has to wait, he has to show you how good he can really make you feel first. “See, that’s a real shame.” he inches his mouth closer to your pussy, lazily dragging a finger around your entrance, playing in your slick. You squirm under his touch, desperately searching for friction, a release, anything. His smirk turns absolutely devilish “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, princess”.

He hoists your knees up and over his shoulders. Looking up at you through his bangs, he slowly dips his tongue into your slit and flicks up. This alone nearly gives you a heart attack, and he holds you steady as your body shutters. Eddie tongue fucks you until you can’t see straight anymore. You’re a moaning mess, all you can do is tangle your fingers in Eddie’s hair and hang on tight. He licks a steady stripe up, enveloping your clit with his mouth. His tongue twirls, flicks and practically pirouettes around your sensitive bud. And just to kick you while you’re down, his fingers come back to play. This time, he easily slips two in and begins sliding in and out of you. Your body contorts like you’re in need of an exorcism, your noises telling Eddie to go faster and deeper. You feel yourself going higher, and higher, and higher until you reach the tippy top of your second orgasm, riding Eddie’s face all the way back down.

Eddie lets you rest for a moment, legs sprawled haphazardly across his bed. He stands up and crosses his arms against his chest, admiring the aftermath of his handy work. His smug smile returns, the entire lower half of his face glistening with your honey. “Right?” he says, all cocky. You chuckle, and try to kick him but your legs are too wobbly “Shut up” you say breathlessly.

He gets down on the bed and hovers over you on all fours. He growls from the back of his throat and nips at your neck while viciously tickling your ribs. You giggle and squeal, wrestling against him but not really wanting him to stop. You tousle around on the bed for a while before your play fight turns into making out. You didn’t realize how much you had missed his lips on yours, you felt starved. You grind your leg onto his thigh. He somehow still has his pants on, and you’re not sure how you could have made such a blaring oversight. You reach down to undo his belt buckle, letting him know that you were truly ready.

While you fumble with his belt, he reaches over to his bedside table and grabs a condom. He puts the corner in his mouth, his hands a little too shaky to handle it, and rips it open between his teeth. You shimmy his jeans off, his erection creating a tent in his boxers. You look up at him to make sure he was okay, and he winks in return. You inhale and pull his boxers down, his cock finally springing free. You’re a bit mesmerized at first. You had never seen one before, and you were shocked by just how...big...he was. You panic a little, wondering how he was ever going to fit inside you. You mindlessly cup your hand around his length, his skin is soft and turning a mean shade of pink. He gasps at your touch and closes his eyes, melting into your palm. You rub your thumb over a long, thick vein on the side of his dick, not realizing you were unraveling the poor boy in your hands. You notice the precum leaking from his head. You steal a glance up at Eddie and see that his eyes are closed, totally blissed out. You smile, having a devilish thought of your own. Starting where the head meets the shaft, you lick a quick line up the tip of his dick and flick the precum into your mouth. Eddie jolts, eyes snapping open, and quickly rolls over to imprison you underneath him “You trying to kill me, Y/L/N?” he punishes you with smothering kisses, making you giggle uncontrollably.

He sits up and rests on his knees so he can roll the condom on. You watch in wonder as you adjust your body so you can be ready for him. Last minute nerves make your tummy flutter, but you know you’re in the best of hands. He comes back down and places his hands on the mattress on either side of your head. He lowers down for one more kiss. “This may hurt a little, sweetheart.” he whispers in your ear before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. He looks you in your eyes before continuing “Remember, we can stop whenever you want. Okay?” You nod adoringly and whisper “Okay”. He gives you another earth shattering smile “That’s my girl.” he brings his forehead down to meet yours and you gaze into each other’s eyes, smiling like fools, absolutely head over heels. You wrap your legs around his waist, and brace yourself for whatever comes next.

Eddie aligns himself with your entrance and slowly pushes in, you can feel your walls stretching to accommodate him. He stops at just the tip, and you both moan. He slowly rolls his hips, slipping the tip of his cock in and out so you can get used to the sensation. You feel a slight pressure when he slides in, but its dull and far off, and the kisses he peppers you with are a nice distraction.

He pumps into you a little longer before sliding further in. This time you do feel a nagging pain, causing you to sharply inhale. You dig your fingernails into his back, and he slows his movements even more. “I know baby, I know.” he soothes you and you find the pain quickly gives way to pleasure. You moan into his hair “Mmhm Eddie...you’re so big...” the words tumble from your mouth without a thought behind them, just pure ecstasy. Eddie groans and he fights the urge to fuck you dumb through this damn mattress. “Keep talkin’ like that princess and I might forget to be gentle” he warns as he nips at your neck.

He slides deeper until he reaches his hilt, stretching and filling you to the brim. You curse under your breath at the pain, screwing your eyes shut so no tears can escape. He cradles your head “Hey look at me, you okay?” you open up and he’s staring down at you with those doe eyes, brows furrowed in concern. “I’m fine, it just hurts a little. Please don’t stop” you reach up and cup his red cheek, assuring him that you can take it. He gently and slowly continues to glide into you. Worried he may not be able to slide back in, he never fully pulls out of you, creating a pocket of delicious sensation deep inside. Your walls eventually relax around him, allowing him to pick up his pace.

It was a cacophony of feeling, a delicious blend of searing pain and ultimate euphoria. The hurt felt so good, you loved being filled for the first time. You kiss Eddie everywhere you can reach him, his chin, his shoulder, his collarbone, just to show how thankful you were. He smiles in complete adoration for you, noticing just how ethereal you look underneath him. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Y/N” he kisses you hard on the lips, practically smashing your faces together. His steady motion begins to sputter a little, he must be getting close. “...and you’re so...fucking....tight....” he pounds a little harder with each word, causing you to cry out. He cradles the back of your head and soothes you. “Sorry...sorry..I just ...wanna try...*grunts* one more thing. Okay?” he kisses your neck, his hot breath causing you to shiver and your pussy to tighten around his cock. Although you’re not sure what else there could be, you nod with every fiber of your being. “Yes...fuck ...I-I’ll do...anything...f-for you” you whimper. He groans and rolls his head back, trying to forget you said that before he busts this second.

He stops rocking into you only for a minute so he can gently pull you up into a sitting position in his lap, his hand still cradling your head, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. “Come here, sweet thing” he swipes a few strands from your face once you’re up. The blood rushing to your head mixed with this new angle is something else. You feel entirely open, the tip of his dick just grazing something galvanic inside of you. You smile warmly and stare deep into each other’s eyes for a moment, completely elated by each other’s company. He pulls you into a bear hug, your breasts squeeze against his chest, as he fucks up into you. You go limp, whatever it was inside you that he was hitting over and over was causing your brain to melt. You roll your head back and just let him take you.

Even when Eddie is fighting every urge to cum himself, he’s still only thinking of your pleasure. In your lulled state, he reaches down in between you and starts rubbing your clit, alternating between circles and side to side. He figures if he can get you to cum one more time, he can die a very happy man. The sensation brings you out of your nearly catatonic state, and you tighten your thighs around his waist like a boa constrictor. You start to bounce back on his cock, feeling that oh so familiar feeling starting to build in the center of your soul. Eddie groans, the veins in his neck popping out. “Y/N...fuck...you’re gonna...make me cum, sweetheart” he growls out, unable to contain himself any longer. His body stutters as he reaches his peak, his arms locked around your fragile body in a vice grip, and he spills himself into the condom. Dazed from his own heavenly release, he still doesn’t forget about you for one second. His fingers shift into overdrive, pummeling your clit until your crying his name out for the whole trailer park to hear. The look of sheer joy is plastered to his face, and you both collapse into each other, exhausted.

You sit in his lap, resting your head on his shoulder. His dick is still inside of you, and you don’t dare move a muscle, never wanting him to leave. He plants soft kisses in your hair and runs his fingers down your spine. It takes you a minute to realize the movie is still playing. “Could we rewind? I think I missed a bit” you joke.

He chuckles “I’d have to get up to rewind it” he reminds you, tucking his finger under your chin to lift your head up. He brings his forehead down to meet yours, his eyes sparkling in the darkness. “Can we stay like this for a little longer?” you plead. He smirks and kisses your cheek “We can do whatever you want, princess.”

You stay there wrapped in each other’s arms for a little longer before Eddie slowly slides out of you and places you back down on the mattress. There’s a tiny bit of blood mixed with your slick dripping from your pussy, and Eddie grabs a clean shirt from his closet and cleans you up delicately as if he was handling a rare gem. He throws the condom away and pulls on a pair of boxers and a faded Metallica shirt. He hums as he goes about his little tasks, giving you a sense of comforting domesticity. He miraculously finds your underwear on the floor, but has no luck finding any of your other clothes. He grabs another one of his shirts and tosses it over to you. You hold the garment up and notice its his Hellfire club shirt, a wave of pure glee washes over you. You pull it over your head, his familiar scent wrapping around your body. Eddie fidgets with the tv controls, rewinding to around the time y’all got...distracted, before turning around and plopping back onto the bed to cuddle up next you. He looks you up and down, “Looks better on you” he beams as he brings you back into his arms, assuming the same positions you were in earlier in the evening.

In no time you’re both in stitches again over the movie, and you spend the rest of the night laughing, talking, and kissing all while entangled in each other’s arms. Just before you both doze off, Eddie whispers “So, did you have fun? I mean...was I gentle?”

You cup his face and kiss his forehead “So gentle” you chuckle before giving him a sincere answer, “it was more than I could ever dream of, Eddie. It was perfect” Eddie smirks through the darkness and pulls you into a vice grip to tickle you. You squeal and squirm and giggle in pure delight. You settle back down and he turns around you so he can spoon you “Good, cause next time...I might not be so gentle” he whispers devilishly in your ear.

You perk up, remembering some paraphernalia from earlier. “Can we use the handcuffs?” you ask in excitement. Eddie chuckles, finding your eagerness adorable. Fuck, this girl is gonna be the death of me. “Anything you want, princess” he kisses you behind your ear and you both drift off into blissful slumbers.

___________________________________________

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I was really inspired by the song Touch Tank by Quinnie, I keep seeing so many amazing edits of Eddie/Joseph with that song! I also borrowed some of his dialogue from his scene with Chrissy in the woods to make it more convincing, hope you don’t mind. I started on this before Vol 2 came out and then it felt weird to keep going but I pushed through. I’m 100% in my denial era and this is for all the girlies who are in the same boat! <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x virgin!reader #eddie munson x virgin!reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things no spoilers #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie musnon fic

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 11 months

Text

Eddie does this... thing. Steve isn't sure if there's a name for it. Or if it's just a thing. Robin always jokes that Eddie's autism is showing. And he just snorts at her and shakes his head, but he keeps doing it, his cheeks tinted pink.

He counts things.

They aren't always things everyone can see. About half the time Eddie is just counting in his head. But he mumbles the numbers outloud, barely audible. But Steve hears it. Steve can't hear much, most of the time, but he somehow always manages to hear Eddie counting. Or at least notices his lips moving, numbers rolling off them genlty.

It calms him down. Steve noticed that fast. Eddie would count his breathing during panic attacks and then when he helped Steve or Robin through their panic attacks, and somewhere along the line, Steve just started, counting along with him.

Not outloud. And Eddie hadn't noticed him nodding along to the counting, not yet at least. But it never failed. Eddie would start counting and Steve's brain would follow along happily.

They're sitting on Eddie's couch. It's the middle of summer. The air outside is hot and sticky. The air in the trailer isn't much better. But Steve had brought over his personal air conditioner that had been sitting in the garage not being used for years. Eddie had protested but Steve refused to take it back.

The living room was cooler than it had been the last few days. The sun had just gone down. Eddie's thigh was pressed against his, like it normally was these days, heat or not. Eddie would sit himself next to Steve, their sides smooshed together. Steve hadn't moved away, not once, despite the heat.

Eddie was wearing a cut off shirt, Steve was in jean shorts and a lightweight yellow t-shirt. Some movie Steve had never seen was on the tv, but all Steve could focus on was the way Eddie was pressed against him. The warmth of his skin seeping into his ribs.

And then Eddie starts counting.

Steve smiles to himself. Following along. Glancing at Eddie carefully when his counting pauses, like he was searching for the next thing he was counting. Steve had never been brave enough to ask about it. Was just happy Eddie felt safe enough around him to let him hear it at all.

And then Eddie's fingers hit Steve's arm and he can't breathe. Eddie's finger tips walk up his arm, pressing genlty at certain points as they go. Steve's heart flutters when Eddie's fingers press up under his shirt, curl in the material and shove it up as Eddie mumbles,

"Can I just-" between numbers. He smiles when he gets Steve's sleeve up over his shoulder, his fingers poking at Steve's skin as he counts. And it clicks.

He's counting Steve's freckles.

His fingers dancing over his skin as he counts, whispering numbers as he turns on his couch cushion, his knee pressing hard into Steve's thigh. Steve doesn't care. Steve doesn't feel it.

All Steve can feel is Eddie's breath ghosting over his warm skin as he counts. His chilly fingertips, and warm breath, causing goosebumps to spead, making Steve shiver.

He swallows, hard, as Eddie's fingers poke the moles on his neck. Steve smiles when Eddie whispers to himself.

"Lil vampire bite." He says, moving one finger across them genlty. Steve clenches his fists, presses them into his thighs, tries to stay still. To let Eddie stay in this world he's in. Because he's lost right now. Steve knows he is. He's a touchy feely guy, but this, this is different.

He's lost in his counting. Lost in Steve. It's fucking intoxicating. Steve could live in this bubble forever, all of Eddie's attention on him like he's the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

Steve reminds himself to breathe at the wrong moment. Eddie's fingers move over his cheek, he's almost reached thirty, and Steve honestly didn't know he had that many freckles and moles. But he learns new things about himself from Eddie everyday. He sucks in air as Eddie's fingers press into his cheek and Eddie startles.

His hand jerks back, his eyes flutter and then lock onto Steve's. Because he'd been watching Eddie. Watching Eddie look at him. And Eddie swallows hard, his fist clenching in the air before he pulls it to his chest. Holds it there with his other hand, his cheeks now a deep pink, Steve can see it crawling up to his ears.

"Shit. Sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. Fuck." He breathes, looks into his lap. And Steve smiles. Can't help it. He reaches out, his fingers curling around Eddie's wrist.

Eddie's eyes snap to him, wide, and nervous, as he watches Steve move his hand back to his face. He presses Eddie's palm to his cheek, nuzzles into the touch.

"You can keep going. You were at... twenty seven, I think." Steve whispers, not wanting to break the quiet bubble they've settled into. Eddie blinks at him. Steve feels his fingers twitch against his face.

"Twenty....seven?" Eddie says it like a question. Unsure. Confused.

"You were counting again." Steve says, leans further into Eddie's hand. He hears Eddie's breath shutter.

"I was touching you." Eddie says, his brows furrowing, like he's still confused.

"I know. I liked it." Steve assures, nodding his head, letting Eddie feel it against his hand.

"Yeah?" He breathes.

"Yeah. Of course." Steve turns a little then, facing him more.

"I like when you count too." Steve admits. Finally. Eddie's nose scrunches, he snorts, and Steve lets him have his hand back. He lets his fall to Steve's shoulder, his fingers almost instantly tangling in the hair at the back of Steve's neck. They find their way there most nights Steve is here, his hand on the back of the couch always finding Steve somehow.

"No you don't. No one does. It annoys people. It's weird." Eddie shakes his head, but he's smiling, and blushing, and Steve wants to kiss his bright red cheeks, wants to feel their warmth against his lips.

"It's addicting." Steve counters. Eddie's eyes widen.

"Is it?" He sounds shocked. Steve nods.

"Yeah. I do it all the time now. Even when you aren't doing it. Or aren't even around. I just... count things. You were right. It's calming." Steve says, his hands finding Eddie's, moving his fingers across Eddie's rings.

"You said it was addicting." Eddie mumbled.

"What?"

"You said it was addicting. The counting." Eddie says, finally looking up from his lap. His eyes soft when they find Steve's.

"Oh. Guess I did yeah. Is that... is that bad?" Steve asks, turning one of Eddie's rings around his finger. Eddie shakes his head, once, the red tint crawling down his neck now. The hand Steve's not fiddling with finds its way to the back of Eddie's neck, he rubs the skin there and blinks a few times before looking into his lap again.

"No. Just... no one's ever called anything about me addicting before. Annoying? Yes. Addicting? Not so much. But you did. And you said it like-" Eddie's teeth dig into his bottom lip.

"Like what?" Steve nudges his knee into Eddie, fighting not to smile.

"Like it was a good thing. I guess?" Eddie shrugs. Steve reaches up then, lets go of Eddie's hand and cups his cheek instead, lifting his head so Eddie can see him.

"It is a good thing. The best thing. I could listen to you count all day." Steve smiles then, mirroring Eddie as he laughs a little.

"Oh yeah? You might regret that. I've actually been trying to hold back on it. I know I do it a lot." Eddie shakes his head, frowns a little. Steve moves, presses closer, shakes his head.

"Don't. Don't hold back. Count whatever you want. Whenever you want." He breathes between them.

"Okay." Eddie says, hesitant, he sounds nervous. Steve pulls back a bit, brows furrowed, and then Eddie darts forward, presses his lips to Steve's cheek.

"One." He says when he's settled back on his cushion. His cheeks even more red than before. Steve snorts, opens his mouth to say something but Eddie moves again. His lips hit next to Steve's eyebrow.

"Two."

He presses his lips close to Steve's ear.

"Three." Steve laughs. Eddie kissed his neck twice.

"Four. Five." He breathes, as Steve catches him, doesn't let him settle back down this time. Keeps him close. One hand on the back of Eddie's neck, one hand trailing his fingertips over Eddie's nose, and his cheeks.

"You've got them too ya know? Not like mine. But ... little ones. All over." Steve breathes, his fingers moving slowly over Eddie face until they linger on his lips. Just for a moment, before he cupped Eddie's cheek.

"You wanna count 'em?" Eddie asks, he sounds breathless, and Steve had barely touched him. They were both on their knees now. Their chests nearly pressed together.

"Maybe later. Got something better in mind right now." Steve breathes, eyes dropping to Eddie's mouth. He watches Eddie gulp and smiles.

"Oh yeah? L-like what?" Eddie stammers. His hands grabbing at Steve's waist to keep himself steady.

"Probably better if I just show you." Steve sighs, presses his forehead to Eddie's.

"Okay. Yeah. I'm- I'm definitely a learn by example kinda guy. So that's- that works for me." Eddie rambles, his mouth moving a mile a minute. Steve moves his nose along Eddie's and nods.

"Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. I can do that." Steve agrees, not sure what he's really agreeing too, he just knows he wants to kiss this boy. His friend. Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie so bad. Has for awhile now. He feels Eddie's hands, one of them moving to his shoulder where his sleeve is still pulled up, Eddie's palm is warm on his arm.

Eddie huffs a nervous laugh and that's all it takes.

Steve kisses him. Gently. Eddie's lips fumble against his for a moment. His inexperience making Steve's stomach flutter. His hands grab at Eddie, pull him closer. Eddie whines against his lips and Steve pulls back, doesn't want to overwhelm him too much.

Eddie drops his head to Steve's shoulder with a breathy laugh. Steve pets at his hair, curls his fingers into it like he's wanted to for ages and pulls genlty, so he can look at Eddie's face.

"You okay?" He asks. Eddie nods, smiles.

"Six." He says, his cheeks dimpling. Steve smiles back, shakes his head. Presses a kiss to the tip of Eddie's nose.

"Seven." Eddie says, no hesitation. Steve swears he honest to god giggles, but would never admit it to anyone.

Eddie's eyes tint with a mix of mischief and seriousness that's all his own as his fingers curl around the hem of Steve shirt.

"Okay seriously though take this off, I wasn't done counting." His voice is completely serious. And Steve, feeling brave, decides to match it, and tugs his shirt up over his head, careful not to hit Eddie in the face. Eddie barks a manic sounding laugh as Steve falls back, pulling Eddie down too, so that he's stradling him.

"Go on then. Count away." Steve shoves his hands under his head, smiles up at Eddie as he looks wide eyed down at Steve. He's bright red, but then his eyes focus, and his hands move to gently touch the skin covering Steve's ribs. His finger tips press down, tickling a bit, as he whispers,

"Twenty eight." His eyes jump to Steve's face, he gives him an encouraging nod, and that's all Eddie needs apparently. Because he starts counting in earnest, his hands moving over Steve's freckles quickly. Numbers falling past his lips, his counting calming Steve the way almost nothing else does.

He gets to fifty and stops. Leans down and presses a kiss to Steve's shoulder.

"Eight." He whispers, and then keeps going. He kisses and counts his way across Steve's skin until he's laying on top of Steve, his hand in his hair. Pressing gentle kisses into Steve's neck as he smiles into Eddie's shoulder, the little voice in his head counting along, in sync with Eddie in a way he'd never expected to be, feeling content as Eddie's numbers become more garbled. Until they fade completely as Eddie drifts off, his breath heavy on Steve's neck.

Steve smiles, moves them a bit so they're settled on the couch a bit better. Eddie doesn't wake. Steve watches him sleep. Soothes his fingers over the crease in Eddie's eyebrows until it smooths out and he melts further into the couch. He smiles at him, closes his eyes as Eddie's arm squeezes around him, pulling him closer. Steve sighs, sinks deeper into the couch as he feels sleep dragging him under. But not before he mumbles, sleepy and soft,

"One." Making sure he marks this. The first time they fall asleep tangled together, the smile on his lips fading as he drifts off to sleep, dreaming of all the never ending numbers in their future.

#steddie #Fates Endless Inkwell #fei #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #autistic eddie munson #inexperienced eddie munson #steddie blurb #my writing #mine #my fic #steddie fic

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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

Text

you're not his girlfriend

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, riding, angsty/sad ending, controlling rafe, drinking/partying, mention of physical violence, drug dealing, reader taking drugs/getting high

you’re not his girlfriend, but you do attend every party on rafes arm, his hand placed securely around your waist, giving warning looks to any man who stares a little too long at you, a little too long at your long legs in the short dress or your cleavage spilling out the top.

you’re not his girlfriend, but rafe saves the best of his stash for you, of course never making you pay. his eyes are possessive and lustful as you snort the line of coke off of his finger before collapsing into his body. he cares for you throughout your high, getting you whatever you need, talking to you, keeping you calm and happy.

you’re not his girlfriend, but spend hours riding his dick, bouncing and grinding after you convinced him to finally let you take control, his arms behind his head, a lazy grin on his face, watching your tits bounce with every movement, determined to make him cum as deep as possible inside of you. rafe only helps out when you cum, body shaking as he pushes you down onto his cock, cumming in time with you.

you’re not his girlfriend, but when ward kicks him out of the house, you’re the first person he calls. he pretends hes doing it for you, eating the ice cream and watching the cheesy movies, but when you cuddle up in bed, your arms around him, you both know that all the comfort is for him to feel better, to feel at home.

you’re not his girlfriend, but when you are chatting with another guy at a party, rafe gets furious, pulling you away, about to deck him straight in the face when your hands wrap around his bicep, explaining that the guy is gay, and you weren't flirting. rafe doesn’t punch the guy, but does take you upstairs into the bathroom and fucks you against the sink.

you’re not his girlfriend, but when he has to go away for a week for some business with ward, he tasks topper with looking after you, adding kelce in as well, needing to make sure you were looked after, with strict warnings not to touch you or get too friendly. you’re nice to the boys, inviting them inside for lemonade, knowing they’ll follow whatever rafe says.

you’re not his girlfriend, but he moans into your ear about how much he loves your pussy as he’s thrusting into you, making a mess of your cunt, his cock splitting you in half as his hands grip your waist, leaving bruises on your skin from how tight he’s holding you, but you love the marks, physical reminders of his impact on you.

you’re not his girlfriend, but you hang out with his little sister wheezie, taking her on shopping sprees with rafes credit card and out to ice cream.

you’re not his girlfriend, but rafe invites you over for movie nights, cuddling close to you. he holds you throughout the night, for once not putting his hand down your pants as he strokes a hand over your hair absentmindedly, eyes on the screen.

you’re not his girlfriend, but he invites you as his date to midsummers, matching his tie with the color of your dress. he spins you around the dance floor and looks happy being there for once.

you’re not his girlfriend, but he makes sure you get your favorite drink at a party, holding it for you when you go to dance with your girls, fingers twitching impatiently as you move on the dance floor under his watchful eyes, waiting for you to be back within reach. he lets out a breath of relief when you rejoin him, press yourself into his side and finish off your drink.

you’re not his girlfriend, even though you wrap your arms around him and kiss as his hips move slowly, his cock pushing gently in and out, slowly, deeply. he moans into your mouth, enjoying the slow and smooth motions of your bodies connecting, of being one.

you’re not his girlfriend, so you don’t say anything when you see him dancing with another girl.

you’re not his girlfriend when you watch him take her upstairs.

you’re not his girlfriend, but it doesn’t stop your heart from shattering.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude

#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron x you #obx x reader #rafe angst #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron blurb

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shellxrls · 1 month

Note

what do you think the guys dicks look like?

rafes dick is very prim and proper in a sense? represents him well bcuz its girthy but long in a way that’s reminiscent of his lean muscular build. he’s cut and his tip is a pale red/pink. hair is always trimmed and for the most part nonexistent. one or two veins that run along the side and bulge out when he’s hard, he’s extra sensitive to touches there so you make sure to run your tongue over them and trace the lines whenever you go down on him. tip is quite thick but that thickness is maintained all the way down the shaft, makes it so that he often does have to ‘bully’ his cock into your cunt so that it fits. the way his cum tastes rlly does depend on what kind of a week he’s had 😭. if he’s been snorting coke and drinking it probably has an underlying unpleasant aftertaste but otherwise it’s generally not unsavoury. good weight to just suckle on but it stands tall and drools precum onto his abs when he’s hard.

jj’s dick is uncut and it’s very noticable bcuz his foreskin is sort of pale but when you move it down his tip is rlly pink (basically the colour of his lips). definition of a ‘pretty dick’ despite his general lack of care surrounding it. thick but still impressively long with a minor upward curve that’s perfect for catching on your g-spot and is only exacerbated in the right positions. gets rlly agitated and worked up quite quickly and by then his tip is rubying and the entire head of his shaft is blushing. thicker as you get closer to his pelvis. bulges in his shorts a lot and so he’s always sticking a hand down there to adjust himself 💀. tip has a very indented slit that’s constantly leaking milky pre. blonde pubes that he rarely ever trims bcuz he can’t be bothered, balls are kinda buried beneath the hair as well — he likes to stick your face into them when you go down on him and smush your nose into the hair. RANK cum i’m sorry it’s genuinely a cause for concern.

john b’s dick is pale/purplish at the top and instead of going flush when he’s hard, it grows a bit thicker and drags downward very weightily — the tip turning a dark mauve. mushroom tip that juts out very noticeably and stings more than it shld on the initial stretch, a bit thicker than the rest of his dick. his shaft is very tan (just like him lmao) and he has a few darker/coarse brown hairs at the base that he cleans up but doesn’t do much effort to really trim too much. around his pelvis theres a very prominent happy trail and a scatter of veins that start throbbing when he gets rlly hard. balls are really large and they genuinely look weighted down, the skin sags a bit more there. cum is relatively clean, kinda salty but its excusable bcuz its not overpowering just very homey.

#this has been sitting in my drafts moony has convinced my to finish it w her ‘jj is uncut’ post lol #asks.ᐟ ⋆｡˚𖦹 #;anon #;prompts #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #john b prompt #john b smut #john b x reader smut #john b imagine

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stevieschrodinger · 4 months

Text

Link to Part Two

Part One

Eddie stares down at the plastic doodad. It proudly declares the word ‘pregnant’ on the little screen, cheerily oblivious to the fact that it's just ruined Eddie’s whole fucking life. It’s a word as well, the actual fucking word, ‘pregnant’ shown oh so confidently on the little screen. Eddie’s done a test before, one time when he had a scare as a teenager, that had been the sort that showed one line or two.

One lines for not, two for...are. Two would have looked like prison bars, which would have been ironic given being saddled with a pup is probably pretty equivalent to 25 to life.

Anyway. Eddie shakes it. Looks again. Throws the fucking thing in the bin.

Well fuck.

Eddie contemplates, very very briefly, getting rid of it. His mind and body recoil from that thought the same way it would from, like, rotted tuna. Or someone else's puke. Or like...salad.

Eddie’s Omega’s got a lot of needs and no Alpha willing to fill them. Eddie gets by, fobbing his Omega off with with a couple of short term friends with benefits arrangements and the odd one night stand. Mostly his Omega can’t tell the difference between having an Alpha and having any Alpha, so he makes do. It scratches the itch.

Unfortunately, that means this pup could have been fathered by any one of three dudes, and Eddie doesn’t have a fucking clue which of them it would be. Eddie would really rather not it be Alpha A, Alpha B is a piece of work with a big dick, and what's behind door number three would be potentially catastrophic.

Anyway. Eddie makes a decision at two am in his apartment bathroom, and it starts with two text messages, an email, and a phone call.

“Thanks for doing this so on the spur man,” Eddie tells his landlord as he hands over the keys. Ex landlord. It was only a room in a shared place. Had to share the bathroom on this floor with two other dudes, but, meh. It had been perfect for what Eddie needed, and more importantly, within Eddie’s budget.

His whole life is sitting in the back of his van, barely filling a third of the back. Which is ideal really, made clearing out quick and easy and Eddie’s uncertain about weather or not he should be doing any heavy lifting right now.

He makes three stop offs before he leaves for good, shifting the very last of his product at discount prices. He mournfully throws in his last two boxes of cigs with the last deal; going cold turkey is going to be the opposite of fun, but Eddie’s in it to win it, and he’s going to try his best as of right now.

Wayne already has the door open when Eddie hops out of his van, beer in hand, eyebrow raised, “heya old man.”

When Wayne sees Eddie dragging bags out, he lifts the brim of his cap, puts it back again, and heads inside. Eddie sees him move a couple of things out of Eddie’s old room, and although it’s empty and the bed is stripped to nothing, it’s untouched, “how long you back for?” Wayne asks him, offering a beer.

Eddie looks at the offered bottle, dripping condensation, and very pointedly doesn’t take it “so, about that.”

There’s a long drawn out moment, and Eddie’s sees the realization dawn, “oh Ed.”

“You like kids!”

Wayne sighs, pulls Eddie into a hug, “I just hope they sleep better’n you did. Don’t think I can go through that again.”

Eddie snorts a laugh into Wayne’s shoulder, all relieved. He hadn't doubted for a second that Wayne would back his play, Wayne's always been unshakably team Eddie, but to hear it said in no uncertain terms is still a huge weight lifted.

Eddie’s got a slightest curve of a bump, small enough that it’s not nearly noticeable yet, especially with Eddie’s usual wardrobe. To go along with his bump, he’s got a scan booked at the Omega Health place, an insatiable craving for garlic mushrooms, and a job.

An actual honest job. Alright, a temp job, because he’s pregnant and no one in their right mind is going to hire a pregnant Omega for a full time permanent gig. So he is, conveniently enough, covering maternity leave for a beta girl at the record store. But that doesn’t matter right now, the moons aligned, and Eddie jumped at the opportunity. He’s going to have a secure pay check for the next seven or so months, and right this second, that’s what counts.

He can’t drink. He can’t smoke. He can’t do drugs and he’s most certainly not going to party. Eddie does the next best thing he can think of; he goes to the library. This is his reward now, his fun, his safe space; he’s going to reward himself with a good book. A good free book.

Turns out registering himself for a library card is a ten minute thing, and then he’s done, bit of plastic in hand, he wonders the shelves looking for the fantasy section. He rounds the corner into the main room only to find a dude reading and signing along to a bunch of little kids. He has the book propped up on a thing to keep his hands free and the pages open so the kids can see.

He’s encouraging them to sign along with a bunch of the words.

He has good hair...like, really good hair. There’s something familiar about the guy that Eddie can't place...until he does.

Holy fucking shit. That’s King Steve.

And he’s in a library...wearing fucking gold rimmed spectacles and a sweater vest.

And he’s hot. He’s still hot. He laughs at something and leans forward to help a toddler with the placement of her chubby little fingers and Eddie’s ovaries fucking explode.

He walks away. For self preservation he walks away. He forgets what he just saw because there was no way it was real. He’s been going through a dry spell, hasn’t got laid since he moved back to Hawkins and now he’s seeing mirages of his high school crush, that’s all.

That’s all it can be.

Until Eddie goes to the fancy scanner machine to check out his little pile of four paperback fantasy books and a deep Alpha voice is asking if he needs anything and he’s, like, right there. And he smells of library and Alpha and whatever nice thing he washes his fucking sweater vests in.

Jesus.

“No,” Eddie squeaks, “I’m okay.”

“Eddie?” Steve frowns at him, tilting his read and looking over the top of his glasses in a way that should be fucking criminal, “Eddie Munson right? I thought you moved away?”

“I have. Did. I mean, I did do that. Previously. Back now. Clearly.” Shut up shut up shut up and Steve can probably smell his embarrassment because he’s standing closely enough to clearly scent Eddie and Steve’s senses must be absolutely pinpoint because his eyes drop to Eddie’s stomach, then spring up to his neck. He frowns, like, the tiniest bit.

Eddie’s pregnant, and unmated, and Steve’s clocked that in about four seconds flat which, great. Humiliation complete.

But Steve’s face clears as quick as it had clouded, the whole thing passing so fast Eddie’s now not even sure he saw it, “so it’d been cool to catch up, you wanna wait a minute, I’m just about to have lunch?”

“Errr…I mean. I wouldn't want to impose or anything-”

“Steve!” And holy shit, if Steve is the ghost of Christmas past or some shit, the second ghost just rocked up in the form of Robin fucking Buckley of all people. Eddie doesn't even understand why they’re even friends, Steve was a topnotch jock and a total fucking dickwad, and Buckley was a band nerd.

This makes less sense than Steve’s sweater vest.

“Yeah, come on Eddie, lets go sit outside,” Eddie gets tugged along in their wake, somehow, and ends up sitting on a bench outside in the sun.

Robin had a bag of take out in her hand which she gives to Steve, and he takes out a carton of something that instantly makes Eddie’s mouth water, Eddie looks back up in time to catch Steve widening his eyes at Robin, tilting his head off to the side sharply in silent gesture for her to fuck off over there. She signs something, real quick. Steve nods.

Eddie doesn’t know a single lick of sign language, but he's pretty sure that even if he did, what happened was so fast he would have missed it anyway, “so, Eddie, great to see you, but I, shit, pretty sure I’ve left the...stove on.”

Eddie frowns at the take out and back to Robin but before he can point out what a steaming pile of bullshit that is, she’s already power walking off and shouting, “byyyyeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

“I, ah, got garlic mushrooms and broccoli and some stirfry-”

It’s too late for Eddie. He’s done. Stick a fork in him. He has no idea what’s happening here but he zones in on the garlic mushroom part of that like a heat seeking missile. A secondary part of his brain is screaming loudly that the Alpha has provided, the Alpha wants to share his food with Eddie. Alpha Alpha Alpha.

Eddie takes the container and the bamboo spork thing Steve hands him, “sorry, I never get chopsticks, no fucking clue how to use them.”

“I can show you,” Eddie says, without thinking it through or registering the implication or stopping to swallow, which means he just spoke with his mouth full of food.

“I’d like that,” Steve tells him, “when can I take you out for dinner?”

Which, Eddie’s brain does stall out there. Because. Well. Lots of things. But he was pretty certain Steve had clocked his specific circumstances earlier, but now he’s not so sure, “I’m pupped,” his mouth supplies without his permission, so he shoves a whole thing of broccoli in there to try and stop it happening again.

Steve hums, eating his beef thing very neatly, “no bite though,” he points out, and Eddie makes an agreeable noise, “maybe we can fix that,” Eddie nearly chokes.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #omega eddie because he's so pretty #mpreg #alpha steve harrington

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luminiamore · 5 days

Text

plug connie springer x black stripper reader

warnings: boy is down bad, a little bit of mikasa x reader??, mikasa is famous heree, connie is a tease, he’s also hispanic asf, ya’ll didn’t even make it to the club, hints of yandere, mirror action, he fucks u while he’s crossfaded, wall sex, he talks a lot, dude is rambling, good ole cream pie, gotta love breeding

a/n: i got carried away (⌒_⌒;)

can you guys tell i like my men desperate lol, this is so long i might make this a series (4.9k words)

one down, like five more to goooo

The lifestyle of stripping was something you truly couldn’t get enough of. The late nights. The smooth poles. Dancing on those smooth poles. And most importantly, the money. Oh fuck, how you loved the money. Living the fast life gave you such a rush that you adored it just as much as you hated it.

It’s not your first choice, not by a long shot. You were raised in Jamaica, New York. And your parents., you loved them. Honestly, you did, but you would probably be the most miserable person in the world if you kept heeding their strict Christian views.

You tried everything to reach up to their impossibly high standards. They wanted you to get an A in every assignment? Try A+. They wanted you to wear less revealing clothes because ‘No man will ever want you’? You’re showing up to your classes in turtlenecks just to keep their mouths shut.

You even made it a routine to clean the entire house top to bottom on Sundays since they started complaining that ‘You never do anything around this house.’ It was beyond annoying. You were fucking tired.

Growing up in Notre Dame School of Manhattan was nothing short of horrible. Proclaimed ‘good girls’ snorting more than half a line of coke in the school bathrooms. Drugs you aren’t even sure how they got access to, but then again, they are rich white kids. Teachers and hypocritical professors pretend to be oblivious to the bullshit drama their students are in. Your parents’ oblivion for keeping you here is even greater. Even after sharing stories with them, they would advise you to be more like the students at your school.

It was a miracle you didn’t turn out that far gone, despite what your profession is currently. You’ve smoked a little weed here and there. Experience some sort of awakening tripping off shrooms the weekend your parents took a trip to Barbados.

Without you, of course. Despite this, you were always taken care of. Your differences in opinion would never justify their abandonment of you. You knew they loved you when they got you a ticket to see The Weeknd live after you got a perfect score on your final, not after telling you their opinions on the matter, of course.

‘I don’t know why you listen to such devil music.’

‘I should’ve never gotten you this trash.’

The guilt you felt for wanting to have fun kept you from almost going. You went anyway, choosing to avoid allowing their misery to affect you.

Everything was fine; you played along with this draining game, and everything was fine. Until they decided to kick you out for finding a small baggie of blow (that wasn’t even yours) peeking out from the top of your purse. You don’t even know how it got there.

Honestly, you didn’t. You tried to communicate that while they were packing all the clothes they could find in your closet into two medium-sized luggage bags. But they wouldn’t listen, opting for screaming so loud you could see the neighbors peeking through the window. At the very least, they were kind enough not to throw them onto the concrete ground. Their stubbornness was unyielding. You just couldn’t get through to them.

You were able to rent an apartment you had put a deposit on a month before this happened because of the money in your savings account. Unfortunately, your funds were only sufficient for rent for two months due to groceries and other necessities.

When graduation came, your parents were nowhere to be found, so you realized that you had to find a means of earning money before you ended up sleeping on the streets.

You tried looking for a ’regular’ job -- a barista, a waitress, even applied to be a fucking bartender. It’s not as easy as it seems when those who already have one talk about finding a job. Why do they claim that they need to hire immediately and yet still reject you? Considering that your lack of work experience prevents you from being hired, you feign a little on your resume. Turns out, you’re not a very good liar.

Where was pretty privilege when you needed it?!

Despite applying to 500 companies, none could offer you a job within the next two weeks, which happened to be when your rent was due.

You really had no other option. You took your pretty ass and marched to the nearest club. Which happened to be the... Hustlers club? Why did that sound familiar?

Upon entering, you outright demanded to speak with the person in charge, and when you saw him, he demanded that he offer you a job. Lucky for you, the owner happened to be there that day. He observed the little moment you had when you stormed in..well, he observed the way your tits bounced in your low-cut tee and immediately pulled you into his office.

He had the thought that you would make him a lot of money if you worked for him, and he’s sure his business partner would agree if she saw you. He just had to make sure.

A figure appeared in the corner, striking up from the edge of his desk and making a slight sniffling noise. A girl, a beautiful one with distinct Asian features. Her leather skirt was short, only barely covering past 2 inches of her thigh. Her tits were pushed up to a necklace in a black corset-like top. An ornamental gold necklace.. with the letter M.

Wait. Is that-

That’s where it dawned on you why the name of this club sounded so familiar. On a random Tuesday afternoon, you find yourself standing in front of a celebrity. You were standing in front of Mikasa Ackerman. The Mikasa Ackerman. As in, owner of Mirror Palais, the highest-paid model in Japan, co-owner of one of the best clubs in New York, Mikasa Ackerman. Oh shit.

You remember seeing her on an Instagram reel in front of this very club, along with the other owner. The other owner, his name was.. what was it again? He swivels you around to face him, almost as if he hears your thoughts,

“Eren Yeager, sweetheart.”

A soft handshake accompanied by a gentle tone. He was quick to introduce you to the beautiful eyes that stayed fixed on your face since you walked into the dimly lit room. Eren guides you towards the brown leather couch where his friend is sitting,

“And, this is the lovely Mikasa. I’m sure you sure you know who she is.”

Feeling intimidated by her intense gaze, you nodded quickly and stumbled a bit when introducing yourself. Her following words didn’t calm your nerves anyhow,

“A real pleasure meeting you, beautiful.”

Eren could tell that Mikasa already liked you; the girl was practically fucking you with her eyes. But he wasn’t here for that; he cleared his throat to draw attention to him in the room. He had a goal in mind: to get you signed up. Eren wanted you dancing in his club today.

He sits you down and swiftly gets into business mode.

‘What kind of position are you looking for?’

‘What’s the minimum salary you want to earn here?’

He tries to get a sense of what you’re looking for before proposing to work as a stripper. Although he wants you to, he can compromise. Server position and the minimum salary you asked for was $65,000.

“And I’m not leaving til I get that or something better.”

Well, you wanted better, right? Eren explains to you that his club didn’t have any more waitress positions and Mikasa...

Well, that day, you found out that she was really good with words. She did a great job at convincing you that you’d make double the amount you asked for moving your perfect body on the pole. I mean...

“Look at that body of yours. You’d be pretty famous here, sweetheart.”

And shit, she was right. You really couldn’t blame the girls who never wanted to leave, simply too addicted to the drugs, to the fast life, especially to the money. The amount of money you made every night was simply insurmountable. And you found it funny because it wasn’t just the money. Really, it wasn’t.

The sensation that occurs when your lower body rotates on the pole. The art of dancing like this ignited such a passion from you. The attention, from the men and the women. One of the most popular clubs in the city had you as a crowd favorite. You knew it shouldn’t be something you liked; you never wanted to get too wrapped up in a life like this. But shit, it was sensational.

You didn’t let it slip, even though you shined on the stage. There are people who would take advantage of you even more if they knew you actually enjoyed what you do; you know this. When it was time to go, you left with no hesitation. You had to remind yourself of what you were here for, to provide and care for yourself until you find a better job.

And you stuck to that goal for a solid five months; nothing deterred you. Of course, that’s what you’re thinking. In reality, from the very first moment Eren had you on that pole, you found yourself coming back for one reason. Even if you weren’t subconsciously aware of it, him.

Connie, you heard the owner greet one day. He was definitely attractive. There was something about him, something about how he threw money at you and only you. Your body shivered without fail due to the gray eyes that watched your every move. The way he man spreads and tilts his head back when taking a hit, revealing neck tattoos that you know cover his stomach under that black Nike Tech hoodie. He was so fucking fine.

Only a few men can pull off a buzz cut. How does he do it so effortlessly? Maybe it was the color? How would he change it like it was nothing every two weeks?

You noticed he had a thin mustache, and when you got closer to his face.. Fuck. Was that a diamond nose ring?

He was a drug dealer. You caught that three months ago. Around that point, he began asking for you to exclusively serve his section. Eren had no problem with that; after all, this was his friend. But Connie started getting.. greedy. He wanted more than that. He started getting bold. He wanted your body on that twirling solely for him.

“Hell no.”

Eren filled the quiet section. Your body was followed by both green and gray eyes as you moved on the stage, with Connie’s eyes being more intense and focused compared to the other. The thriving club was filled with both of them enjoying a glass of Richard Hennessy Cognac in the VIP area.

Connie never had a good relationship with mixing Henny and weed. He was aware of that. He has a tendency to indulge in sinful thoughts. He didn’t let that stop him from rolling the blunt anyway.

His mind would get drawn towards dangerous places, mainly when he saw you. The way your thong disappeared between your cheeks under your lacey two-piece made him ready to fuck you right there. To show those perverted and prickly eyes that stuck like glue onto you that they could never have you. That you were his. Or, you will be.

Connie hasn’t even fucked you yet. Hasn’t gone anywhere near the sticky wetness he knows you have in between your legs.

You two indulge in what you could only describe as subtle grinding in the back rooms. All the dancing that you’re supposed to be doing on the pole, you’re doing on his lap instead. It was against the rules; you especially knew this. That didn’t stop either of you. Well, more so Connie than you.

At first, his best friend was against it. The customers you brought in were earning him at least $100k a night. While his other show girls were beautiful, you radiated a different type of aura onto the stage. You were something different. It was genuinely insane how you could move, you didn’t even have prior training. You found that every night, you got better than the previous; it was a natural talent.

Connie, being Connie, offered Eren twice that amount for every night he gets to spend with you alone. That was every night you were on the clock, besides, he had no problem making that back by the next day. When it came to his girl, there was never a problem for him.

And Connie never regretted the amount he spent on you. Being alone with you was something he had grown to crave incessantly. To him? It was worth it. He’d get so excited to just walk into the back room and find you waiting for him. All pretty, just tempting him to ruin you. Then, when you start performing in front of him, your body moves in a way that would hypnotize the stoic man.

And it wasn’t just your body to Connie. There was a certain allure to you. He was observant of the way you moved, spoke, and behaved. He understood that someone like you doesn’t come by every day. He just had to have you, own you. Your body, your fucking soul, everything you possessed, he wanted it for himself. He didn’t care if it sounded selfish; he’s okay with being that when it comes to you.

It’s reasonable to assume that he would have the final say on what you wear for him since he was the only person you would dance for, right? That was the route he took to get your number. That’s the reason you got a text from him while you were getting ready to shower for your night shift.

One of his friends- Was he talking about Mikasa?

You could have given it more thought, but your shift was only an hour away, and Connie was on his way. Using a small gray towel, you drape it onto the fat of your wet boobs. Your hands lather your Shea Butter oil on the top of your left thigh quickly, but you stop when your doorbell rings.

“Coming!”

You yelp, quickly slip on your slippers, and move toward the door. The man had always taken you home, and on the other side of the coin, he always took you to work. You didn��t bother asking how he knew your address the first time, afraid that it would spark an answer you’re not ready to hear. Occasionally, if you were too intoxicated to carry yourself to your apartment, he would act as your knight in shining armor and hold you in bridal fashion to your door without saying a word.

It should have been simple enough: he goes in and gets out. And it would have been that simple if he hadn’t seen your pink lacy thong loosely hanging off your door knob. He was simply a man, one who desired to feel every part of you. The tip of that thong was hanging out of his pockets when Connie left your apartment that night.

Swinging your door open makes you almost breathless. Connie was a tall person. Everything about him just screamed: big. He was easily over 6 feet 2 inches tall, and he came to your door carrying a medium-sized shopping bag. You step back, observing as he comes in right after taking his slides off by your door.

“You’re here early, Con. I’m not ready yet.” You whisper, still a little perplexed he’s already here. Despite the amount of money you know he has, you rarely ever see him in anything other than a white tee and black sweats. Today was no different. Minor differences in each pair made it clear that they were different every time. You suppose it had something to do with his dangerous line of work.

He hands you the cream-colored bag, and his eyes never leave your lips all the while. You suddenly became very conscious that you were breathing the same air as Connie, who appeared right in front of you. He leans in, the ghost of his lips felt against your collarbone,

“You smell good,” His tatted hands sneakily climbed their way onto your wide hips. Before muttering a curse under his breath, he squeezes once. For the first time since meeting you, Connie isn’t being truthful. He didn’t come to your apartment to take you to your job. Tonight, he had different intentions.

He came tonight to put a full stop to the cat-and-mouse game that you guys have been playing for the past five months. Two fully packed blunts and three shots of Don Julio convinced him that his attraction towards you was not going away.

He should’ve realized it when he started making a habit of watching over you outside of the strip club. She needs someone to protect her, he thinks. You don’t pay attention to your surroundings. You have no idea, don’t you? Your beauty could easily lead to someone from the club becoming obsessed and following you. Anyone who wasn’t him.

He also should’ve realized it when he started beating his dick into overstimulation to your pictures on Instagram. And after your shift. Of course, before your shift. Eren witnessed him having to excuse himself during your shift because his dick was painfully throbbing against his boxers.

Connie really liked you. And somewhere in that twisted mind of his, he believed that you two were truly meant for each other. He should’ve never waited this long, “Put this on, ma.”

He pushes the bag towards your chest and moves your hips in the direction of your room. Your thighs twitch as you hum and make a little run to the end of your hall. He follows after you slowly, eyes shifting to the way your ass peaks out from under the towel.

This scene feels oddly familiar. A predator stalking its prey, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. You didn’t know what Connie came here to do; in your mind, you were just getting ready for work. He almost felt sorry for you, almost felt sorry for how he was going to ruin you, almost.

He made sure to take his time approaching your door so that you could be ready and prepared for him when he arrived. And you didn’t disappoint. In front of your vanity makeup mirror, you were sat on the cushion chair. Applying what looked like oil from a flower bottle onto your neck.

You look better in the dress than he expected. Your fat tits sitting so perfectly, and the lace meshing with your skin. You pretended to ignore him behind your seat, starting to feel the weight of his presence around you. This was probably the thinnest item you had ever owned, yet his hands pressing on your shoulders made your skin feel like it was on hot volcanic soil.

You catch his eye in the mirror, and despite your flustered state, he doesn’t grant you the satisfaction of looking away. Not even while his hands lower down to your rib cage, right under your plush boobs. Especially not even while his giant palms wrap around the fabric covering your nipple in a tight grip.

You gasp, a moan bottling in your throat, “C-Con!”

It could have been the way you uttered his name or the way your head pressed against his chest. Regardless, Connie lost control and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, beginning to sprinkle small, wet kisses. He grips harder, and you... you get louder.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Your flesh is now exposed to his hands as they slip into the dress. “Skin so soft,” He kneads his hands into your chest, squeezing as if he’s hoping milk will pour out of them. He groans, “God, you’re so perfect mama.” The thought of that makes a shiver run down his body.

Poor Mikasa, she spent all night working on that dress once she heard it was for you. Connie didn’t even let it last for a good ten minutes before you heard a faint rip sound in the midst of your whimpers.

Your brain is struggling to keep up with the speed of everything happening. You attempt to tilt your head back, but he shuts it down right away. “Eyes on the mirror.” He moves one hand to your throat, keeping you still. You feel your body shake under his hold, twitching slightly from his small attack. You didn’t have the courage to look away, not even as far as you could.

“I’ve been so patient.” Squeezing your left nipple, he drops his fingers down the ripped material until they reach the top of your pussy lips. “Cumming to the thought of your pretty face like a fucking teenager,” His words bring a mewl to your lips. Your body starts sweating, nervous at the way his fingers are just rubbing circles around your skin.

Would he pull away if your hips jerked against his hand? You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t. You’ve never allowed yourself to feel this desperate for anyone, but being around Connie left you like this. You were at a loss for what to do. Your thoughts were racing to find something, anything, that would bring him closer to you.

It’s unclear what motivated him to answer your prayers. But in the next moment, he pushed his middle finger into the center of where your slick was overflowing onto the cushion. He creates slight tap sounds with the puddle between your fat lips, playing with you.

Your eyes close for just a second and burst wide open when you feel a sudden intrusion in your sticky hole. “A-Ah!” A sob leaves your lips, your eyes falling back to your face in the mirror when you register his next words,

“Eyes on the mirror, mama. I haven’t done anything to you yet,” As Connie slowly moves his fingers into and out of your dripping core, his eyes struggle to keep track of your face in the mirror or the stain you’re beginning to make on his digits.

He settles with the stain you’re creating. He’s massaging your walls in a way that you can’t help but cover them in a creamy white. It’s impossible not to moan with shaky breaths, whispering his name. He figures the wait was worth it. His dreams couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing. It was more noisy, was more sticky, and it was.. real.

What do you taste like?

Your hips shake as he suddenly removes his fingers from you. You whimper, annoyed by the absence of the touch of fingers on your wet walls, but you stop yourself when you see his movements in the mirror. His mouth wraps around his middle and ring finger, sucking your juices to the fullest. Your breathing stops when he moans, “You taste so fucking good.”

Connie silently pulls you up from your seat and presses you against the nearest wall, causing the ripped dress to fall to the floor. Instantly, your back arched into the prominent bulge that was pressing on your bare ass. Your thoughts wander back to your last session with Connie in the backroom. All that desperate grinding.

“You were squeezing so tight around my fingers,” He pushes his sweat down to remove his throbbing hard dick with a little effort. “Y’gonna squeeze my dick like that next?”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

You jump every time the base of his cock slaps down on your ass. Both of his hands grip your sides, his eyes rolling back as he slides his dick back and forth in between your leaking pussy lips.

“Oh f-fuck! Connie,”

Your voice cracks when you call out for him, and he smiles. He cannot deny that this is the perfect thing; it was always meant to be like this. He spreads your cheeks as wide as he can, lining his tip up to your hole that’s clenching around nothing.

“Yeah, b-baby?” Fuck, you were so wet. “Want me to fuck you? Want- Oh fuck. Want Connie to make you scream?”

Your lips tremble, and you try to slide his dick inside you by pushing your hips back. He lets you, too weak himself, to stop you from taking what you wanted. All you can think right now is Connie, Connie, fucking Connie.

“Shittt. Want y-y’to to make me cum! P-please!”

Pushing him even further inside without his help proves to him that you truly want him to make you scream. You’re barely making it halfway with his thick and long build. Connie is incredibly proud of you right now, taking his dick like a desperate bitch and moaning to fuck the rest of his inches in.

He pulls a little of himself out of you, only to flush his hips abruptly against yours with one single push. Groaning at the same time you gasp out, he whispers in your ear, “Scream for daddy, mama.”

You were so full. His cock tip was touching places that you’ve never been to on your own before, causing your mind to go haywire. His pressure against your cervix was so intense it would have been painful if you weren’t so wet. You oblige almost embarrassingly quickly the moment you feel his dick drag at a steady pace inside of you.

Connie regrets not having done this sooner, as the drugs he took earlier are still mixing in his system, alternating and speeding up his thoughts. His body was ablaze. You’re covering the entire length of his dick with your juices, causing him to become frantic and desperate to get more out of you. His thrusts match his crave. You were warm, and your cries were heaven to his ears, “Big! Y’re so b-big, daddy!”

You’re not complaining, far from it, as he tears your pussy to shreds. In fact, you’re taking him so well, and he praises you for it. Like he said, you were made for this moment, for him. You’re such a,

“Good girl. Fuck! My g-good girl takes me so well,”

He can hear your slick drip on the floor below you despite the smacking sound in your room. You’re so needy for him, as he is for you. The walls echoed with your wailing sounds as you fucked him back, making Connie shudder.

He’s gonna cum. He can feel his balls churning as they slap repeatedly against your twitching clit. Fuck. He’s gonna cum so deep inside you he prays it reaches your womb. Although it’s his first time exploring the depths of your perfect cunt, he recognizes that you’re also going to cum.

He can tell by the way your legs are shaking rapidly, by the way, your moans get higher in pitch, by the way, you’re whispering his name out like a prayer. And he’s determined to make you cum before him. Do you squirt? Do you cream? He thinks he’ll die and go to heaven if it’s both. Your next plea erupts another groan to tumble out his mouth,

“M’gonna- M’gonna cum! O-oh fuck- M’gonna cum so h-hard.”

Holding your arms behind your back with his tatted hand, he moves his hips inside you at a faster pace than ever before. “Shit. Me t-too, mama.” He angles his waist to keep pressing into that spongy spot that makes you tremble. “Just like that. Cum, baby. C-cum all over this fat dick.”

Small tears start to fall down your brown cheeks, and your back arches sharply on Connie, causing your stomach to clench at once. The man above you receives both your cream and squirt splashing from your sweet core, and you weep. Your muffled moans fill the air as he cranes your neck towards him for a nasty, drooling kiss.

As he gets closer to his orgasm, his rapid thrusts become sloppy and crazed, and his heart beats twice as fast as he sees the beauty fucked out underneath him. The more Connie moved inside of you, the more he swayed. Your essence was covering his lower half so much that he couldn’t wait another minute before dumping his kids against your cervix, a shaky moan accompanying his release.

His thrusts slow down, causing tiny drops to spill onto the floor, but his lips never leave yours, and he has to remind himself to let you breathe when you start to whine against his mouth. He lets you go and instead presses tiny kisses against your panting mouth.

Both of you, Connie in particular, were on cloud nine. Your clenching onto him brings Connie’s mind back to Earth, but he is not satisfied. He wanted to go again. He needed it, so it was only natural he started moving at a steadfast pace inside you again.

“Again. Let’s go a-again, mama. Shitt. Your pussy is so-”

Before that night, you’ve never experienced pleasure on this level. Connie took you, on every corner of the house. Both of you left unaware of Eren’s multiple missed calls as he fucked his cum into you like a dog in heat. It’s safe to say that you didn’t show up for work that night or the night after. Connie made sure you never danced at a strip club again.

@hatake05 @thickbihhwitdagapp 🫶🏾

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rileyslibrary · 11 months

Text

Penny for your thoughts

Synopsis: You’ve recently been transferred to a UK base and struggle with British currency. Your lieutenant is mortified—and rightfully so.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,286 (approx. 5-6 mins reading time)

Notes:

I thought it was funny when I wrote it, okay? It’s a crackfic. There’s some teasing and playful banter in there, but I can’t label it as fluff.

Warnings: Profanity. Lots of it.

More A/N at the end.

———————————————————————

You’ve been trying to escape the lieutenant’s grip for the past two hours.

The upcoming mission requires close combat skills, he said. You’ll need to infiltrate a facility with minimum weapons and immobilise—but not kill—the targets for interrogation.

You admitted to him that you hadn’t practised in a long time and your combat skills were a little rusty. But Ghost assured you this wouldn’t be a problem and offered a refresher course in ground fighting and submission techniques.

You never imagined this would be an issue when you agreed to it. On the contrary, your lieutenant was an expert in combat, and training with him could be considered a masterclass.

Looking at it now, with your cheek pressed against the floor and your body twisted like a nautical knot, you wish you could take it back.

The mats have become your second skin. Ghost relentlessly pins you to the ground and immobilises your limbs while explaining the mechanics behind each hold. Sometimes you wonder why he gets into so much detail since you can’t hear shit and are practically knocked out.

Yet, he doesn’t give up on you. He advises you to feel the weight shift, urging you to exploit the slightest openings, encouraging you to break free. Whenever he sees you’re struggling or senses you’re uncertain, he taps your hand or leg, giving you clues to help you.

He immobilises you once more, but he pats your back this time.

“Alright,” he says, standing up, “that’s enough for today.”

He walks to the bench, picks up his towel, and pats his neck. You roll on your back and spread your arms.

“I feel like a pretzel.” You whisper.

“Yup,” he confirms, “that’s Jiu-Jitsu for ya.”

Drenched in sweat, you push yourself off the ground and slowly walk to your bag. You extract your towel and begin rummaging through your wallet to find spare coins for a water bottle. You manage to find one pound, but unfortunately, you fall short.

“Lt.?” You call out.

He turns halfway to give you his attention while tugging the velcro straps from his gloves.

“Do you have fifty pennises?”

He stops midway and lets go of the velcro strap. It can wait. His eyes have formed two thin lines, and his eyebrows almost touch each other.

“Do I have fifty what, soldier?”

“I need fifty pennises.” You reply, this time louder, “Do you have fifty pennises?”

His eyes have changed. They’re not squinting anymore. They are bulging. He frantically looks left and right, bringing his index finger to his mouth.

“Shhhh!” He whispers and runs towards you, waving his other hand in front of your face. “Shut your mouth!”

He closes the distance between you and looks behind him.

“What is wrong with you?” He whispers.

You raise your eyebrows and blink rapidly.

“No,” you reply, “what is wrong with you?”

He lets out a sigh and looks at his surroundings once again. He scratches the side of his chin and clasps his hands in prayer.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” he requests more calmly this time, almost begging you, “Make a sentence out of it.”

“I’m thirsty.” You explain.

“Obviously.”

He’s starting to get on your nerves. You open your palm and raise it to his eye level.

“Look,” you order and point at the coin, “I have one pound.”

“I can see that.” He replies and puts his hand on yours, pushing it down so he can look at you.

“The vending machine needs one pound and a half.”

“Say it.” He commands and swallows hard, “The vending machine needs one pound and fifty...”

You clench your jaw and look at him dead in the eyes.

“Pennises.”

He lets out a snort and clasps his hand at the bridge of his nose. He turns his back to you and takes a few steps away. His shoulders move up and down.

“Ah, soldier,” he replies, still looking the other way. “that’s a lot of pennises.”

You run a hand through your hair and sigh.

“I know my pronunciation is probably wrong,” you state and shut your eyes, “but I need them.”

“Don’t say that,” he says between gasps, “you don’t need that many.”

With your eyes still closed, you start babbling about how wrong he is and how you wish you had a million of them so you could escape this hellhole and retire on an island. He squats to the ground and covers his masked face with his hands.

He sounds like he’s whimpering. You might have assumed he was sobbing if you hadn’t known the cause of his stance. But you knew why he was half crying, half laughing. It sounded hideous. It was hideous. You just can’t remember the word.

What’s it called, what’s it called...

You open your eyes. Ghost is walking towards you, wiping away tears from his eyes. He retrieves a fist of coins from his pocket and, muttering something under his breath, chooses two. He pinches a silver hexagonal-shaped coin with his fingers and shows it to you.

“This,” he says, “is fifty pence, or 50p.”

“Pence or p.” You repeat.

“That’s right.” He confirms and pinches a smaller coin with his other hand. “Now, this little one is a penny. Fifty of these are called fifty pennies.”

“Pennies,” you echo and slap your thighs, “See? Was it that hard to explain?”

“Oh yes,” he replies and nods slowly, “yes, it was that fucking hard.”

You lift your palm. “Can I have the big one?” You ask.

“Say it first.” He commands you.

You roll your eyes. “Can I have the 50p, Lt.?”

“Of course, you may have the 50p.” He says and places the coin in your hand, “What you absolutely may not have is fifty….” He stops and lets a repressed chuckle out.

You press your lips together and bite your cheek to not respond to his teasing. But you can’t.

“…pennises, I presume?” You sneer.

“Yeah, no.” He says and vigorously shakes his head, “You don’t want that.”

You wince and rub the back of your neck. Ghost tries to comfort you, telling you it’s ok and you shouldn’t feel bad, but he doesn’t believe it himself. He’s smiling beneath that mask; you can tell by how the grimace alters his voice. You thank him for the coin and walk to the vending machine.

“Soldier,” he calls out, “how many times have you said that word since you came to the UK?”

You tilt your head and try to recall.

“I can’t remember.” You conclude.

“You can’t remember if you ever said it, or there were so many occasions that you can’t count them?” He asks with a trembling voice.

“No, Lt.,” you reply, defeated, “I don’t remember asking another person for that.”

He looks relieved. He lets out a long exhale and rubs his masked face with his palms.

“I never thought I’d ever say this,” he says, “but I’m glad I was the first one.”

———————————————————————

A/N: I wrote this in March, along with this story (yes, they’re very similar). Although I liked the idea and thought it was funny, I initially discarded it because it felt stupid, and chose to post the other one (not like the other one is pure genius). It remains as such, but as I said, it’s a crackfic. I’m not researching how to improve human welfare.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost cod #ghost cod mw2 #cod ghost #ghost cod mwii #ghost call of duty

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simpforboys · 8 months

Text

what you need

rafe cameron x f!kook!reader, slight jj maybank x f!kook!reader

summary: when Rafe hears about your desire for JJ, he quickly steps in to remind you of what you actually need.

warnings: smut!! dirty talk, possessiveness, mostly canon!rafe, swearing, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie, fluff, drug/alcohol use, degradation, terms (slut, whore, bitch, etc), breeding kink, kinda cnc (?)

based on what you need by abel tesfaye (the weeknd)

not proof read!! (as always) <3

it fucking killed Rafe that you slowly stopped answering his messages.

it fucking killed Rafe that you slowly began to hang out more with JJ Maybank.

and it fucking killed Rafe when he found out you fucked JJ Maybank.

twice.

Rafe hadn’t seen you for a few months. while the two of you had an on and off fling, everyone in Kildare knew you were Rafe’s.

no one dared to question the Kook Prince, especially since the rumors of his decreasing sanity went around.

Rafe was with Barry, the strong scent of marijuana and beer in Barry’s little trailer.

Rafe set up a line with his credit card, snorting the powdery white substance. he leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes slightly as the intense drug coerced through his pumping veins.

“dude, did you hear that Y/n fucked Maybank?” Barry asked suddenly, lighting a cigarette after he snorted his own line of cocaine.

Rafe’s already wide pupils grew wider. the veins in his neck began to bulge as he clenched his jaw.

the reason why it fucking pained Rafe to hear you fucked JJ was because the whole time you two had your fling, you would constantly tease him.

whether you two were on your sofa, your hips moving against his quickly as you chased your orgasm over his clothed cock.

and as soon as you would cum in your panties, you would leave him dry. every. fucking. time.

no matter how badly Rafe wanted to feel your pussy, you held off on him.

and to find out that a worthless fucking pogue got to your pussy before he did? oh, he wished he didn’t see JJ or else he might’ve killed the dude.

Rafe didn’t respond to Barry’s words. all the kook did was light a cigarette, letting it lay low on his lips as he collected his shit. with the keys to his car, and suddenly feeling as sober as ever, Rafe drove out of Barry’s driveway.

you lived a couple blocks away from Rafe on Figure 8. he knew your address like the back of his hand, so when he pulled onto your street he parked his truck on the curb before walking to your front door.

you opened the door, surprised to see Rafe standing there. he had a backwards hat on, a navy blue polo shirt, and tan cargo shorts on.

his baby blue eyes were dark and clouded, the white around his pupils now bright red from the drugs.

“the hell are you doing here? you smell awful.” you asked him, your eyebrows furrowed.

Rafe’s eyes raked down your figure. wearing a lace silk pj set, your breasts peeked over the top as it hung low on your chest.

Rafe paid your question no mind as he walked inside your house. “Rafe-“

“is anyone home?” Rafe asked, still staring out onto your backporch that overlooked the ocean.

“no, what the fuck do you want?” you asked, watching his tall body approach yours. in one swift motion, he captured your lips in his.

he pressed your back against the door, his fingers locking the knobs. his hand moved to your hip, pressing your body to his.

the taste of liquor melted on your tongue as you kissed him back, your core throbbing from the sudden action.

he quickly walked you backwards until you landed onto your plush white couch. your head rested against the patterned pillow as Rafe hovered over you, his hand running down your thigh.

“you gonna be a good girl f’me?” he asked against your lips, moving to kiss and nip down your neck. his eyes practically bulged out of its sockets when he saw a hickey directly on your breast.

a small growl escaped his mouth as you whined with need. you felt his tongue trace the bruised skin, before sucking the flesh into his mouth.

“fucking answer me, Y/n.”

“yes- Rafe, i’ll be a good girl.”

you sighed out as Rafe slid your shirt up, revealing your breasts. his eyes seemed to enlarge at the sight, before he swiftly sucked your left nipple into his mouth.

“tell me what that nasty ass pogue did to you, Y/n. where’d he touch you?” Rafe asks, his voice in a rasp and deeper than normally.

he was so pissed, and his questions made you buck your hips against his abs. “Rafe, is that what this is ab-“

“you’re gonna answer all my fucking questions and behave, understood?” he asked roughly, grabbing your jaw as he forced you to stare at him in the eyes.

what you saw wasn’t the man you were used to, but instead an animal coming to claim his territory. and the idea fucking turned you on.

“he- he sucked my tits…” you trailed off, letting out a small sigh as you felt Rafe’s mouth latch onto your nipple once more.

like he needed to be better than JJ, needed to show you what it’s like to fuck a real man.

“and he…” your face felt warm as you admitted all of this information to Rafe. but his lips felt chilly against your hot skin, and it was driving you insane.

“did he touch you here, Y/n?” Rafe asked suddenly. his fingers danced over your clothed pussy, making you jolt in response.

you nodded at his question.

“he ate me out,” you shyly admitted.

Rafe hummed in response, tugging your shorts down onto the wood floor. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling your body til your pussy was on full display for him.

he spread your legs wide, the cool air hitting your soaked pussy. your clit twitched from the temperature, and the fact that Rafe Cameron was staring at your vagina like it was his last meal before death row.

“yeah? that little fucking pogue touched my pussy?” Rafe asked, kissing and nipping your inner thighs. his knees rested on the rug as he leaned forward into your cunt.

“‘m sorry,” you breathed out. your legs twitched when you felt his hot breath ghost over your clit.

your back arched slightly when finally began his attack on your cunt. he circled his tongue skillfully along your clit, his two fingers going up to collect your juices.

“oh my god, Rafe,” you whimpered. your hands gripped your tits, massaging your nipples.

as Rafe entered his fingers into your cunt, he left a kiss on your clit. “fuck, Y/n. does the pogue have a tiny dick? you’re so fucking tight.”

you couldn’t respond as Rafe’s fingers quickly found the spongey spot inside your walls. your legs began to shake with ecstasy and Rafe’s naughty words weren’t helping.

it was like he studied your body like a map, knowing all the little tricks to get you closer to your orgasm.

so when Rafe began to suck on your clit, he sent small hums from his throat. the action caused it to send vibrations up to your clit, making you almost scream out.

“fuck, just like that.” you told the man, your eyes fluttering shut as a knot formed tightly into your stomach.

you tried to delay your orgasm, knowing that coming within the first three minutes would be embarrassing.

but to Rafe, it made his cock throb with need as he fought to get you to cum on his tongue.

he sped up his fingers, sucking harshly on your clit until he felt your walls contract against his fingers.

you moaned out as you came, your legs shaking as you gripped onto the pillow behind your head.

Rafe gave another kiss to your clit, working on his own shorts. he unbuttoned them and quickly pulled the zipper down, revealing his big cock.

roughly eight inches, with a prominent vein running from the base to his pink tip. pre cum oozed out of the tip, as he used the juices from your cunt to work his hand up and down his cock.

“look at me.” Rafe commanded, making you to leave your euphoric state. your eyes went wide when you saw his dick, standing proudly at you.

“holy shit…” you whispered to yourself, placing your hand on his cock. you felt it twitch against your touch.

“you gonna be a good fucking slut and take it all?” he asked rhetorically, knowing that either way you would take it.

“Rafe i need you.” you said quietly, wanting his large cock inside of you. he was bigger than JJ, but JJ had a slightly bigger girth.

“what was that?” he hummed, using his tip to slap against your clit as he teased you.

“i fucking need you, Rafe.” you admitted out loudly, desperate to finally feel him inside of you.

“don’t you ever fucking forget that, got it?” Rafe said darkly, sliding his member into your cunt.

you let out a small squeal from his sudden roughness. both of you moaned as your walls worked to fit around his massive cock.

as Rafe began to piston his hips, sliding his dick balls deep and pulling out to just the tip, your mind began to grow hazy from the feeling.

it was like your pussy was made for him, Rafe kept telling himself.

“you like that dick, baby? taking it so well… did Maybank fuck you like this? hmm?” Rafe speaks, mostly searching for your validation.

you nod, although you’re barely listening. his cock is hitting your cervix and driving against your g-spot as he pushes in and out of you quickly.

“you’re gonna be a fucking whore for the pogues, gotta show you how a real man fucks.” Rafe murmurs, holding your body tightly so if you made any effort to escape he could stop you.

“Rafe- ‘s too much,” you pant.

“i thought you said you were gonna be a good girl?” he taunted you, his eyes deep with lust as he held the back of your head and neck, forcing you to stare at him as he fucked you.

you didn’t respond to his comment, pure pleasure consuming your body. it felt like he was folding you like a pretzel, your body spread wide and open for him to take you any way he pleased.

and you didn’t seem to mind, not when he can dick you down this good.

“been everyone’s slut but mine, yeah? how’d the town feel knowing that you’re fucking ran through, and didn’t even let me get a piece.”

Rafe was now speaking to himself, but the fact that he was degrading you and making you his bitch almost made you cum.

“this pussy is fucking mine, Y/n. say it.”

“my pussy is yours.” you squeaked out, only half listening to his words as he marked you.

“louder.” he demanded you, slapping your cheek slightly to get you to focus.

“my pussy is yours, Rafe! fuck!” you shouted, clenching your walls against his cock.

the devilish grin that formed on his face was enough to almost send you over the edge, like almost tripping over a mountain edge.

and as your body jolted in his hands, he continued to grunt quietly until soft whimpers escaped his mouth.

the noises barely danced off the tip of his tongue, but fuck, it was like music to your ears. Rafe fucking Cameron, whimpering for you.

“you wanna cum, baby?” he cooed at you, taking his thumb and rubbing circles on your clit.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the action, your pussy clenching once again.

“please,” you begged.

“tell me how badly you need it. how badly you need me.”

“Rafe i need to cum so fucking bad. i need you to let me cum- i fucking need you, Rafe.”

your words were coming off broken as you pleaded, taking every fiber of your body to not orgasm right there.

“cum on this dick, Y/n.” Rafe demanded, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm.

the way you entire body convulsed caused Rafe’s dick to twitch inside your cunt, making him so fucking close.

your cunt was perfect and he couldn’t imagine fucking anyone else after you.

“you want me to cum in this fucking cunt? show everyone that you’re my little pregnant whore?” he coos, his smirk still on his face as he bit his lip at the idea.

“i wanna be your pregnant little whore, Rafe.” you responded, catching him off guard. you felt the way he twitched once more.

“fuck, you’re gonna look so hot carrying my baby. mark you as mine so this whole fucking town knows not to go near you.” Rafe says, sucking on your tit as he cums.

his seed shoots inside of you, coating your walls with his kids. you ran your hand through his hair, his hat thrown somewhere off to the side. you both panted against each other, trying to find your breath from the pure ecstasy.

Rafe hugs your body close to his, coming up to rest against the couch. you curl into his arms, tiredness erupting over your body as you yawn.

within minutes, you were passed out on his chest as he pulls a blanket over the two of you.

“i love you, Y/n.” Rafe whispers against your temple, pressing a small, tender kiss to the skin.

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starrystevie · 7 months

Text

18+ | explicit sex & smoking | read here on ao3

it's 1996 when steve's world gets turned upside down again.

or, well, technically it's a few minutes into '97 when everything changes. he's at a new years party that his ex timothy is hosting and everyone is still hooting and hollering as they ring it in, pressing sloppy kisses to cheeks and lips with arms hooked around necks.

steve doesn't get kissed. not because people aren't eyeing him with a smirk and mischief and open arms of their own. no, he doesn't let himself get kissed because something feels... off about the night. the energy is weird, buzzing through his skin like electricity, keeping him on edge in a way he hasn't been since he left hawkins for boston in the fist place.

it isn't long until he figures out why.

timmy is walking up to him with his hands on some guy's shoulders, pushing him backwards with a wide smile like he's trying to convince him of something. the guy is about his height, short cropped dark hair and a leather jacket, the sight of his back alone getting steve excited. timmy always did know his type to a t.

"hey!" timmy yells over the music as he catches steve's eye. "got someone for you to meet."

once the guy turns around, the smiles on both steve and the mystery guy's faces fall before their minds catch up with them and plaster them back together. even with the short cropped hair, even with the piercing in his eyebrow, even with the stubble spreading over his defined jaw, steve would know that face, that heartbeat, anywhere.

"steve, i wanted to introduce you to someone. jamie, this is steve, you know... the guy i was telling you about?"

timmy's trying to be helpful, not even attempting to be subtle as he pushes the two closer together with a wide grin. steve's going on autopilot, reaching out a hand to grab the one outstretched towards him, but his brain is going a million miles a minute.

"nice to meet you, steve," eddie, or... jamie, says, palm pressed tightly against his own.

steve can't say anything, focusing too much on the warmth on his palm and the way his deep voice shakes through him like thunder and the way he feels like he's 19 again with a stuttering heart.

"what are-" he starts.

eddie shakes his head and tugs on steve's hand. "not here. come on."

they end up in a secluded corner, close enough that steve can smell smoke and leather polish and the sharp bite of his cologne. close enough that he can see the lines starting to appear on the corners of eddie's eyes, the stray grey hairs popping up in his beard, the questions swirling behind his eyes.

"eddie."

"jamie," is all he says back, not even bothering to look away from steve's eyes. "it's jamie now."

they both sigh like they don't know where to start because they don't. steve grapples with all the questions in his mind before settling on one. the one that tore through him late at night. the one that stayed on the tip of his tongue anytime he heard a van backfire or metallica.

"where did you go?" he knows it sounds like an accusation because it is. he doesn't let himself feel bad when eddie (jamie) flinches.

"feds," he replies easily, sneaking a cigarette out of his pocket and putting it between his lips. he tilts his head back to light it away from steve's face, blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. "once i got better, they scooped me up and brought me to boston. new name, new hairstyle, new life. at least they let me choose my name so i didn't get stuck with some thing awful."

steve snorts. "so you ended up with 'jamie' how?"

"middle name's james. it just made sense." he says it with a shrug and puffs at his cigarette again.

they look at each other for a moment. steve watches his tongue flit out of his mouth to wet his lips, watches the overhead lights glint off the metal of a surprise tongue piercing, watches his throat swallow around nothing but spit.

he can see, feel, eddie doing the same. he hams it up, pulls his lip between his teeth and makes it a show, looks back up at eddie from under his lashes. takes in a deep breath when eddie inches closer to him until their hips are bumping and steve plucks the cigarette out of his lips for a puff of his own.

he's 19 again, in love or like or lust with a boy in a leather jacket that has the world against him. he's 19 again, working a hand over himself to thoughts of his crush who up and vanished without so much as a goodbye. he's 19 again, crying after he comes, wishing he could go back in time before he met curly hair and a battle vest.

"so how do you know tim?" eddie whispers like he has to be quiet even though the part is loud and no one could hear them if they tried.

"how do you know him?" steve asks back, blowing out smoke and putting the cigarette back between eddie's barely spread lips.

his eyes flick down to look at steve's still pursed lips from when he angled the smoke over his shoulder. "we used to fuck, once upon a time when i first got to boston."

steve hums like it's the answer he expected and maybe it is. "same here. dated for about a year."

eddies eyes grow wide and his hip bumps into steve's like it's a question in and of itself and maybe it is. "didn't know you swing that way, harrington."

"well, you don't really know anything about me then, do you? didn't back then either, munson."

his eyes goes even wider, something like fear and shame and comfort and hope swimming in them. "leonard. it's leonard now."

steve hums again, says 'jamie leonard' like he's feeling it out on his tongue. tasting it between his teeth. teaching his mouth how to form the words instead of what he really wants to say like 'eddie' or 'munson' or 'i'm still somehow in love with you no matter your name'.

"jamie leonard," he says again, breath hitting eddie's lips. he shivers when he sees his lips part a bit more like he wants to swallow the sound and air that steve gives him. "we have a lot to catch up on, don't we?"

steve's apartment isn't all that big, isn't exactly small either but it has everything he could possibly need. he has a living room that looks out over the harbor and a kitchen with all new appliances and eddie munson naked in his bedroom. you know, the essentials.

their clothes are all over the floor, eddie's motorcycle helmet flung somewhere in the vague direction of the armchair in the corner but the smack it makes when it hits the wall makes steve think there's probably a hole in the drywall.

but eddie's sucking on his cock, hands wrapped around his thighs as he takes him even deeper, eyes flicking up to meet steve's, beard scratchy as it rubs against his sensitive skin. he's never been blown by someone with a tongue piercing but he doesn't think he can ever go back now.

the last thing on his mind is wondering if there's a hole in the goddamn wall.

"oh fuck, yeah there you go. feels so goddamn good," steve breathes out as he feels the back of eddie's throat on his cockhead. he tangles a hand as best he can in his short dark hair to try and coax him even deeper. eddie hums at either the praise or the tug on his hair or the way it feels as he works his tongue over steve's cock and it makes him jolt unexpectedly.

if he could go back in time and tell his 19 year old self that eddie was alive, that he was okay and breathing and learning how to suck cock like a goddamn professional, he'd do it in a heartbeat. save himself a few years of pining and fly straight out to boston to see it for himself. he's sure robin would have preferred to not have to listen to his whining everyday about brown eyes and dark curls.

eddie brings a hand to cup his balls, finger teasingly pressing into steve's taint, bobbing his head eagerly like he wants him to come in his mouth, but steve has other plans. he tugs eddie off of his cock quickly, lines of thick spit falling between them and sticking to his chin before crowding him up against the pillows.

steve kisses like he's dying and eddie is survival. he kisses him like he is drowning and eddie is the shore that he's clawing his way towards. he kisses him like 19 year old steve could only dream about.

soon enough, steve's sliding into him with a groan that he lets eddie swallow from him. the headboard knocks heavily into the wall a few times making even more possible holes, but all steve can focus on is the heat around him, the way eddie's whines bounce off the walls of his too empty bedroom and cover him like a blanket.

he likes fucking this way. he likes being able to watch as someone's face contorts into pleasure, like to see eyes rolling back and mouths dropping open and sweat beading around their hairline. likes seeing eddie fall apart.

"steve, oh my god," eddie's voice is still deeper than he's used to as he moans so he angles his hips up more to hear it again, the low timbre snaking through his veins and leaving fire in its wake. "don't stop."

"i won't," he groans into eddie's open mouth. "wanted this for so long, for fucking 11 years, not giving you up yet."

it's a bit more open than steve normally is when he first fucks someone but this isn't just someone. this isn't fucking a stranger he picked up in a bar that had almost the right shade of brown eyes and patches on his jacket that are almost the right shape. this is eddie. his eddie. or well... jamie.

"fuck, i'm gonna date you so fucking hard, harrington. yeah, right there keep going, shit-"

he's babbling as steve works his hips faster, tangling their free hands together to press above their heads on a pillow, and it's everything steve could have asked for. hearing his name fall from the lips he's dreamed about for years, sharing the same air as they breath into one another.

he thought he was over it, thought he had moved on at least a little bit from a halfway stranger he knew in his teens, but with the way they're both looking straight into each other's eyes begging each other to see them, he thinks they might both be back in 1986.

"what do-" steve cuts himself off as he whimpers, close, so close to the finish line. "what do you want me to call you? is it jamie or-"

he's shaking his head on the pillow, leaning up to bite at steve's lips and pull it between his teeth. he looks serious and certain when he says, "no, that name's not for you, it's... i need-"

steve brings his hand down to work over his cock and revel in the way his eyes roll back until he can only see white. he hits something that makes his eyes fly back open and he gets to see his favorite shade of brown again.

"eddie," he whispers. leaning down quickly, steve presses a kiss to his ear before whispering his favorite name there too. "eddie, baby, come on. let me... come on, eddie."

it feels silly to be chanting a name of a ghost as intensely as he is. but he can see it crawl over eddie like it's bringing him back to life. like he isn't bones on the ground in an alternate dimension. like he isn't a plain headstone in a graveyard next to a forgotten trailer park. like he isn't playing pretend with a fake name and a fake life.

steve says eddie and it brings him home.

afterwards, they lay together in steve's probably too soft bed, tears drying on both of their cheeks as they catch up. as they tell each other secrets that their younger selves could never dare. as the piece together the lives they have and the lives they want to have and slot each other into the mix.

steve has a hand in eddie's hair, eddie has one trailing over steve's arm that's slung over his chest. he's always been a fan of cuddling after sex.

"y'know," eddie mutters, "tim's been trying to get me to meet his hot teacher friend for months now."

steve hums, presses a kiss to his temple. "and he's been trying to get me to meet his hot motorcycle tech for months, too."

there are a few holes in the walls from the headboard and eddie's helmet, but steve thinks that they can patch those up, too.

he's still jamie leonard to the outside world. he's still a guy who doesn't have much family other than a mysterious uncle in indiana and doesn't have many friends other than ex boyfriends. he still introduces himself with a handshake and says a fake name like it's real.

but when he gets home, when he crawls onto a couch that overlooks the harbor and has arms wrapped around him, he gets to be eddie munson once more. and with the ghost of a man in his arms, steve harrington feels more like himself than he ever thought he would.

#this was going to be something entirely different but i couldn't stop myself so.... here u go #steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie smut #unedited so pls ignore any typos teehee

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whytheylosttheirminds · 2 days

Text

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally.

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was.

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :)

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here.

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission.

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could.

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill.

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously.

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window.

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt.

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter.

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

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