#I had pink satin pants
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➳❥ 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Lloyd Hansen x innocent!Reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, dubcon, noncon, dark, minors dni, daddy kink, age gap - reader is early 20s, Lloyd is late 30s, coercion, dark Lloyd taking advantage of super innocent reader, like seriously reader is very innocent, corruption kink, babying, extreme dumbification, dd/lg undertones, mention of gun, use of gun in sexual context, choking, spitting, kidnapping, dacryphilia, loss of virginity, blood mention, killing mention, manipulation, gaslighting
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Lloyd promises to let you go, but he demands a depraved repayment. (In other words: Lloyd pops your cherry).
𝐀/𝐍: This is really fucking depraved. Please, please be warned.
“My dad’s gonna come for me!” You burst out tearfully, tiny fists clenching at your sides and nails digging into your palms, “H-He loves me! And… And I’m not scared of you!”
Lloyd yawns, “Honey, this whole heroic act was cute two days ago. But now you’re just boring me.”
“N-Not acting!” You lie, jutting your chin up and hoping he can’t see how your hands shake and lower lip wobbles. Your dad had always taught you to be brave in the face of evil. And the man sat in front of you, with his neatly trimmed moustache and perfectly styled hair; his elegant white pants and tight black turtleneck that showed off every ridge of muscle on his body…
This man was definitely the face of evil.
“As I said, boring.” Lloyd practically sing-songs, crossing one leg over the other, his blue eyes gazing at you from where you sit on the bed with the pink satin sheets. “Why don’t you try a different schtick, sunshine? Maybe be a bit bratty? Gimme a reason to rough you up a bit before I send the videos to your father?”
Brows knotting together in confusion, a pout forms on your lips, “What videos?”
Lloyd can’t help his gleeful smile, “You’ll see.”
He gets up from the gilded armchair that he usually sits on when he comes to ‘visit’ you, making his way over to the four-poster princess bed where you sit cross-legged. The whole room that he’s put you in is soft, pink hues with gold accents – admittedly the prettiest room you’ve ever lived in. You’re thankful Lloyd didn’t throw you into a dark, scary basement when he kidnapped you – but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to leave.
Dad’s gonna come for me, you assure yourself.
But right now, it’s just Lloyd (and the guards stationed outside your room). Your captor casually walks towards you, twirling his gun in his hand in a way that makes you cringe in fear. He smirks when you exhale sharply, your eyes widening when the brunet takes a seat next to you on the pretty satin sheets.
“Why, honey. You’re hurting my feelings – I thought you said you weren’t scared of me.”
You swallow harshly, “N-Not scared!”
“Then why are you shuffling away from me like a kicked puppy?” Lloyd licks his lips, suddenly grabbing your calf and dragging you over to him. He’s so much bigger than you, so much stronger too – with those muscles that bulge out of the tight shirts he wears. You squeal in pure fear as places you neatly on his lap, arms encircling around you.
“Shhh, baby. Just shut that pretty mouth up for me, okay? I need to tell you something.”
Immediately, you clamp your mouth shut, sitting rigid against him while he strokes your hair. You’d never tell him this – but he’s the scariest man you’ve ever met. In the two days that you’ve known him – from when he stole into your bedroom in the dead of the night and took you up until now – you’ve seen many different sides of him. He can go from soft to insane in two seconds flat, and you’ve even seen him kill people.
“M-My dad said we shouldn’t play with guns.” You can’t help but point out when you see Lloyd continuously twirling his loaded gun with his fingers. And he’s doing it so dangerously close to you, as if he doesn’t care at all if he accidentally hits the trigger.
Lloyd snorts, “That’s because your dad’s too busy playing with his tiny dick, sunshine.”
You gasp at his crassness, and the older man can’t help but laugh at the expression on your face.
“God, you’re a little airhead, aren’t you? Makes me almost sad about what I’m gonna say next.”
Ears perking up at his words, you shuffle around on his lap until you’re facing him, blinking up at him shyly and waiting for him to speak.
“I’ve decided I’m going to let you go.”
Elation fills your trusting heart, and you bounce up and down in his lap in excitement, not noticing the way he suppresses a growl and steadies you with his large hands on your hips. “Really? Oh, Mr. Hansen, thank you!”
“Yes, sunshine. Thank me indeed. Turns out your father’s useless, and by extension, that makes you useless. And do you know what I do with useless people, baby?”
Eyes wide as saucers, you shake your head.
“I kill them.”
You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the loaded gun in his hand, the one he so callously plays with all the time. Blood running cold, you gulp up at him, “B-B-But…”
“Shhh, baby.” He presses his finger against your lips. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m feeling nice today, honey. So instead of killing you, I’m going to let you go. Isn’t that nice of me?”
He’s giving you whiplash with his words, but you nod quickly, “Y-Yeah! My mom says to always see the good in people, so I think you’re being really nice, Mr. Hansen. Thank you! When do I get to leave?”
Lloyd almost moans out loud at your innocence, digging his boner up into your ass while you blink up at him, so deliciously unaware of his intentions.
“Now sunshine, don’t get too ahead of yourself.” Lloyd clicks his tongue, finger tracing shapes on your bare thigh – you’re still in your little pink nightie that you were wearing when he kidnapped you. “I’m doing you a huge favour here. In fact, I’ve done a lot of favours for you in the past two days, wouldn’t you say so?”
“Huh?”
“Aw, you’re a dumb little baby, aren’t you?” He chucks you under the chin, loving how goddamn innocent you look, how your perfect little lips form the shape of an ‘o’, how you look like you’re hanging on to his every word, “I kept you in this pretty room instead of the scary basement, I gave you food and a soft princess bed to sleep in, didn’t I?” He pinches the flesh of your thigh when you don’t reply, “Didn’t I?”
“Ow– Yes! Yes, you did!” You cry out.
“So then it’s only fair that you repay me before I let you go.” Lloyd is vary casual with his words, making it sound like this repayment is so painfully obvious. He’s playing with the strap of your nightie now, pushing the silky strap down your bare shoulder and making you shiver.
“I… I guess so.” You’re confused, but your dad has told you in the past that if someone does something nice for you, then it’s always a good idea to repay them for their kindness. And although you’ve seen Lloyd scream at the guards and his other men (as well as maybe shoot a few people), he’s never really been mean to you. You sit up straight, nodding your head as you feel a bit more confident. In fact, you’re sure your dad would be proud of you for how you’re negotiating like an adult right now, “Okay, Mr. Hansen. What kind of repayment would you like?”
The corner of Lloyd’s mouth curls up, his large hands rubbing up and down your arms in a way that has you feeling kind of light-headed and warm, “Call me daddy, sunshine.”
“What? But you’re not my dad!” You giggle softly, not understanding why you’ve suddenly got this throbbing feeling between your legs. And it only seems to increase when his hand slips down, now casually playing with the lacey hem of your nightie.
“But I took care of you, kept a roof over your head these past two days, and also kept you fed, didn’t I? That means I’m your daddy.” Lloyd says it slowly, as if he’s speaking to a toddler.
You mull over his words, “I guess that makes sense…”
The brunet runs a hand over his perfectly styled hair, trying not to get too excited over the fact that he really has lucked the fuck out, a sweet-looking broad with a head as empty as yours sitting pretty in his lap, believing every single word that comes out of his mouth. It’s almost too good to be true.
“It makes perfect sense, cupcake. You’re just a dumb baby, so maybe things aren’t so clear in your head. But a man who takes care of his girl is known as daddy. So, you better call me that from now on.” He trails the muzzle of his gun against your bare skin with an air of indifference that makes you whimper softly.
“O-Okay, daddy.”
Lloyd almost moans out loud when he hears you say it, his pants now uncomfortably tight and he wonders just how much of an airhead you are to not notice his hard fucking dick right underneath your ass.
“Now honey, I want you to listen carefully to what I say next. Because this is how you’re gonna repay me before I let you go.”
He takes your hand; your tiny, dainty little hand, and squarely presses it down on his hard crotch. And it’s almost music to his ears when you gasp, snatching your hand back in record time.
“I can’t touch you there! That’s your… thing!”
“Oh princess, you’re allowed to touch your daddy’s cock. It’s only natural.” There’s something about the lull in Lloyd’s tone, this soft, velveteen quality of his voice, that makes you want to listen to him. Plus, your curiosity gets the best of you, because you’ve never touched a man’s thing before… Slowly, you replace your hand on his crotch, gasping when he thrusts up into your palm.
“Daddy, why is it so hard?”
Lloyd’s played with dumb little girls like you before – so none of this is new to him. But it’s also safe to say that none of those other girls were quite as innocent and lovely as you, with your wide eyes and open mouth, gaping down at his dick as if it’s about to come alive and eat you.
“Honey, this is where your repayment comes in.” He grabs your hand once more, making you stroke his clothed dick slowly, “Daddy’s cock is sick, that’s why it’s so hard. And only you can help me fix it and make it soft again.”
“Only me?” You echo prettily, looking scared and honoured at the same time.
“Yes, sunshine. Despite the fact that you’re dumber than a brick, it has to be you.” With one hand holding yours and making you stroke him, he uses his other hand to brush your hair out of your face, being all deliberately tender till you’re looking up at him with shining eyes, “My dick’s so hard that it’s causing me pain. And you don’t want your daddy to be in pain, do you? Specially when I kept you so safe and comfortable during your stay with me?”
Again, you mull over his words. Lloyd could have thrown you in the basement or one of his torture chambers where he took the other bad guys (you’d heard the guards talking about it once). But no, he’d kept you in this pretty pink bedroom with the soft satin bed and fuzzy carpet. Lloyd was nice, so it wasn’t fair that he was in pain.
You nod slowly, “Okay, daddy. I’ll help you with your pain.” And then you pout, “But I don’t know how!”
He repositions you in his lap so that you’re straddling him, your knees on either side of him and the hem of your nightie running high, your pantie-covered crotch flush against his, making heat rise to your cheeks. You’ve never been in such an intimate position with a man before. But Lloyd is your daddy, and he’s a nice man and he’s going to let you go, so you will yourself not to be scared.
He cocks his gun, pointing the muzzle of it right between your breasts where the neckline of your nightie dips. You inhale sharply as he leisurely trails it down, leaving goosebumps in your wake as you feel the weapon slide down your body. All the way down to between your legs – the source of all the throbbing – and he presses his gun against your private place, making you jolt with a surprising thrill that courses through your veins.
“Do you know what this is called, sunshine?” He asks softly.
You gulp – of course you know! You’re a big girl, after all. “Y-Yeah, daddy. That’s my vagina. But I’m not allowed to have anyone touch me there. My dad said he’d kill whoever even tried.”
“Cupcake, your dad’s a fuckin’ tool.” Lloyd flexes his arm suddenly, pressing his gun against your core and you convulse from the contact. “Now, little girls like you can’t use the word vagina. That’s an adult word. Babies like you need to say princess parts, got it?”
Princess parts. That sounded pretty, and you’ve been living in this pink princess room with a princess bed and princess sheets, so it only makes sense; so you nod in agreement.
“Princess parts.” You say softly, liking how it rolls off your tongue, “I like that, daddy.”
“Of course, you do, sweet sunshine.” Lloyd smirks, gun still cocked between your legs while his other hand slips behind you, unzipping your nightie slowly. “Now, do your little princess parts ever get creamy, baby?”
Creamy? You widen your eyes in alarm – how could he possibly know?! Gulping, your hand freezes on top of his clothed dick and you bite your lip, ducking your head down in shame.
“I… I do get wet down there sometimes.” You confess, because Lloyd said he’s your daddy and surely, he won’t tell anyone. “But it’s not pee, I swear it’s not, daddy!”
Lloyd licks his lips like he’s the big bad wolf; and honestly, he might as well be with how he plans to take advantage of your innocence. Having unzipped your nightie all the way down, he lifts your straps and slips them down your arms. You’re too mortified over how he knows about your princess parts getting wet that you don’t even notice him doing it.
“Tell me how you got wet.” He orders you simply, a look of almost unrestrained lust on his face, “And you better tell me the truth, or else I’ll change my mind about letting you go.”
You squirm, “Well… Please don’t tell anyone, but once I was watching this movie on TV, and it had a…uh… a scene in it. A dirty scene.” Scrunching your eyes shut, you can’t help but replay the scene in your mind, the actor so handsome and ripped – although not even close to as handsome and ripped as Lloyd is. “And I know I should’ve turned it off, but I was curious.”
Lloyd’s thumb brushes against your bare nipple, dick so unimaginably hard underneath you at your innocent story, and also because he’s now got you topless on top of him and you haven’t even noticed. God, you’re so fucking dumb and it makes him so fucking hard.
“Th-Then I had this strong urge to go pee, but when I got up, there was a wet spot on the couch. And my p-panties were all wet too!” You lament, and you can’t help but bury your face in Lloyd’s strong and sturdy shoulder, embarrassed because a man as sophisticated as him shouldn’t have had to hear such a stupid, shameful story.
“Oh, honey,” Lloyd coos, humping up against you because he knows you’re too distraught to notice. “You’re such a dumb little baby, not even recognising your own princess cream.”
You hiccup, blinking up at him with huge doe eyes, “P-Princess cream?”
“Yes, sunshine. Princess cream. Babies like you get all wet and drippy down there with princess cream, and you’re meant to gift this cream to your daddies to make them feel better. Everyone knows that.”
You nod, finally understanding him, “Is that how your… thing… is gonna feel better? With my cream?”
Lloyd taps your cheek condescendingly, “Guess your head’s not completely empty after all.”
And that’s how you find yourself lying down on your princess bed, the satin sheets so soft underneath you as a man almost double your age hovers over you, taking your nightie off and leaving you clad in only your little pink panties.
“You know, sunshine, after you’re done helping daddy here, we can go into my room. I’ve got a huge TV, and we can watch all the dirty movies your little heart desires.” Lloyd is feeling nice after your little confession. Not so nice as to not take advantage of you, but nice enough.
“Okay, daddy, that sounds– Hey! Aren’t you gonna take me home after this?”
Lloyd chuckles, choosing to ignore you as he surveys your almost nude body, how it quivers so prettily. Rolling your hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he then brings your hand over to his pants once more, “Unzip me, baby. Daddy’s dick’s hurting a lot.”
You take a deep breath, not knowing where this is going but knowing that you want to help your daddy because he’s going to let you go after this and you’re so super thankful for that. Fingers shakily taking hold of his zipper, you undo his fly with baited breath and a thumping heart.
Lloyd’s eyes are so dark, it looks like he’s about to eat you up. “Take it out, baby. Take daddy’s dick out.”
Biting your lip in concentration, you think about when you’re in pain. Like the time you tripped and fell down the stairs when you were younger. You’d twisted your ankle and it had hurt a lot. It’s sad to think that Lloyd is hurting like that now, and you’d help just about anyone to stop them from hurting.
Your eyes widen when you pull his cock out, because your fingers don’t even fully wrap around it. He’s thick like a soda can, and long too. And so, so hard. Angry and red looking, with veins running down the side. You wonder if all men are as big as he is, or if he’s special.
“So… So big, daddy.”
Lloyd can’t help but stroke your cheek, “Take your panties off, sweetie. Can you do that for me?”
He sounds so soft and nice, voice so beguiling that you don’t think twice in obeying. But maybe it’s because you’re so distracted by the darkness in his eyes, by his handsome face so close to you, by his dick that scares you every time you sneak a glance at it… But you’re slow in tugging your panties down, and Lloyd taps you harshly on the cheek.
“Faster, you dumb fucking baby. Unless you want me to hurt you.” He gestures towards his gun which rests on the satin bedsheet next to you. You don’t understand why he’s kept it so close – it’s so scary and you hate it, but the threat works. Tugging your panties off, you go to hand them to him but he shakes his head.
“No, baby. Wrap your pretty panties around your hand and then hold my dick.”
His instructions are clear, but you still look up at him dumbly, “H-Huh?”
Lloyd rolls his eyes, patience running thin. All he really wants to do is shove his dick up your virgin pussy but he knows half the fun is building up to it. “It’ll help with the pain, sweetie. You wouldn’t understand because you’re too dumb. But don’t fucking question your daddy again.”
The satin of your panties and your soft, hesitant fingers feel like heaven around Lloyd’s dick. His own calloused hand grabs onto yours, moving your palm up and down on his big dick until you get the hang of it and don’t need his help anymore. And fuck, he doesn’t know where to look now because your tiny hand on his fat dick makes him want to bust a nut, but the look of determination on your face gets him going too.
“Is your pain getting better, daddy?”
He grunts, “Slightly, baby. But the real pain relief is inside your princess parts.” Licking his lips, he gives his next order: “Spread your legs, dumb baby. Wider. Wider, I said.”
You yelp when he slaps your inner thigh hard, pussy glistening and on display for him as you spread your legs as wide as they’ll go. And now it’s like Lloyd can’t restrain himself – how can he when there’s a five-course fucking meal about two inches away from him? All quivering and wet and untouched?
Quickly, he shoves your hand and panties off his dick, replacing it with his own as he brings his dick up to your wet folds. And you suck in a breath when his tip glides against your slit, up and down, making shivers run up and down your lower body, and you jolt upwards to create more friction.
“Ah– daddy, that feels funny!”
Lloyd’s no longer in the mood to humour you, it’s like he’s reached his quota of niceness for the day and now he just wants to get his fucking dick wet with virgin pussy. The thought makes him salivate – he hasn’t had a virgin since his days at Harvard, and never one as sweet and naïve as you.
“Shut up,” He breathes, leaning down till his chest is flush against your breasts, one hand easily trapping both your wrists above your head. He aims the tip of his dick against your clit, nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves and loving how you gasp. God, virgins were just too easily excitable.
“Oh, daddy! D-Do that again, maybe?”
That makes Lloyd bark out a laugh. “Naughty baby, you’re meant to be helping daddy out, not giving me demands.”
You hang your head in shame, “S-Sorry, daddy. I just can’t h-help it sometimes! My princess parts feel so tingly. J-Just wanna touch more– ah!” Something feral takes over you, and you reach down to grab his dick, positioning it in front of your leaking hole as if you really can’t help yourself.
Lloyd almost busts a nut right then and there, but he has enough willpower to smack your hand away, laughing when you pout and begin to cry.
“Don’t know what’s happening to me, daddy! Wanna feel you more! Feels like I’ll die if I don’t!”
He loves how prettily you cry, how you want to say you’re turned on but you can’t find the words to explain how you’re feeling. The tears welling in your eyes make him even harder and your soft cries are music to his ears.
“You ready to end daddy’s pain now, sunshine?” He asks you, leaning over you and a strand of his perfectly styled hair breaks free, brushing against your forehead. And oh my gosh, if he isn’t the most handsome man you’ve seen in the whole world! Like the heroes in the movies, or in those romance novels your mother is always reading.
“I’m ready, daddy!” You confirm, unknowingly bucking your hips upwards to meet his hard dick. But when he pushes his dick inside your hole, you gasp and push at his chest almost immediately. “D-Daddy, this is… this is sex. We’re gonna have sex?”
Lloyd really can’t believe how dumb you truly are, he gazes at you incredulously, and you bite your lip again.
“You said you would help me, sunshine. You can’t go back on your word now.”
“I’m not! I’m not!” You swear, “It’s just… I’m not supposed to have sex until I’m married. But I really want to, daddy. I wanna help you and I wanna have sex with you – I just don’t want my parents to be mad!”
Lloyd’s bored now. In fact, he’d grown bored a good five minutes ago. Maybe he could tell the guards outside to get him some ductape so he can shut your fucking mouth once and for all while he has his way with you. Or he could drug you. But then he wouldn’t be able to hear your pretty gasps and cries when he finally pops your cherry.
Decisions, decisions.
“Look, honey. I’m gonna fuck you now – whether you like it or not.” Lloyd gets straight to the point, “So unless it’s to moan and beg for my dick, I’d suggest you shut your fucking mouth.”
You pout – why is he being so mean? Isn’t Lloyd meant to be nice and caring like how he said all daddies are? You decide it’s probably because he’s in pain. Oh! His pain! You’d completely forgotten that you were doing this to help ease his pain, and you mentally kick yourself for being so selfish.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” You say pitifully, but Lloyd’s too busy fondling your breasts, leaning down to lick around your nipple before taking the hard nub into his mouth and giving it a noisy suck. And the simple action has you squealing in pleasure and excitement before he stops and gives you a wolfish grin.
“Okay, sunshine. I’m in a good mood so we’ll take this nice and slow, okay?” You nod happily and he continues, “I want you to count up till five. Can you do that, honey? Can your little baby brain count up till five?”
“Y-Yes.” You squeak, “One, two, thr– OW, OH MY, AH, AH, AH! DADDY!”
Lloyd doesn’t give a shit if he’s being cruel, but he’s not about to ease his dick into you when your drippy, tight cunt is right there in front of him. Which is why, in one hard and unforgiving thrust, his pistons his fat dick into your virgin pussy, ignoring the tightness that tries to squeeze him back out.
“God fucking damn,” He grunts, because your tight walls are squeezing him like a vice, “Goddamn this fucking baby cunt, fuck!”
And you’re crying and crying, chest heaving and limbs flailing at the intrusion. He’s so big, so, so, so big. How has he managed to fit inside of you? It’s the worst pain imaginable – and it’s indescribable how full you feel. So full of Lloyd’s girthy, fat dick – the only dick you’ve seen, the only dick that’s ever been inside of you.
“Hurts!” You cry, “Hurts so bad!”
Lloyd couldn’t give less of a shit if it hurts for you – because it feels fucking amazing for him. But seeing your eyes scrunched shut and tears dripping down your cheeks, he can’t help but lick up your face, gathering the salty tears on his tongue and groaning with pleasure as he bottoms out inside of you.
“Open those eyes, sunshine.” He says softly against your lips, “Open those eyes and cry harder for me. Like a fuckin’ baby. Daddy loves that shit.”
“Y-You said… You said…” You choke back tears, tiny hands gripping at his bulging biceps, and Lloyd can’t help but laugh at your broken voice, “You said to count till f-five!”
“I did? Oh, sunshine, I guess I lied.” Lloyd’s barely even paying attention to you, his gaze shifting down to where you two meet. He pulls his dick out of you slowly, savouring your tightness and moaning internally when he sees his dick coated in your cream and your virgin blood. Fuck, if that ain’t the prettiest thing he’s ever seen…
“Not nice!” You sob harder, bracing yourself when he pushes back into you. And it hurts all over again, you just can’t wrap your head around how big he is, “Ah, why are you be-being so mean?”
Lloyd doesn’t bother answering your dumb question, instead grinding his hips down before pulling out and slamming back in. Grabbing your thigh, he pins it above his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck you. And he thanks his lucky stars that he didn’t use a condom, because fucking your baby cunt bare is nothing short of heavenly.
And he’s not completely opposed to the idea of knocking you up either.
“My dumb little baby,” Lloyd coos, cupping your face in his hands, “How does it feel to finally get fucked? I bet your old dad would be so proud of you, huh? Fucking his worst enemy because you think I’m gonna let you go after this.”
You shake your head, focusing on Lloyd’s navy eyes that are both so beautiful and so cruel. His pale skin smattered with scars from old battles, his strong, bumped nose and full pink lips. His moustache that tickles your face when he leans down over you.
“Daddy,” you cry out softly, dull thrill rippling throughout your body as he continues to thrust into you, the tip of his dick hitting a certain part inside you that has you gasping with pleasure. “Oh, daddy, still hurts but… f-feels all tingly again!”
“I’ll bet it fucking does,” He growls, picking up his pace and going into full jackhammer mode, wanting to see your cunt all messy and ruined, suddenly wanting to wreck you and ruin you for anyone else. Not that there was going to be anyone else getting between your legs. “Baby, say this is daddy’s pussy.”
“Th-This is daddy’s pussy!” You cry, all thoughts quickly leaving your mind except for Lloyd – his arms, his body, his dick, him. “Nngh, ugh! Daddy!”
There’s this pressure building up inside your lower belly, and every time his dick hits that spot inside you, the pressure mounts up further. You gasp when Lloyd forces your mouth open, spitting on your panting tongue and smirking when you look up at him in fear mixed with lust, his saliva sitting pretty inside your mouth.
“Swallow it.”
You do as he orders you, completely submissive and slowly going dumb for him. God, it’s the prettiest sight in the world, you being so docile even when he’s fucking you so roughly despite it being your first time.
“Tell me you love my spit. Ask daddy to spit in your mouth again.” Lloyd grunts out over the lewd sound of his balls slapping against you with each hard thrust.
“L-Love your spit, please spit in my mouth again, daddy!” You beg him, and God, you sound so needy. Lloyd reaches out to pat your cheek, loving when your head lolls to the side. You’re gone. Fucked completely dumb and he’s barely even started.
Using his thumb and forefinger to pry your drooling mouth open, he once again spits, and then again. The first lands straight in your mouth again and you swallow like an obedient baby. The next glob of saliva lands on your cheek, and God, you look so messy. So messy and slutty yet innocent at the same time. Fuck. Lloyd wants to devour you.
Hand slipping down, he swats your ass once, twice, three times. The harsh smacking jolts you back into reality, and now you’re screaming in earnest. Your little princess bed is rickety underneath you, the headboard banging noisily against the wall as Lloyd fucks the living daylights out of you. Your pleasure is building up with each slam of his dick, his tip hitting your cervix and making you cry out his name needily.
“Yes, baby, give daddy your cream,” Lloyd finds himself coaxing you, his fingers wrapping around your pretty little throat and loving how you squeeze around his dick when he does that, “Mm, you’re a fuckin’ depraved little baby, aren’t you? You like it when daddy chokes you, huh?”
You let out incoherent gurgles and pleas, humping upwards to meet his thrusts as your eyes slowly begin to roll to the back of your head. “L-Like it, daddy! Don’t know – ah – don’t know why, but I like it – OOH, DADDY! FEELS TINGLY, FEELS SO – AH!”
Lloyd loves the look of pure bliss and confusion on your face when you clench around him and give him your first ever orgasm. He really loves the power trip that comes with the fact that he’s given you your first ever feeling of such intense pleasure, and you’ve squirted around his dick. He pins your hips down as your limbs flail uncontrollably, fresh tears in your eyes and moaning like a broken record player: “oh, daddy, daddy, daddy!”
“God, so fuckin’ tight, sweet baby,” Lloyd hisses, feeling his balls tighten, “Squeezing daddy so good, aren’t you? God, I love your fuckin’ baby cunt and how it swallows daddy’s fat dick. Little fuckin’ virgin cunt all messy and ruined, fuck! Make a mess on my dick, you little cry baby. Fuck!”
One hand gripping his bicep and the other fisting the pink satin sheets underneath you, you come undone in what is the most earth-shattering orgasm you’ve ever had. It’s also the only orgasm you’ve ever had, and you scream so loud, his name on the tip of your tongue, “Oh, daddy! Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD!”
“Not God, you dumb baby, just me.” Lloyd slaps your breast before squeezing it hard. With an almighty grunt, he releases inside of you. Filling you with his hot, searing cum, ropes and ropes of it, so thick and making you feel so full. You feel it inside your very depths, claiming you, making his mark on your body.
With a shudder, he collapses on top of your weak body, and you’re so frail and spent, breathing hard and eyes glassy like you’re about to pass out. You can’t even form a single thought, all you can feel is your body shaking from the remnants of your powerful orgasm, and Lloyd’s cum which doesn’t even fit inside you, dripping out lewdly from your used fuckholes and onto your princess sheets.
“My baby, all mine,” Lloyd croons, kissing up your neck and pecking your lips, “Can’t believe how easy it was to pop your cherry.”
You blink, completely dazed and unable to form any words, just gaping up at him and trying your hardest not to black out. His sweet kisses trail up your cheek, gathering your tears along the way.
“And you know the best part, sunshine?” Your captor sings, cupping your cheek with his calloused hand, “I’m never letting you go. And guess what? Your douche of a dad is downstairs. In fact, you can say hi to him because the camera’s right there.” Lloyd twists his body slightly and points up at the red light above the dresser.
You feel your blood run cold, but you’re still too fucked out to form a sentence, “Wh-What–”
“He’s been watching us, baby.” Lloyd says proudly, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger and making you forcibly look at the camera, “Bet you didn’t think your first time would be livestreamed, did you, sunshine? Bet your dad sang like a canary once he saw his worst enemy fucking his daughter while he sits downstairs, handcuffed to a chair and completely helpless.”
Tears stream down your cheeks, but your legs are still shaking from your orgasm, and you don’t have the energy to push him off you, “H-How could you?” You cringe away from the damning red light of the camera.
“Because I can.” Lloyd answers simply, “But don’t worry, baby. It wasn’t all business. Your tight little baby cunt is something I could get used to. I think I’m gonna keep you, once I’ve questioned your dad and gotten rid of him, of course.”
He covers your face in kisses, his moustache scratching your sensitive, tear-stained cheeks as you lie underneath him, stoic and shocked.
“What do you say, sunshine? Ready to be your new daddy’s little girl?”
THE END! What do you guys think? I wrote this all today because I was rewatching some The Gray Man scenes and got super inspired! Please, please, please, feedback is so important so do tell me what you think! Please share with anyone you think might enjoy this, and any Lloyd enthusiasts! Reblogs means the world to writers, so please reblog and share! THANK YOU! ILY!
#lloyd hansen#Lloyd hansen x reader#chris evans#chris evans x reader#the gray man#chris evans fanfiction#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#chris evans smut#dark lloyd hansen
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HELP i need a blurb about how spencer would react to reader wanting to put a bow on his dick
like i can just imagine reader going "it's COCK-ette" and him just going "..what?"
the way i've literally spoke abt this in the discord before is crazy
꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader
꩜ RATING: +18, mdni
꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: taking pictures/voyeurism, and like the tiniest bit of touching and that's about it
A/N: for the sake of this fic let's pretend polaroids develop faster than they actually do, 'kay?
you loved taking pictures of spencer anytime you could, candid photos of him reading, pictures of you two together, pictures of him when you just felt like it but you especially loved taking pictures of him that nobody else could see, pictures of him completely wrecked under you, pictures of your fingers buried in his mouth, pictures of the marks you left on him afterwards but the largest part of your extensive collection of photos, mostly polaroids, were pictures of his cock, either with your hand wrapped around it, inside you or just sitting pretty on his stomach.
spencer thought it was a little strange at first, the way you'd stop completely to fetch your camera to take a picture of him but he quickly learned to love it, knowing that you took them for yourself and because you thought he was so beautiful that the moment needed to be savoured, like now.
"let me see you, baby" you husked, standing back as spencer sat at the bottom of the bed, lips swollen and wet from you kissing him. he immediately complied, unbuttoning just a few buttons to pull his shirt over his head, his tie already discarded of before he moved to fumble with his pants, slipping them down his legs as soon as his zip was undone, pulling his underwear down with them.
"always so pretty, baby" you murmured, biting your lip at the sight of his pretty cock resting on his stomach, flushed and hard, a bead of precum dribbling down his shaft so perfectly.
"need a picture of you, pretty boy" you smiled, rounding the bed to your nightstand to fetch your polaroid camera from the drawer where you kept it so it was always on hand when you needed it, quickly making your way back to stand between his thighs, sinking to your knees like it was second nature.
spencer couldn't help but whine, rolling his hips as his cock throbbed against his pelvis. "sit still" you ordered, looking at him over your camera to emphasise your point before you looked back through the lens, snapping a photo of him and smiling to yourself as you took the printed photo and began shaking it as you always did.
when the photo developed you couldn't help but furrow your brows, something was missing, of course he still looked pretty but you just felt like it needed more, for your benefit if you were being honest.
you thought for a moment, spencer confused at your behaviour but not saying anything, just watching as he could almost see the lightbulb go off above your head as you reached behind your head, tugging the ribbon you had tied in your hair to loosen it as you grinned to yourself.
"what are you doing?" he asked, genuinely confused as you held the thin pink satin ribbon in your hand with a giddy expression on your face, "just sit still for me" you murmured as you reached out to take the base of his cock into your hand, stroking him a few times purely to rile him up before you took the ribbon and and wrapped it just below his tip, spencer utterly confused as you began tying it around his length, only realising what you were doing when he saw the distinct loops of a bow.
"wh- why did you- tie a bow...on my-" you stumbled over his words, completely infatuated with your weird antics, you truly never failed to surprise him.
"can't you see? it's cockette" you smiled, giggling a little at your own pun as he blinked back at you, now even more confused than before you answered, sighing a little to himself as he shook his head.
"perfect" you mumbled to yourself as you raised you camera once again, taking your time to get the angle just right before you snapped the photo, a wide smile on your lips as it printed, quickly snatching it and waving it around.
"my best work yet, if i do say so myself" you smiled, showing the photo to spencer who you had honestly forgot was literally waiting for you to touch him, his cock painfully hard by now, precum soiling the pink satin.
#📬 maeve's mailbox!#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fandom#dr spencer reid#mgg#spencer reid criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#doctor spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#sub spencer reid#sub!spencer#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds drabble#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds x reader
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୨୧- Big Bad Temptation
Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader
1k follower special, tysm!
warning!: pure smut ahead <3
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The front door opens and shuts in a swift movement, the silhouette of your husband gliding in the dimly lit house as he makes his way towards his office. Your teeth sink into the plum that you had just grabbed off of the countertop, the sweet juice of the purple fruit almost too sweet.
After a few beats and many bites later you toss the seed in the trash and make your way towards Simon's office, since he obviously wasn't seeking you out. When you reach the open door you see him leaning against his desk, a bottle of scotch to the side and a clear glass in his gloved hand. His balaclava is off, his dirty blonde hair messy and his eyebrows knitted together. He looked so handsome like this. Disheveled and irritated.
You can't help but rub your thighs together, your pink silk satin rob sliding off your shoulder, revealing the strap of your bra. The two of you looks so erotic, each in your own ways.
Simons eyes glance up at you, a slight fire is noticeable. He sets the glass down, his fists curling around the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turn white. "Not in the mood for any company right now, love."
"Well I'm your wife, so I honestly don't care," you respond cooley, crossing your arms as you make your way over to him, hips swaying to which his eyes unwillingly follow. Your body was like a magnet to his eyes, he can't help but watch your every move, watch as your chest rises and falls with each breath, and watch as you bite the plump flesh of your bottom lip. Gods, how he loved your lips, he'd worship them whenever he got the chance.
"Love..." his voice is strained as he clears his throat, watching as you stand in front of him, your crossed arms pushing your breasts up against the material of your rob, making your cleavage almost painfully noticeable and hard to look away from. The lose knot of the belt begging for him to tug on it and make the shiny material fall to the floor. "I can't right now."
Your fingers trail up his chest, running up and down the fabric of his black tee. He feels his cock throb in his pants just from the small amount of contact. His eyes follow your hand as you move on to his biceps squeezing and feathering your fingertips across the ink covered skin. You feel him shudder under your gentle touches which causes you to smirk.
"Why not? Your body betrays you, my love," you whisper in a sweet tone, running your hand down to his jean which have tented over past few minutes. You palm his erection through his pants; his hips buck into your hand and he lets out a low groan.
"Because if I start then I'm afraid that I won't be able to stop.." he whispers in response, his breath shaky and his eyes low and sultry.
"Who's asking ya' to?"
And with that, his hand grips the back of your neck, pulling your lips against his own with a groan your not sure which chest it was ripped from. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, twirling the baby hairs at the nape of his neck around your finger.
"Ya' taste so—fuckin' sweet.." he says against your lips, the sugary taste of the plum still on your lips. His hands wander your figure, gripping your ass in his large hands and kneading the flesh through your robe. In a swift motion he switches your guy's' position so now your the one pressed up against the desk, a yelp leaving your throat as the sharp edge of the wood hits you.
It's getting hard to breathe, so you push on Simon's chest, urging him to unattach his lips from yours. He does so, but begrudgingly. This gloves thumb swipes over your bottom lip, smearing the saliva that added a little shine to the flesh. He sticks two fingers inside your mouth, his pointer and middle, nodding his head at the glove, indicating he wants you to take it off.
With a sly smirk you bite down just above his finger tip and tilt your head back, watching as he pulls his hand out of your mouth, the black glove handing from your teeth.
"Fuck..." he mumbles to himself as he pulls the glove from between your teeth, tossing it onto his desk. "Spread your legs for me, love."
You gladly comply, spreading your thighs apart, the pink satin covering what Simon truly desires to see. He pushes the robe up, letting it bunch at your waist. He groans loudly as his eyes land on your bare cunt. "No panties? Naughty girl...were you walking around like this all day?— hm? Your bare cunt begging for someone to fuck it?"
"Simon.." You whimper, his fingers graze your core, the pad of his thumb lingering on your clit as he rubs circles against the sensitive bud.
"Already so wet for me, so wet for my fingers and cock—" He whispers against your collarbone as he kisses and sucks on your soft skin, the skin easily bruising with purple little hickeys. Oh how he loved to see you all marked up, knowing he's the only one who ever will be able to brand you.
You squirm and whimper under his touch as his middle and ring finger slid up and down the opening of your cunt, his thick fingers getting covered in your slick arousal. "Smells so sweet, 'nd you taste sweet too..everything about you is so sweet baby doll—" His groans into your neck, now leaving marks right below your ear.
"Please Simon..just put them in already..!" You practically whine, your hips bucking against his hand, your clit rutting against the palm of his hand. This little movement causes him to click his tongue in disapproval.
"Is my little whore that desperate? Naughty baby-" He pulls his hand away from your cunt all together, ignoring your whimper in protest. He grips your hips and flips you so your ass is facing him, your chest pressed against the cool wolf of his desk. He reaches around you, his hand finding the belt of your robe and tugging on one of the strings, letting the loose knot come undone and slipping the thing off of your shoulders and letting it fall to the carpeted floor.
You hear him groan at the sight of you, his hands rubbing and squeezing the swell of your ass, just as your about to protest your met with a sharp, stinging slap. Your bottom throbs in the wake of his slap, the skin was surely red. "Fucking hell Simon-" you breathe out, a small chuckle filling the room as he gently rubs the spot in which he had struck with his thumb.
He drops down to his knees and plants a kiss on your ass, his hands gripping your hips as he kisses further south which causes you to almost shiver in anticipation. His hands move from your hips down to your thighs, slowly, he pulls your legs open more than they already were and licks a strip up your cunt.
You moan, your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the loud sound. His tongue darts out once more, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit as his fingers find their way back to your entrance. As his tongue flicks your clit he shoves his fingers inside of your cunt, curling his fingers just right to hit that spot he knows you love so so much.
Your back arches and your hand doesn't nothing to muffle the scream-moan that leaves those pretty little lips. Your forehead rests against his desk as your hips move on their own, pushing his face further between your legs.
With his tongue teasing your sensitive clit and his fingers bullying in and out of you at an ungodly pace, you near your climax, the room filled with lewd squelching, moans, and groans. He hums and groans against your pussy, he could never get enough of you. You tasted to fuckin' amazing.
"Si- I'm- oh fuck 'm cumming—" you manage out between moans, your walls clenching around his fingers as you finally reach your peak. You try and pull away from him as he continues to lick and finger your cunt in it's sensitive state.
"Si' stop! Please I-" you protest as he continues as if he's the one who can't get enough. Lapping up all your sweet juices on his tongue. Finally, he pulls his fingers out of you, giving your slit one last lick before standing from his place on the floor and leaning over you, his own arousal pressed against your ass.
"Is my pretty little wife still hungry for more? hm?"
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an: god i love this man, he's so UGH! anyways i just wanna say a big thanks to all y'all for 1k followers!! much love to all of ya
#cod x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x you#cod mw2#ghost x female reader#simon riley smut#smut#1000 followers#cod smut#husband simon ghost riley!!!#ghost cod#drabble#pure smut
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MY BABY, MY BABY. YOU'RE MY BABY, SAY IT TO ME. (JT)
notes/cw ~ fluff, minor(ish) angst, fem!reader, talks of having a baby, idk i just had really bad dad!jason brain rot and i felt like i had to share it with my lovely angels, (2.3k)
The sound of laughter rings through your house like jingle bells during the holiday season, pitter patters of tiny feet tumbling against hardwood floors, and bigger ones chasing after them invade your ears. Squeals of laughter pour out through an open window as you pull bags of groceries out of the trunk of your car, the sound of running dying down when the trunk closes with a thump. "Is mommy home?" You hear a familiarly sweet voice say. "I think she is. Come on, let's see if we can beat her to the door."
Bags in hand, you walk up the pathway to the entrance of your house. The street of your suburban neighborhood, mostly empty on this chilly winter night, save for some residents walking their dogs before lights get turned off. The sound of a lock clicks before you're even halfway up the path, and soon after, you're met with Jason and your daughter standing in the doorway looking ridiculous, goofy grins on both of their faces. Red bows are hidden amongst his hair, some tied around short braids, some just hanging loosely on a few strands bunched together. Pink pajama pants peek out from under the red tutu she's wearing, and she dons pink ballet slippers on her feet as if she's about to perform the Nutcracker.
He steps outside, meeting you at the top of the steps, hooking his fingers under the canvas straps of your reusable tote bags—an investment you'd made to offset some of the carbon emissions from his bike—and takes them into his hands. "New hair, huh?" you ask, eyeing the variety of red satin ribbons tied in knots littering the expanse of his head. "Yeah, you like?" He asks, turning towards you, lowering his head a bit so you can get a better look. You roll your eyes, but there's a smile playing on your lips at the image of Jason sitting down while your daughter's tiny hands play hairdresser with bows and barrettes.
You close the front door behind him as he makes his way toward the kitchen to unpack the groceries, turning your attention to the little girl in front of you sporting a toothy grin. "I thought ballet ended hours ago," you say, eyeing the layers of bright red tulle you had previously hidden to avoid the specks of glitter that shed every time she moved. "She had to practice her pirouettes." you hear Jason say from inside the fridge. "Yeah, mommy. I was practicing my pirouettes." She pouts her lips and cocks her head to the side, small hands fidgeting as she tries to use cuteness to get out of trouble. You cross your arms and squint your eyes at her, "Uh huh. And the hair?" You gesture to Jason, walking toward you. "What does that have to do with pirouettes?"
He joins the two of you in the living room holding up a container of Gerber baby puffs, using them as a distraction to get both him and his little girl out of trouble. "What?" You ask, deadpan. "What d'ya mean what? We've got an infant I don't know about?" Your daughter gasps, eyes lighting up suddenly. "A sibling!" He laughs, turning towards you with a raised eyebrow. "No, you jerk. Him, not you, honey," you say, quickly correcting yourself. "They're for me." You snatch the container of blueberry-flavored rice puffs out of his hand, peeling off the lid and shoving a handful into your mouth. "God forbid women enjoy things."
You pop a few more into your mouth before feeling a tug at the coat you still hadn't taken off. When you look down, you're met with your daughter, mouth open and waiting for you to share. She stares at you with wide eyes, using your inability to say no to her to her advantage. Sighing, you raise the container a bit and pause, "Only a few, and you have to get ready for bed after." she nods her head, mouth still open, and you tilt and pour out a substantial amount. She closes her mouth and displays her adorable little smile once again before running off to the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Hold on," Jason shouts down the hallway. "Say thank you to your mom!" You hear feet running again, and soon enough, feel the soft squeeze of your daughter giving you a hug; she presses her head into your lower abdomen as you bring your hand up to softly stroke her hair. "Thank you, Mommy." She says before moving on to Jason and giving an equally soft hug despite using all her might. "And thank you, Daddy, for letting me do your hair." She lets go and scurries off again, leaving a trail of red glitter in her wake for you to clean up.
She disappears into the bathroom, and you watch the hallway, now empty, as she gets ready for bed. You sigh, listening to the sound of water running while she independently does her end-of-the-night tasks, something you'd still helped her with not too long ago. Jason's arms creep around your waist, pulling you against him. His chin rests on your shoulder, and you feel something tickle your neck, but you're not sure if it's his hair or a ribbon. He notices the solemn look in your eyes, a stark contrast to the liveliness he'd seen in you just a few moments ago. "What's wrong? Is it the glitter? Because I can clean that up." He says. "No, not that." You nibble on your bottom lip, lost in thought, trying to organize your feelings. "Just… she's gotten so big." He hums in acknowledgment, his way of saying he shares the sentiment. "I just don't know where the time went." You mumble, overcome with an unexpected sadness. "She's only five." He says into your neck, bringing his hands up to your shoulders and gently pulling off the coat you'd forgotten to take off. "Yeah, but she was just a baby not that long ago. I swear."
The both of you watch her move between her bedroom and the bathroom, soft dark brown curls bouncing with every movement. At five, she was already more responsible than most children her age, having a pretty concrete idea of right and wrong well before most kids do. Responsible for her age, but still just a baby in the grand scheme of everything, and sometimes the two of you would wonder if Jason's occupation might end up inadvertently affecting her and warping her idea of justice, but those fears were almost always disproven as soon as they came and oftentimes you didn't worry more than a few minutes. "We're doing a good job." He says from behind you, rubbing your back in an attempt to take away some of the worry. Normally, it would go away with ease, today, not so much. "We're not bad parents." You say with conviction, but you both know you're just trying to convince yourself of it. "We're not. You know we're not."
He turns you around to face him, away from the hallway, so you can't dwell any longer. His hands move to your upper arms, kneading gently as he searches for your eyes. "What's wrong? Talk to me." You struggle to make eye contact, unsure of your next words. "I think…I think I want another baby." You breathe out, looking down, unable to meet his gaze. Seconds pass, but they feel like minutes, and you barely breathe while you wait for his reaction. Not a single thing in the universe could've prepared you for the words that come out of his mouth. "Is that all? Is that what you were sulking about?" You look up at him, eyes wide, as he lets out a breathy laugh. Oh Jason, your Jason, taking your face in his hands and leaning down so he can look you in your eyes. "Don't scare me like that again, okay? Do you know how fucked up shit has to be for me to be the optimist out of the two of us?" It's your turn to laugh now, a weight having been lifted off your shoulders. "Language," you warn. "Aw, come on, she's way out of earshot." He bends down and presses his lips against yours; you close your eyes, leaning into him, hands finding his chest as you feel all of your worries melt away.
"Blegh."
The sudden sound of a disgusted child, your disgusted child, pulls you away from Jason, and you wipe your mouth in embarrassment. It's just your daughter, but you still feel like a kid who's just been caught stealing candy and is about to get lectured into oblivion; Jason, however, handles it with ease. Taking on a playfully stern tone and pointing an accusatory finger at her, he asks, "Why are you up, little lady? Shouldn't you be in bed?" She mirrors his action, pointing a finger at him now. "You didn't tuck me in or read me my bedtime story." He puts his thumb and forefinger on his chin, seemingly thinking it over. "Hmmm, seems you've got me there." He shrugs before picking her up into his arms and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "You've gone soft," you say with a laugh, the embarrassment of being caught having passed. "What can I say? She's bossy. Gets it from her mama." You nudge his shoulder lightly as he turns in the direction of her room. "Alright, that's enough out of you."
He leaves the door to her bedroom slightly cracked, and you can hear their whispers as they do their nightly routine of picking out a book to read, followed by her falling asleep in his arms. "What do you have in mind tonight?" He asks, laying her down gently on the bed adorned with princess sheets and stuffed animals he'd bought for her during trips around the world. "Can we finish Lord of the Rings?" She grabs her favorite stuffie, a gray bunny with droopy ears and button eyes, and holds it close to her chest as Jason climbs in beside her. "I don't think we can finish it, but we can fit a few pages in before it's time for you to go to sleep. That work for you?" He leans over the side of the bed and picks up a worn copy of Lord of the Rings that had been sitting on top of a stack of books he kept in her room solely for the purpose of bedtime. She nods her head at his question and snuggles further into him as he flips to the page they left off at.
You hear the sound of rustling and know the bedtime story has commenced, leaving you to clean up the mess of glitter and ribbons. Broom in hand, you start to sweep up the remnants of her "pirouette practice." Going up and down the hallway, sweeping back and forth. You catch a glimpse of the photos in the frames lining your wall before coming to a full stop and reminiscing about how far you guys have come. There were some pictures from when it was just the two of you, but most of those were kept digital, hidden amongst miscellaneous screenshots and disorganized photo albums. The majority of the framed photos came after she was born; something so special about being able to hold a photo of the three of you in your hands, to have it on display in your home proudly saying this is my family. Corny, maybe, but you'd never regretted starting the collection, especially since it had been Jason's idea. He'd been insistent that you keep a scrapbook to commemorate your ever-changing lives, but after realizing neither of you had the knack for cutting and gluing bits of paper onto pretty pages, you'd settled on the wall. Now, you look at them so often and always with fondness. Oh, how things had changed since that day, you'd met so long ago.
You don't know how long you'd been standing there, but you hear a door closing softly, and you turn to see Jason trying to make his way into the hallway with minimal noise. "Is she asleep?" You ask, barely above a whisper. "Out like a light." He says, joining you in front of the framed memories. A picture of her as a newborn, freshly discharged from the hospital, catches his eye, "she was really tiny, wasn't she?" He says, voice cracking a little as he remembers the overwhelming fear he'd experienced when you were in labor and how it all went away once he had held her in his arms. You hum in agreement as you both get lost in pictures of her from the past. Birthdays and holidays, family events and major milestones, there was a picture for everything.
There was one of her on his shoulders; she couldn't have been more than two at the time, her tiny fingers laced through locks of jet-black hair. You remember like it was yesterday; she had just watched Ratatouille and was trying to imitate Remy. He had played into it, and he couldn't get her off his shoulders for days after that. Another, taken from her first trip to the beach. You sit behind her, keeping her upright and holding her arms out, making one wave at Jason, who was behind the camera. You smile to yourself, the two of you standing outside of your daughter's bedroom, mostly content, remembering what it was like to have a baby in your arms. The memory of bringing her home floods his brain; how nervous he was yet so insanely happy he couldn't control the smile on his face. A shaky laugh falls from his lips as he pulls down a picture of the three of you still in the hospital, thumb pressed against the glass like he's trying to physically feel the moment. "Yeah…I could do it again."
been working on this almost non stop for 9 hours, literally my longest fic yet (only by like 600 words, but still !!!), special thanks to @kiyozu (my beloved) for giving me this idea !! eek, hope you guys enjoyed it <33 (user orchidsangel is going to sleep now) (also tried following up dialogue with actions this time, gonna see how that goes bc if it’s too hard to follow along with i’ll just go back to he said she said)
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd fluff#jason todd angst#jason todd fic#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood x fem!reader#red hood fluff#red hood angst#jason todd i’ll love you forever#divider by benkeibear
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omg omg omg I can’t wait for tcar part 9 🥹 I miss eddie spaghetti and peach so much 🥹🥹🥹
THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | sunshine, sometimes
summary: the gang searches for peace of mind at lake lemon. after an enlightening conversation with steve, eddie unknowingly stirs up a storm. (17k)
pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader, mentions of past steve harrington / f!reader
tags: experienced!reader, idiots in love, domestic bliss (road trip edition), newly established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, the gang's all here! TW probable typos, swearing, mentions of b*lly h*rgrove and toxic relationships, kissing, heavy petting, fingering, eddie coming in his pants (vol. 3), smut 18+
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˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
You think it’s entirely possible that you made Eddie up in your head.
Sleeping next to you, painted in satin shades of pale pink and milky white, he looks exactly like a dream.
His curls are wild, spread across his face and cotton pillow in a chestnut-colored halo around his head. Soft snores billow from his rosy mouth in heavy, even breaths — a heavenly sound you think could lull you back to sleep all over again. His long lashes flutter against the flushed apple of his cheek, made a gentle strawberry shade from the ardor of his slumber. The soft color splotches the tip of his nose and the plush of his lips.
Eddie’s made of all the prettiest colors you wish you could paint. Maybe then he’d finally see himself the way you do. He possesses an otherworldly kind of beauty — one bordering on religious — something holy people used to sacrifice themselves for.
And here he is. In your bed and on your mouth, like a vivid ruby lipstick stain you’re not rushing to rub out just yet. Or ever, if you had anything to say about it.
“I can feel you staring, weirdo,” Eddie mumbles, slurred and heavy with sleep. The words come out muffled because his face is shoved into the pillow.
You’re not as embarrassed at getting caught as you probably should be.
You could deny it if you wanted. His eyes are still shut. You’ve got every ounce of plausible deniability to defend yourself with, but for some strange reason, you don’t feel the urge to. He was far too pretty not to be unabashedly examined, like a piece of art you could stare at for ages and find something new in every time.
“Really?” you hum in return, voice as quiet with leftover fatigue as your sleepy smile. “I didn’t know my boyfriend had superpowers.”
The smile that tugs at Eddie’s mouth is absentminded but no less sincere. It’s lopsided and rosy and full of all the love he has for you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of being called your boyfriend. He figures his chest will swell every time he hears the words — as long as they spill from your mouth, anyway.
“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” he teases quietly — eyes still shut, grin still pressed into the pillow.
“I can keep a secret,” you promise in a whisper. Your hand rises from beneath the fluffy comforter to spread across his cheek. Your palm settles warmly at his jaw as your fingers brush a few rogue curls from his forehead. “As long as you give me a kiss for it.”
Eddie’s smile, weighed down by sleep and adoration, only widens at your words.
His button eyes are swollen as he blinks the haze of sleep from them. It feels a little like his heart has stopped when he’s able to see you clearly.
It’s like he’s looking down a high-up cliff or staring into the deep abyss of outer space — a warm, empty, and lurching feeling in his chest that only comes from witnessing something so profound.
The profundity in question is you.
It’s your wild hair and puffy cheeks and crooked smile. It’s the way your swollen eyes twinkle with adoration at an ungodly hour of the morning. The way your honey voice seems to match the golden sunrise. You’re an angel in the flesh — a divinely ethereal being wearing his Hellfire tee to sleep in.
The beauty you are takes him by surprise for all of half a second. It makes him forget how to breathe and makes his brain go all fuzzy. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time every time he looks at you.
“Well, as long as it’ll keep you quiet,” Eddie huffs, feigning annoyance, as he lifts his head off the pillow to settle onto yours.
His plush lips press against your subtle smile a second later. Your mouths entwine something heavy, like maple syrup or marshmallow fluff — a kiss so full of sleep and distant longing.
But that’s all it is. A kiss. It’s nothing more than an innocuous peck that Eddie stamps upon your mouth. His nose smushes into the side of yours, and he’s gone as quickly as he came.
Your shut eyes flutter open again. They widen when Eddie ducks down for another sneaking peck. He lingers a few moments longer this time, like he can’t quite get enough of you the same way you can never seem to get enough of him.
Your grin grows. You feel a bit like you’re glittering all over when Eddie settles back onto the mattress. But maybe that’s just the rising sun peeking in flaxen shades from the window — or maybe it’s love sparkling like orange embers in your chest. Maybe it’s both.
Maybe loving Eddie feels pink and gold like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.
It’s just as easy, anyway.
“Ooh,” you singsong with a smile as you prop yourself on your elbow. “Two for one deal, huh?”
The boy shrugs one shoulder. His leadened lids fall over his chocolate syrup eyes when sleep threatens to pull him under again. He shifts against the mattress to get comfortable, though it’s much harder without you pressed against him.
“I gotta secret identity to protect, sweets. Gotta make sure we keep it under wraps and everything, you know?” The tired boy’s mumbles are followed by a hearty yawn that scrunches his sleep-ridden features.
“Well, you can pry this secret from my cold, dead hands,” you lilt quietly, leaning down to sprinkle a featherlight kiss to his flushed cheek. His skin is warm against your mouth, rosy with a good night’s sleep.
“Well, except for Robin,” you whisper shortly thereafter. “I have to tell Robin.”
Eddie exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh.
“And Steve, too. He’ll be mad if I tell Robin and not him.”
“Right,” Eddie scoffs with a tired nod against his pillow.
You can tell he’s trying hard to stay awake for you. He’d done this the night before, too — kept talking to you even though his body was threatening to shut down after a long day of school and road-tripping. You’d called him out on it then, and he confessed that it hurt too much to stop talking to you. He said he’d rather be exhausted than miss you, even for the faintest fraction of a second.
A smile hints at the corners of your lips as you stare down at the boy. You duck down once more to brush a fleeting kiss to the warm apple of his cheek — there and gone again.
Eddie sighs at the heavenly feeling, then scrunches his features in annoyance when the mattress shifts beneath him.
“Where are you going?” he grouses over the sound of your padding feet and the door creaking open. He’s got one tired eye squinted when he rises to look at you over his shoulder. His untamed curls are as drenched with sleep as the rest of his softly swollen features.
You stand in the doorway and smile back at him. You don’t look nearly as exhausted as he does. That’s only because you spent the better part of the morning ogling at him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.
It wouldn’t change anything, anyway.
Slumber looks too good on you. It’s got you glowing like a pink and orange sunrise, grinning like the morning dew has kissed you. It’s a very distinct part of your beauty that took Eddie several days of unabashed staring to understand. You’ve got a far-off kind of quality about you, dreamlike.
You’re a nymph made of flower petals with unearthly eyes and angelic lips. You’re a swan princess who’s enchanted his imagination. His mind can’t go anywhere without bumping into thoughts of you — like some romantic spell you’ve cast upon him.
Still a bit grumpy with sleep and overcome with yearning, Eddie makes a mental note to add you to a future campaign. What better way to tell someone you love them than by making them your muse, solidifying them in the history of you forever?
“I’m gonna tell everyone that my boyfriend is basically the metalhead equivalent of Clark Kent,” you joke with a crooked smile that flashes your similarly crooked teeth.
The door creaks when it shuts behind you. Eddie’s chest aches with the empty feeling of missing you. The warmth of adoration lingers, however, as though you’d never left at all.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
Thankfully, no one had gotten Jason Voorhees-ed while you were sleeping.
You make your rounds about the cabin, peeking into darkened bedrooms and making sure everyone was where you’d left them. You knew Robin hadn’t truly meant her words from the day before, about Ted Bundy or some equivalent creep stalking the woods of Lake Lemon. She’s sincere but in a blatantly irrational sort of way. Sweet but slightly insane. She’s an illogical genius that unintentionally gets in your head.
You’re grateful to find that you hadn’t woken up in the middle of slasher film, however. You’re able to exhale a trembling sigh of relief as you walk into the kitchen.
Steve The Hair Harrington unknowingly keeps you company as you break out the supplies needed to make a couple of teenagers a sufficient breakfast. His soft snores fill the quiet cabin from where he’s sprawled out in the center of the pull-out couch in the living room. He’s twisted in a thin white sheet and gripping a single pillow like his life depends on it.
He used to hold you like that, too. Like you were a buoy in an ocean and the only thing keeping him afloat. He’d cage you in his arms with a grip that only seemed to intensify with his sleep. It felt like being suffocated almost. But in a good way.
The memory is glittering with reminiscence instead of soaking in heartache.
You don’t miss being with Steve, nor do you miss the person you were when you were with him. You do miss the closeness of him, though — in the simplest, most human way. Also, you just really like taking the piss out of him and all his little idiosyncrasies.
With his sleeping form so near, everything you do feels so much louder in the quiet. The fridge closes too aggressively, the eggs crack too sharply, the cabinets close too harshly. You grimace with every noise you make, checking over your shoulder to make sure Steve hadn’t heard from across the room.
He hadn’t. ‘Cause he tends to sleep like he’s hibernating.
He doesn’t rouse when a humming car crunches against gravel when it pulls into the driveway outside — or when the bowl of pancake batter in your hands clatters to the countertop accordingly.
The milky white concoction sways in the container, splashing in pearly dots onto the gray granite. You’re too distracted to focus on the mess. Your heart starts to race at the appearance of the sudden visitor with the irrational thought that Ted Bundy was strolling up to your doorstep like some kind of offbeat traveling salesman.
God, you need to stop hanging out with Robin so much. Or watching so many horror movies. Maybe both.
Because it’s only Nancy.
It’s sweet, beautiful, lithe Nancy Wheeler and her beat-up Station Wagon.
Her curly hair is cropped at her shoulders, hastily combed through and pinned out of her face with a butterfly clip. Her pretty pink skirt swishes around her knees as she reaches for a leather satchel in the backseat. Her purple and white Emerson College tee is tucked into it, matching the same-colored Converse on her feet.
“Hey,” she greets with a pretty wave and delicate smile when she catches sight of you in the doorway.
“Hi…” you respond, mixed with a breathy sigh of what should be relief.
Because she isn’t Ted Bundy — or some local Lake Lemon serial killer. She’s far too pretty and far too kind to be either of those. But your heart still thrums something fierce against your ribcage when you look at her. You’re still drenched with ice-cold fear when you know you should be relieved.
But despite your clammy trembling hands, you hold the door open for her.
She winces at the sight of Steve’s sleeping figure on the couch, ocean eyes widening at his freckled back peeking from beneath the thin sheet. Her footsteps become noticeably lighter as you lead her into the kitchen.
It’s far too big for just the two of you. The open space is filled only with a distant awkwardness and the potent smell of sweet vanilla you’d dropped into the pancake batter.
“Sorry…” Nancy grimaces as she sets her bag on the dining table, as though her company was something she needed to be excused for. Her bushy brows pinch together, and her doe-eyes swim with apology. “I know I was supposed to be here last night…”
You shift your weight on your feet across from her, arms wrapping around yourself for further comfort. She’s just a few feet away from you, but the distance feels cavernous.
“Yeah, is— is everything, you know… okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just— it’s dumb,” Nancy scoffs out a laugh, shrugging off your worry with ease. Her gaze flits to the ceiling. You can see smudged eyeliner around her eyes, like she’s still wearing yesterday’s makeup. “I got carried away with the school paper after school, and I didn’t get home until late, and I… I figured I should just wait until morning to make the drive, you know?
You nod slowly in response — for a couple seconds too long, maybe — as you think of what else to say. “Well, was, uh— was traffic okay, at least?”
“Yeah. It was fine,” she answers and bites back a yawn. “People around here are amazing drivers, you know, so… It was a perfect, anxiety-free three hours.”
Her plush pink lips curl into a smile.
Yours follow suit, but the breathy laugh that spills from them feels much more forced.
“You’re probably tired, huh?” you wonder, then ramble before she can answer you. “I could get Steve to move upstairs with Robin— or Robin can come down here, and you can take the bed. Unless you wanna share with her, but fair warning, she does kick in her sleep, so…”
A giggle spills from Nancy’s mouth. It’s a soft, bubbly sound that squints the edges of her eyes. Her pointed chin tucks to her chest like she’s trying to hide the gentle grin from you.
You can’t tell if she finds your babbling amusing or endearing like Eddie does.
You quickly realize you don’t care — you’re just proud that you’ve made her smile. And, fuck, you can’t even blame Steve for wanting her more than you because look at her. You should hate her, yet you can’t take your eyes off her.
“No, I’m good. We can… deal with all that when everyone wakes up, I guess,” she dismisses with a shake of her head.
You vaguely catch her eyes darting past you to the tornado of breakfast behind you — a whirlwind of uncooked food, miscellaneous containers, and crumbled napkins. It’s a mess only a gentle, well-meaning child could make. That’s what you feel like most days, anyway, so you guess it kind of fits.
“Do you want help with breakfast?” Nancy wonders when her gaze flits back to you.
You can’t tell if she’s asking to be kind or if she really wants to. You decline either way. “No. You’ve— You’ve been driving all morning.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” you affirm with a wavering smile.
Her grin is equally sheepish. She falters, a tad bit awkwardly at first, before mumbling something and heading out the back door to explore.
A trembling sigh of relief shakes through your chest when the sliding glass door swishes shut behind her.
It gets better over time — the preliminary tension that settles like suffocating humidity between the two of you — but it never gets any easier. A forgive but can’t forget sort of rigidity you can’t quite smooth out.
You get only a few more minutes of uninterrupted solitude after Nancy’s gone. The last bit of peace you’re bound to have all day.
A door clicks open and shut again from down the hallway, followed by the subtle scuff of socked feet against carpet.
Your eyes widen softly when Dustin appears from around the corner, though you figure you really shouldn’t be surprised. Of course he was the kid that woke up before the rest of his friends. You feel a bit like you should fix him a cup of black coffee while he reads the business section of the newspaper. He’s far more mature than you were at fourteen.
“Oh,” you hum quietly, a soft smile twitching at the edges of your lips. “Morning.”
Dustin’s swollen eyes squint at you. His gaze darts around the room, as wild as the chestnut curls on his head. It’s strange not seeing him in his usual Thinking Cap. He looks a little foreign in his baggy blue Scooby Doo pajama pants and baggier yellow Camp Know-Where tee.
“Where’s Eddie?” he wonders aloud when he turns back to you, like he can’t quite fathom seeing one of you without the other somewhere nearby.
Your chest aches. You don’t know why.
Well, you do, but you figure it shouldn’t hurt as bad as it does.
Dustin was Eddie’s friend. He had zero obligation to care about you the same way. He didn’t have to like you past his not-so-subtle admiration for your boyfriend, but it still hurts that he doesn’t think you’re as cool.
“Uh… Still sleeping. I think,” you lilt, voice as high and light as the salty breeze slipping past the slightly ajar backdoor.
“Oh. Okay.” Dustin nods and doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t seem as weighed down by the silence as you are. He peeks over his shoulder at Steve’s rousing figure on the couch and then at the pots and pans of food on the counter. His tired blue eyes fill with light when they flit at you again. “Can I help?”
He’s suddenly aglow with a boyish sort of enthusiasm. His bushy brows raise and a smile pulls at his face, and you find it dreadfully hard to tell him no.
“Sure. If you want to, but—” You’re about to prattle on and on about how he shouldn’t feel obligated to. That he’s a kid on vacation and can sleep in if he wants. That he shouldn’t have to worry about helping you if he doesn’t really want to.
But he’s already walking to the sink, flipping on the faucet so he can wash his hands.
Your aching heart swells with warmth.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
The rest of your friends wake up one by one.
Mike and El come out shortly after Dustin, the latter already dressed for the day. She’s a ray of sunshine compared to her grumpy boyfriend. His hair is a wild raven halo, and his cheeks are lined with indentions from the sheets. El hangs on his arm in a pair of jean coveralls, sparkling like the cerulean waters outside.
“Wanna call Hopper?” you ask the blushing girl from where you scramble eggs at the stove.
She nods with her cheek smushed into Mike’s shoulder, eyes wide and sheepish like she’s embarrassed about wanting to talk to her dad. You don’t blame her for it. You tend to call Hopper after most minor inconveniences.
Dustin mans the kitchen while you help her with the telephone. He’s very meticulous about the cooking, like he’s got flipping pancakes down to a science. He’s too good of a sous-chef for you to get mad at him for stealing from the stack every now and then.
Robin and Max are sitting at the dining table by the time you get back. They’re practically zombies, silent and grumpy, with their freckled features scrunched like they take offense to the early morning.
Lucas is the last of the kids to come out, though a part of you thinks it might’ve been intentional.
He’s traded his pajamas for day clothes — Hawkins Tigers track pants and a fitted t-shirt. He idles in the kitchen for several long moments with his trembling hands balled into fists. You can tell he wants to sit next to Max. The thought of rejection keeps him from gravitating towards her, though. Instead, he stands at the counter next to Dustin and tries to hide his grieving.
Steve comes second to last — which is strange, because he was the first one there in a sense. The volume in the kitchen grows too loud for him to ignore. When he comes to the begrudging realization that there’s no falling back to sleep, he decides to join the rest of you.
His feet trudge down the hall when he returns from the bathroom. The only remnants of slumber he wears are the sweatpants and wrinkled t-shirt he’d thrown on sometime after waking up. His structured features are seemingly too sharp to be weighed down by fatigue.
“Where are those little shits going?” he wonders in the place of any actual greeting. He eyes Mike and El as they depart through the sliding glass door. His bushy brows scrunch in confusion and distant worry — neither of which ever seem to leave him.
“Probably to talk to Nancy—”
“What?” Steve sputters, wide-eyed and gaped mouth. “Nancy’s— Nancy’s here?”
Your brows pinch at his shock. You scrape fluffy yellow eggs from the skillet into a large bowl, fit to feed a sizable family — yours of which has squeezed like sardines into this cabin. “Well… You did invite her, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but…” he trails off, features twisted in puzzlement. His anxious hands prop against his sweatpant-clad waist. “When did she get in?”
“This morning—”
His eyes fly open once more. His head whips over his shoulder, like he might see her standing there, then turns back to gape at you again. “And you didn’t wake me up?”
You scoff a faint laugh at him. “Why would I wake you up?”
“‘Cause he’s in love with her,” Dustin answers for him, mouth full of the pancake he grips in his right hand. “Obviously.”
“Shut up,” Steve squints at him with all the annoyance of an older sibling despite having been an only child all his life. His irked features relax when his cinnamon gaze flits to you. “Where is she now?”
“Uh… She went for a walk a while ago,” you answer absentmindedly, as though she hadn’t been on your mind the whole time. “I think she’s sitting out by the beach waiting for everyone to get up now, though.”
You and Steve share similarly narrowed eyes when you look out the kitchen window. The brunette girl sits at the square table outside the cabin. You can only see the profile of her pointed features as she smiles up at her younger brother and his girlfriend — a look so full of annoyance it can only be love.
“Maybe take it down a few notches before you try to talk to her, alright, Stevie?” Robin teases from the dining table.
“Yeah,” Lucas lilts with a slow nod, obviously playful in his dogpiling. He leans against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, trying hard not to smile too wide. “You look a little crazy right now, man.”
“It’s only ‘cause you little shits drive me crazy,” Steve defends in a monotone.
“Go tell her breakfast is almost done,” you advise with a sincere smile, though your eyes sparkle with mischief. “You can use that as an excuse to talk to her instead of whatever bullshit you were about to make up.”
Steve nods with a flat face. “Thanks, Peach.”
Dustin and Lucas help you transport the containers of food to the rectangle dining table — pancakes, eggs, sausage, and only halfway stale biscuits. Basically whatever leftover groceries you could find in the cupboards and the fridge.
Steve is too busy idling in one place to bother helping. With his eyes trained on the sliding glass door, it’s too apparent that he’s in his own head. He’s trying hard to work up the courage to talk to a girl he’s known for years now.
As you sit in your seat at the table — beside Robin, across from Max, with a spare chair open for Eddie on your other side — you watch the fidgeting boy from over your shoulder. His pointed features harden slightly with his newfound bravery, his chest puffing with a wavering breath in. You watch him take a firm step towards the door, but he’s stopped in place by three bodies already walking towards it.
Nancy was already on her way back, with Mike and El at her side. Steve had been too late — too doubtful of himself, too frightened of the pushed-away problems he’d caused. He’s forced to share awkward, trembling smiles with his first love and not a thing more.
You feel his heartache as if it were your own.
Eddie’s footsteps stomp, stomp, stomp down the spiral staircase when he finally comes down.
Your heart warms at the very sight of him, as though you were looking at the rest of your life in the flesh — wild hair, swollen eyes, wrinkled t-shirt, and all. It’s too early to smile as wide as you do.
“Morning, Eds,” you greet, because everyone’s too busy stuffing their faces or writhing in unrequited love to do it for you.
His lips curl into a soft smile, weighed down by fatigue but rosy with his love for you. The pink expression grows when he sees the full table and the seat you left open for him. “Morning, sweetheart,” he lilts in response.
“How convenient,” Dustin squints from the head of the table, adjacent to Lucas and Eddie’s vacant seat. He’s got scrambled egg clinging to the side of his mouth as he chastises, “You show up right when breakfast is done.”
“Sorry, Dusty Bun,” Eddie apologizes with a teasing inflection that would imply that he’s not actually sorry. His chair scrapes against the kitchen tile when he pulls it out from under the table. “It’s not my fault I have impeccable timing.”
Your eyes dart to the boy standing beside you. They dance across his sleep-ridden features as your lips quirk in a cheeky half-smile.
You know better than anyone that he’s only ever late to everything. The only time you can count on him being early is if there’s a Hellfire campaign or when he’s coming in his jeans.
Eddie grows sheepish with the same understanding. His cheeks flush with a poorly hidden smirk as he sits down next to you. “Don’t say anything, Peach,” he mutters quietly to you.
The table, now sufficiently full, seems to thrum with life. Whether they’re picking at their food like Steve and Lucas, or stuffing their faces like Dustin and Robin, you can’t help but smile softly at each of them.
They feel like family — like you’ve upped and carried your home with you three hours away. You’d forgotten what not being alone felt like before now. Your chest swells with a newfound life you didn’t even know you were missing.
“Uh, did everyone pack a bathing suit?” you wonder aloud with a bright smile on your face, a measly question to fill the silence and the sound of silverware against porcelain plates.
Everyone nods and hums soft “yeah”’s with their mouths full — except for Eddie.
The boy beside you stills with his fork in front of his mouth. His dark eyes go wide as he looks over at you. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters in the place of an answer. “I was supposed to pack a bathing suit?”
You find his forgetful disposition rather endearing. You can too easily imagine him standing in the middle of his bedroom, mouthing everything you told him to pack while counting them on his fingers. You can see his brows furrowing with a distant pout while he asks himself “what the hell am I forgetting?”
You’re too in love to be annoyed with him — or ill-prepared.
“I packed trunks for you. It’s okay,” you murmur in response, voice as quiet as the smile you look at him with.
Eddie’s chest aches. It’s too warm to be his heart breaking — too fluffy and sticky and sweet. It’s a burning sort of pain that can only be pure, unadulterated love.
“God, you are the woman of my dreams, baby,” he confesses lowly, mostly to himself.
You only hear the words leave his mouth because he’s leaning in to kiss you. You don’t meet him halfway, but instead grin softly at his efforts, which you know are bound to be interrupted.
“Hey!” Dustin scolds through the bite of biscuit in his mouth. “No kissing at the table!”
Robin licks syrup from the corner of her mouth, then concurs through her pancakes, “Yeah. You wanna make everybody here puke or what?”
“Or what,” you answer the rhetorical question, meeting her deadpanned expression with a smile. You tilt your head to your shoulder and scrunch your nose. “Preferably, at least.”
“How about everyone just keep their hands to themselves, yeah?” Steve advises in a monotone. His honey eyes flit around the table with a significant focus on you and Eddie and Mike and El. He waves his fork in his hand, still piercing the cooled piece of scrambled egg he hasn’t eaten yet. “How about that?”
“Okay, Hopper,” you scoff to yourself.
El snorts a quiet laugh from across the table, on Max’s other side.
Steve flashes you an annoyed glance from across Robin sitting between the two of you. Despite his monotoned features, his eyes sparkle with an adoration for you he couldn’t conceal if he wanted to.
He tries to, anyway.
“Bite me,” he grumbles with narrowed eyes.
Eddie huffs dramatically from beside you. The sound gets your attention — makes you turn your head to look at him again — which is all he really wanted to do, anyway.
“Stop flirting!” the boy grumbles, wide-eyed and chewing through his mouthful. “I’m sitting right here!”
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
Eddie Munson was never supposed to believe in love at first sight. That stuff was for children, chick flicks, and over-played ballads — not metalheads who’ve never been loved before and have had to improvise all their awkward tenderness accordingly.
But then he met you. And he didn’t love you then, but he knew something was different. Off. Metamorphosing, even.
It was different from love — whatever strange, foreign thing he was feeling way back when. It didn’t hurt nearly as much, and it didn’t feel like every single one of his atoms had been set ablaze. It was softer, warmer, a gentle familiarity in a stranger who just wanted to get high.
You sat down in front of him on that rotted park bench in the middle of the woods, and it felt like he was staring the rest of his life in the face. There was no falling head over heels like all the songs on the radio said there’d be, but rather an “Oh, hi, it’s you. I hope it’s always gonna be you.”
He feels that foreign, fluffy feeling in his chest even now as he stands on the shore in a pair of trunks you bought because you knew he’d forget his. He watches you wade into the cerulean sea with a lily sort of hesitance. You’re so much smaller than the wide-open, but he loves you so much you seem swallow it all whole anyway.
You’re a pretty little thing in a canary yellow bikini, sunshine incarnate. Your thighs are round and full. The pudge of your stomach is soft and tender. The scarred marks on your back and shoulders are like so many little kisses, each of which he longs to give you in return.
You possess an intimidating sort of beauty, one that Eddie found easier to admire from afar. You were entirely too captivating — warm and gentle like a summer rain dying to be danced in.
“Stop being such a baby!” Robin calls from further in the water. Her sandy-colored hair is a darker shade from the salty sea and pushed back over her forehead and ears.
Her chapped lips curl into a pink smile as she looks up at you. Not even she could hide her admiration for your fantastical, demoniacal beauty.
“The water’s not even that bad!” the girl continues in half-hearted taunts. “Just run in!”
“It’s cold!” you insist, shivering when a brutal breeze brushes by. You tense and tighten the grip you have on yourself. Your arms are crossed over your chest in a feeble shield that does little to protect you from the water nipping at your ankles.
Robin cackles at your wincing.
Eddie might’ve defended you if he wasn’t so lost in the eternal blue of you, more infinite than the water you stand in or the sky you idle beneath.
You look so soft in the golden sunlight, so diabolically angelic. Lithe, unholy, yet pure all the same. Built for sin but looking just like Heaven.
Eddie Munson wasn’t supposed to fall in love. He wasn’t even looking for it until it tripped him, ate him up, and spat him out. The universe does whatever the universe wants sometimes, he figures, and if you can’t laugh at their stupid jokes, then that’s on you.
“Holy shit…” Eddie mumbles as the realization pierces him like a dull needle between his ribcage. That searing, subtle feeling of being in love.
It’s frightening more than it is anything, really — the understanding that you’re diving into something that could ruin you, something you’re going to let ruin you. There’s nothing but a thin line between love and horror.
“Huh?” Steve hums with a cartoonishly scrunched nose and furrow to his brow.
He was the only one close enough to hear him. Everyone else was separate but still near, using every inch of their reserved space.
Nancy’s reading a book in one of the lounge chairs with El and Max sunbathing on towels close by. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are roughhousing in the water — no doubt irking Steve and his lifeguard-esque spidey senses. Robin, meanwhile, was still coaxing you inside.
Eddie’s head snaps in Steve’s direction. He squints through the wisps of gray smoke rising from the grill. “Huh?” he repeats like the idiot he is.
“You said something.” The brunette boy responds. Not a question, but a statement of fact.
“No, I wasn’t,” Eddie sasses back despite having been caught red-handed. He shrugs and crosses his pale arms over his chest. “I was just… I was just talking to myself.”
“Yeah. ‘Cause that’s not weird or anything.”
Eddie bites back a too-harsh jeer. He watches Steve flip a steaming burger on the tiny grill in front of him with a floundering sort of finesse. He scoffs out a laugh. “Making fun of me isn’t gonna compensate for you having absolutely no idea what you’re doing over there, you know?”
“How hard can it be?” Steve wonders, bouncing his shoulders and gesturing with the spatula in his hand. “They’re burgers. Just flip ‘em before the burn, and they’re golden— well, not golden, but… you get it.”
Eddie rolls his eyes at the boy’s blind optimism. Steve’s got all the trappings of a rich kid who never had a fend for yourself night where dinner was just chocolate milk, dry cereal, and pizza rolls. “I thought growing up in the suburbs, you would’ve perfected the art of grilling by now.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly have anyone around that often to teach me, so…”
Steve isn’t exactly playing the woe is me card. He’s just stating a fact that most everyone in Hawkins seems to know by now. It blows the wind out of Eddie’s sails, anyway.
It’s hard to understand sometimes that Steve’s got his own thing going on — his own secrets with his own trauma he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. Eddie spent his whole life thinking that if he was richer, or if his house was bigger, or if the kids at school liked him more, he might’ve been happier growing up.
Steve Harrington is living proof that that’s not always true.
Eddie walks a few steps closer to the grill. The smell of smoke and cooked meat pervade him instantaneously. He snatches the spatula from Steve’s hand, who’s too off guard to dodge him.
His frizzy curls bunch at his shoulders when he tilts his head to the side, flashing the brunette boy a sickly sweet smile. “Let the trailer trash show ya how it’s done, Stevie.”
“First of all, don’t call me that,” he retorts with a flat face, golden biceps crossed tight over the chest of his fitted tee. “And second of all, what the hell do you know about cooking?”
“When you grow up in a trailer park, you know how to make at least two things by the time you’re seven-years-old — pizza rolls in the oven and burgers on the grill.”
Steve’s honey eyes narrow. “I don’t trust you not to poison us, Munson.”
“What? You think I’m gonna poison a bunch of kids and my girlfriend? That’s, like, the lowest of the low,” Eddie defends with bubbly laughter sputtering from his mouth. He flips a smashed burger and lets it sizzle over the low flame before pointing the spatula in Steve’s direction. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eye. “But you, Harrington? You should definitely be worried.”
“…Girlfriend, huh?”
Eddie, visibly surprised by the lack of a comeback, glances over his shoulder at the boy. His fleetingly puzzled gaze gives way to a teasing pink grin. “Yeah… Jealous?”
It was a joke, but Steve starts to stutter over himself like he’s guilty of something. “What? No,” he argues between forced laughter. “Why would you— Why would you even say that?”
“‘Cause I actually had the balls to ask out the girl I like, and you’ve been ogling at Nancy for an hour trying to figure out how to talk to her without coming off like a total creep.”
“That’s not… I wasn’t doing that.”
Eddie shrugs. “Okay.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I said okay!”
“Jeez…” Steve concedes with a dramatic huff. “I have no idea what Peach sees in you, ya know?”
“Me neither, honestly,” Eddie confesses with a distant smile, grinning at the grill like he can see you in the wisps of thick smoke. “I always thought it was my strong arms and sparkling personality.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about! You can’t be serious about anything!”
“I can be serious about some things.”
“Yeah?” Steve muses with raised brows and a smile that says otherwise. “Like what?”
There’s a million stupid jokes Eddie could make just to piss him off all the more. He swallows them all down in place of something more real. “I don’t know… Peach is pretty cool, I guess… Don’t really wanna fuck that up…”
Steve nods, proud of the answer he wasn’t expecting. “Good. Don’t.”
“And what would you do if I did, tough guy?” Eddie jokes, narrowing his eyes at the boy beside him. “Beat me up?”
He answers without missing a beat. “Yeah.”
“You don’t exactly have the best track record for that. I’m pretty sure you’re on a world-record losing streak, actually.”
“I don’t have to win,” Steve assures with a strange sort of sternness to his words.
Eddie is visibly shocked by the sudden seriousness, wide-eyed and confused.
The brunette boy sighs before explaining. “That time I got into that stupid fight with Hargrove, it wasn’t about trying to beat him, you know? I was trying to— I don’t know— I was trying to… keep him from hurting the people I cared about, I guess.”
“Peach?” Eddie presses with furrowed brows.
Steve shoots him a dumbfounded look, confused by the confusion. “She didn’t tell you about that?”
“...No?”
“Then, uh… Never mind.”
Steve closes in on himself all over again — an impenetrable brick wall with abs and a chiseled jawline. Eddie feels so suddenly left out, like there was some secret everyone was in on but him. He abandons the grill entirely.
“Nope. No way. You have to tell me now.”
“I don’t have to tell you shit, Munson,” Steve scoffs, side-stepping the wild-haired boy and taking his place in front of the grill. The burgers are cooked through now, perfectly seared and smoky. He plates them all like he wasn’t on track to burning them. Eddie lets him do it.
“I swear to god, I will give you food poisoning on purpose, Harrington—”
“It’s not my story to tell, alright?” Steve interjects the half-hearted threat.
“Well, I mean, it sorta is because you were just about to tell it, so…”
The brunette grumbles something under his breath like a rolling storm cloud.
You and Robin watch the encounter from afar, both of you someways from shore. Now submerged to your shoulders in the sapphire water, you’re not nearly as cold as when you first stepped in. It feels as soft as silk now, sparkling around you like diamonds every time you kick your feet to keep yourself afloat.
A smile quirks at your mouth at the sight of the bantering boys — one you used to love and one you think you’ll love forever.
They’re complete and utter opposites of each other. One golden, one pale. One broad, one lean. One with trimmed honey locks that shine golden in the sun, and one with long curls so dark they seem to reject all light entirely.
They both wear deadpanned looks of utter annoyance on their features, having no idea how close they’re standing to each other.
“The sexual tension is ripe between those two,” you confess to Robin, though it’s mostly for yourself.
“Think they’re gonna kiss?” the brunette girl jokes as she blinks salt water from her eyes.
“I don’t know… They might…” you observe quietly, squinting in the distance in a feeble attempt to read their lips. The conversation seems heated — well, as heated as it gets between two boys who think they’re better off as enemies.
You long to understand what they’re saying and mourn the fact that you don’t.
“Bet I can get them to kiss by the end of the night, though,” you answer more finally and with a glint to your eye — a result of your looming mischief rather than the glittering sun above you.
“Please, don’t say it…” Robin grimaces.
“Truth or dare,” you singsong with a beaming grin.
The girl makes a pained sound at your words. She bubbles her freckled cheeks and squeezes her eyes shut tight. She ducks herself beneath the water in attempts to hide there, knowing there are some things you just can’t run from.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
You hold onto your love for Eddie like so many flowers in your hand.
It’s a collection of wild things — honeyed daffodils, fluffy white daisies, and pretty pastel forget-me-nots. Their vivid green stems feel like stripes of hardened silk in your palm.
Maybe you’ll shape them into a crown later, place them on top of your lover’s wild curls the next time you see him. You hope that isn’t too long now.
Max was the one that wanted to go on a hike. Upon the other boys’ insistence of tagging along, she spat like venom in return — “No boys allowed.” And, quite frankly, none of you were in any position to deny Maxine Mayfield of anything.
Robin hadn’t even wanted to go until that moment. She complained she was too tired after a day in the water to spend an evening in the woods. The thought of making fun of Steve seemingly cured her.
“Yeah,” she lilted with a smile, voice raspy from hours of nonstop laughter. She slid a cap over her drying locks, leaving it backwards and lazy on her head. She bounced her brows and walked backwards behind the group of you. “Go on your own hike, Stevie.”
“We will!” Steve argued in return, like a child not easily left behind.
You can’t be sure of what they’re up to now. Nothing, maybe, or perhaps everything. You just hope Eddie’s missing you as much as you’re missing him — innocently, gently, childishly.
Maybe he’s seeing your face in the crystalline waves of the sea like you’re seeing his face in the satin petals of the flowers in your hand.
“Having fun?” you ask Max over the subtle crunch, crunch, crunch of grass and leaves and twigs beneath your feet.
The redhead’s eyes widen at the suddenness of your presence — or rather, how slow she’d been to register it. Noticing her languishing stride, she puts more pep in her step.
“Tons,” she huffs.
You become a silent observer of Max Mayfield for a moment. You blink at the girl beside you — with pretty red plaits down her back and pale shoulders peeking from her tank top — and try to make sense of her. It’s an impossible task.
“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” you confess with a quiet laugh.
“I’m not,” she affirms with her own scoffed-out chuckle. She tucks a rouge wisp of amber hair behind her ear and averts her gaze to her beat-up sneakers. “It’s… actually been kinda fun so far.”
With a blooming feeling of relief and slight accomplishment, you nod in response. “Good.”
“I just wish the boys weren’t here, though,” she admits with a distant girlishness, kicking a rock with the tip of her shoe. It clunk, clunk, clunks down the hill. She screws her freckled face. “They’re making it all… weird.”
“Weird how?” you press gently.
You don’t want to push her so hard she closes up again, but you don’t want to stay so quiet she thinks you don’t care. It’s tricky work, getting close to Max Mayfield — like digging through a brick wall with a plastic spoon.
“Weird as in… I don’t know— they’re making it something it’s not supposed to be, you know? Like, Dustin is cool, but that’s because his girlfriend just dumped him and everything,” the girl rambles with a shrug. She lifts her arm to duck beneath a low-hanging branch, scraping her calloused palm against the wood as she goes.
You’ll hear a low thud moments later when Robin smacks her forehead against it. She’d been too busy explaining how to tell the difference between poisonous and nonpoisonous mushrooms to Nancy and El — the former only half as enthused as the latter.
“El and Mike are always sneaking off to suck face, and Steve and Eddie keep ogling at you like they’ve never seen a girl before, and Lucas won’t stop asking me if something’s wrong, and—”
“He’s just trying to check up on you,” you interject gently, letting the wound-up girl take a much-needed breath.
“Yeah, well, it’s annoying,” she grumbles like a thundering rain cloud. “I’m trying to forget my problems, not talk about them.”
And, honestly, you think she might be onto something. Teenage girls are basically tiny pessimistic philosophers — your problems don’t exist if you don’t look at them, she tells you in essence. The logic is cynically sound to an unhealthy degree. It’s a poison apple you’ve plucked from the tree and eaten whole once.
“You gotta talk about them eventually, Max,” you tell her. Not because you have, but rather because you haven’t, and you’ve seen where that’s gotten you.
Max stops in her tracks. She turns ninety degrees to glare at you — arms crossed over her chest, bushy brows quirked like the right side of her lips. She looks bitterly amused at your words.
You cower beneath her icy blue stare. You know you’ve said the wrong thing.
“Oh, yeah? Like you’re talking about them, too?” she sasses with all her practiced teenaged apathy.
You falter. “Yeah, well… Don’t do what I do, alright? Do what I say.”
Max scoffs. It sounds almost like genuine laughter in its curtness, as though it were truly sincere. She shakes her head with a cynical smile. “Face it— we’re both hopeless…”
Her words leave you stunned, as though she’d pierced you with the poison tip of them. There’s an edge to them that cuts you and leaves you bleeding as she walks on without you. The wind brushes your exposed skin, a reminder that the world is still going even though it feels like it’s frozen still.
Robin and El walk by you a moment later. The former rubs her aching forehead over the brim of the cap on her head. The latter is elbow-deep in a drawstring bag looking for a bandaid to give her.
Nancy, either poetically or cruelly, is the one who notices the splintered ache you are.
She smiles with her pretty pink lips and blinks at you with her stone-blue eyes. She’s as pretty as she ever was — with her bare, sun-kissed face and oversized cardigan pushed up to her elbows. It’s hard to admonish someone who looks as sweet as she does.
Her attention alone is enough to heal you, like a dog licking a weeping wound. You hate her as much as you worship her. The loathing feels religious.
“Who are those for?” she questions innocently, motioning to the flowers in the limp hand hanging at your side.
“Oh, uh, they’re— they’re for Eddie,” you sputter in a mumble, suddenly aflame with embarrassment. You turn your red-hot cheeks away from her and look at everything but the girl in front of you. “It’s… It’s stupid…”
“I don’t think so. I think it’s sweet,” she disagrees, grinning so sincerely it scrunches the sloped bridge of her nose.
“I don’t know, I just… I felt a little bad about leaving him behind, so…”
“He did look a little like a sad puppy when we left,” Nancy confesses in a soft giggle.
You roll your eyes despite the lovesick smile on your face. “He always looks like that when he doesn’t get his way.”
“He really likes you. I can tell.”
Your heart lurches at her words.
“What the hell do you know about him?” is first fleeting thought that scorches your mind. “He isn’t yours. You don’t get to know him.”
The misplaced anger is raging crimson, vivid enough to taste. Or perhaps that’s just the metallic tang of your blood as you bite your tongue.
Your rage is engraved into your bones at this point.
It isn’t fair, not to either of you, so you swallow it down.
“You think so?” you wonder instead.
“Oh. Totally,” she scoffs like she’s never been surer of anything in her life.
Her sneakers scuff against the rough terrain of Lake Lemon as she starts walking again, towards the sound of trickling water. You follow behind her on instinct and watch her angled profile flit to the blue sky above you. Gray clouds start to gather in the distance, concealed by the green of towering trees.
“The way he looks at you… It’s really sweet.”
“Bet it makes you miss Jonathan, huh?”
“I always miss him,” she answers without missing a beat, though she seems so suddenly forlorn. “Even though I know I’m not really supposed to.”
“What do you mean?” you press with pinched brows.
She tilts her head and looks at you beneath her lashes. “We, um… We broke up, actually.”
“Oh. Shit,” you stutter, surprising even yourself because you hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. It makes you that much more embarrassed at yourself. “I— I’m sorry. I didn’t— shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” Nancy assures kindly, giggling and bringing you at ease again. She smiles so softly, like she isn’t hurt by it all — by what you’ve said or what she left behind in Jonathan.
You squint at her with a question on your tongue. How can you seem so happy after having lost a piece of yourself? you want so desperately to ask. How has that not ruined you entirely?
She sighs, still with a reminiscent smile. “I haven’t really… you know, talked about it, so…”
“Are you…” you start, but trail off again. Your head whips from her to the rocky trail you descend down, trying to keep focused without tripping over yourself in front of her. God knows you’ve done that enough for a lifetime. “Are you okay?”
Nancy thinks on your words more than you expected her to. “Uh, yeah. I think so. I mean— I guess that’s what this trip is about, you know? Trying to be okay again.”
You nod in response. You figure that’s why you ultimately asked Max to tag along in the first place, and why her friends had decided to join — those heartbroken and otherwise.
“Sorry about that, by the way,” Nancy follows quickly with wet eyes and pinched-together brows. She’s waiting for you to condemn her, though you’re not entirely sure why.
“For… what?”
“You know, not telling you I was coming and… everything.”
You wonder if she truly does mean everything or if it’s just a figure of speech. Nancy has a world of things to say sorry to you for — she knows this, most barbarically so.
“Steve told me it was normally a him, you, and Robin thing. He said you wouldn’t be upset about it or anything, but I feel like… I don’t know… like I’ve intruded or something?”
“No,” you assure almost instantly because you know what non-belonging feels like. You don’t want it to eat away at her like it did you. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah?” the girl presses with a twinkle in her eye.
“Totally.”
She exhales a sharp chuckle through her nose. It’s almost a sigh of relief — like your words have removed a hulking weight from her bony chest. “I was so scared things were gonna be…”
“Weird?” you finish for her when she trails off.
Her sheepish smile matches your own. She nods. “Yeah.”
“That was forever ago,” you shrug, repeating the words you’ve been telling yourself for ages now. It made everything much easier to stomach. You found it much safer not to feel any of it at all — to keep the hurt from touching you entirely.
Nancy nods. Her words leave her mouth, soft like a song and kissed by sorrow. “I know, but… Things were…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t have to.
You were there for all of it. Most of the bloodshed was yours in the end.
“Yeah,” you huff so deeply it deflates your tightening chest.
“It was all just bullshit, you know?” Nancy says, shaking her head like she’s detested by the memory. “Steve shouldn’t have done what he did, but… It wasn’t like I was raring to stop him.”
“It wasn’t your job. You didn’t know me— you never had to… defend me or whatever.”
“I know, but… I think maybe I should have.”
The two of you stop in place and share a look of distant longing. Not the kind you often give Eddie — not the kind full of puppy love — but rather one of acute understanding.
She didn’t know you, and you didn’t know her. You thought it was better off that way. Her presence was so often forced against your will. Like Pavlov’s Dog, you knew she only ever came with your inevitable heartache. Steve drifted to her like she had her own gravitational pull. He only came back to you when she was gone.
Jaded by heartache, you learned to hate her. The wrath ate away at you accordingly. And here she was — all your anger in the flesh — extending an olive branch and trying to make you whole again.
“Whoa…” you hear Robin croon lowly in the distance.
Your attention leaves the piercing moment and darts over to her. She stands between El and Max in front of a leaning willow. She parts the weeping leaves with the palm of her hand and marvels at something further in the juniper you can’t see.
You give Nancy a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes — too weighed down by the heavy moment — but it isn’t any less sincere. You walk away from her and towards the three others. It takes her a moment or more to follow you.
Past the swaying willow is a shrouded cove. The clear water is kissed by streams of sunlight poking through the fluttering leaves. It possesses a hearty smell of rain and wet grass, the very breath of spring.
It’s a corner of the world that feels so pure, so untouched by the rest of the world. You can hear words hidden in the rippling water — “Swim with me,” it calls to you. “Let me cleanse you. Let me save you.”
“Sweet…” Max hums to herself, apathetic as ever, though utterly unable to tear her eyes from the sight before her.
El nods, similarly mesmerized. “Yeah. Sweet.”
Robin turns to you, smirking all cool in her backwards cap and baggy jeans and thumped forehead. She bounces her brows and beams. “Bet the boys haven’t found anything this cool.”
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
“Hey, look!” Dustin shouts to the others, eyes squinted with the intensity of his grin. He holds up a shining red rock, made smooth from the water rolling over his feet. “I’m pretty sure it’s a gemstone! Like, a ruby or something!”
He’s met with several unenthused gazes from the rest of the boys on shore.
Mike squints at him from where he sits next to Lucas in the sand, both of them equally mopey without their girls to bring them back to life. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s just a rock,” the raven-haired boy monotones.
Dustin’s smile washes away like the ebbing tide at his ankles. He looks back at the weighty thing in his hand and realizes that he doesn’t actually know the difference. “Oh…”
“What do you think the girls are doing right now?” Lucas wonders aloud. He can’t go more than five minutes without bringing them up, which Dustin has bitterly observed a number of times.
He’s more worried about Max than anything, about her eagerness to get away from the boys — from him. He doesn’t know what he could’ve done so wrong to make her pull away like she has. His chest aches with the uncertainty.
“Talking about us, probably,” Mike answers.
“That’s a little sexist, Mike,” Dustin scolds as he walks back on shore, kicking up white sand behind him as he goes.
“What do you think they’re doing then?”
“Talking about you,” the curly-haired boy retorts with narrowed eyes. “‘Cause you’re a dick.”
Mike squints an eye as he looks up at him, shielding his vision from the white sun. He flips the boy off with a pale, bony finger.
Eddie watches from a distance. He stands beside Steve in front of the bubbling white waves, though it’s not really by choice. He’d much rather be standing next to you. He searches for you in the pearly waves and weeps because nothing compares to the real thing.
“Well, why don’t we just find out?” he offers with a shrug and a lopsided grin.
“Uh, because they said no boys allowed,” Steve answers like it’s obvious.
Eddie meets the boy’s furrowed brows with jettisoned ones hidden behind curly bangs. “…Okay?”
“And, I don’t know— I kinda don’t wanna get my face ripped off.”
“And what would poor Steve Harrington do without his pretty little face?” the wild-haired boy singsongs in response, face scrunched in feigned sympathy.
Steve squints. “You know what? Please, leave. I encourage it, actually.”
Eddie grins wide and tilts his head to his shoulder. He blinks at the boy beside him with glittering chocolate eyes that match the frizzy curls billowing in the breeze. “But then who would I annoy?”
“I don’t know. Your girlfriend, maybe,” Steve responds in a monotone, grunting softly as he bends down to pick up a handful of rocks from shore. He flicks his wrist to skip them across the water. It becomes quickly apparent that he’s never done it before. Each pebble plops hopelessly into the salty sea. “Anyone but me, preferably.”
“But you can’t break up with me, so… that’s an obvious bonus.”
“Jesus Christ…” Steve mumbles within an annoyed exhale. “You are the most insufferable person on the planet, you know that, right?”
“Tell me what happened with Billy, and I’ll leave,” Eddie challenges with narrowed eyes.
It’s too good a proposition not to give any thought to. Steve thinks about it for a beat, then shakes his head and turns away. “Yeah, no,” he concludes, skipping another rock that sinks to the bottom almost immediately.
“Why?”
“’Cause you annoying the shit outta me now is nothing compared to what Peach’ll do if she finds out I told you.”
“And what’s that?”
Steve shrugs. “…Be mad at me?”
Eddie scoffs and crosses his pale arms over his chest. “And that would just be… inconceivable, right?”
“I spent enough time pissing her off.”
“What’d you even do, anyway? Or is that another secret everyone seems to know but me?”
Steve shoots him another bitter side-eye. He tosses out another pebble. It bounces on the water once and then disappears beneath the surface. “I think these are questions for your girlfriend, Munson.”
“No, these are questions for bros, Harrington,” Eddie jokes, shoving the boy on his shoulder. His touch is more aggressive than he realizes and it makes the disgruntled brunette stumble slightly to the side. “Isn’t this the sort of things bros talk about?”
“Oh, my god…” Steve mutters to himself, shaking his head and wondering how he got here. What was supposed to be a trip with you and Robin has turned into him babysitting with Eddie fucking Munson.
“Am I not bro enough for you, Harrington?”
“That word has lost all meaning now—”
“C’mon, just tell me, man,” Eddie pleads with a newfound seriousness. “Every time I almost get something outta her, she just— she clams up, you know? I love her and everything, but fuck— it feels like she only lets me know her so much. It’s agony sometimes, dude.”
Steve doesn’t mean to, but he melts.
Maybe it’s the foreign emotion he’s getting from the local freak, or maybe it’s the confession that’s unknowingly slipped from his lips.
He sighs. Then shrugs. “It was a long time ago. And I was a douchebag.”
Eddie snorts. “Figures.”
“Do you want me to tell you or not?” Steve bites.
Eddie curls his lips around his teeth, puts his mouth in a tight line, and stays silent.
The brunette boy continues. “I liked her and everything, but I also liked Nancy, you know? I really liked Nancy. I mean, Peach was a lotta fun, but Nance— she was the kinda girl you wanted to settle down with.”
Eddie feels his chest tighten, and the confession’s only just started.
You were fun. The most fun he’s had in his life. He’d kill to settle down with you, to have an entire future of fun. There was never any but with you — I love you, but it’d be a bad look to settle down with the town slut. Eddie wants all of you, the good and what everyone else has collectively decided is “bad.”
He loves the sound of your laughter as much as he loves the sound of your moans.
He wants a lifetime full of both.
“—So every time Nancy broke up with me, I’d go back to Peach. And I wouldn’t tell her about… about any of it. You know, that I still wanted to be with Nancy and everything. And that’s… I think that’s the worst part about it. ‘Cause she thought there was a chance we would get together, you know? And I wanted her to think that, ‘cause I wanted her to always be there when I was— when I needed her…”
Steve squints off into the blue — where the darker-colored water meets a lighter-colored sky. The white sun casts harsh shadows on his already chiseled features. His face scrunches into something sharper, whetted edges of held-back emotion.
“A part of me knew the only reason Peach stuck around was because she thought I’d finally come to my senses and ask her out, you know? But I was… so far gone for Nancy back then it’s not even funny,” the boy confesses. He exhales a curt, cynical chuckle from his nose and shakes his head at himself.
“I knew I was gonna keep chasing after Nance, but I couldn’t let Peach know that because I didn’t wanna be... I don’t know… alone, I guess? I needed someone to go to when my heart got broken., you know? But when I went back to Nancy— over and over and over again— it’s like… where’d Peach go? Who did— Who did she have to turn to, you know?”
Silence rolls in like the whispering breeze. It settles heavy like the gray rain clouds on the horizon.
Steve sighs like a strangling hand has finally let go of his throat. Like he can finally breathe again after saying all that out loud for the first time. Beside Eddie, the boy stands golden, grieving, and utterly changed. Steve towers over his old self in the memories he wishes he could get rid of and mourns the people he can’t un-hurt.
And it fucking sucks.
What he did to you sucks. The person he used to be sucks. And it sucks that he’s changed too much to hate now. Where is Eddie supposed to put all the anger simmering in his chest and scratching at the back of his throat?
“And, yeah,” Steve suddenly concludes, flicking his wrist to toss another rock out to sea that’ll never see the light of day again. “That went on for a while until she got with Hargrove, which was… a total fucking train wreck.”
Eddie doesn’t know how to respond, so he just laughs — a short, sharp, and scoffing breath.
“Wow,” he muses with his brows raised and hidden beneath his bangs. He shakes his head in complete and utter bemusement as he looks over at Steve, eyelids as heavy as the forced smile on his face. “You guys are fucking assholes, you know that?”
Steve exhales sharply from his nose in place of a laugh. He shakes his head in agreement anyway. “Believe it or not— people can change, Munson.”
The wild-haired boy squints. “Really?”
“I did. Peach did,” he answers with a shrug, then averts his gaze entirely to mumble, “You did, too, I guess…”
The half-heartedly grumbled phrase feels almost like a compliment — more so when it’s spilling from the mouth of someone he used to hate but has grown to sort of tolerate on handpicked occasions.
It’s great beauty, to grow and shift and become the person you were also meant to be. And what praise it is to be seen in your becoming.
From a brief distance, they hear a soft and relieved “Fucking finally,” spill from Dustin’s mouth.
Eddie turns and finds you coming down from the trail. Well, you and the rest of the girls you ditched him for, but all he can really see is you.
He’d missed you in a way he knows he shouldn’t have. Not just because you were only gone for one measly hour, but because that one measly hour ate away at him as though it were eons.
He knows he shouldn’t miss you so hard, but sometimes the absence feels strangely fulfilling. It’s a reminder that you’re real and not some dream he made up in his head. A reminder that he’ll meet you again because you’ll always come back to him.
“Have fun?” you ask when he’s close enough to hear you. You’ve got one eye squinted to shield from the sun and also to conceal the beam threatening to take over your features.
“Oh. Tons,” Eddie scoffs in a deadpan. “Didn’t even miss you.”
“No?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Well, I didn’t miss you either,” you confess in a similar lilt and with a similar grin that drips with honeyed adoration. “’S why I spent the whole time picking these flowers for you.”
You shrug and hold out your left hand, where a bushel of tiny flowers rests softly against the edge of your palm. It’s a mixture of vivid colors — of greens, blues, purples, and yellows. They’re wild and beautiful and drenched in sun. A whole lot like the love he has for you.
The dull ache of his broken heart sears with warmth when you put it back together again.
Eddie’s toes dig into the sand as he fills the short distance between you. He curls his fingers around your elbows, takes you in his arms, and feels whole again. With a rosy smile and sparkling chocolate eyes, he groans, “Oh, god, I hate you so much…”
Your cheeks hurt with how large your grin has grown, with how hard you try to hide it. It’s not nearly as painful as the adoration burning wildfires behind your ribcage. “I hate you more, Eddie Spaghetti.”
There’s no need to admit you’re only joking.
The words are so obviously playful.
And both of you know what they really mean, anyway.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
The heavenly cadence of spring rain sings a wild song on the old tin roof.
It began first as a few gentle taps, a sparse sprinkle that tricks your brain into thinking it’s not really there at all. Then the greying clouds gave way to darker, more ponderous ones. The soft drizzle became a roaring rain that fell all together, all at once.
A foggy grey covers the cabin and lulls its inhabitants to sleep. Swim-tired, sunkissed, and energy-spent — you all return to a sweeter sort of peace. The sudden exhaustion feels like rose petals. It’s gentle, pure, and liquid smooth.
Robin clocks out first, and in record time. She stomps in from outside, terribly sunburnt and complaining relentlessly — before and after a cold shower. She shoves a burger in her face and passes out on the couch soon after.
Steve makes fun of her for it, but he goes right after her. He lays opposite her on the small couch, both of them fighting for room, even in their sleep.
Nancy went a lot more quietly, and only after the millionth time you assured her that she was more than welcome to take the bed. “It’s not like Robin has any plans of sleeping upstairs right now,” you joked, nodding your head over to the brunette girl who had her chin tilted backward and her mouth wide open.
You can’t be entirely sure what the kids are up to now, but they’ve all returned to the bunk room. It’s quiet, but not suspiciously so. You figure they’re all either sleeping or fighting it, so you decide to give them privacy while you sit alone in the kitchen — waiting for Eddie’s shower to end and for Hopper to get off the phone with you.
“Having fun?” the man wonders politely.
“Mm-hmm,” you hum in response, cheek propped lazily against your fist as you lean over the granite countertop. You’re too heavy with fatigue to do anything else. Your legs are sore and your skin is sun-drenched. Slumber all but sings your name like a siren out at sea.
“What about El? She doing okay?”
“Yep.”
“You’re watching her and Mike, right? You’re not letting them go off alone?”
“Yes, Hopper,” you singsong in an impatient-sounding sigh.
The man huffs out a laugh that crackles from the other line. “You sound like you don’t wanna talk to me, teacup.”
“I’m sorry. ‘M just tired. Running after kids all day is exhausting,” you confess in a series of barely intelligible mumbles.
“Exactly. That’s why you wear protection—”
“Hopper!”
“I’m just saying!” Jim defends between a bout of gruff laughter. “I don’t want you coming back from this trip and having a mini-Munson nine months later, alright? That’s all I’m saying.”
You have a hard time placing his intention — if he’s truly being protective or if he’s just making fun of you. He’s more than aware of Eddie’s secret, after all, so you coming home with a mini-Munson is virtually impossible. But, then again, no-parents-empty-cabin surely has its own lewd history.
You figure it’s a healthy mixture of both, and decide to take the piss out of him, too.
“Oh, trust me, lurch. There’s gonna be a million mini-Munsons when I get back. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time, huh?” you argue with squinted eyes and a sudden fire behind your sunkissed lassitude. “Please ignore the sounds of moaning and squeaking, by the way.”
A beat of utter silence passes.
The other line is perfectly mute. You can’t even hear his breathing.
“…That’s not funny,” Hopper grouses in a monotone.
“I’m not laughing,” you retort, giggling anyway. You couldn’t hide them if you tried. Fuck, you miss annoying this man in person.
You collect yourself with a sigh and continue. “Believe it or not, I’m perfectly abstinent, okay? I’m not some kinda fiend that… You know what— I don’t want to talk about this with you, actually.”
Hopper exhales a sigh of relief when you cut yourself off. “Good. I checked out of this conversation about a minute ago.”
“I’m good. El’s good. Everyone’s currently sleeping, so… Thanks for checking in, lurch.”
“Remind me to ask for Harrington next time I call.”
“Will do.”
You hang up the phone with a smile and a plan to trek upstairs and tell Eddie all about it. You’ll sit on the bathroom counter and laugh about it with him while he finishes up his shower. You’ll leave out the million Munsons part, of course, because you don’t want him to think you’re a total weirdo.
Eddie finds you first.
“Mini Munsons, huh?” you hear the boy chuckle behind you.
Your heart lurches against your ribcage at his sudden arrival. You spin around to face him, features wide and gaping as you figure out how to worm your way out of this one. “I was— I was just kidding. Hopper was being annoying, you know? So I was… I was just fucking around with him…”
Eddie meets your wild-eyed shock with a much cooler, pink smile. It’s lopsided and wide and beautiful. Leaning against the wall, he bounces his shoulder and juts out his lip. “Well, I know that’s your favorite pastime, so… I guess I won’t hold it against you.”
You know he’s joking, but you exhale the breath you were holding in relief anyway. “Thank you…”
He walks the short distance to meet you. His bare feet pad against the kitchen tile until he’s close enough to wrap you in his arms. He carries the smell of your body wash with him — a warm, floral, and sweet scent. His hair is damp and pulled back out of his face, dripping onto the neck of his t-shirt.
His palms are wide and lotion-soft as they smooth up your forearms. “Uh… Everyone’s asleep now, I think, so… You wanna go talk?”
He looks at you so sweet, you’re almost certain it’s code for something. Not sex, maybe, but something almost as gratifying. It’s Eddie — he kisses you stupid like he was made to do it. You’re more than happy to make out like teenagers until the rest of the cabin starts to stir again.
“Sure, I do,” you answer with a shrug, trying to keep an air of nonchalance about you even though you’re beaming up at him like schoolgirl — some innocent being that’s never been hurt before.
You let him lead you up the spiral staircase with that same giddy grin. You barely let him shut the door behind you before you’re pushing him against it.
You hear him gasp quietly when your arms wrap suddenly around his neck. He’s tense when your body presses against his, like hugging a mountain’s edge. It takes him a moment or more to respond when you start kissing the breath from his lungs.
He finally relaxes with a soft exhale that fans against your cupid’s bow. His idling hands settle over your hips, fingers threatening to crawl beneath your cropped shirt when it rises to reveal a sliver of your skin. You’d kill for him to touch you further, but his touch stays perfectly still. You’re just glad he’s holding you at all.
He tastes like nicotine, soda, and summertime — clean, boyish, and nostalgic. Your tongue swipes gently over his plush bottom lip for more. You expect him to open up further for you, to let you explore the mouth you already know like the back of your hand. You’re heartbroken when he pulls away from you entirely, missing him the second he’s gone.
Eddie’s grieving in a similar way. It’s hard for him to part from you when you kiss him like no person on earth has ever been kissed.
He breathes out a soft laugh as he peers down at you. He grins crookedly with his freshly swollen lips. “Not that I’m not enjoying this or anything, sweetheart, but when I said talk, I really did mean talk…”
Your blood runs red-hot. “Oh…” you sigh like an idiot because you can’t think of anything else to say. You feel like a total fool — spent ages denying the slut stereotype just to jump someone’s bones the second you got them alone. Maybe they were right about you.
Eddie sees you second-guessing everything, watches you form a long-winded apology inside your head. He follows up quickly to quell your worry. “No, it’s okay— it’s kinda my bad, actually. I guess I should’ve clarified.”
You muster a trembling smile when you step back from him. You’re cold the second he’s gone. You have to fight back the shiver that crawls up your spine. “Well, you did say talk, so…”
“Yeah, but how often do I say things I actually mean?”
“Sometimes,” you answer sheepishly, gazing at him from beneath your lashes in a sincere response to his half-joke. “I hope…”
I hope you meant it when you said you liked me, is what you’re really trying to say. I hope you meant all the nice things you’ve said about me, ‘cause I don’t think I could handle them never being real.
He seems to hear everything you don’t say.
His rosy lips tug into a slow smile as he tilts his head to his shoulder. “Well… maybe when it comes to you, sweetheart.”
Your girlish smile returns to you — wide, innocent, unhurt. You like feeling this special. You like Eddie belonging to you in a way he doesn’t to anybody else. It’s a primal sort of possession, a borderline unhealthy one for someone who loves like it’s breathing.
“What did you wanna talk about then?” you wonder, then scrunch your nose with a distant wariness. “It kinda seems serious now.”
“No,” Eddie scoffs, walking away from you and towards the bed. “Not serious.”
The mattress squeaks under his weight when he flops down onto it. You want to scold him for being so rough with an obviously aged thing that doesn’t belong to him. You’re already gravitating towards him with an unrealized smile on your face.
You sit down beside him, far more gently than he had. You settle on top of the fluffy comforter and curl your legs behind you. Eddie lays on his side, propping his head up with one hand and using the other to trace the faded scars and beauty marks on your thigh.
His finger trails absentmindedly over your skin in a featherlight touch. Chills erupt over your skin, and he smiles to himself. You’re still learning how to be touched so delicately.
“Spit it out, Eds. The tension’s killing me,” you laugh with words you’ll regret a second later.
“I don’t know… I just— I wanted to ask why you never told me about Steve,” the boy says with a nonchalant shrug, like the words don’t suck all the breath from your lungs. He’s too busy watching his finger dance across your skin to see the shock flood your features. “Like, I knew you guys had— a thing or whatever. But I didn’t know… you know, the rest of it.”
Despite being unable to breathe, you try to muster a laugh. “This sounds like a pretty serious topic, Eds.”
His wide-eyed gaze matches your own. His stare darts upward to meet yours. The chocolate of his irises are full with brooding. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. Actually, he spent his entire showering thinking of ways to bring this up that would be the least painful for the both of you. But in true Eddie Munson fashion, he can’t ever say the right thing.
“No! No, it— it doesn’t have to be. I was just… It was just a question, you know?” he sputters hopelessly. He glances away and mumbles to himself, “A really dumb, stupid question…”
Despite the overwhelming urge to find the deepest, darkest hole and hide there, you can’t tear your eyes away from the boy in front of you. You’re not really looking at him, though, much too deep in your own head about the whole thing.
You can’t stop thinking about what he must’ve heard — how he felt when he heard it. Did he think of you differently? Even for a fraction of a second, was he embarrassed at the very thought of you?
“Are you saying that… Steve told you about… all of it?” you ask slowly, terrified of the answer.
“Uh, yeah…” Eddie hesitates, equally as apprehensive. “Honestly, I think we were going a little insane with the girls around…”
He exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh and flashes a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It ebbs away a moment later.
“Why would he do that?” you wonder with wide, wet eyes. The question is more for yourself than anything. You can’t begin to understand why Steve would’ve opened up about such a thing — to Eddie, of all people. Your Eddie.
“I asked him about Billy—”
“What do you know about Billy?”
“Well, he brought it up, but—”
“So you spent the entire time talking about me?” The laugh that spills from your mouth is bitter, cruel.
Eddie, who’s never known you to be either, chuckles emotionlessly back. “Well… No. It just— It just came up, I guess.”
You smile despite the emotion swimming in your glassy eyes. It makes the boy cower inside himself, unsure which contrasting reaction to pay the most attention to. “My relationship with Steve and Billy just… came up?”
“Yeah. It’s not a big deal, babe—”
“It’s not a big deal because they weren’t your exes,” you bite like a snarling dog. “If I spent the entire time talking about you, you wouldn’t be too happy about it either, would you?”
Eddie’s eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “I didn’t come up? Not one time?”
“Yes!” you exclaim. The volume of your answer and its blurted sincerity take him by surprise. You wave your hands wildly as you ramble. “I told Nancy that I missed you and that I couldn’t wait to see you and give you a bunch of stupid flowers—”
You motion to the makeshift bouquet sitting on the nightstand. They idle in a clear shot glass Eddie found in one of the cabinets. He couldn’t stand not giving them a home.
“—While you were off with Steve, talking about everyone that’s fucked me over!”
Your rage is as wild as it is brutal. You’re painted red from the slaughter you’ve been forced through. It’s given you claws and teeth accordingly.
Like a stray dog that bites the gentle hand trying to feed it, you’ve been so obviously mistreated. Eddie knew that before he knew you — ‘cause he’s got eyes, as well as a bleeding heart. Someone didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved, and now the memory turns you cruel.
“It wasn’t like that, okay?” Eddie presses with an urgency you can feel on his hand curling intently around your calf. His fingers tremble with sincerity. His dark eyes swim with it, too. “I just— I wanted to learn more about you because you never tell me anything!”
“Yes, I do!” you scoff.
“Then why do you never talk about Billy?”
“Why do you care so much about Billy?” you cry with a broad, disbelieving smile. “Why do I need to talk about him? He doesn’t even matter— he doesn’t even exist anymore!”
“Because something obviously happened! And if that thing is bothering you, I wanna be able to make it better!”
“That’s what therapists are for, Eddie. Not boyfriends.”
“Yeah, not any that you ever had,” he scoffs to himself before he can stop it.
You tense beneath his hand. He deflates with a sigh — squeezing his eyes shut and asking himself how the hell he manages to make the bad shit that much worse.
“Sorry. I’m— I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t bring any of this up to hurt your feelings, alright? I just wanted to— I don’t know— I just wanted to talk about it, okay? That’s all.”
You can tell he’s being sincere. That he really did just want to talk about it, and that he really is worried about you, and that he really does want to make it all better. He wears it all over his face. His features are soft and blurred and utterly genuine.
You haven’t yet softened your sharp, whetted edges. “You said we didn’t have to. That this trip was supposed to be fun.”
He flinches at the way you spit the words at him. They’re coated in vinegar, venom. It sinks into his skin and maims him accordingly. His bushy brows furrow, the corners of his mouth turn downward, and his eyes go glassy — a sad puppy indeed.
“You’re not having fun?” he wonders in a wounded whisper.
His hurt becomes your own. It only makes your anger tower mountains over you. “Not anymore,” you answer lowly and through a tense jaw.
Eddie’s spent a lifetime screwing things up. He’s spent a lifetime apologizing for them, too. This one aches worse than all the others combined. “I’m sorry…” he mutters quietly.
You’ve never seen him this somber. This sad.
The broken look of your lover’s heartache cracks the hardened porcelain you’re made of. You let out the breath you were holding in a trembling, heavy sigh. “No, don’t— Don’t apologize.”
“I feel like I shouldn’t have brought it up…” he confesses with his gaze cast downward.
You bring a hand to the one idling on your leg. You rest your soft palm over his bony knuckles. Your touch is much warmer than the iceberg you were just minutes ago.
“It’s okay. You were just curious. I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did,” you concede. The softness he’s more familiar with finally returns to you. The corner of your lip quirks into a wavering half-smile as you joke, “But if you want the entire list of guys that have fucked me over, it’s a really— it’s really fucking long one.”
You laugh quietly at your joke.
But Eddie knows it’s not really a joke, so he stays unsmiling.
His touch is still soft, though. He takes to rubbing your calf again — a slow and measured up and down — a reminder that he’s still in your corner. “Well, you can tell me about it when you’re ready.”
“What if I’m not?” you wonder, hesitant and testing the waters. “Like… What if I don’t want you to know all that stuff?”
Eddie’s gaze flits away from yours as he ponders the question. He purses his lips to the side and nods to himself, visibly deep in thought. “Then I’m good with not knowing,” he answers after a few, long moments.
“Are you?”
Again, he thinks.
“Not really. No,” he responds, still as honest as he’s always been with you. He grins lopsidedly and bounces his shoulder. “But if it means I get to keep you, then… Yeah.”
You exhale a breathy laugh at his words.
Eddie’s wavering smile breaks out in a sheepish beam at the sight of your more genuine grin.
“Can I have a kiss?” he whispers to you, as innocent and mousy as a child.
Your hand gives his a reassuring squeeze. “You never have to ask, Eds…” you remind him.
You lean down to press your mouth against his. He tilts his chin to meet you halfway. It’s chaste and lingering — a delicate peck that expresses all the swirling emotions neither of you could name if you tried.
“There isn’t anything about you that I wouldn’t want to know,” Eddie confesses after he’s pulled away from you. The breath of his words fan across your cheek, he’s still so close to you. His deep galaxy eyes dance between both of yours. “You know that, right?”
A smile tugs slow at your mouth. “Now, I do,” you nod in return, even though you’re not sure if you believe him.
He only says that because he doesn’t know you — the deep, dark you that you try to keep hidden from yourself and the rest of the world. He’d learn everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve done, and he’d hate you. He wouldn’t be able to look at you the same.
You can’t stand the thought of Eddie looking at you the way the rest of Hawkins does — with eyes squinted and twinkling with an admiral sort of disgust. So you’d rather him not know any of it at all.
Silence dances into the room as effortlessly as a spring breeze. The rain’s offbeat cadence taps hard against the sliding glass door across the room. You have the sudden urge to walk outside and stand it. You think it’d be easier to drown in the warm deluge than in your own thoughts.
Eddie’s rosy mouth turns slightly upward. Yours does, too, in anticipation of what he’s about to tell you.
“Wanna fool around?” he wonders, if only to brighten the heavy grey mood.
The sound of your laughter is sunshine — a metaphor he’s been trying to write for years. “You can’t just say that every time we’re alone, Eds!”
“Why not?” he challenges just to tease you.
“Because you know we can’t,” you answer with a soft sort of sternness about you. Your eyes are firm with sincerity, though they sparkle with mischief.
“We’ve been here almost two days, and I haven’t got one whiff of Jason Voorhees, babe.”
“That’s not what I mean,” you mutter, then whisper more quietly. “There’s people downstairs.”
“Well, you can be quiet…” Eddie lilts, grin lopsided and pink as he rises off the mattress to lean closer to you. His breath fans across your chin, coated with nicotine and something sugary. He tilts his wild head to the side and raises his brows in question. “Can’t you?”
“I’m not sure that you can, Eds.”
“Don’t worry about me,” the boy assures, voice low and suddenly serious.
His warm palm travels up your calf, smoothing over your knee and curling around the side of your thigh. His touch is almost as all-consuming as his stare — deep chocolate brown, as infinite as a galaxy. You fall into them accordingly. You couldn’t deny him if you wanted to.
You try, anyway.
“Eddie…” you start, a warning that trails off when he squeezes the buzzing skin of your outer thigh.
“Lay down,” he urges. It’s too soft to be a genuine command. It gives him ample opportunity to turn it all into a joke on the off chance you reject him completely.
You don’t. You couldn’t.
You find yourself slithering past him and closer to the headboard before you realize you’re doing it. It’s like you’re made of magic, totally under whatever spell he’s unknowingly cast upon you. Your head’s swimming with his sorcery as you lie back on the pillows.
Eddie follows you, resting his body above yours. It’s a comfortable sort of weight, heavenly even. He props himself up on his forearms so he isn’t crushing you completely, though you wouldn’t complain if he did.
You want him to ruin you, and then you want to thank him for it.
The untrimmed edges of his curls hang down over his face. They tickle your jaw when he kisses you with the ardency of someone who wants to swallow you whole. His tongue swipes against yours, slow and more aggressive than either of you expect. He sucks on your swelling bottom lip right after.
The gray world around you explodes with a burst of a thousand colors. You can’t see any of them because the inner workings of your mind have been stripped away and replaced totally with Eddie. His nose nudging against yours. The taste of his mouth. The texture of his tongue. The warmth of his breath. His hand traveling down down down your body.
His palm starts at your cheek, cupping sweetly at your jaw so he can open your mouth wider for him. Then his touch trails down to your neck, taking a brief pitstop to feel the rapid thrum of your racing pulse, before falling to your chest.
You think he must be able to feel your pounding heart through your t-shirt when he cups your breast. His thumb swipes over your hardened nipple in time with his tongue diving deep into your mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smile when the combined efforts make you shiver.
His fingers smooth over your ribcage, then your stomach, and then your hips.
It’s a touch featherlight, yet steady and earnest at the same time. His hand creeps slowly over the thin fabric of your shorts and settles between the warmth radiating between your thighs. He cups you gently through your clothes and kisses the breath from your lungs. It’s like he’s trying to kill you.
You buck your hips slightly upward in a silent plea for more.
The boy above you has the nerve to pull away from you to ask, “This okay?”
His hair is mussed from where your fingers had entwined so intensely in his chestnut strands. His lips are rosy and swollen and wild. You get lost looking at him.
With dazed eyes trained on the pink mouth you so desperately want to kiss again, you nod like an enthusiastic child.
“Can I do more?” Eddie wonders through heavy breaths.
“Please,” you hear yourself say, right before your hips cant against the subtle weight of his palm.
You watch with wide, unblinking eyes as Eddie brings his hand to his mouth. His pink tongue darts out to lick the pads of his middle and forefinger, leaving them glistening as he slithers them into your shorts.
His efforts to be easy with you are appreciated but virtually unnecessary. You’re as slippery as satin for him, drooling in anticipation for him to make you feel good.
He slides two fingers into your trembling pussy with little effort. The fatty edge of his palm settles over your swelling clit. Your head tilts back against the pillow while you exhale a pretty moan.
With your eyes fluttered shut, you don’t see the crooked grin tugging slow at Eddie’s mouth. “Shh…” he shushes, only half playful, before engulfing your mouth again and swallowing each of your gentle cries.
He’s moaning with you, though, at the soft squelch your pussy makes when his fingers sink to the knuckle inside you. You feel the smooth metal of his rings on the outside of your cunt and the inside of your thighs.
And fuck, you’re so pretty for him — always so pretty for him — that it makes him forget about the ache of his stiffening cock. His yearning for you throbs like a heartbeat. He wants so desperately to fuck you, to really fuck you until he’s got you gushing all over his lap. But he figures he can settle for this for now.
But the way you’re moaning for him just now? It doesn’t really feel like settling.
“You’re so pretty,” he hums lowly, almost to himself. “Have I told you that?”
He has. Plenty of times within the few months he’s been able to do that without it being too weird. It feels like the first time he’s ever said it to you, anyway.
A breathy moan spills lightly from your lips, like a spring breeze coated in sunshine. It’s the total opposite of the storm swirling outside the bedroom.
Your cunt involuntarily squeezes his fingers at the compliment — walls sticky, hot, and pulsing. You all but melt around the two digits he presses inside you.
He figures you must like the praise, which is great ‘cause praising you is the easiest thing on the planet.
“You have such a pretty pussy, too,” he confesses in a gritty whisper.
You moan for him again, a muffled cry stuck in your throat.
“Feels so warm around my fingers… And you’re so tight, baby— I don’t know how I’m gonna fit my cock in you—”
His words are as sinful as they are vivid.
Behind your shut eyes, you can see the vision of him on top of you. You can feel his sweaty body sticking to yours like glue — similar to the honey you leak for him while he fucks you.
If you try hard enough, you can almost replace his fingers for his cock. You know it’s nowhere near as pleasurable as the real thing, though.
The thought of him fucking you — making love to you — has you whining and writhing beneath him. Your hips jut upward, looking for pleasure and running away from it all at once. His fingers squelch as they push in and in and in. You drool impossibly more for him, drenching his fingers and his rings and the cotton sheets below you.
“You could take it though, right?” the boy above you wonders, swollen lips quirked in a heavy half-smile. “You’d take whatever I give you, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”
You hardly recognize him now. Not because he’s teasing you — because you’ve gotten more than used to that — but because he’s so damn confident.
He talks to you with the finesse of a guy who’s done this a thousand times, to a thousand different girls. You’re the first, and you know this, but he’s ruining you like he created you.
You nod with a satin sigh.
The silent admission makes Eddie’s head spin.
He shouldn’t have you in the first place, the metalhead freak he is, yet he’s got two fingers inside you and your permission to go further. And he wants to — god, he wants to — but he’s scared it’ll drive him crazy.
Crazier than he already is for you, if that’s possible.
“Get on your side for me, yeah?” he whispers to you, surprising himself with his newfound dominance.
You’re too far gone to do anything but obey him.
You maneuver onto your side like he asked, feeling like your bones are made of melted honey. Eddie follows you. He keeps his fingers nestled deep inside your thrumming heat as he curls in behind you.
His stiff, aching cock is hard and heavy against your clothed ass. Despite the layers of clothes separating you, his warmth presses so intently against you. You clench around him at the feeling — tighter when his fingers begin to crook inside you. You tilt your head back and moan, rutting further back against him.
Eddie smushes his nose into your hair and hums a moan in his throat. His heavy exhale fans against the shell of your ear. He keeps working you open with his fingers, a slow and measured rhythm he maintains with the thrusts of his hips.
He’s terribly sensitive, almost embarrassingly so. You drive him too wild for anything else. Even like this, without being inside you and with his clothes still on, he feels like he might explode.
You’re much of the same. The pad of his thumb rubs mercilessly at your swollen clit as his fingers coax you towards a head-spinning orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure crawls up your throat, strikes you like lightning, and swirls in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t run from it if you tried.
It doesn’t stop you from canting your hips back and forth — a feeble attempt to cope with the overwhelming pleasure Eddie gives you with nothing but his hand. With his pale arm caging your side and his lean body behind you, curling and melting with yours, you can only get so far.
All you can do is take it.
Eddie whimpers delicately in your ear as he humps your ass. He babbles in faint whines — things you don’t think he realizes he’s saying.
“You’re so hot, baby,” he slurs heavily, swollen mouth tracing the shell of your ear. “So soft, too... Fuck... Keep grinding back on me like that— shit, yeah, just like that. ’S gonna make me come in my fucking pants, baby.”
If you weren’t drowning in the void of your own pleasure, you might’ve asked him to come. No, begged him to. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” you would’ve assured him, only slightly teasing. But you don’t do any of that because his fingers are shoved so far into you that you can feel them in your throat.
Or maybe that’s just your impending climax choking you.
You couldn’t form an intelligible sentence if you wanted to, either way.
Instead, you roll your hips back against his cock and act like he’s fucking you for real. The idea of it alone sends you catapulting into an orgasm. You’re so far gone for him — for the freak of Hawkins — you let him ruin you while you fall for him like the rain pounding at your window.
Effortlessly, unapologetically, and over and over and over again.
Eddie dampens his boxers in the same way you drench his fingers. His twitching cock drools for you, more and more as he nears his peak. He hasn’t felt anything as gratifying as grinding against you like this. He’s bound to be a fucking goner the second he’s caught inside your snug pussy.
“Can feel you trembling for me, you know?” he continues to ramble, only half-aware of the sin spilling from his rosy lips. His thumb presses against the fleshy hood of your clit. He’s barely moving it, but the pressure alone has you buzzing. “You’re gonna cum so hard for me, aren’t you? Gonna make a mess all over my hand?”
You bite back a cry — quite literally, with your teeth caging your bottom teeth — and lean your head back to bear your throat. You throw a hand back in search of Eddie. Your fingers twist in the mussed curls at the crown of his head.
“Mm, Eddie—” you call in a muffled cry, overwhelmed and half-frightened by how good he’s making you feel. By how hard you’re about to cum for him.
“I know, baby. I know,” he coos sympathetically to you, crooking his fingers in time with his grinds against the plush of your ass. His cock starts to ache all over again, this time with hunger.
Through a breaking voice, he begs. “Go on and cum for me, yeah? Let me make you feel good, baby. Cum all over my fingers, baby— I need it… I fucking need it. I’m so fucking close—”
You bury your face in the pillow when you cum, crying his name into the cushion for only the two of you to hear. You tense, thighs shaking and toes curling, as you gush around his fingers — like the pouring rain outside.
You drip mercilessly for him, a slippery mess between your thighs you know you should be ashamed of. You might’ve been, if it were anybody else.
Eddie stills behind you, though his fingers remain relentless. He coaxes you completely through your orgasm just as he’s reaching his own. His moans come out in gasps — choppy, sharp breaths through a swollen mouth. His aching cock spits in the confines of his boxers, several warm loads that cool too quickly.
He trembles through his high, trying to trek through its entirety but growing so suddenly sensitive.
You let him work you through yours. His fingers, now wrinkled at the pads, are frozen inside you while his thumb circles softly at your delicate clit. You twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Your hand leaves his hair to grab his wrist, a silent plea that you can’t take anything more.
And the two of you just lie there, for several long moments — sticky, blissed-out, and so intently pressed together. You let the heavy moment of your ebbing orgasms linger. You decompose together in the heavy honey of pleasure.
It’s all so messy, but then again, everything seems to be.
His hair, his fingers, his boxers.
Your thighs, your bed, your heart.
Words. Life. Love.
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#stranger things x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things smut#stranger things imagine#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#virgin!eddie munson x reader#virgin!eddie
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Photo Finisher
Minors DNI
Summary: You've been tasked with capturing photos of AB6IX for their comeback, Salute. Within the four-member group, you find a gem that's hidden away. All you need is to give him some encouragement to shine.
Warnings: Male Reader, Blowjob, Handjob, nickname: Hyung, Creampie, Backscratching, Flexible Reader, Vocal sex, Unprotected Sex
Wordcount: 2.1k
Today's client was AB6IX, a four-member boy group from Brandnew Music. When you'd read that it was a four-member group in the documents, you smiled to yourself. Fewer members meant you could leave sooner, a complete win if you could be done with the shoot before too long.
You walked into the studio that had been prepared for you. It was a black and gold theme with leather furniture everywhere, and golden-orange set lights drenched the room in a sunset glow. The staff on set greeted you as you walked by, avoiding your eyes and speaking softly.
You wore a white satin shirt with flowing wine-red pants flared at the base of your legs.
Inside the dressing room, the four idols were getting their make-up done. You'd seen the photos that were sent to you, but lackluster photos taken by mediocre photographers couldn't tell you anything. The four men were distinct in features, standing out from one another. Good. As you entered, the men stood to introduce themselves to you.
They all stood beside each other and bowed, saying in unison, "Hello, we are AB6IX! Thank you for working with us today."
The staff greeted them back as you nodded in acknowledgment toward them. You looked them over keenly. Their outfits were more risque than you originally expected. Satin black shirts and pants with a golden trim design, reminiscent of Louis Vuitton's styling patterns. It didn't match their small physical forms and round faces, but the contrast would make for excellent shots. You needed to give a word to their designer for this one, it made your job ten times easier.
One in particular stuck out to you. Woong, if you remember his name right, kept stealing glances at you. You knew he had something special about him, he just needed to show it to you.
You stood straight and addressed the room, "Alright everyone, let's work quickly today. I'm sure we're all busy people." You left the room after giving your short words, letting the makeup team finish their touches as you checked in with the stage set-up team.
The stage had lovely black marble flooring that reflected the furniture beautifully. It looked so clean you could eat off it. While admiring your reflection, you see another one come behind you. It was him again.
Woong cleared his throat and said, "Hello, Mister y/n, I wanted to bring you this gift on behalf of our group." He presented a signed album, with a small thank you message from each member.
He was on the shorter side of the idols you normally worked with. And his clothes covered some serious muscle definition, you could use that... "Thank you, how kind," You said with a smile as you took the gift from him, letting your hand graze against his.
Woong's ears took a soft shade of pink at the contact. "I look forward to working with you–bye now." Woong took off quickly toward the dressing room where his members watched from the doorway.
He was someone you needed to keep an eye on.
Not long after the shoot took off in full swing–You always allowed your interns to take group photos, coaching them on operating a camera. When it was time for solo shots, you started from Donghyun to Daewhi, then Woojin, purposely leaving Woong for last.
You were decently surprised by this group. The shadows of the lights and their muscle tones were captured beautifully without you needing to do much work. Woojin and Donghyun opened their shirts more to get that extra allure in the shot.
As Woong approached the set, you watched him closely. His posture and confidence changed from the boy you'd seen before, he seemed more like a man here.
You took a few shots, then told your team to take a break, giving you the room alone with Woong.
He lay on the black reflective surface of the coffee table, his hands behind his head as he looked at you. He noticed everyone leave and spoke softly, "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, not at all. I just think we need something a little more intimate. If you'll let me?" You approached him, and sat on the table, your hand on his chest. "Do you think we can open this a little?"
He nodded shyly. And his pink ears turned red as you unbuttoned his shirt, from top to bottom, leaning closely down and using both hands to open his shirt. You purposely took deeper breaths, letting the air rake across his skin as you slowly exposed his torso to the cold room. Your skin rubbed against Woong's muscular body as you worked on the shirt, as you focused on the shirt you could feel Woong's eyes watching you. You stepped back to look at your work–Woong's face turned pink as he looked around the room. Anywhere other than looking at you.
"Is it too open?" You giggled.
He nodded wordlessly.
"Would you like me to fix it?" You close one button in the middle of the line, covering his chest but leaving his abs open for display. The way they protruded and showed so proudly, he must've worked out right before the shoot. As you finished, you stayed close with your head hovering over his stomach as you looked up at him. "Better?" You asked.
"Y-Yes," His voice shook.
You noticed the bulge in his pants, getting more prominent.
"Mr. Woong, are you okay? You look like you're having a hard time," You cooed.
"N-No, I'm alright, just sore."
You looked at how his stomach flexed. "Oh, is this position uncomfy?" You climbed on top of him, resting your ass right above his waistline, and you leaned on his chest as you slid your hands under his head. "Please try and relax. I can't afford you cramping up."
Woong's eyes were wide as he slowly let his hands down, resting his body as you held him close. "We're so c-close," He muttered.
"What's that?" You leaned down further, letting your head lay in the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, could you say that again?"
Woong's hands rose, awkwardly, unsure what to do. "I–We're so close. I don't–"
You shifted, pushing your clothes dick against his abs, and moaned in his ear. "Mr. Woong, your body is too sexy. I just can't help myself. Can you help?" You reached down to touch his hard cock, squeezing it, "Maybe we can help each other."
Woong hummed in your ear, "Mhm. I want to help you, however you want me to." His hands find a place at your hips as he guides you, pushing your crotches together and brushing against one another. You plant your lips on his neck, as you moan sinfully in his ear at the sensation. Woong slips your shirt past your shoulder and kisses it before sucking on it. "Call me hyung," He commands.
You moan in his ear, "Hyung~"
"Fuck–Moan more for me, I want to hear every pretty noise from you," He said as his hips started bucking into yours, desperate for more.
"Can I see it? Your cock," You nibble on his ear as you ask. Woong nods quickly as he groans from you playing with his ear. You slid off his lap and kneeled before him as he removed the gold-belted jewelry around his waist. Woong slid his pants and underwear down to unveil his cock, so pretty and shaved. He propped himself on his elbows to watch you as you wrapped your hands around his stiffness, staying at a slow and even pace as you stroked him. "Tell me how you want it, Hyung."
Woong groaned, "faster, like this." He took your hand and moved it at the pace he wanted, which made his whole body shake as you continued without his hand to guide you.
You study his face as you try different parts of his skin, squeezing and kissing on his shaft as you search for any sensitive spots. Every time you found a sensitive spot, Woong's groans would spike, peaking into a more high-pitched moan. You took him into your mouth, making his head roll back as his eyes lost focus.
"A little warning next time," He moaned as you flexed your tongue around him, sucking at the same time. "Holy–You're so good. Keep going," He pants as his hand lands on your head. His hand started pushing, questioningly at first, but with more strength when you allowed him to move you. As you take him deeper into your throat, Woong's hand tightens in your hair. "That's it. You're doing it so well, don't forget to look at me." You look at Woong, your eyes wet and some spit dripping onto his abs. That look must've been a trigger as Woong pulled you off him, breathing heavily as he tried to compose himself.
You stroke him, earning more moans from him. "Did I do something wrong, hyung?"
Woong grabbed your hand, stopping you from stroking him. "N-No, you were perfect. So good, I almost came."
"I want you to cum, Hyung." You tried to move your hand, but Woong's grip was too tight.
"And I want to cum in you," He said with a deep voice. You smiled at him and that seemed to break his concentration on you. "I-If you'd let me," He added shyly.
You slid off your pants. "You want me to ride you, hyung?"
"No, you're already working so hard. Let me reward you now." Woong let you over to the leather couch, laying you on your back as his cock throbbed in anticipation. He lifts a leg onto his shoulder and positions himself at your hole. "Try not to get too loud, but let me hear you, beautiful." Your hands wrapped around Woong's neck as he pushed into you, your eyes rolling back as he stretched you. He gave an experimental thrust, sinking deeper into you. "Did you prepare early?"
"So what if I did?"
"You were going to seduce me the whole time, weren't you?"
You nodded. "Your afterglow will be an amazing capture in my camera."
Woong smirked as he fucked into you, starting with a quick pace. He felt you clench around him as he watched your face change from the sensations. "Fuck–Kiss me," Woong commanded as he leaned down to kiss you, fucking you as he did. He bit at your bottom lip before breaking the kiss and attacking your neck. "You're too much for me, I can't kiss everywhere." Woong moved to your collarbone, forcing your raised leg to your head. You arched your back as the burn from him flexing your leg and the pleasure from him hitting your prostate, made you see white.
Your hands scratched at Woong's back as you moaned. "I'm– Can't–"
Woong felt the way you tightened more around him. "You're close? Please, cum for me. Cum for hyung!" He pushed extra hard, getting deeper than before, instantly finishing you off as you came on your white shirt. Woong's eyes were sealed shut as his thrusts were getting more frantic. You rubbed his cheek, which made him look into your eyes. "You're so beautiful... I'm cumming–I’ll fucking cum, all in you. I'll cum so deep in you. I'll cum all I can!" Woong fulfilled his promise as he came inside you, pushing as far as he could. Your moans synced with his in harmony as Woong collapsed on top of you, his cock still pumping cum out.
You lifted his head, getting a look at his face. It was sweaty, his hair stuck to his forehead, with a lovely pinkish glow. "You're so perfect, we gotta hurry!" You pushed him off you, forcing his cock out of you with a pop. Woong was still exhausted so you dressed him again, leaving the couch behind and returning to the table. You posed him again and started taking photos as cum threatened to leak out of you.
You finished capturing him and got a change of clothes from one of your set bags. Woong came up behind you as you finished sliding on a new pair of pants, hugging you. "So, will hyung see you again?"
"Call your company and tell them to book a solo photo shoot. Then maybe."
"Maybe when you're not working?"
You turned and pat Woong on the head. "I'm always working, Mr. Woong."
Woong stared at you, awestruck. "No, hyung?"
"Sorry, special requests are only during photoshoot time. Like I said, have your company book another appointment. Work out, you can get on the cover of men's health. I know they call me for photos all the time."
Woong nodded quickly. "I'll make it as their front cover, and demand you take my pictures, love."
"That's Mr. Y/n, to you." You winked as you pushed past Woong.
A few weeks later, your work was displayed in the teaser photos for the comeback...
#oracle of dreams#kpop x male reader#kpop x male reader smut#x male reader#x reader#kpop male reader#ab6ix#ab6ix woong#jeon woong#ab6ix x reader#kpop smut#kpop x y/n#kpop x reader#kpop fanfic#woong
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No because those EJ headcannons 😳 are so good aldhworjeoejekr you wrote him so perfectly 😫
If it's ok, can I request some NSFW Creepypasta Toby headcannons? You can make them as dark as you like, but DAMN I have to admit the way you write characters is so gooooodddd 💖💖💖
↳˳⸙;; ❝ TICCI TOBY KINK HC'S! + BONUS ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗
[A/N]--tyty i always enjoy slasher creepypasta-- the more realistic version of the fandom. its always been more entertaining for me... the mansion kinda HC never really stuck with me unless portrayed really good? its so hard to find fics that are like that... but anyways wtf my first ask this deserves a bonus smut at the end?!?!?! sry for the delay too i’ve had writers block wtf… the second half is shit ngl
NSFW. warning— NOT PROOF READ fem! anatomy, dub-con, somnophilia, toby being a perv, sadist, bondage,breeding, exhibition
TOBY IS A CLOSET PERVERT--
he remembers when he first started stalking you. when he first snuck into your house while you were fast asleep as he kept a watchful eye over your sleeping form. you were ethereal, he couldn't help himself following you home- or going through your panty drawer. you couldn't blame him, really, you couldn't. you look so cute in your satin pink thongs that he just had to steal one. or three.
sadist-- toby just adores watching you contort underneath his touch as you squirm away from him. he won't hesitate to leave harsh slaps across the meat of your ass or dark bruises made from his belt into makeshift handcuffs
bondage-- he loves tying you up in all sorts of different lewd positions. toby takes pride watching you whimper under his calloused hands begging for your hands and/or legs. he knows that those whimpers are only for him.
breeding-- toby has family issues... at first, he wouldn't want kids. he would dismiss the thought of ever having any kids in the first place... not wanting to turn into his dad. he was terrified. that was until he came in your pussy the first time. it was fucking life-changing. he loves the feeling of spilling his seed into your pretty pussy... he just can't go back after that. why buy condoms when he could watch his cum seep out of your pussy? he wouldn't mind having a kid or two.
mutual masturbation-- he goes wild watching your hands disappear into your heat as your mouth lets out a barrage of whimpers and moans. toby can't help but join in. whether you know if he's watching or not.
exhibitism-- this man just dont give af. if he wants you, he wants you. anytime, anyplace.
oral(fem receiving)-- this could be considered a kink because toby could probably cum buy just eating your pussy. he just cant get enough of it. he gets so painfully hard when he goes down on you. so you cant blame him when he paints his pants white.
corruption— this is a big one..you were a virgin, with little to no experience before you bet toby. something about that innocence he just had to protect… something he just had to corrupt. toby remembers when he first taught you how to give a blowjob. he could just cum by the perverted memory.
TOBY DEFINITELY JERKS OFF WITH YOUR PANTIES—
there’s no way he doesn’t. he fucking obsessed with the taste and smell of your pussy. the nights where he can’t come and visit you bet you can find a pair of your satin panties wrapped around his cock. toby just can’t help himself. he loves feeling the feeling of your juices rubbing up against his cock as he imagines runtting against you. it’s his dirty little secret… well it’s not much of a secret when your prairies start showing up stained with a white excrete.
HES SURPRISINGLY KINDA BIG—
now don’t get me wrong… toby isn’t a petite guy, he’s rather tall standing at 5’11 or 6’0. he’s a pretty built guy—he kinda has to be. so when i say surprisingly i mean you wouldn’t really except him to be a whopping 6’0 inches. his girth is on the skinny size but he makes up for it when hes hitting places you never knew existed. his tip is a dark pink, and the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. you never thought that you’d be saying that about a dick or specifically a serial killers dick; but here you are… your not exactly complaining.
—-ˋˏ [‘Ill give you everything’] ˎˊ
—(Toby couldn’t help himself. He really couldnt. You just looked so gorgeous in your pink satin panties— which are your favorite pair— he couldn’t help but rub against the cotton material. It’s not like you’d mind anyways…you’ve always asked him to fuck you awake before, why not take you up on that offer?
He carefully moves the comforter from your shoulders, peeling it back allowing him to slip into your bed behind you . Toby sinks into the bed, spooning your relaxed body as the curve of your ass pressed into him.Almost instinctively your body pressed into the slasher completely, being enraptured by his warmth. You were oblivious to what you were doing to him.
His aching boner stretched against his pants, and fuck it was painful (from aching not actual pain) as he rubs up against your panties. It was almost like you wanted him to do this. Sleeping in only your underwear? It was like you’re asking him to move your panties to the side and fuck you.
His cold finger tips brush against your damp panties, hooking his finger on the seam of fabric, slowly and carefully pulling them down. toby was careful not to wake you—-not yet. He wants to savor this.
It was so unbelievably hot in your bedroom, almost like a sauna. If anything he was helping you cool down. You should appreciate his kind and just actions by taking of your clothes before you got too hot. He chuckled at that thought, ghosting his finger tips over your exposed shoulder, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
His lips hovered above your exposed neck, sending chills down your spine. Dark bruises soon began to litter your neck, ruining its once pristine image as Toby sunk his lips deeper in your skin, all while his other hand disappeared into your cunt.
You were so incredibly wet, so incredibly tight. His calloused hands slid in and out with ease, your walls sucking him in ever time. Toby was enraptured with your beauty, your flushed cheeks, your rosy lips, the soft whimpers that left your mouth; utterly gorgeous.
“Toby?” You awoke to nothing but darkness with an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, an all too familiar one. A warmth spread throughout your body like wildfire as the prevalent feelings grew. The sensation— that you couldn’t put a finger on—- just felt so good, you couldn’t help but melt into it.
Toby hummed in response, too busy on concentrating on the task at hand; fingering your tight cunt. The lewd sounds that gushed around his hands was deafening; almost forgetting that you were awake.
“Are you e-enjoying yours-self?” He laughed, curling his fingers inside of you, rubbing up against a patch of sensitive nerves.
You yelped, now being fully awake, clearly aware of the sensation— that is being full. You could only moan in response as his fingers continuously plunged in and out of sopping cunt as your core tightened.
Toby’s lips attached to the crook of your neck once again, tracing over the dark bruises that began to form— biting ever so slightly on your sweet spot (that only he knows of). His unoccupied hand, cupped the meat of your thigh, lifting it up to gain better access for his other hand that was moving at an insatiable speed.
“P…Please, I need you…I want all of you.” A barrage of moans left your lips, as your hand curled behind you to grip the man’s hair that assaulted your skin. Your sharp nails dug into his scalp, tugging on tuffs of his unkept brown hair—signaling your desperation.
Suddenly, he was on top of you. Straddling your exposed bottom half with his thighs, a lustful glint ever so present in his eyes. His lips were a cherry red, presumably from his attack on your neck as well as his hands that were slick with your cunt. You take immediate notice of the large tent swelling in his blue jeans, you could only guess at how painful it was.
“A-are you sure?” Toby hummed, his scarred hands tracing over your waist, “I’m not g-gonna go easy on you.” His voice came out as a whisper, as if it was some horrible secret—a taboo. To which it was, not like you knew or anything— but toby has a secret, commmited horrible sins that can never be reversed— you shouldn’t be doing this with him… He feels guilty almost— yet it’s so enticing… His hands devouring your body as if his hands weren’t covered in blood merely hours before.
But you’ll never know, right?
“I want all of you, Toby.” He looks down at your delicate form, such innocence. Your skin was practically glowing in the moonlight that shone threw the raked blinds, making you look almost angelic. He was scared to touch you, like you would crumble under his touch. Like you would see him for the monster— the pyschopath he truly is, a devil.
Yet, that’s what makes it so exciting, so enticing to see your angelic body beneath him. The danger, the corruption. It only added fuel to the fire, and soon it would become a wild fire.
Your body; merely heaven and earth wrapped into one.
He; the virus, a plague that never stops— pollution your body and everything in between.
Is it really worth it? If he really loved you— he would let you go— right?
“I’ll give you ev-verything. Anything you w-want.” Toby whispers, his hands on your waist crawling towards your chest—drawing secret messages that only you would know. His usual ice cold hands, were anything but cold. They were warm. His hands roamed your body, and spread throughout your body like a flame— he devoured everything in his path.
Your body reacted to him like a magnetic. His name fell off of your lips along with whispered promises and wonton moans. You were meant for him— maybe poisoning you isn’t so bad. Maybe—just maybe, it was meant to happen.
#creepypasta#creepypasta fanart#creepypasta art#creepypasta x female reader#ticci toby x reader#creepypasta toby#toby rodgers x reader#toby rogers#ticci toby#toby rogers x reader#creepypasta smut#creepypasta hcs#creepypasts x reader#creepypasta x reader#creepy
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‘ PRETTY IN PINK ‘
harvard professor! toji x black! elle woods! reader
getting into harvard law was a piece of cake, but somehow getting into your professors pants was harder!
cw: black! reader, age gap by like 15 years, set in 2001
ENJOY !
you pull your pink satin eye mask over your bonnet and stretch. today was the day, the day you’d finally get professor fushiguro to give in. you’ve had your eye on him since you were a freshman, his brood and sarcastic demeanor making him even more attractive. you hop out of your bed and start to get ready. after half an hour of doing what you need to do, you grab your bella louis vuitton tote and slide into your heels, walking out the door. arriving to your first class you’re already out of breath, not from the route there, of course not, but the fact your english teacher, is sitting on toji’s desk. laughing. you purse your lips together and stare, holding your designer purse in front of you. it didn’t take long for toji to notice the girl wearing all pink in his doorway.
“need something?” toji said in his oh so deep and gravely voice. “oh no! i was just about to ask a question but i see you’re already talking to someone. i’ll be on my way.” and with that you speed walk down the hall, the familiar clacking of your heels against the schools polished marble floor getting further and further. tears well in your eyes, but why? it’s not like you and toji are dating, and if you two were, you’d be sure you still wouldn’t let these fat tears roll down your face. you race to the bathroom and push your bottom eyelids up on the way, forcing them to close. once you arrive you take the biggest stall there is and sit on the toilet, hiding your face in your hands. after about six minutes of sulking by yourself, you hear another pair of heels clacking against the floor.
“y/n?” spoke your english teacher. “yes?” you respond, trying to make it seem as if you weren’t just crying. “toji doesn’t like crybabies. i know you’ve been trying to get in his pants and all, but don’t bring the whole class down because you can’t handle your urges.” and with that, she leaves, leaving you a dumbstruck mess. the day just started. it’s only 7:30 in the morning. you take a moment to regather yourself, and walk out. this has been terrible already. you walk into your first class and sigh, ten minutes late. you’ve never been late a day in your life! you plop down in an open seat and grab your notebook, jotting down notes when it’s needed. everyone has had their eyes on you since you’d came here, your bold style and personality attracting attention wherever you went. now was not a good day to have eyes all on you. your usual behavior being a stark contrast to your now sad and mopey one.
“y/n stay after class please.” you teacher slips in during a lecture, you were lucky you caught it unless you’d be in for a treat. class was over and you stood by your teachers desk. “yes?” you ask, fiddling with the straps of your purse. “you’re never late. is something wrong?” she asks. your calculus teacher was a nice old white lady who wore a huge pair of wired glasses. “nope. just tired from exams and stuff.” you chuckle, fidgeting with your hair. “okay okay. well, make sure you get your eight hours to stay beautiful.” she grins. you leave with a “thank you.” and go to your next class.
lunch rolled around and you decided to make your way into toji’s classroom, standing in the doorway as seductively as you could. “hey, toji.” you say, rocking back and forth on your heel. “y/n.” toji says without even looking up from the paper he was grading. “could i speak to you?” you ask, walking towards toji and stopping in front of his desk. toji looks up at you through his glasses a smirk adorning his face. “speak.” toji tells you, looking up at you fully. “is there anyway i could get extra credit?” you ask, putting your louis vuitton bag on his desk, starting to unbutton the top of your blazer. toji starts laughing, standing up and towering over you. you look up at him, swallowing hard.
“you think seducing me will get me to want you more?” he asks, pulling you into his body into the small of your back. he leans down into your ear, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. “because it’s working…” he says, trailing his hand down your skirt. you let out a sigh, bringing your arms around his neck. “lunch ends in 10 minutes…” you whine out, propping yourself against toji’s desk. toji looks up at you with a hungry stare. “better cum in 10 minutes then…” toji chuckled, pulling your panties to the side and slipping two fingers into your cunt with a groan. “look at you.” he grins. “what’s your grade?” toji asks, making casual conversation.
“a…b minus..” you whine, arching your back. “mmm…you’re a smart girl. i don’t have any idea how you have a b minus in my class. it’s as if you’ve been planning this for a while.” toji smiles, pumping his fingers faster. he was catching onto you. it was as if he knew your every move. when you only responded with breathy moans and a whine of “five minutes left…” toji grinned at you, curving his fingers — hitting that spongey spot in you. you arch your back and cum on toji’s finger with a high pitched moan. toji slaps his hand over your mouth and takes his fingers out of you, sucking on his fingers.
“go to class.” he says, popping his fingers from his plush lips.
#myatalks🫡#black reader#blkshoyo#im black#i love being black#ilovemyfollowers#ilysm <3#anime#being black#writing is my therapy#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x black reader#fushiguro toji x you#jjk x you#jjk x black!reader#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x black reader#jjk x plus size reader#jjk x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#toji fushiguro#toji smut#toji x y/n#fushiguro toji smut#fushiguro toji
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hookup
Your big dumb goon's changed his hair again. Part of the Freak on a bike AU - read the rest here.
Pairing: RM x afab reader
Word count: 1.1k
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Sex, swearing, big dick Joon
You have another job at the weekends, the bar girl at some swanky new club uptown.
There’s no uniform apart from skin and black satin, a bow tie if the table’s especially corny.
You’re pretty good at keeping your flammable clothes from setting alight, especially with all the cheap sparklers you bring out for the big spenders.
You step out for a breather after you’ve served your latest table, your lungs grateful for the respite from musk and sandalwood cologne, Lynx body spray.
There’s a commotion by the back door you’ve just stepped out of, you watch, amused, as two of the bouncers escort some nouveau-riche city asshole out.
Wait.
You’d know the back of that neck anywhere.
Your big dumb goon’s had a haircut since you last saw him, close-cropped to his head so you can see exactly how his hair grows out of his scalp, no extra length to weigh it down.
He looks like the fat boys you went to school with, you think you like it.
He turns, spots you braced against the wall opposite.
‘Nice suit,’ he says, smiling all over his big dumb face, easing you out of your reflex snarl so easily it’s ridiculous.
‘Nice hair,’ you say, eyeing him the way he’s eyeing you.
He runs a hand over it, leans down like he’s inviting you to touch.
You pat him on the head. His hair is softer than it looks. You try to get enough of it in your fingers to pull but you can’t.
He’s all dimples and round head, and you’re endeared.
He’s still looking at you, more than a hint of hope in his eyes, the horny motherfucker.
‘You’re too cute to fuck now,’ you say, turning up your nose at him to head back inside.
He just laughs as he follows you back in, when the hell did this dumb goon become so cocky?
***
You usually get changed after work, who the hell wants to be walking around the nightclub district at 3am in a satin choker and stripper heels, but you’ve been thinking about him all night.
His stupid new haircut and how you want it between your legs.
You wander casually round the front to say goodbye to Yugyeom the bartender, look around.
Your big dumb goon doesn’t let you down.
His hands are shoved in the pockets of his suit pants, head hung so you don’t have to look up so much to see him.
‘Wanna ride?’ he asks, tongue in his literal cheek, making his dimple pop.
‘Yeah.’
You want to ride everything about him.
***
His car’s parked three streets over next to the underpass where you first met.
‘Where’s your bike?’ you ask, a tease in your voice.
‘I got my license, remember?’
He slides into the driver seat, reaches over to open your door, his pants stretched over his thighs, tight.
He catches you looking, you weren’t trying to hide it anyway.
‘You can ride,’ he says, manspreading a bit, now who’s the tease.
‘You got bigger,’ you say.
‘I’ll make it fit,’ he assures you.
You can’t see his face clearly in the dark, but you can hear him snicker, low.
Then he starts the car, gets going.
***
He parks up outside your block, turns to you.
Looks hard at how you’ve unbuttoned the top two buttons of your satiny waistcoat.
‘Eyes up here,’ you murmur.
He smirks a little, this big dumb guy, and his gaze drops even more, centering on the flash of pale pink panties between your legs.
‘I got a roommate,’ you tell him.
He takes that in his stride.
‘I got a backseat,’ he offers.
You roll your eyes. ‘Kiss me.’
He likes kissing, he’s big and clumsy but so fucking endearing. He kisses you like he’s sneaking kisses at prom, hungry and like he wants to put a corsage on you or some shit.
You part your lips, let him slip you his tongue because you know he likes it sloppy and wet.
When you pull away he’s breathing hard.
You both look down at your hand touching him over his pants.
‘I missed you,’ he says, a declaration, heartfelt, sweet.
Your own heart skips.
‘That you or your dick talking, pretty boy?’ you ask.
You don’t give him a chance to answer, unzip your skirt so you can climb into his lap.
He’s getting his pants down, he’s not that dumb, not when it comes to this.
He’s as big as you remember, maybe even bigger, the way he’s holding himself up.
You start to lower yourself down on his fat cock, hissing a little at the sting, when movement outside his window distracts you.
Shit it’s not that the outside is moving, it’s that the goddamn car is moving.
‘The brakes, fuck,’ you moan, mad with frustration and that he’s still only halfway in.
He yanks up the handbrake, bucks his hips up into you so hard your head hits the roof of the car.
You don’t feel it, don’t feel anything but his cock splitting you open all the way.
Shit, he feels good.
He reaches into your top, scoops your breast out and sucks at your tit.
You know he’s trying to distract you from being mad at him for not parking the car properly.
You know it’s working.
He’s panting now, flushed and pretty, skin gleaming as he helps you ride him.
‘Can’t hold it,’ he warns, words muffled by your tits right in his face.
‘Let me have it, baby,’ you soothe, because you know he’s going to make you come, he’s always been good at it.
He grunts, fucks harder, makes you squeal on his cock and squirt all over him.
Fuck.
Fuck!
You can feel him tense and hard inside, feel the groan in his chest as he spills, face buried between your tits.
You put your hand on his head, stroke his almost buzz cut, silky and soft, until he stops groaning your name.
***
You realise in his haste to get to your tits he’d pulled off three buttons on your three button waistcoat, the big goon.
He shucks his shirt to give you willingly enough, and for some dumb reason hands you his sunglasses too even though it’s 4am and dark as fuck.
You slip them on anyway.
‘I’m working tonight, want me to pick you up?’ he offers.
With the sunglasses on you can look at him as much as you like without him getting the wrong fucking idea.
That you care about him or some shit.
‘Sure,’ you say, nonchalant.
He smiles so brightly it’s like he’s just won the lottery and your heart feels like it’s free falling.
You turn away deliberately, open the door to let yourself out.
‘Hey,’ you say.
His dimples should be illegal, a big goon like him’s got no business being so goddamn cute.
What’s he so goddamn cute for?
‘I missed you too,’ you tell him. You try to sound sour but it comes out sweet, kind of like his smile.
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Sleeping over | Caroline Graham Hansen
A/N: No triggers. Mentions of sex. Read the first parts to understand more.
The hot steaming rainshower was making the dimmed bathroom damp and foggy, it felt like a rainforest. I loved it. Showers were amazing. They were soothing and comforting. But they could also be exciting and fun. I snapped violently out of my thoughts as Lucy banged on my door “Are you gonna be ready today or next year? I cannot be late to my own birthday dinner pretty girl!” Lucy teased me from the other side of the door as I got out of the shower. She had asked me last minute if she could catch a ride with me as she was planning to drink and didn’t have a driver. Truth is that I don’t either have a driver, but I’m apperantly more capable than her to get a taxi. “Yea yea, it always important to be fashionably late babe!” I snapped back grinning to myself. I get so blessed that I had made such close friends after moving across the continent. Lucy was like my sister, and Ingrid was my bestie. My ride or die.
I got myself dry quickly and pulled on my outfit in no time. I got my hair curled loosely, and did some quick bronzy makeup with a cute subtle pink lip. I felt good about myself and admired myself in the mirror for one second. I had my white champagne satin dress on, but I had to use my white hoka’s. I tore my acl as a 18 year old, and I’m never gonna fully recover. That’s why I’m not taking any risks.
I swung the door open and did a dramatic pose for Lucy. “Oh Luce, tell me, am a looking au naturell?” I said with a dramatic french accent. “Luckily your outfit is better than your French” lucy chuckled. She was looking just as good as she always was. Pants that were just the right amount of tight to showcase her ass, and a short sleeve shirt that complimented her biceps beautifully. She often changed between pulling off masculine and feminine looks, and she knew damn well that she made it work for her.
We both did a quick 3 shots of tequila before heading giggling out of my apartment. We got out of the complex and found our taxi driver. It was an older man who turned up the music for us, and he was definitely in the mood for a party. I made sure to tip him well, and he told me that he was driving until 3 so I could give him a ring if anyone needed to get home safely. I appreciated the help, and took out the information card that he held out. “Ricardo Antonio Juereze Guapa” I confidently spoke out, the old man smiled and applauded your Spanish accent before waving goodbye. “Let’s do this!” I squiled as a pulled Lucy with me towards the restaurant. The vibes were immaculate, electric even. The food was incredible! And the drinks? Perhaps a tad bit too strong..
As I shoved down the last piece of my sorbet, I looked over at Caroline. She had showed up, but was being her usual quiet self. I raised an eyebrow towards her, and she shrugged. I motioned for her to meet me in the bathroom of the restaurant as I excused myself to the other girls. I got to the bathroom, and did a quick sweep to make sure that there were nobody there. Then Caroline stepped in. She was wearing shorts, but not the feminine kind. She was also wearing a white t-shirt, almost see through. I could tell how they shaped around her boobs, and they revealed her white sportsbra from Calvin Klein. “Hello pretty girl” I said as she entered the bathroom and she blushed. “Hey” she smiled nervously, and I touched her cheek as I pulled closer. “You good?” I asked as she played with her hair. She gave me a small nod, and I took it upon myself to fix her hair. She stood there dumbfounded while I was going all hairstylist on her beautiful brown locks as I smacked my lips together and presented proudly “Voila!” I announced as I pulled back. She blushed again.
“I was thinking of going home..” she mumbled as her face automatically went back to her usual serious self. “Why?” I blurred out as I almost interrupted her. “Well, I guess this really isn’t my thing, you know?” She motioned towards the door which let through sounds of chatter and music. I nodded to her, and placed my hand on her cheek again. “That’s fair, it’s not for everyone. If you leave, I’ll definitely miss you. Such a sight for sore eyes.” I said as I smiled, clearly a bit intoxicated. She shrugged, once again, out of words. I giggled softly as I brushed some of her hair from her face to behind her ear. “So dedicated and hardworking” I started as she blushed and smiled to the ground. I put my pointing finger on her chin, and tilted her face upwards. I leaned in towards her cheek, and breathed. “Stay, please” as my pink lips made contact with her blushed cheek and I quietly walked out.
I sat down at the table with the other girls. Lucy and Ingrid made whistling noises and i pretended to be annoyed by rolling my eyes at them. After a few minutes the girls stopped teasing me, and Caroline slowly eased back to the table. “Alright, Bronze! It’s your birthday, where do you wanna go next?” I announced to the table. Lucy’s face spread out in a huge grin. “Let’s go to Tito’s beach club!” Lucy responded, and with that everyone was fast up from their chairs. Some were more drunk then others, like Mapi, she was practically leaning onto Ingrid to use her as her personal walking stick. I chuckled at the sight of the pair, and as they passed I teased Ingrid, “Looks like someone got a good relationship with the bartender” I sang as she rolled her eyes back at me. I made sure to wait until all the girls had gotten up from the table, just to make sure that nobody forgot any purses, phones or wallets. As I finished checking, I could see Caroline waiting for me by the end of the table. My lips formed a smile, and I admired Caroline. “Waiting for me Graham?” i said as I got closer to her, our height differences once again becoming very obvious. She looked down on me, as she flashed one of her shy smiles. I had talked to Ingrid previously, who told me that Caroline hadn’t ever been in a relationship. That she was too focused on work and becoming better every day. I, on the other hand, I saw straight through it. I thought she was beautiful. I loved her physique, her face and her long neck. Plenty of space for.. Somthing, let’s just keep it at that.
“Whenever you are ready” she spoke as I grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the restaurant towards the other girls. The bar was only a few blocks away, and the girls were definitely not holding back tonight. We walked together to the bar, and the girls sang a million happy birthday songs in different languages. Caroline walked in silence for the short trip, but she was walking in silence next to me. I was talking to Ingrid, as she supported Mapi towards the bar. “Okay Maps, sober up or you will be left outside like a puppy.” I announced, and just like that; Mapi pulled herself together and sobered up as if she hadn’t seen alcohol in forever. We all entered in a line as the security checked us out. When Mapi passed, I could see one of the security guards raise their eyebrows, but he waived her through. We found a table consisting of high bar chairs, and we all grouped up around it. The music was beaming and there somehow wasn’t too many people inside yet. I went to order some drinks to the table, and when I came back there were no available chairs. However, that left me with one option. I walked to where Caroline was seated. The barchair making her even taller. I blinked my lashes in front of her, and smiled. “Care if I stand in front of you?” I asked as her eyes lit up. “Uhm, no no, sure, go ahead.” She stuttered as she didn’t want to seem to excited. I just smiled, she was so cute when she was visibly nervous. I pushed myself in front of her legs and leaned my hips towards her chair. Her breath was becoming heavier by the second, and her hands were slowly becoming more damp. I leaned my back towards her body, and she softened up in her posture. I could feel her hands slowly try to wrap around my waist, and I just let her do it at her own pace. As the night went on, the drinks were flowing rapidly. Caroline never moved, she was guarding me like I was a puppy. It was cute, her hands got more and more comfortable as the night went on. It almost felt as if she was warming up to me? Caroline wasn’t really someone that liked to share her private life, she liked her privacy and people say that’s how she has been since she was young.
As the night went on, I was getting more and more tired. I check my trusty sports watch. 02.45?! oh my, I was expected to be on a meeting tomorrow so I quickly texted the taxi driver from earlier that night. He confirmed the address, and said that he would be there in 5 minutes as he was already close by. I stood up from my leaning position, and straightened my dress. “I’m gonna have to make it an early night.” I announced and I could see the disappointment in Caroline’s eyes. I had probably gotten 6 or 7 drinks down. Multiple of them being my favourite drink, strawberry daiquiri. Not a very lesbian like drink eh?
One of the things with Caroline was that she had never really openly announced that she was lesbian or even bisexual. Naturally of course, as she was very private. People only knew what she wanted them to know about her. I turned my face towards Caroline, as a was already leaning between her tights. She looked at me with her big greyish blue eyes, and it melted me completely. I leaned in and hugged her tight. As expected she stiffened up like a stick, but after a few seconds she folded her long arms around me. My face was the same height as her upper abdomen, and I was just hugging her as best as I could. I looked up at her, and she looked down at me. I was admiring her when I blurred out, “Vil du dra med meg?”. Oh my. I thought to myself that this was a dumb decision. “Jeg mente egentlig å si; Vil du sitte på?” I corrected and tried to play it of cool. Luckily, i spoke Norwegian so that nobody but her could understand. Well, including Ingrid. «Ja» Caroline stuttered nervously “Gjerne”. She completed the sentence, and I grabbed her hand. “Alright Luce, girls, take it easy tonight. Drink water. And I’ll see you tomorrow” I announced as I dragged Caroline with me. I could hear the shock in the room when I dragged Caroline out towards the taxi. Mapi mumbled “What did she say to her?” And Ingrid shrugged “I don’t know Norwegian”. Mapi shot her an annoyed look, knowing very well that Ingrid’s first language was Norwegian.
The taxi ride was somewhat awkward as the taxi driver was trying to brighten the silences. I was just far too tired to even think, and I could feel the buzz from the alcohol. Caroline on the other had, didn’t have a drink. She said something about it ruining her restitution, and I naturally wanted to respect her. It was a Caroline thing to say, nobody took care of her physical health like Caroline. As the ride went on, I spotted my building. It was towering over the smaller buildings around it. I pulled out my purse to pay, and to tip the driver. But as I was fumbling with my purse, desperately trying to find my wallet, Caroline had already paid. “Ai!! Ayos mio! Mucho gracias!! The old man yelled ecstatically. I looked at Caroline who just shrugged. He turned towards me, and smiled as wide as he could. “This is a good woman! You keep her.” He spat out as Caroline blushed. “Thank you again, and good night” I smiled as a pulled myself out of the taxi. We both got out and stood on the sidewalk as the taxi driver rolled down his window. “When you need a driver, I drive you! Just message me. Buenos noches, ladies.” he sang out with the biggest smile on his face.
“What did you pay him?” I asked as he drove away. Caroline shrugged her shoulders, she was in fact a very humble person. “What he needed to be paid?” She tried, and I shook my head as I smiled. She had tipped well, and I knew because she wouldn’t let me see the receipt. “Do you wanna come up?” I asked her to break the awkward silence. “We can sit on my balcony, and have a some water or whatever you let yourself consume.” I joked, and she smiled a shy smile. “Uh. That would be nice.” She replied with eagerness in her voice. We walked towards the entrance, and I tapped my code on the little tab to be let in. In silence, we walk to the elevator and we took the elevator up to my floor. “Apartment 1802” I said as I once again tapped in my code. “The code is 3101, feel free to use it if you want.” I said as I was focused on tapping in my code. It wasn’t easy as I was a bit tipsy. We entered my apartment and Caroline stood there in shock taking it all in. “Wo-“ she started before I cut her off “it’s not my apartment, it’s the clubs. I just rent it, I could never in a million years buy something like this” I said ironically and laughed while I got two champagne glasses ready. I pulled out a Norwegian drink, Farris, on the counter. My grandparents had been there two weeks prior, and they brought me all my favourite snacks. I poured the drink into the glasses. “Here you go” I said as I reached it towards Caroline that was still admiring the apartment and the views. She turned towards me and said “I don’t drink alcohol” she started as I rolled my eyes. “Babe, it’s not alcohol! It’s Farris!” Her eyes widened. I was not too sure if it was because of the Farris part or because of the babe part. I had a habit of calling everyone babe, so I raised an eyebrow. «Oh, thats actually my favourite drink” she said as she took a sip. I giggled, and suddenly I came to the realisation that I had watermelon in the fridge. Fresh juicy watermelon! I did a turnaround and ripped the fridge open. I pulled out the bowl I had previously cut up in triangles and walked towards the balcony. Caroline willingly followed me towards the stunning views. I sat down in one of chairs I had placed outside, and she slowly sat down beside me in awe of the sunset. “Here” I said, “Take some watermelon, it’s very hydrating.” I giggled as I pushed the box towards her. She smirked and grabbed a piece. “Sound like something I would say.” She said as she took a sip. Watermelon juice went flying everywhere! In her lap; her t-shirt and even at her socks. I giggled hysterically. I loved to laugh when I was sober, but when I was drunk? Oh boy, I giggled over anything.
“Ah, faen” Caroline swore under her breath as I giggled while she was trying to run the pink liquid off her white top. Her face was slowly turning red enough to match the watermelon. “I should get home..” Caroline reluctantly said, and as if I had just found the cure for cancer, I stood up and sprinted towards my walk in closet. I grabbed my favourite lululemon hoodie considering it was the only piece of clothing that were oversized enough to fit her tall body. “Here” I proudly announced as she looked up. Her eyes widened when she saw the color of the item. “What!” I said “get the stick out of you ass” I said as I kept giggling. She shook her head and sighted. “I really should get going home” she mumbled as she poured down the last drop of Farris and stood up. “Oh really” I teased, “Do you have a secret girlfriend at home that is expecting you?”. Her face went red, and her eyes once again resembled an owl’s eyes.
I mentally slapped myself for saying it, and I instantly knew that I would regret this as soon as I sobered up tomorrow morning. “I-I” she said as she mumbled the last part of the sentence. “You what?” I asked nervously, could it be that she actually had a girlfriend? Or even worse, that she was only into men? I wanted to become one with the gorgeous wooden floor in the apartment. My train of thoughts were interrupted by her clearing up her voice. “I’ve never had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or anyone. I don’t really think I would like a boyfriend either as I don’t like men..” she said as I felt about 500 kg lighter. That cleared things up pretty quickly. “Never?” I asked curiously, “how come?”. She sighted again and looked more at the floors than on me. “I guess nobody has ever, uhm, you know, found me attractive or something.” she said as she swallowed for a second, visibly struggling with her words. We both went quiet for a while, and the silence was broken by my yawn. “Do you maybe wanna sleep over?” I suggested to see if she was interested. She nodded and I showed her my bedroom and the rest of the apartment. “I’m just gonna shower quickly, so I don’t smell of vodka.” I said as I headed for the shower. I had so many questions, so many things I was wondering about and so many thoughts. I was definitely a thinker, but I was also good with communication. Caroline was not the best with sharing her feelings and thoughts. Usually, the things she said sounded like she had planned to say it, especially on practice. I was thinking about how she had made friends, as I knew she was pretty close with Alexia, Oona and Mapi.
My thoughts were rambling as I stood in the hot shower for what felt like ages. I popped on my pyjamas as I wanted to respect her and not be naked. My pj’s was a two piece set with a shorts and a tank top with spaghetti straps. It was a sheer pink color with lace on the edges, and it was somewhat revealing. I dried my hair with a towel, leaving it to air dry while I did a quick round of skincare. Skincare was so important to me, it made me feel good and I believe that if you feel good, you look good. I stepped out of the bathroom, and walked into my bedroom expecting to see Caroline in my bed. The shock on my face when I could find her, was rather disturbing. I looked around me, and anxiety started to boil. Had I done something? Did she get the wrong signal? Was she angry? My thoughts were cut off by a cough. A rather loud raspy cough which scared me shitless. All my senses activated, and I grabbed a hanger I had on my hook. I slowly walked into the living room to find nobody. I check out the bathrooms and the kitchen, even the walk in closet and the balcony. Nothing! Perhaps it was just a neighbour? I settled on that explanation and shuffled to the bedroom.
As I walked to the bedroom, I wanted to grab myself an extra pillow from the guest room because I was not a fan of alcoholic reflux. I walked into the guest room and there she was in all her glory. “What on earth are you doing?” I asked her as a leaned towards the doorframe. She had a confused look on her face and tilted her head as she said “wasn’t I invited to sleep over?” I giggled and made myself a mental note to remember that she could not take a hint even if it was handed to her. “Yes, in my bed pretty girl” I said as a smiled and she suddenly became red again. “Oh, it’s just that.. I have never..I’m not into..” she started. I was just as confused as her about where this conversation was headed.
It suddenly clicked in my mind. She this I’m trying to one night stand her! “This is not a one night stand” I said as I smiled and moved towards her. “I’m just trying to get to know you better, okay? I’m taking it slow with you.” I assured her as I reached my hand out. She took the blanket off her and grabbed my hand as she followed me to the main bedroom. “Besides I said, in this room; there is a big ass flatscreen” I said as we entered. She looked at it and nodded. We hopped into bed, and girl. She had never cuddled anyone in her entire life. She slid into the bed and was as stiff as a stick. “Do you need help?” I asked her and she nodded desperately. “Alright, this is how you cuddle. The big spoon is the one holding the other person. The small spoon is the one being held.” I stated as I turned myself around. She was laying flat on her back, so I curled up next to her on my side. “Then, you move this arm and hold in here” I stated as I positioned myself and her. I laid my head on her chest and held around her with my other arm as I was almost laying on my belly. She adjusted, and let out a releaved breath. “I think I like this” she said, and I lifted my head as I looked up at her. I smiled, and continued “this is cuddling. You can stroke my back, play with my hair, kiss the top of my head or just lay still.” I said as I yawned. She softened once again, and started breathing heavily. Then we both drifted off to sleep.
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Strawberry Milk pt.2 18+ (oneshot)
pairing: sub! soobin x afab service dom! y/n
synopsis: soobin wants to please his partner
cw: tall big dick sub soobin, pet names, food play, oral, squirting, cum swallowing, service bottom soobin, slight body worship, little bit of fluff
word count: 0.8k
part one
a.n. i simply had to make a part 2…
Y/N POV
“When is it my turn to taste you?”
“Whenever you want, baby,” I said as I unbuttoned my jeans, “Where do you want the whip?”
Soobin liked to please me, but he always got nervous initiating it. So I wasn’t surprised when he just stood there, stared at my unbuttoned jeans and froze.
“You want it on my pussy,” I teased, slowly unzipping my pants and revealing my white satin panties, “Or on my ass?”
I turned around and leisurely pulled my pants down. My soft underwear came down with it, ass bare in front of him. I turned my head back to catch a glimpse of his gaze. He was drooling at the sight of me, but still not taking any action.
“Neither? Okay, that’s fine.” I said before pulling up my pants.
“C-can I put it on your thighs?”
“You can put it anywhere you want, baby.”
He bashfully smiled and grabbed the can of whip off the counter. Then he kneeled in front of me and tugged my jeans down and off my ankles. He traced his smooth hands over my skin, gently kneading the meat of my thighs. He began leaning in to kiss my thighs , but I grabbed him by the hair. The pathetic whimper that followed surely wet my panties.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
He picked up the can and poured a swervy line of white cream down both of my thighs. Getting comfortable on his knees, he stuck out his tongue and went for my left leg. He snaked his head up my thigh, wet tongue licking up every bit. When he made it to the lining of my panties, he kissed the sensitive skin. Then he went to the other leg, his hand still kneading my free thigh.
Once his mouth cleaned the cream from my body, he raised his hands up to my panties. Soobin snuck his thumbs under the sides of my underwear to hook the fabric and pull them down. As I stepped out of my panties, he started unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom. As he unhooked each button, he pecked my hip bones, tummy and chest, leading all the way up to my lips.
“I wanna eat you out.” His deep voice muttered softly.
“Then eat me out.”
“On the counter.”
A smirk crept onto my face as I made my way to the edge of the counter. I hopped on, but made sure to keep my legs closed.
“You’re so beautiful,” He said into another kiss, “I can’t keep my mouth off you.”
His hands slipped my shirt completely off and trailed down to my breasts. I tend not to wear a bra for two reasons: comfort and Soobin loved it. His thumbs circled my nipples as he squeezed and admired my boobs. I could tell he was tempted to lean his lips to my chest, but he learned his lesson.
Soobin took a strawberry from the case and bit off the tip. I was a bit confused about his approach. What is he doing? Then he hovered the fruit over my chest and squeezed the pink juice on my nipples. He used his tongue to lick up the juice and play with my nipples. The cold juice and his warm tongue contrasted perfectly on my body.
Once he licked my chest clean, he kissed down my stomach and to my core, but my legs were still shut closed. Starting at my knees, he ran his large hands up my thighs.
“I really wanna eat you out, Y/N.” He said desperately.
“Then do it.”
He kneeled down and tried to pry my legs open. I wanted him to eat me out too, but I was going to make him work for it. After I made him cum twice, he had to earn the privilege to taste me. My legs were stronger than his hands, so his attempted force was almost useless. He grew tired of fighting me and pinched the sensitive spot on my knees, causing me to jump and lose the hold on my legs.
With my legs finally open and my pussy revealed to him, he kept my thighs propped open and ate me out like he wanted. Soobin ran his tongue from the opening to my clit, going up and down over and over again. The more he played with me, the more wet I got. Surely I was dripping all over the counter.
“Fuck, baby.” I moaned.
He circled the tip of his tongue around my clit, fast enough to make me squirt in his mouth. When he tasted my waters, his tongue played faster. And I couldn’t stop cumming.
“Oh my God, Soo- ahh.”
My legs were shaking. I couldn’t stop myself from sandwiching him in my thighs. It felt so good.
When he finally let up from my pussy, I had to catch myself behind my back. I was winded by the prolonged orgasm. Soobin always liked doing that, making me cum so intensely. The perfect service bottom.
“How was that?” He asked as he stood up to meet my hazy gaze.
“Perfect, my love,” I said, kissing his lips and tasting me with a hint of strawberry, “And what about you? Was this better than the porn I found on your phone?”
“Mhm. You’re so much better than any video.”
“That’s my baby.”
#dadddybangtan#soobin#soobin smut#soobin x y/n#soobin x reader#kpop smut#txt hard hours#txt x reader#txt smut#txt x y/n#txt hard thoughts
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Weed and Pussy
Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (Ivy)
Content Warnings: 18+!, smoking (weed), oral (female receiving), fingering, handjob, protected (p in v) sex, squirting
A/N: I saw that picture and it gave me brain worms. Didn’t plan for this to be an OC, but it just kinda happened, so I hope that’s cool with everyone. I also kinda got carried away, and the smoking aspect of the fic kinda got lost. Apologies. Also, you know what they say about Rain.
Word count: 3.6k
Tag list: @circle-with-me @xxrainstorm @foliosriot @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @reader13000 @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @concretenoah @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @an-insane-day @lyschko666
If you would like to be added, please let me know for who! If you tell me everyone/everything, just know that includes anything I may write for Bad Omens AND/OR Will Ramos.
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Will Ramos Masterlist
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Will stared at the file horrified. Something went wrong during recording and it sounded awful. Panic washed over him as he played it back again. He didn’t have time to re-record. He was already behind on posting it and this was the fifth time already he’s recorded. This was the best take Will had done. There was no way he could do better.
Feeling defeated, he reached for his phone and sighed when he saw the time. It wasn’t super late, but late enough that he felt bad for asking for help.
Will: Hate to bother you, but I need some help with a song file. Can I come over?
He would understand if she said no. He would probably say no himself, but he needed this fixed yesterday.
Ivy: sure! give me five and then head this way!
————
Luckily for Will, Ivy lived conveniently close. He was at her aptly Christmas decorated house in no time. The decor was simple, but conveyed enough of the holiday spirit. Shimmering multi-colored lights lined her driveway and pathway to her door. He saw no lights on in her house. If that already didn’t have him worried, the fact he knocked three times and received no response definitely concerned him. He was about to knock for a fourth time but the door swung open.
“Hi! Sorry! I was… occupied.” Ivy greeted him with a shy smile. Her freckled face was flushed a soft shade of pink.
She stepped aside and gestured for Will to come in. The house was dark, the only light coming from various nightlights and salt lamps she had scattered around everywhere.
“So what’s wrong with your file?” She asked, walking away from him.
Will followed her, taking note of her clothing—or lack thereof, really. She wore a deep, wine red satin nightie. He could see her back freely and the soft sprinkling of freckles that covered it. The color looked amazing on her. He nearly walked right into her when she stopped at her office door.
“Will?”
He swore to everything her eyes were maroon and not brown. His eyes scanned over the front of her nightie. Black lace lined the seams and edges.
“Earth to Will. Hello?” Her voice was light and soft. She snapped her fingers in his face.
Will’s face warmed when he realized he was staring. “Uh, well it’s real gritty and distorted. There’s random peaking and it just sounds real bad. Like, the worst thing I’ve ever recorded.”
Ivy hummed. “Well let me see what I’m working with.”
Will shrugged off his bag and searched for his laptop and the flash drive with the song. He set the items down on her desk, then turned to her.
“Do you mind if I smoke? This shit has stressed me all day.”
She smiled brightly at him. “As long as you share.”
————
“Oh Will, honey, what did you do?”
She scooted closer to her desk, her bare pussy grinding—knowingly or unknowingly, he couldn’t be sure— along his thigh. Will clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the armrest. The tent forming in his pants was growing and he couldn’t adjust to mask it without drawing her attention. He took a long drag of his joint, holding in the smoke until it burned his throat and lungs.
He needed to not think about her exposed, warm cunt dampening the fabric of his sweats. Or how badly he wanted to bounce his leg and watch her come undone. Will’s eyes wandered to the open back of her nightie, the deep red wine color complimenting her complexion wonderfully. He wondered how soft her skin would be under his lips and if he’d be able to taste the flowers he smelled from her body wash.
The frustrated huff she let out broke him from his thoughts. Will erupted into a coughing fit when she adjusted again on his thigh, perching herself on his knee. He’d forgotten all about the hit he took and choked on the smoke trapped in his lungs. Even through the material of his sweats, he felt her lips slightly spread and more of her arousal stain.
She turned her head to glance back at him, taking the joint with a concerned expression.
“Are you okay?”
Will nodded, still coughing up both of his lungs. She watched him struggle to catch his breath. When he finally stopped, he took a big gulp of air and wiped his watery eyes.
“Would you like some water?” She squeezed his other knee with her hand.
“Yes.” The simple reply hurt his throat. His voice was hoarse and rough.
Ivy stood with a small smile then disappeared behind him. Will inhaled a deep, steadying breath, sputtering a few more quick coughs. His eyes fell to the wet spot on his knee. A tiny trail of her slick was left behind. Without thinking, Will reached to touch it. He gently stroked his fingers over the spot as his mind spiraled.
Why wasn’t she wearing underwear? Why was she wet? How wet was she? What does she taste like? How does she feel?
The last thought made his dick twitch. He suddenly remembered his aching erection and cursed. Hastily, Will shoved a hand in his pants, letting out a pained hiss as he ran his fingers—the same ones with the lingering arousal—over the head. Precum had started dribbling. He quickly swiped it away and bit his bottom lip to contain the noise that threatened to escape. Will struggled to somewhat comfortably hide his erection. It was still noticeable, but less so than the tent he was pitching.
“I don’t know what you did,” Ivy’s voice carried into her office, startling Will.
She handed him an unopened bottle then grabbed the still burning joint from the tray. Will hyper focused on the way her lips closed around it and the rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled deeply. Her long lashes reminded him of butterflies as her eyes fluttered shut. Ivy leaned her head back, hair cascading past her shoulders in fiery waves. Will watched her muscles and body loosen as she exhaled.
“But it’s going to take a while to try and save it.” Smoke delicately lingered between her lips. “We’re gonna be here a while.”
That definitely wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Will deflated, but happily took the joint from Ivy. He tried not to think about the trace of mint she left behind and how badly he wanted to taste it on her breath. He couldn’t be all that disappointed though. Ivy was always a great company.
She took the joint from him again and took a seat once more on Will’s thigh, turning her attention back to the computer. He leaned forward and propped his arm on the desk, resting his chin in his hand. He tried to ignore the feeling of her still bare and wet pussy.
“Despite how fucked the recording is, you did a great job, Will.”
Her sincere, bright smile made his heart jump to his throat.
“Sleep Token suits your voice so well, it’s incredible.”
The praise made his heart swell. “Thanks.”
She took another hit then set the joint back in the tray. Smoke stuck to her lips. Will desperately wanted to capture it between his.
He watched her work intently. She was so focused. He noticed the way her brows crinkled when something didn’t work, the cute way her lips pursed when she was deep in thought. She reached for the joint again and took another long drag, letting it settle deep in her chest before exhaling. Will grabbed it from her and copied her.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you or anything, but,” Will turned his head and exhaled. “Are you… Is there a reason you’re not wearing underwear?”
A delicate flush of pink tinted her freckled cheeks.
“I was…” Ivy bit her lip. “I was getting ready for bed when you texted and you got here much quicker than I expected.”
“Oh.” Will felt his own cheeks heat. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine! I can… worry about that when I fix this.”
Maybe it was the weed in his system or maybe he was thinking with the wrong head, but before he could stop himself, he blurted out—
“I could help you with that.”
Ivy whipped her head to the side to stare at him, brows raised. Will immediately tried to backtrack his statement.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean— that was meant to be an inside thought.”
“Well,” her voice trailed off. “If you're offering.”
Ivy slowly stood. Will looked at her utterly flabbergasted.
“Are you sure? I don’t—“
She turned her back to him and bent over her desk, her satin nightie rising up over her ass, allowing him to see just how wet her pussy was. Will felt his cock throb.
“I’m sure, Will.”
He sank to his knees. His hands tenderly caressed up her calves to her thighs. Her skin was as soft and smooth as her satin nightie, but warm under his gentle touch. Freckles were sprinkled everywhere on her legs. Some even found they’re way to her butt. Will ghosted his lips across the prominent moles he saw, awarding each one a soft, feather light kiss. Goosebumps spread over Ivy’s skin, contrasting the delicate softness. He scooted closer to her, coaxing her legs apart with a gentle pat.
Will kissed a path to her center, leaving a trail of hot breath and lip shaped wet marks between her thighs. He closed his mouth around her pussy, encasing her entirely between his lips. He groaned, low and loudly, his eyes fluttering shut as her warmth and taste graced his tongue. A breathless, light moan escaped Ivy. He slid his hands up to her plump ass and gave a firm squeeze.
Ivy pushed back, another soft sound coming from her as he buried his face further into her cunt. Will took his time, savoring the flavor of her arousal and letting himself get lost. His mouth, chin, and nose were coated in her. He experimentally poked her entrance with his tongue, then quickly dipped the tip inside a few times.
“Oh my god, Will.” She moaned.
The pleasurable sound of his name made his hard cock twitch. He moved his tongue to her clit, lightly lapping and flicking the swollen sensitive bud, and was instantly rewarded with more whiny whimpers. Every erotic noise Ivy made shot straight to his dick, making his erection ache. Will moaned into her as he sucked her clit between his lips.
“Fuck,” Ivy cried out. She reached behind her, seeking something to grab. She couldn’t grab his hair, so she settled for his hand and intertwined their fingers.
Will wished he could see her face. He wanted to see her gorgeous face contorted in ecstasy. He wanted to see her maroon-like eyes boring into his, piercing his heart and staking her claim to it.
“Will…”
He hummed. Ivy mimicked the sound.
“I’m close.”
His ravenous appetite grew, eager to give her what she needed. Will devoured her pussy, like a starving wild animal. With his free hand, he kneaded Ivy’s ass, his short nails creating crescent moons in her flesh.
Ivy’s whines grew in pitch and volume the closer she got. Will chased after her climax with her, his own sounds mixing with hers. He was sure to leave little bruises on her ass with the grip he had.
In unashamed desperation, Will nuzzled impossibly more into her soaking cunt. He needed her to unravel like he needed air. His tongue relentlessly worked. He made an audible and deliberate show of enjoying his meal. Ivy’s hold on his hand tightened, then her body seized and shuddered, followed by a delicate curse and cry of his name.
Will groaned, greedily lapping her through her orgasm. He was dazed and lost in her pussy, completely consumed in her and forgetting how to breathe. He simply couldn’t get enough. He needed her to cum again. Will wanted his face saturated.
He groaned loudly as he quickly flicked her clit. He moved his head side to side, earning a delightful moan from Ivy. Will feasted on her, like a feral, rabid beast. Nothing mattered to him except the intensity of Ivy’s quaking body as a second orgasm tore through her. His eyes fell shut as her cunt released over his mouth and covered his face. Her legs almost gave out, but he was quick to steady her.
He would have happily kept his mouth glued to her pussy and gave her another climax, but the gentle call of his name and weak tug on his arm broke him from his trance.
Ivy heaved a heavy breath. Will sat back on his legs and admired the glistening mess between her thighs. His cock started to hurt because of how hard and turned on he was. He didn’t expect anything in return, but he needed some kind of relief soon or he would fucking combust.
Slowly, Will stood up, his knees cracking and popping in protest. Ivy pushed herself up and flipped her body around so she was facing him. She leaned back on her arms, a content, satisfied smile plastered across her face.
Fuck she was hot.
“Can I—“ his voice cracked. “Can I use your bathroom?”
Instead of answering, Ivy reached for his hips and pulled him close. She then hopped up on her desk.
“What do you need to go to the bathroom for, hm?”
Will’s mind went blank as she teasingly slipped her fingers into the waistband of his sweats and boxers. Ivy tugged his bottoms down enough to free his aching cock. He sighed, relieved at no longer being constrained. Ivy swiped her thumb over the tip of his dick.
Will slammed a hand down on the desk, accidentally slamming the keyboard. He didn’t expect to be so hypersensitive.
“Oh, sensitive are we?” Ivy husked in his ear.
She twisted her hand along his shaft as she stroked, pulling an elongated, desperate and choked whine from his lungs. Will forgot how to breathe all over again. He screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip. His fingers flexed on the keys. The recording started playing, only now it sounded perfect. There was no distortion or odd peaking. Pristine vocals and instrumentals void of any mistakes. Whatever Will did by smacking the keyboard seemed to fix the issue.
“Seems you’ve fixed your song.” Ivy ran her thumb over his leaking head. “Sounds great, but—“
The cut off of her sentence prompted Will to look at her. Lust and desire drenched her maroon colored eyes, pouring from them in buckets. The light emitting from the computer screen cast an angelic glow around her. Her hypnotic gaze turned him into putty. She smirked as his dick throbbed in her hand. Ivy lowered her head slightly, making sure to keep the intensity of their stare. Her clementine colored locks softly framed her shoulders. She opened her mouth. His eyes flicked to her tongue and he wondered how it would feel around his dick.
Will watched drool pool in her mouth and dribble over her chin. His cock twitched as droplets of her saliva landed on his head— and then a glob of spit. Ivy spread her spit all around his aching dick and tightened her grip around him. A pathetic, whiny, needy and embarrassing sound left his mouth.
“I think you sound better like this.”
The sensation of her slickened touch almost made him bust immediately—which would have been infinitely more embarrassing than the noise he just made. He wanted her to keep jerking him, but he craved to be inside her more than anything.
“Ivy,” Will’s voice trembled. Another whine fluttered between his lips as she pumped a little faster.
“Hm? What is it?”
He reached for her hand and stopped her movements. She unwrapped her fingers. Disappointment briefly flashed in her eyes. The second verse of Rain cut through the silence of the room.
“I—“ He took a steadying breath, “I want—“
No, I need, he thought.
“What do you want, sweetheart?”
Fuck.
The pet name nearly turned his brain to mush. How exactly could he tell her he wanted to fuck her senseless, that he wanted to be buried so deep inside her pussy, he’d need to be surgically removed?
“I need to fuck you.”
His own words and firm tone surprised him. Ivy swiped her tongue over her bottom lip. She tore her eyes away from him, looking to a drawer of her desk. Will took a small step back to allow her to rummage through and find what he assumed would be a condom. He immediately returned to his previous spot when she found one.
Ivy ripped open the foil packaging with her teeth and then grabbed his dick, giving a few slow, long strokes before unrolling the latex down his shaft. She scooted closer to the edge of her desk and positioned his dick to her entrance.
“Wait—“ Will said suddenly, reaching down between them. “I’m dying to feel you.”
He teased her entrance with his middle digit, gently and softly circling it with the pad of his finger. “Can I?”
“Please.”
Will slipped his finger in with ease. He didn’t plan to finger her for long, but he wanted to feel her unprotected, feel how warm and wet she was—and maybe just to tease.
Slowly, he pumped in and out. A pleasant humming rumbled in Ivy’s chest. He went knuckle deep and stopped to curl his finger. He wasn’t sure if he could reach her spot, but he was damned determined to try.
He angled his wrist, using the movement and pressure to sink slightly deeper and curled his finger again. Ivy choked a whine and her body jerked. Her walls throbbed as he pressed the spongy tissue again. Will built a steady pace, working her cunt nice and slow. Ivy’s body melted in his hand with every thrust and delectable curl. Any word she tried to speak muddled together in a dazed, breathless moan. This isn’t how he wanted her to come undone though.
Much to Ivy’s brief dismay, Will removed his finger. He brought it to his lips and stared down the red headed wonder in front of him as he licked it clean.
“I could taste you forever.”
Ivy threw her arms over Will’s shoulders and crashed their lips together. Her hands threaded in his hair and tugged gently. Will wrapped an arm around her lower back, pulling her closer. He grabbed his dick and took the opportunity to finally slide his achingly hard cock in her dripping pussy. Her moan got lost between their lips.
Will gave her a moment to adjust before moving. His first few thrusts were slow and deep. He wished he could feel her in all of her aroused and wet glory. She felt incredible gripping his finger. He could only imagine how fucking mind blowing her cunt would feel strangling and choking his bare cock.
The wet, squelching sound of her cunt drowned out the still playing song in the background. Will focused only that disgustingly erotic sound and the dizzying heat of Ivy’s breath on his lips. Words escaped her again. Nothing but moans and heavy panting came from her.
She hooked her legs around him. Will lifted her off the desk and cradled her close to his body, thrusting hard and deep. Ivy flexed her fingers, incessantly tugging his hair at the root. Each harsh tug made him groan and pound harder into her cunt. The sharp smack of skin against skin drowned out the music playing, the song being long forgotten.
“Fuck!” Ivy yelled. “Right there, Will.”
He loved hearing his name from her pretty mouth. Will slipped his hands inside the back of her nightie, pressing her body closer to his. The whine and strain in her voice urged him to work faster. He picked up his pace. A barrage of choked moans filled the air around him. He didn’t want to come before her, but he feared he might.
Ivy untangled a hand from his hair and reached for her clit. She mewled, arching her body more into his. Her beautiful, unhinged sounds echoed on a loop in his brain. Will could have gotten off to just the sound alone.
“Will, I’m so close.”
His hips snapped ruthlessly, her shrill and loud cries providing him with a deep, carnal desire. He sank his teeth in the crook of her neck, sucking a dark bruise on her delicate skin.
“Oh GOD. WILL—“ Ivy all but screamed.
She clung to him, wrapping her arms so tightly around his back he could hardly breathe. Her hands found their way back to his hair and she pulled roughly as her orgasm violently tore through her body. Ivy trembled involuntarily in his hold. Will felt her release saturate them both.
The slick, wet sound of her thoroughly fucked cunt drove him mad and over his own edge. He barely managed to hold them up upright as his own orgasm came crashing around him. His hands slid higher up Ivy’s back, one resting in the middle and the other gripping her soft orange hair at the base of her skull. He clung to her, much like she did to him.
His ears started to ring and a strained whimper escaped him. He unloaded in the condom, cumming so hard that it was almost painful, and with such force that he momentarily worried he broke through the latex. He didn’t think he’d ever stop spilling semen. Each pulse and throb of his dick made him whine.
With jellified legs, Will stumbled forward and carefully sat Ivy back on her desk. He tried to take a step back, but Ivy kept him close. She pressed their foreheads together. Weed and pussy were heavy on their breaths. Ivy sweetly pecked his lips.
“You should fuck up your recordings more often.” Ivy said breathlessly.
Will chuckled then gave her a proper kiss.
“Don’t tempt me.”
#will ramos x ofc#will ramos fanfiction#will ramos fanfic#will ramos fic#lorna shore fanfiction#lorna shore fanfic#lorna shore fic
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Big black Friend
"His name is Roger" Cathy told me. As she pulled her tight white tee shirt on over a dark red bra that barely held her perfect D-cups. Just then the door bell rang.
"Go answer the door, and you better be polite" Cathy told me. I was unsure of this. I had been sure but now as it was happening I felt nervous. I went an answered the door. A mountain of a man as standing there. He was way over 6' he looked like a football player wide shoulders and broad chest. His dark skin disguised his many tattoos but not completely.
"Please come in" I said softly.
"Nice place" he commented extending his hand. I shook his hand.
"Can I get you a drink?" I asked.
" whiskey, thanks " he replied, he was not what I anticipated when seeing him. He was polite and educated as we made small talk. A few minutes later Cathy came downstairs. Her high heels clicking.
"You are a vision" Roger said standing as she walked in. I handed Roger another drink. Also stating at my wife. She looked amazing, dressed alot more risqué then she ever wore, but amazing. Roger stepped towards her and pulled her close to him he kissed her deep. Picking her off the ground. I stood and watched. Her skirt so short it rode up exposing her ass. Only the thin material of a red thong on display.
"Paul why don't you take cookie for a walk around the block while I give Roger a house tour. Then you can join us" Cathy said leading Roger upstairs. I scooped up our little poodle cookie and went for a walk. When I returned I could hear them in the bedroom. The door was closed so I knocked.
"Come in sweety" Cathy sang. As I opened the door I saw Cathy wearing only her bra and thong on her knees sucking Roger enormous cock. He was completely naked. He was even more muscle bound then I had thought. And the tattoos covered his chest and abs as well. I stood in the door way and watched unable to move. Roger just smiled. He reached down and picked up Cathy as if she was weightless. He placed her on the bed he tore her thong off of her as she was positioned bent over in front of her. He rubbed his cock against her wet slit. Then pushed inside her. Cathy's face was of surprise as Roger slowly worked his cock into her wanting pussy.
Cathy looking at me reached out to me. I went to her she grabbed my hand. I sat on the bed as Roger fucked her from behind she grasped my hand. As Cathy grew accustomed she reached out and tried to open my pants. I tried to to stop her. She swatted my hands away.
"It's okay sweety, Roger knows you're girlie" Cathy said as she exposed my pink frilly panties. She had me stand and my pants and shirt. I stood in the girliest frilly pink satin panties. Cathy patted the bed inviting me to sit back down. She rubbed me thru the panties.
"Roger is giving your wife a good fuck" she moaned. "You should thank him"
"Thank you Roger. For fucking Cathy" I said shyly
"No proper like" Cathy told me
"Thank you...sir for pleasing my wife...like I cant" I said with Cathy's silent coaching. Roger flipped Cathy over and continued to fuck her.
"Are you going to clean up all his sperm when he is finished?" Cathy asked. I had eaten my own but never.
"I can feed it to him direct" Roger laughed. I felt flush.
"What do you think sweety" Cathy said giggling. I looked at her in shock. She kept me on the edge but not coming.
Roger speed increased and Cathy's eyes rolled into her head as the both climaxed. Roger filling her with his seed. He pulled out and stood his cock bobbing only a foot or so from my face. Cathy reached up and grasped his cock.
"Kiss it baby, lick him clean" Cathy cooed. I couldn't Cathy took it instead sucking him clean then she kissed me.
Roger pulled Cathy to her feet and hugged her. Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me to him as well. Hugging me his hand grabbing my ass.
"Nice ass baby" he said into my ear. I was terrified he just laughed and let me go. Roger started to get dressed. As Cathy spread her legs offering me her stretched swollen pussy. She tried to guide my head to her pussy. I resisted then Roger pushed my head down and pulled my panties down. At the same time. His finger pushed against my hole. As Cathy held my face against her sloppy pussy. I licked and tasted his cum. As he applied some kind of lube and forced his finger into me.
"Eat that pussy, or I will stretch this hole so big I will fit my whole fist in there" Roger warned me.
"Fuck his ass baby, fuck my little faggots ass" Cathy moaned. She loved what she was seeing that and my tounge bought her to a second orgasm in an hour. I sucked every drop of Roger's cum from her. Before he stopped fingering my ass. He had worked two fingers in my ass by then, I went to use the bathroom only to return to see Roger standing holding Cathy as he worked her on his cock. They fucked against walls or on the chair for what must of been 30 minutes. Before Cathy dropped to her knees and Roger finished in her mouth. Cathy stood and kissed me. Feeding me most of it. As Roger really got dressed and left this time. Cathy reached down and realized I had already cum in my panties. She led me to the shower. After which we changed the sheets and fell asleep in each other's arms naked.
"I am proud of you" Cathy said as I woke up. She pushed my head between her legs. I didn't resist and bought her to an orgasm.
I got up showered and went to get dressed. Cathy came up behind me. As I picked up my boxer briefs.
"I think after last night maybe you should start wearing only your pretty panties" her hand teasing my asshole. I swallowed hard and put my underwear back and opened another draw. Cathy picked out a yellow thong. I took it and slid it on.
"I think it be sexy if you started to shave as well" she smiled tugging at the trimmed hair that stuck out of the thong. I just finished getting dressed. Cathy dressed alot more risqué again maybe not as much as last night but definitely more cleavage and leg showing. She also kept texting someone and giggling and smiles. I was afraid to ask but figured it was Roger.
"Paul, would you like me to fuck you?" Cathy asked suddenly. We had not had sex in weeks since Cathy had decided to Cuckold me. Then picked Roger. The panties had been a drunken confession months earlier. When I told her I had been wearing her panties for years. And my mother's before that. She played along realizing it was my need to be submissive that drove it. Cathy looked at my face
"Not like that sweety. Me getting a strapon and fucking you?" She clarified my surprise.
"No" I replied. But I must not of been convincing
"Are you sure" she slid her hand down the back of my shorts. I swallowed hard as her fingers teased my hole. She had me spread my legs and continued. She pushed me over the table. And pulled my shorts down.
"Beg, beg me to take you" Cathy said.
"Yes, please fuck me" I wimpered.
"Stay right here" Cathy laughed as she went to the bedroom. She returned and applied lube to my ass. Then pushed in a plug we had bought years ago. But never really played with. She then pulled up my shorts.
"Don't take it out till I tell you to" Cathy told me it felt huge. But I knew it wasn't. I walked funny from awhile bit then became adjusted to it. Cathy spent the rest of the day grabbing or smacking my ass at every chance. We sat down to watch a movie and her hand found my ass. I even lifted myself giving her better access.
"You wanted to clean Roger's cock didn't you?" Cathy asked as she pushed on the plug. I looked her in the eyes and nodded.
"I am going to keep seeing him. For my sexual needs" Cathy informed me. "Roger has been telling me all about sissy cuckolds, he has been a bull before for couples. He says we have to figure out our deepest fantasies."
"Roger is wonderful, but I keep wondering what two Roger's or maybe three would be like" Cathy confessed. "And you enjoyed eating men's cum out of me" Cathy pointed out.
"Since we know you are submissive and too afraid to confess what you want I am going to decide for you" she told me.
Then I watched as she went online and bought a strapon, butt plugs, panties( for me the girlie the better) but also bras, nightgowns even a dress in my size. And several pairs of high heels.
"I want you to go take a bath, I want all your body hair gone" Cathy told me. I hesitated so she took my hand and led me to the bathroom where she painstakingly removed all of my hair.
"Whenever I have a date I want you dressed up as a proper sissy bitch and waiting for me to come home with your ass stufffed" Cathy told me. She then too, me to bed removed the plug and got the dildo we had bought when she had decided to fuck Roger. She was afraid he wouldn't fit. We only used it once but it was huge. She lubed it up and pushed it against my ass.
"Please it's too big" I cried.
"I know but you can't tell a big black man that, he is going to take what he wants" Cathy told me. "Now push back" as I did my muscles gave way and the huge head of the toy tore it's way into my ass. I screamed. Cathy held it still as pleaded with her to remove it. After a few minutes the pain became manageable. And Cathy pushed in more. Again pausing. She had managed to get 4 inches in when I came all over the bed. Cathy annoyed started to fuck me with the toy.
I was crying and begging for her to stop as she sank all eight inches in my ass. Then stopped only to take pictures.
"You are going to become the biggest bitch for me ever" Cathy promised me. While she fucked me with the dildo for another 10 minutes before she pulled it out. Exhausted I collapsed and fell asleep.
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Idk if you are still accepting requests n stuff but I just got to and need to know how our “Don’t Deny the Animal” y/n is doing 😭 Like by now she probably gave birth to their daughter and stuff so can u give us a glimpse please 🥺👉👈
Oh I’ve missed DDTA Chris & his wifey and their babies!! Okay, let’s see what they’re up to!
This drabble is a continuation of my Chris Evans fic, don’t deny the animal + the sequel.
Warnings: rpf, misogyny, smut, dubcon, daddy kink, dark!Chris, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, lactation kink, housewife kink, naive!reader, mentions of: condoms, birth control, contraceptive pill.
Chris knows he’s achieved the life he always dreamed of having. He’s got a beautiful, submissive wife, his twin boys who are growing smarter every day, and now he’s also got an adorable baby daughter — barely three months old but the apple of his eye.
And he loves how you are with the newborn, how you know exactly what to do — how to feed her, burp her, get her to stop crying. He loves how you dress her up all cute with bows and dresses. He loves how you’re always at home looking after his kids. It’s where you flourish, it’s where he always wants you to be.
“She’s fast asleep!” You announce as you enter yours and Chris’ bedroom, and Chris can’t help but stare at you hungrily. And he doesn’t need to be subtle or anything, because you’re his wife, his property. He can feel his dick harden in his pants, looking at you in your sheer silk nightie, the picture-perfect vision of motherhood, his perfect housewife.
He continues to stare as you settle down on the bed, eyes zeroing in on your breasts which are so much bigger now because you’re breastfeeding. Speaking of which, he can see the wet patches on the front of your nightie, and it just makes him harder.
“And the boys are such angels, they put themselves to sleep! Can you believe that? No bedtime story or anything!”
Chris smiles, setting his phone down on the side table, “That’s because I told them they could play on the iPad for half an hour if they brushed their teeth and got changed all by themselves. I know you’re tired, baby..”
You reach out to squeeze his hand, “Thank you. You’re the bestest. Although, I do like telling them their bedtime stories. And I hope you still helped them brush their teeth, they’re only two after all.”
“Of course I did, honey.” Chris grabs your calf and drags you closer to him, taking you in his arms and pressing his lips to yours, “Mm, you smell amazing.”
“That’s because I just showered.” You answer, and Chris knows that. He had a great time watching you come out of the shower wrapped in your tiny pink towel, bending down and lathering lotion all over your smooth legs and yelping when he’d smacked your ass. He’d been horny ever since.
And now even more so because he knows you’ve just fed the baby but you’re still leaking…
Slowly, he slips his hand up to tweak your nipple through the thin satin, loving how you wince because you’re so sensitive. And then, with a rumble in his chest, it’s like his inner animal takes over, and he pulls you into his lap, pushing your nightie down your body, trying to free your breasts.
“You still have to feed daddy.” Chris growls lowly, ripping your nightie down the middle, your breath hitching sweetly when your breasts pop out, and immediately he latches his mouth on one of your nipples, making sure to tweak and play with the other one.
“Mm, Chris…” You sigh, fingers tangling into his hair and he knows you feel relief as he begins to suck, your sweet milk. He just can’t get enough of feeding from you, he knew he had to do it the first time he got you pregnant, and you were so young and confused — not knowing what to do when you began lactating early.
Well, Chris had known what to do, and now you’re both addicted to it. He can tell by the way you moan his name, pushing him more into your breasts, panting when he bites your nipple gently before suckling it again, rutting his hard cock against you the whole time.
“So sweet, baby. You love feeding me, don’t you?”
“Ah! Yeah, daddy. L-Love it so much.” You whimper, helplessly humping against him. And he’s happy that you’re so enthusiastic, because although you’re always insatiable for him, your sex drive hasn’t been the same since when you were pregnant. Pregnancy hormones had you ripping his clothes off about ten times a day.
“That’s right, my sweet little baby, feeding me your mommy milk. Fuck,” he gives you one last, hard suckle before moving to your other breast, squeezing it to make the milk spurt out before sucking, “You’re such a cute little mommy, taking care of your daddy. This is what you were meant for, baby.”
“Mm, want my daddy so bad!” You cry softly, arching your back from your place on his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing hard, loving the feel of his hard crotch against your pussy.
And Chris loves your enthusiasm. He’d hated not being able to fuck you after you’d given birth to his baby girl, hated having to wait till the doctor said it was okay, till you said it was okay. Because he’s already missing you being pregnant, missing how hot you looked with your round belly, his child growing inside you.
He wants to knock you up again.
With new fervour, Chris slams you down flat against the mattress, climbing on top of you and resuming suckling your nipple, his other hand squeezing your breast, loving how soft you are. It’s like the animal inside of him has awoken, desperate to get inside you and fill you up till your little baby pussy is leaking with his cum.
And then he’d scoop it all up and shove it back inside you, ensuring you’re stuffed full of his cum so he can get you pregnant again.
“You want daddy to fuck you, huh?” He whispers, your nipple still in his mouth but his eyes locked on yours, “Your little pussy got wet from breastfeeding daddy, didn’t it?”
“Yes, daddy! Wan’ your dick inside me! Please!” You beg so prettily, and it makes him so fucking hard, it’s insane. Everything you do makes him hard.
It doesn’t take too long to get both of you naked, with his clothes strewn all over the bed and your nightie ripped clean in half and the rags lying on the floor, Chris just admiring your stunning body — his property. All his. Nobody else’s.
“Ah, fuck!” You moan as he nudges the tip of his dick against your throbbing clit, and he loves how you buck your hips up, almost like a little virgin with how eager and sweet you are, your juices staining the bedsheets underneath you.
He’s about to shove his fat dick straight into your leaky little fuckhole when your tiny hands push on his chest, a sudden alertness pushing through your usual cock-drunk face, “Daddy, Chris, wait! Do you have a condom?”
Chris feels a certain rage course through his veins at the mention of the word, “What?”
“A condom,” you let out a breathless laugh, “We need to be careful, baby.”
He frowns, “You know I hate condoms, I’ve never used one with you. Ever.”
Another soft, twinkly laugh, “And that’s probably why I’ve been pregnant for the better part of two years.”
Chris blinks, what exactly was so wrong with that? But he knows he has to tread carefully now, lest this conversation go against his favour.
“Honey, I don’t have any condoms.” Which is true. He hates condoms, and why the fuck should he need to wear condoms when you’re his wife? You’re meant to spread your legs for him whenever he wants you to, no complaints. And certainly no talk about fucking condoms.
“Oh.” You look deep in thought for a moment, but still so horny with the way you’re panting hard and periodically rutting against him, “Maybe… Could you pull out before you finish?”
Now Chris is fucking pissed off. A part of him — the animal inside him — wants to just pin you down, clamp a hand over your mouth to shut you up and just fuck you and fill you to the brim with his seed.
Instead, he buries his face in your neck, kissing and licking your sweet spot, feeling you go lax in his arms, “Baby, you know I only like finishing inside you. And I know you like it too.”
“Mm, daddy, I do! But just for now! On Monday, I’ll go to the doctor to talk about going on the pill.”
Chris stops dead in his tracks, straightening up and looking at you with heated eyes, “Why the fuck would you do that?”
You sigh, “I just… a newborn and two toddlers is already a handful. And I love them, I love looking after them but I need the reassurance that I’m not going to get pregnant again right now.”
“Baby, you know I want a big family.” Chris wants nothing less than five kids. More if it means you’ll always be pregnant and indoors, away from everyone else.
“I know that. But I was thinking of maybe… going back into acting? One of my old acting friends texted me about this role I could totally audition for, and—”
“Our baby girl is only three months old.” Chris interrupts you, tone hardening as he begins to lose his patience. For fucksakes, his dick is fucking hard and he wants to fuck you already. He doesn’t need this right now. “How can you be thinking of going back to acting?”
“I know, I know!” You rush to assure him, cupping his face in your hands and he can tell that you’re searching for mercy in his eyes, “Chris, I know! I just thought… maybe in a few months…”
“In a few months, I’m going to be out of town filming my new movie. You know that.” Chris wishes you’d just erase the idea of acting from your head entirely. Your job is to be his wife and the mother of his children — it’s what you’re best at, and it’s the only thing you should be worrying about right now.
“And I want our kids to be close in age. Which is why I think the best thing for you to do right now is relax and stay at home, take care of our babies and wait a few months before we start trying for another one. Do I make myself clear?”
He purposely puts on his strict voice, the tone that conveys that there’s no room for argument, that his word is the final word — or else. And he loves how you bow your head submissively, pressing your lips together. But he also sees the tears welling in your eyes, and he knows that he’s going to have to sweet-talk you later, make it up to you somehow.
Chris knows he needs to take a different approach, make you give up on acting completely and make you think it was your idea. But right now… he just wants to be inside you. Fuck you hard to get rid of all the frustration you’ve caused him. Sweet talk and apologies can come after that.
“I said, do I make myself clear?”
You sniffle softly, “Yes, daddy.”
“Good girl. Now get on your hands and knees. Daddy wants a good view of your ass while I fuck your little baby pussy bare, the way you deserve to be fucked.”
THE END
What do you guys think? Do you want Chris and wifey to have more babies? It was fun to revisit these characters, tbh! I think Chris is getting darker! Please do tell me what you think, feedback is everything!
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a fine wee lass, a bonnie wee lass ch.1
John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Fem Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only
Word Count: 2k
Warnings / Tags: Smut, infidelity, size difference, references to previous underage romance (when they were both teens).
Summary: You're the bridesmaid at your brother’s wedding and his best man, John MacTavish is back in town. You just hope he doesn't remember when you last saw him, when you tried with all your might to stop him from joining the army.
A/N: I've not played COD since like 2012 but I keep seeing clips of Soap on TikTok and my wee Scottish heart just fancies the pants off him. This is inspired by a Scottish folk song called 'Bonnie Wee Jeannie McCall'. The dialogue is written in Scots - I hope you can follow along.
ALSO I just found out about @glitterypirateduck’s challenge by a happy accident the day after I wrote this and this fits nicely into:
Prompt 28: They don't need to know
Masterlist (there’s no other COD stuff here sorry)
Chapter 1: The first night I met her she was awfy, awfy shy
You pull your shawl around you as you stand outside the old castle. Rain lashes down across the sprawling Falkirk countryside while revellers laugh from the wedding inside. The music hasn’t started yet - you think that you’re safe to have a breather before you need to go inside for the first dance.
You stand as close to the wall as you can, taking cover from the rain. Your pink satin shoes are getting soaked. Not that it matters. The shoes your brother’s new wife chose for her bridesmaids are so ugly it’s unlikely you’d have worn them again anyway. But she’ll be fuming when she sees the state of them.
The door to the castle opens behind you and you move over, dodging a puddle to let the newcomer seek the shelter of the castle wall too.
“Awryt, darlin?” asks a voice and you look up from the puddle at your feet to see John MacTavish, your brother’s best man, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “I didnae think you smoked.”
“I don’t,” you say, putting your vape to your lips and raising your eyebrows once.
He pulls a sour face. “Them? They’re fulla chemicals and like, mercury, and that.”
“Oh aye? What’s in these? Vitamins?” you ask, flicking the pack of cigarettes in his hand with a forefinger. “You didnae smoke afore joinin’ the army.”
“Aye, well, I was sixteen when you last saw me. And you were, whit, twelve?”
“Fifteen, John.”
There’s only a year between you and your big brother, Tam. But the way he and John treated you, you’d have thought there was a decade between you. Acting like you were an annoying wee tag-along. You just wanted to be included from time to time.
But that was ten years ago. Last time you saw John, he was just a boy, and you, just a lass. But now he’s older, with a scar on his chin that’s only highlighted by his coarse, dark stubble. The scar cuts across the hair there like white lightning. He’s taller, and broader than when you last saw him and his hair is shaved much shorter and neater than the teenage John you remember.
“Aw, aye. I mind now. You and your pals had wangled your way intae the sixth-year leavers’ gaff. As usual.”
“Did I? Any excuse for a drink back then, I s’pose.”
“Aye, but I remember ‘cause I wis leavin’ in a few days for the army. And you were -” He cuts himself off suddenly.
“I was whit?” a smile cracks across your face, waiting to hear his description of how you looked that night. Beautiful? Stunning? Mesmerising? You see yourself as you had been - your hair perfectly straightened, your Oh Polly bandage dress hugging your form in all the right places. In your memory, you were the embodiment of a siren. You had dolled up that night to impress the older boys. Or, if you were honest, one particular older boy.
“Well, I mean,” he says putting a cigarette between his lips and flicking his lighter. The orange glow briefly illuminates his face, casting shadows that seem to momentarily harden his features, making you remember he’s no longer a boy of sixteen but a man of twenty-six. “You were absolutely gantin’ for it.”
Your mouth falls open and you hit his arm.
Mortifying.
“Whit? Fae you? Aye, right !” you say, sarcastically but your face flushes bright red, immediately giving you away. You might have been drunk but John MacTavish rejecting your drunken advances as a teenager was probably the defining moment of your formative years.
As your words, brushing off his teasing, hang in the air, the jolt of embarrassment reminds you of a different party.
On that fateful night, ten years ago, the music was much louder. The floor was littered with empty cans and bottles and you’d ‘accidentally on purpose’ bumped into John in the hallway before pulling him into someone’s parents’ bedroom. You’d recklessly thrown your arms around him.
“Woah, woah, woah. What you daen?” he’d whispered in a panic.
“Please, Johnny,” you’d slurred drunkenly. “I dunno when I’ll see you again. Somethin’ tae remember me by.”
You had leaned in to kiss him but he turned his head. You were so drunk you didn’t care. You sucked on his neck, feeling that dark stubble under your sloppy tongue as your hand found his cock in his jeans.
But he’d stopped you in your tracks. Pinned your arms to the side. He was stronger than you, even as a teenager.
“Naw, look, I cannae,” he had said. And even though your eyes could barely focus on his, you could tell he was annoyed at you. But you didn’t care. You just wanted him so badly.
“Aw, come on, John. Please? I’ll show you my tits,” you had said. “I’ll - I’ll go the full way. I’ll do anythin’. Just - just don’t leave, awryt?”
The sound of cheers from the reception hall cuts through your memory and snaps you back to your current, rainy surroundings.
“Aye, well, I was probably just dreamin’,” says present-day John. “It probably never happened.”
It’s considerate of him, to pretend that it never happened.
But no matter how hard you try to pretend, there’s no denying that you made a fool of yourself, plain and simple.
Sometimes late at night when you can’t sleep, the memory makes you cringe as you replay that embarrassing moment. You try and cut yourself some slack, remind yourself that you were just a desperate, heartbroken teenager who’d drunk half a bottle of vodka working up the courage to make the move she’d always thought about. Begging John not to join the army. Begging John to fuck her.
He had declined both requests.
But that doesn’t matter because you’re a fully grown woman now. One that hasn’t spent more than a second thinking about John MacTavish coming home for her brother’s wedding. No, sir. Not one second. Definitely not.
You exhale a laugh like it’s a funny memory. “Maybe it did happen. I cannae really remember, I must have been steamin’ drunk,” you say. But you know what happened. He knows what happened. And he knows you know.
John's response comes with a delay, his chuckle soft and tinged with a hint of meaningful self-deprecation, to try and frame some of the embarrassment back onto himself. “You must’ve been steamin' to have tried it on wae the likes of me. You were always far too good for me,” he laughs, but this time his smile doesn’t quite reach those bright blue eyes.
There’s a long silence as you say nothing. With a deliberate motion, you bring the vape to your lips, inhaling deeply, the action grounding you back to the here and now as the artificial kiwi-passionfruit-guava fills your lungs with something that you know must be bad for them. As you exhale, your gaze drifts down to your soaked shoes, the pink satin darkened by the rain. They’ve changed beyond recognition.
“Woah,” he coughs his own puff of smoke. “Now just whit is that ?” asks John, his eyes clocking your left hand.
You tilt your hand subtly, letting the diamond catch the cloudy daylight. “Did Tam no mention it?” The words linger between you, almost casual. “I’m engaged, John.”
For a moment, John just stares at your hand, his face unreadable. Then, a low whistle escapes him, a mix of surprise and something unspoken. He glances up at you, his eyes searching yours for the answer to a question that he doesn’t voice. “Engaged, eh? Tam never said a word.” His gaze shifts away, a frown creasing his forehead. “Where’s the lucky man the night?”
“He’s offshore the now - he works on the rigs.”
“Christ, I’ll say,” says John, taking your hand and examining your ring. “He’d need tae be workin’ in oil for a big rock like this wan.”
Your hand feels small in his. His thick brows soften from a frown when he pulls his gaze up from your engagement ring to meet your eyes. His eyes are blue and full of a warmth that you wouldn’t expect from someone who, from Tam’s account, is a hardened soldier.
Your heart thuds in your chest when you realise that he’s been holding your hand for too long. But you don’t retract it.
“Aww the best tae the happy couple, then,” he says softly. “I suppose Tam never telt me ‘cause he had a lot to be dealing wae his own wedding and that.” John lets go of your hand. “Dae you no miss your fella, wae him being offshore?”
“Four weeks on, two weeks off. I see him plenty… More than your missus sees you, I expect. How often d’you come home? Once or twice a year?”
“I’ve no got a missus so I don’t need tae worry about that.”
The raucous laughter from inside the wedding venue dies down suddenly. And you hear the master of ceremonies announcing the entrance of the bride and groom.
“Gads,” says John, stubbing out his half-finished cigarette.
“If we miss the first dance, we’re fucked,” you say. “I’ll never hear the fuckin’ end of it.”
You try to carefully step over the puddle - John takes your arm and holds on to you so you don’t fall. He opens the oak door for you but as you’re about to pass, he grips you tighter, stopping your movement.
“Listen, darlin’, there are some things that are just off-limits,” he says, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in your ear as he leans close. He smells like cigarettes - normally that smell would turn your stomach but there’s something sweet in his aftershave, like vanilla, that makes the tobacco smell musky and warm.
“Meanin’?” You look up at him, confused.
“The last time I saw you,” he murmurs. “You were mad wae it. I couldnae, in good conscience, take you up on that offer when you were that drunk. And you’re my best pal’s wee sister tae boot. I couldnae dae that tae Tam.”
“John, that was - that was a long time ago. It was nothin’.”
“And now,” he continues. “Now you’re engaged. Which means you’re even more off-limits.”
Off-limits?
He’s talking like you’re in that bedroom again, begging for his attention. Except you’re not. You’re not begging for John again. He’s just assuming that you’re about to.
That presumptuous bastard.
“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, John MacTavish. Who are you tae try and let me down gently? It’s been ten years and I’m no even slightly interested in you anymore.”
“Naw, I know,” he says, refusing to match your volume or tone of indignation. “I’m just tellin’ you out loud why I won’t be trying it on with the most beautiful lassie in the room. And why I said no back then, as well.”
“Haul! You two!” You and John spring apart to see your tiny, furious wee auntie storming down the hallway. “You’re missing your brother’s first dance with his new wife and you’re both supposed to be on the dancefloor.”
“We - we are?” you stammer.
“Aye, did you no hear the emcee telling the wedding party to join the bride and groom? That means bridesmaids and groomsmen, ya pair of glaikit idiots. Your maw’s fuckin’ ragin’”
And with that, John lets the door behind you swing shut and you both leg it past your auntie to the reception room, with you leaving wet footprints in your wake as you go. The music from the room swells into clarity as you burst through the doors and skid inelegantly onto the dancefloor.
Your brother and his wife are too absorbed in their own happiness to have noticed your late entry and you breathe a sigh of relief. But it’s short-lived. You immediately stiffen again when John takes your waist and you realise that he’s your dance partner.
As the two of you begin swaying to the music, your mind races. You’re no longer that sad, rejected teenager, yet here, in John's reassuring grasp, you feel the ghost of her stirring. His gaze is careful, and guarded, but there's still that question in his eyes that he’s forbidden to ask.
And behind your own eyes, you can’t help the stream of curses going off inside your head.
You curse your nerves for being the reason you got so drunk at that party.
You curse John for being Tam’s best man.
But most of all, you curse yourself as you watch your left hand rest on John’s shoulder as you dance, the giant diamond ring glittering like a heavy disco ball.
#scotland forever#soap x reader#john soap mactavish#task force 141#smut#soap cod#soap mw2#john mactavish x reader#burns night#cod fic#cod mw2#cod fanfic#soapitup
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