#I wrote way too much I am so sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atrwriting · 6 months

Text

trust me -- billy the kid x barowner!reader

hi everyone :) sorry I've been MIA — law school has been kicking my #ass but it's ok. I saw the new thg movie and while IAMNOTACORIOSNOWSTAN but I am a t*m bl*th and the man was so fine in this show. so fine. I've only seen like three fics for this man (maybe I just don't know how to search correctly thats probably my fault) but I was SEARCHING FOREVER and then I just got pissed because I couldn't find any so I wrote almost eight thousand words for this man that is how down bad I was

informal warnings: me. 1) I should be put on a leash 2) I use italics way too much 3) and whatever the fuck this "—" is 4) will i ever give up the female bar owner trope 5) will I ever stop tho? [vanilla ice voice] no, I don't know

as always, the actual warnings: smutty smut smut SMUT!, unprotected sex (1880's bby but you still gotta wrap it before you tap it), violence, guns, bit of gore but like the tiniest bit, virgin!reader, p in v sex, oral sex, bit of a dom!billy, bit of a bratty!sub!reader, overstimulation what can I say I should be put on a leash

anyway.... here's trust me:

when your father died… it was hard to be sad. he wasn’t very kind and he never seemed to like you very much… but in his will, being his only surviving kin, he left you money.

a lot of it.

and an old building.

the town it resided in was convenient in the way that many people that were passing through had to stop there. so what did you do? well, the only thing you could do — turn it into a restaurant and boarding house.

the money he left behind was used to fix up the place and pay your employees.

within a few weeks time, your place was up and running with very little vacancy. families and important people were always in your bar or comfortably in their rooms. never had you ever thought someone could be as lucky as you.

until one day. that day.

you worked alongside your employees but flipped between positions. sometimes you were a hostess, ran the front desk, a bartender, or anything else that needed tending to. in response, many people did not know you were the owner — and, therefore, some people treated you like you weren’t.

mainly gross old men, which you could handle. however, when a young, strong, and tall man challenged you?

that was dangerous. too dangerous.

even a fake wedding ring didn’t steer them away.

on that day, a young blacksmith had found his way into your bar. he was handsy with you much of the night, and you tried your best to steer him away. it wasn’t until you pulled a knife on him that he finally let up. it didn’t look like anyone saw, but still — you were scared and worried. would people think you classless, for pulling a knife on a patron? would they see you as weak? would they notice that the alcohol you served brought in too rowdy of a crowd? would they stop venturing in?

you thought no one noticed, and tried to convince yourself of that fact — but you were wrong.

when you were closing for the night, mostly everyone had left. a small group of men usually stayed until close — and you didn’t mind. they drank well, paid their tab, and were mostly quiet and polite. you didn’t know any of their names — but it was usually bad when you did know a patron’s name, so you liked them.

you had your back turned to the front of the bar, stacking bottles, when someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“ma’am?”

you turned around.

a tall, fair skinned man with a hat stood before you. his clothes were old and worn, and his fingernails reflected that he was a hard worker during the day. that type of exhaustion was also reflected in his eyes.

but, damn... his face? no one could deny that that man was handsome.

you smiled. “another drink, sir?”

“no. thank you.” he paused for a moment, keeping your gaze. “i wanted to check if you were alright.”

you immediately knew what he was talking about, but kept your face stoic. “yes, sir, thank you.”

he looked like he wanted to say something, but struggled with how to word it. “he usually a problem?”

you clenched your jaw. “he’s… he’s fine. too much drink, ‘s’all. gets the best of working men. can’t blame ‘em.” you swallowed, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. who was this man and why did he care? was he a friend of the man? “you sure there’s nothing i can’t get for you?”

“some wouldn't blame ‘em.” he ignored your question. his bright blue eyes held your gaze. “i would.”

you forced a tight lipped smile. with a laugh, you joked, “i’ll… be fine, sir. thank you. thought a fake wedding ring would do the trick… gotta think of something else now.”

he smiled, but in a sad way. “i was going to ask if your husband ever checked in on the place.”

“no husband,” you affirmed with a sigh. you introduced yourself, and then asked, “what’s your name?”

“william h. bonney, ma’am… but you can call me billy.”

“nice to meet you, billy,” you smiled. “and, please — don’t call me ma’am.”

“alright.” he returned your smile. “the men behind me… we run a sort of — security detail for part time work. if you ever wanted to hire us, we could have a man here when we can spare.”

you nodded, contemplating your offer. he explained the per diem, and you immediately agreed.

“if your man can keep this place safe with little bloodshed, i’ll even throw in a free bottle a day,” you countered.

and that was how your business with billy the kid and his men began.

the men that came along were usually polite and quiet, and mostly stayed at the edge of the bar. they watched for problems, and slowly but surely your fear had begun to subside. there was a minor scuffle one day, where a man had cracked a glass and cut you with it… but billy’s man had stopped him before he could do anything else. you didn’t hold it against billy’s guy — you cared about your business and if the business got bloody, not so much yourself.

billy, on the other hand… did not agree.

one day, bright and early, he parked himself at the middle of the bar where you stood behind the counter.

“rarely see you for detail,” you smiled, wiping down a glass. “much less this early. breakfast, mr. bonney?”

“billy, ma’am,” he responded. “breakfast does sound fine.”

you laughed. “i hate when you call me ma’am.”

“don’t much like it when you call me mister,” he quirked an eyebrow. billy was a rather emotionless and hard man, but you could tell he was joking.

you laughed again. “steak and eggs for billy, coming right up.”

the rest of the day went on peacefully, and you kept billy’s glass full. he was quiet and didn’t talk much, which you weren’t too keen about. he was mysterious, tall, dark and handsome — which was usually a bad combination. you knew it was, and you should’ve cared — but you didn’t.

as you were filling billy’s glass into the later hours of the afternoon, you finally bucked up the courage to ask him a question.

“so why did you stop in today?” you asked. “not that i mind. i just have only seen you when you come in at night.”

“we made a deal, sweetheart,” he responded. your eyes perked up at the nickname. you didn’t hate the nickname — but you hated yourself a wee bit for how much you liked hearing billy call you it. “the man i sent here was supposed to make sure he kept you from harm — he didn’t hold up his end on the deal.”

“it was kept quiet from the other patrons,” you responded. “that’s all i really care about. i’m a woman in the restaurant and boardinghouse business — stuff like that is bound to happen. no need to be hard on him.”

“you keep my men’s glasses too full for them to let slip ups like that happen,” he replied. “he knew better. should've acted better.”

“you’re the boss, billy,” you sighed with a smile. “i’m just the bartender.”

“damn good bartender at that,” he spoke. “too good.”

you giggled, and grew ashamed rather quickly at how much you enjoyed his company. you didn’t know him well, no… but damn, was it nice to have him around.

the rest of the night was rather quiet. a few families had stepped in and out, and a few meetings were being held where the tables sat. that was until the blacksmith that started this whole thing came in and sat himself only a stool away from billy.

you threw a look at billy, but he didn’t meet your eyes. his peripheral vision was already on the man. billy remembered him, and you couldn’t say fondly.

“whiskey, sweetheart,” he grunted. “leave the bottle.”

you sighed. a quiet day was going to turn into a rough night in a matter of a few moments.

“mr. martin, i can’t leave the bottle unless you settle your tab from the nights prior,” you answered. “i can get you a double and add it on, though, if that’s alright with you?”

“that’s not alright with me, girl,” he grunted again, glaring you down. “leave the damn bottle!”

you stood your ground. “there’s a bar across the street, mr. martin.”

“you don’t want my business, that it, sweetheart?”

“not much business if you don’t pay," you quipped.

through gritted teeth, he spat, “leave. the damn. bottle.”

“pay. the. tab.”

he went to catch you by the arm, but you were too quick. you anticipated his antics this time. you snatched an empty bottle, and broke the base of it in the sink. you put the broken, jagged edge of the neck of the bottle in between the two of you. your eyes were wild — you could feel it, and both men could definitely see it. startled, he drew back.

“this is the only bottle you’re getting with that attitude.”

that was when billy stood up and walked towards the man. the thuds of his boots, though few considering the short distance, were deafening in the mostly silent bar. you may have had a makeshift weapon, but billy? billy the kid? everyone knew what he had on him.

“time for you to leave, friend.”

the man laughed. “friend? who’s my friend to tell me when i need to leave?”

“the one who’s a quicker draw than you, that's who." his answer was slow and cool — too calm, which only made the shiver of a threat run up and down your spine faster.

the man, all talk, clenched his jaw as he stared at billy. he slapped the tab money on the top of the bar, and walked out.

you didn’t let out a sigh of relief until the man left.

but billy was the one that spoke first. “was going to step in immediately… but you held your own. they need to respect you before they’re scared of me.”

you laughed. “little does he know i’m all talk as well.”

“with that bottle?” he chuckled. “sweetheart, even i was scared.”

“you threatened him with a gun… i don’t think anything scares you, billy,” you asked. “thank you for stepping in.”

“‘s my job.”

“i know… but still,” you spoke.

you were continuing to close before he spoke again.

“what made you want to start this place?” he asked.

“my father passed a few moons before i opened this place,” you responded. “no parents, no husband — thought i might try this out.”

“my ma wanted to start a place like this,” he replied. “never got the chance.”

you nodded with a sad smile. “didn’t know her… but i think she’d be proud of how you handled that. don’t think he’ll be much trouble anymore.”

“she’d think i’m trouble with how full the lovely bartender keeps my glass,” he spoke, but looked like he instantly regretted it. “my apologies, i shouldn’t’ve — the whiskey —“

“you’re fine,” you laughed, your blush pinching your cheeks. as you walked away, you threw over your shoulder, “hopefully your ma wouldn’t mind that i keep her son’s glass full for his good work… nor that i think her son’s handsome.”

from that day forward, billy was always the man who sat at your bar.

he always greeted and made pleasant conversation with you, and glared at any man that got too aggressive with you. if looks could kill… billy would never need what he held in his holster.

you’d giggle to yourself after the creepy men would walk away. you’d never know… but when billy would hear your giggle afterwards, he’d smile, too.

but he kept that to himself.

however, slowly… he was becoming more comfortable with your company.

“so why didn’t you marry?” he one day asked randomly.

you were wiping down a glass when you got lost in the thought. “when there’s a nice one that’s interested… maybe. haven’t already because there aren’t very many nice ones. it was very convenient when you started keeping the bad ones away.”

to your dismay, he didn’t say anything in response.

but you had gotten comfortable with his company, too. too comfortable.

“and why isn’t there a mrs. bonney, billy?”

“she’d get jealous about how much time i spend with you,” he responded.

there was very little emotion in his voice, and you were afraid of reading into what he was saying. was he returning your flirtations? was he telling you that you were a drag? to answer your own question, you jokingly said, “well if i’m too much trouble, mr. bonney, you are more than welcome to have another one of your men step in.”

“well, ma’am —“ he began. “then i’d get jealous of how much time they were spending with you.”

you couldn’t hide the blush that rose into your cheeks. billy looked upon your face with a small smile tugging at his lips, and his gaze didn’t waver.

“keep talking like that, billy, and i’ll become trouble for you,” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“can’t say i’d mind much,” he responded, taking a sip of his glass, but holding eye contact with you.

if you weren’t frozen, you would’ve pulled yourself over the bar right then and then and planted yourself in his lap. you would’ve flung his glass to the floor, and wouldn’t have cleaned it up until you had kissed every inch of that man. you would’ve responded, but you couldn’t...

that was when billy’s men had stepped into the bar.

the air immediately darkened. the blonde one, named jesse, had led the pack as they stalked in. billy immediately flipped around to see what the problem was.

“sweetheart, give us a minute,” billy asked, calling over his shoulder.

billy never gave you orders, let alone in your own bar. however, if he was asking you to… you figured you should probably listen. you left the bar and went into the back. most of your employees had left for the night, so you helped the remaining ones clean up. it would be a few minutes or so before billy had come back into the kitchen to find you. you went back into the bar with him.

“i’ll be back before you close,” he spoke. “lock the doors.”

a second order. something he never did in the first place. something was wrong. you didn’t pry… you just scrunched your eyebrows in response.

“something’s up,” he spoke. he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before he turned to leave. “i’m takin’ care of it.”

there you stood, absolutely stunned. billy and his men left the bar with haste and didn’t look back. you, on the other hand, stood frozen… unable to leave the spot where you had billy the kid, known for his deadly skills, kiss you on the cheek.

you finally moved, reluctantly, but only to close up.

it would be close to an hour before billy finally came back. a few of his friends came with him, and they dragged in a man on their shoulder who was grunting in pain. blood was pouring from his leg, and you immediately went for the medical supplies you kept hidden under the counter. you grabbed two bottles of whiskey for good measure, arguably also a part of your makeshift kit.

“put him down on the table,” you gushed. his men were stunned to see you hustling, but they didn’t hesitate to rest their friend. you immediately took a look at the man’s leg, and were thankful to see that there would be no permanent damage. you shoved a bottle at jesse, and stated, “make him drink this.”

jesse had unscrewed the bottle and helped his friend drink before you fished out the bullet. thankfully no arteries were punctured, but it would be some time before he was good again. you cleaned up the man the best you could, and asked if any of the men needed anything.

“no, ma’am…” jesse responded. “we were going to bring him here and do it ourselves, your place was closest… so thank you.”

you smiled at him. “take the bottles. need it more than me.”

he tipped his hat to you.

“jesse,” billy began. “you and the boys head home.”

without question, jesse nodded. they helped their friend to his feet and left with a goodbye. even though they left, the unsettling feeling of the room hadn’t changed. billy seemed… different. heavier. he wasn’t the same man that had kissed you on the cheek before he had left.

you turned to him. “i won’t pry, but —“

“good,” he spat, turning to you. billy’s eyes bore into yours like you were one of the problem men at your bar. “don’t.”

a look of hurt flashed across your face. you could feel it. “you’re looking at me like i did something.”

“i told you to lock the door,” he spat again, his look of anger unwavering.

you had only seen billy's eyes that wide and that angry when there was someone being cruel to you. the thought made you shiver.

“how would you have gotten back in?” you asked.

“knocked,” he bit.

you narrowed your eyes at his curt response. “i had a feeling something was wrong. if i had waited to unlock, i couldn’t have gotten that bullet out as fast as i did.”

“doesn’t matter,” he bit. “how am i supposed to keep you safe if you won’t listen to me?”

you scrunched your brows together in confusion. “billy… whatever happened where you were, it wasn’t here. i could’ve gone to bed… but i stayed up. waiting for you.”

“and what if someone came in, huh? what then?” he hollered. “what would you have done then?! what would i have done if you had gotten hurt?”

you shook your head in disbelief. you couldn’t believe billy was speaking to you with such disdain. “with the way you’re talking to me, billy — sounds like you’re used to women who don’t pull knives on creepy men, hold broke bottles to their necks — or fish bullets out of legs when i don’t know why he was shot in the first place. you’re used to those kind of women, and have a problem with me? maybe you should go back to them.”

you immediately turned away from him, beginning to walk towards the bar. billy was hot on your heels when he reached out to grab your wrist and turned you around.

he grabbed both sides of your face and pressed his lips to yours.

you wanted to scream at him, throw fists at his chest, push him away — anything to let you know how he hurt you, how he wronged you... but you couldn't.

no. you couldn't.

you were so stunned you stood frozen in place as his lips moved against yours. you loosely held his wrists in your hands, and kissed him back.

“don’t want those girls, darlin’,” he spoke, breathless, in between kisses. “knew you were a real woman the first time i saw you. the kind that puts the fear of god into you, but looks at you with such a sweetness in her eyes that you can’t look away.”

“better believe it, bonney,” you spat, half joking. “you’ve seen how quick i am.”

“i know, darlin’, i know,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “i also know i was wrong to speak to you the way i did.”

“shut your damn mouth and kiss me,” you replied, pulling him closer to you.

“yes, ma’am,” he playfully responded, and you slapped his shoulder.

billy had backed you up against the wall and pressed his body towards yours. you stood on your toes to reach him, and even then he had to lean down a foot or two.

“billy…” you began, pulling away. “i’ve never… but if you wouldn’t think less of me, we could go upstairs. to my room.”

“i’d never think less of you,” he spoke, shaking off your comment. “but… what’d’ya mean, ‘never?’”

“i’ve never been with a man, billy,” you responded, suddenly embarrassed.

he was quiet for a moment, before stating, “you sure you want it to be with me?”

you nodded. “if… if you want to, that is.”

he didn’t respond to your statement, he just kissed you. he kissed you with every emotion you didn’t think he ever possessed — raw, hot, desperate emotion that held you close and tight to him. the heat and the intensity made your brain swim, but you could only care so much when billy the fucking kid wanted you.

he slipped an arm around your shoulders and then underneath your knees before he picked you up. you bit back a squeal before you threw your arms around his neck.

“light as a feather, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he spoke.

“all that steak i been feeding you?” you joked.

“my belt can’t help it if my woman feeds me well,” he replied, almost at the top of the stairs.

“you’re a flirt,” you giggled.

you pointed him towards your room. once in, he laid you down on the bed and laid on top of you. his body was warm and sturdy over yours, and you couldn’t help but feel warm. his hips were pressed against yours, but you couldn’t feel him through your dress. you grew frustrated at the thought.

you made quick work to undue his shirt, and billy was quick to catch on. he pulled away to take off his shirt, and you tried to take off your corset with his help.

“damn death trap,” he spat, fussing.

you giggled. he was cute when he was flustered, but nothing compared to the way he was looking hungrily down at you. you were completely bare before him, and you should’ve been embarrassed… but shame wasn’t present in this moment. the only thing you registered was how billy looked down at you — with adoration in his eyes as they raked down your naked form.

“will you…” you began. “will you show me… how to please… you?”

“another time, sweetheart,” he spoke, stealing a quick kiss from you. “i need my head between those legs of yours.”

“you-you don’t have to —“ you spoke. “i know that’s not something — that boys —“

“yeah — boys.” billy snapped, glaring at you. “real men want to taste their women.”

that shut you right up.

billy wedged himself in between your thighs and spread your folds. it caused a sharp intake of breath on your part, but you didn’t realize what you were in for. billy flattened his tongue, and licked a long stripe up your slit. your teeth sank into your lip at the foreign feeling that cause so much warmth to make your veins twitch.

…but when billy’s nose had nudged a specific spot at the top of your slit — your legs jerked.

“what — what —“ you stammered.

“shh,” billy cooed, slightly laughing. “i forgot how sensitive you were. my apologies, sweetheart.”

you trusted billy, sure, but you had never felt anything like that before in your life. the jerking motion of your legs was involuntary and made you fearful. billy could see the fear written on your face.

“that spot that i touched, that you felt?” he asked.

his eyes were so wide and meaningful you felt like you could melt in them. you brought yourself up to your elbows and hummed in acknowledgement.

“that is the most sensitive part of a woman, and if i play it just right —“ ever so lightly, you felt his middle finger and ring finger touch the spot. you shivered at the feeling, but you didn’t flinch like last time. you held his gaze as the warmth began to spread inside you. “i can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”

billy bent over your body and held himself up with extended arm planted firmly by your side. he swiped the two fingers over his tongue to lubricate them, and brought them right back to where they were. you both watched his fingers play at the most sensitive part of you, and your lip began to quiver.

“look at me, sweetheart.”

your eyes glanced back up to him.

like you thought before, if angry looks could kill… anyone would die by just a look from billy the kid. however, what would they say about the way he’s looking at you now? with his plump lips parted, and his eyes wild and hungry? you didn't know... but you knew you would find out.

“y’trust me?” he asked.

you hummed in agreement, nodding.

“say it.”

you sharply inhaled, caught off guard by his order. “yes, billy — i trust you.”

instead of leaning back down to plunge his face in between your thighs, he kissed you. his lips connected with yours in one of the most dominating ways you ever thought a man could. with his hand playing between your thighs, he swallowed every moan and cry you struggled to keep hidden inside of you. billy was breathing hard against you — relishing in how it felt to have you so vulnerable and close to him.

that was when his fingers picked up speed.

and, god… did it feel damn good.

“b-billy,” you whimpered. “feels…”

“still trust me?”

“yes,” you cried, screwing your eyes shut. “yes, it’s just…”

he leaned his head down so his mouth was right by your ear. his breaths were hot against your ear, and you hummed at the feeling. your hand played with the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging at the roots.

“fuck — you takin’ what i’m givin’ to you, darlin’,” he rasped, then continued, “drives me insane.”

you could barely hear what he was saying, nor could you respond. your head was swimming with the weight of billy so close to your naked body, holding you down and safe, with those skilled fingers of his working you like you were a damn trigger. you were a whimpering, crying mess — and billy loved every second of it.

“something — feels —“

“d’ya want me to stop?” he asked, breathless.

“no,” you whimpered, confused how the warmth inside you felt like it was going, going, going. you didn’t know where it started, where it was going, and definitely didn’t know where it ended. you were worried that you were going to explode — but you didn’t understand. “something feels — like i’m — i’m going —“

“let it happen, sweetheart.” his kisses were wet and sloppy along the skin of your throat. he nipped at the skin, and that only sent you into more of a frenzy. “that’s right, darlin’. that’s it. trust me. i’ve got you.”

and that was it.

the thing — billy’s words, that sent you toppling over whatever metaphorical edge you could think of to describe it. it felt like white, hot sparks went off behind your closed eyelids and were going off on every nerve ending in your body. whimpers left your bitten lips like you were a babe, and your back arched off the bed. distantly, you could hear billy cooing with excitement, laughter… and praise.

a light sheen of sweat was on both of you, and billy had never looked better. his musk was wafting through the air and had completely taken over your senses. you felt like the only thing in the room was billy and the only thing in the world that mattered was billy. men got drunk off whiskey, but you? you got drunk off of that pure, unfiltered scent and look of a masculine man who showed you how to experience the pleasure of a woman you had never known.

“fuck…” you whimpered as you came down from your high. you tried pushing billy’s hand away, but you were so weak you didn’t think you could.

“sorry, darlin’,” he laughed, kissing your throat again. “got selfish. wanted to keep seeing that pretty look on your face.”

it was difficult for you to find words, let alone enough for an adequate response. “billy… that… that felt…”

“i’m gonna be trouble for you now.” he stole a kiss. “nothing better than seeing you below me, like that…”

“i want you to feel good, too,” you began. “please, billy? i wanna see you, too.”

his lips formed a tight line. “i don’t want it to hurt you.”

“first time doesn’t always hurt,” you spoke. “no one says the second time hurts.”

he smiled at that, and began to roll on top of you. you stopped him, and gestured for him to sit up against the headboard. he was hesitant at first, but he did it anyway. you hovered your hips above his before licking one of your palms and gliding it over the tip of his length. you stroked him a few times, and a soft moan left his lips at the feeling.

“i can keep going,” you spoke, throwing a sultry look up at him. “i want to make you feel good.”

“no, doll,” he rasped. “too selfish. need to see that pretty face of yours do what it does again.”

you pouted for a short moment before you lifted your hips above his length and began to sink down. you could feel a slick leaking from your folds, which made you feel better about actually getting him inside you.

“go slow,” he ordered suddenly. “you stop if it hurts, got it?”

you nodded, half ignoring him.

but it didn’t hurt.

the first inch didn’t hurt. the second didn’t. the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, — you lost count. billy was so big and filled you so nicely that you were so greedy with how you sank down into him. you couldn’t have cared less about what he said before about going slow — all you needed was to feel all of him completely.

“you didn’t listen —“ he grunted, slightly mad. “you’re so lucky you feel good, fuck — you’re so tight —“

“so what if i didn’t listen, mr. bonney?” you smiled coyly at him, a sudden bout of confidence coming over you. maybe it was the post orgasm glow, maybe it was the new feeling of having the most perfect man inside of you — you weren’t sure. “you feel — so good.”

“don’t get bold on me, sweetheart,” he smirked.

you didn’t listen. you picked up your pace, rocking your hips back and forth to what felt good inside of you.

billy’s cock liked that, sure — but he didn’t. you could see the mental turmoil on his face as his neglected cock was finally getting the attention it deserved, but his hothead person didn’t like that his girl was getting smart on him.

that was when billy flipped you over onto your back, much to your dismay. you liked putting on a show for him and doing all the work for a change.

“you wanna act like that, darlin’, huh?” he asked in your ear with a raspy, lust filled voice. “not gonna listen to me?”

“it just felt so good, billy, please —“ you were whining at this point, pissed he had taken away that feeling.

“oh, you’re a greedy thing, that right?” he taunted. “gets one fuckin’ taste, and now she can’t get enough?”

you shook your head, desperate for something — anything. “so greedy, baby. please, billy — please just fuck me.”

his hips snapped against you. hard.

maybe it should’ve hurt — but fucking christ, it didn’t. it felt so good to have his strong, forceful hips thrust against yours and hit that spot so deep inside of you.

“you like that?” he asked, taunting you. “that’s what my greedy girl wanted? — needed?”

his hips were relentlessly snapping against yours now as he hovered above you by holding himself up on his elbows. the sight of his broad and strong chest and shoulders… enough to make any woman weak. a firm crease was in his brow, signaling he was struggling to keep up his mean persona.

“yes — yes —“ you cried. “billy, you’re so deep — it feels — fuck, you can’t stop billy. please —“

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “squeezing me so tight.”

“right there — that’s the spot, baby,” you bit your lip to keep your voice down.

billy leaned his forehead against yours, and his exhales fanned against your face. little moans were escaping his lips as well, but nothing like yours. instead, he spat, “couldn’t let me be nice to you and fuck you sweet, huh? had to get smart on me?”

you could barely hear him. billy’s usual raspy, and commanding voice was enough to make anyone stand at attention — but now? now you were some cockdrunk whore who didn’t care how she got what she wanted, only that she did. his thrust were hard and fast, hitting a deep spot in you that was making that warmth swell up in you again.

“didn’t want sweet, billy,” you whimpered. “wanted you to use me just like this.”

you weren’t sure what came over you — and billy wasn’t sure either. his thrusts didn’t falter, but he couldn’t understand how the pretty, innocent looking bartender could be so fucking naughty — but only for him. a sense of pride had never welled up inside him like that before, knowing that he was the only one who got to see the prettiest girl in town keen for someone’s touch like this.

his touch. only his touch.

“gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he spat against your ear. “should’ve known you’d be such a good girl for me — taking my cock like this. can you cum around my cock like this? gonna be the best girl — and show me how that pussy tightens around me?”

the curse words billy drew from you were not your sunday best, but they made billy’s guttural groans against your throat and ear that much more enticing. you were both covered in sweat, spit, and slick — and nothing had ever felt better. you were close, so close — and all you wanted was to see him finish so you could see it for yourself.

“billy, i’m so close —“ you cried. “but i wanna —i wanna see you —“

“shhh,” he cooed. “gonna take what i give you, sweet girl.”

he sent a hand in between your bodies, and started playing with that spot that had made you explode the last time. you almost protested, but there was nothing like having a man buried so deep inside you do whatever he could to make sure you felt the best you could. you whined, you cried, you screamed, fuck — you did everything to let him know that you were close, billy, i’m so close, please, i’m begging, please don’t stop, and billy refused to look away from your beautiful face as you came undone below him once more.

with your beautiful hair fanned out around you, billy thought you looked ethereal as your second orgasm overtook you. there was something about the way your eyes fluttered softly closed, but broken gasps left your lips like you were so far gone in pleasure that you were lost in it. here, beneath him, before him, was a woman he had spent so much time protecting, so worried about her safety… all he wanted to do was make her feel good. when your limbs began to quiver, knowing you were so deep in your orgasm that you were at the peak, billy couldn’t help himself. he knew you were sensitive, he knew how it would be too much, he knew he shouldn't — but he had to. he was so, so selfish with his greedy girl.

his fingers kept spinning circles on your pink rosebud, and it was like the white light behind your eyes couldn’t stop. you were gasping for air — begging, pleading, hoping, wishing. it was so much. it was too much. it was everything and anything all at once, and you didn’t realize how far you were falling until tears leaked from your eyes.

he should've hated himself for making you feel so lost, but he didn't. not one bit.

“billy —“ you cried, shaking. “i’m so — so sensitive —“

he engulfed you into a long kiss, smiling smugly against your lips. you would’ve laughed with him, but you were so weak. so, so weak. he knew how sensitive you were, and stopped his movements completely. you didn’t realize he hadn’t finished with you until he began to pull out of you.

“billy — you didn’t —“

“s’alright, darlin’—“

“no, it’s not,” you said firmly. “teach me how to do — that thing.”

“that... thing?”

“with my mouth.”

he hesitated before shaking his head. “i don’t… tonight was a lot — for you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “boys don’t taste their women, right? men do?”

he scrunched his eyebrows together, confused, but nodded anyway.

“and what about real women, billy?” you asked. “you think they like leaving their men unsatisfied?”

his lips parted at a loss. he couldn’t argue with that, could he?

“sit on the edge of the bed,” you spoke, sliding out from under him and finding a place on the floor.

he hesitated, but he didn’t argue with that, either.

you tried to hide your smirk from him.

he'd never tell you he saw it. he also would never tell you he loved it.

"you gonna tell me what to do, or what, cowboy?" you smirked up at him, taunting.

he shook his head, and pursed his lips in a way that he knew you were in over your head. "you're acting bold. let's see if you got a reason to."

you narrowed your eyes at him, but smiled anyway.

you returned your attention to the muscle you were holding in yours hands. it was long and thick — you weren't sure how it fit inside you before, and you definitely weren't sure how you were going to fit it in your mouth.

"too much for you, darlin'?" he quipped.

you shot him a look. "wasn't too much a minute ago, was it?"

you didn't let him respond. you licked the palm of your hand — throwing manners to the wind — and wrapped your hand around the tip and the top of the shaft. you made circular, stroking motions at the top and licked a stripe, like he did to you, up his shaft.

that shut him up.

a long and drawn out fuuuck had left his lips.

you shouldn't've — you knew you shouldn't've.

but you did anyway.

you started to kitten lick at his balls, and you could feel him shift from above you. hot and heavy groans were leaving his lips, to the point where he was incoherent. now that you had found his sweet spot, you'd never let go. just like he didn't.

"fuck, you are naughty," he rasped, voice dry and cracked. "my naughty girl. so good f'me."

you hummed as you wrapped your lips around the skin of his balls. they were warm and salty, and you relished in the taste. billy placed a heavy palm on the back of your head. you realized then and there he was foreign to giving up control — usually you'd give in, but not now. not when he was teasing you before.

you replaced your hand with your lips, and brought him down as far as you could.

from the corner of your eye, you spotted him beginning to fist the sheets.

tears were springing to your eyes, but you didn't care. you wanted to — had to keep going. you wanted this so badly — to take care of him. you needed this, and if he wanted it, too — he was going to give it to you.

you began to bob your head up and down, taking care to mind your gag reflex and teeth. the slurping sounds from your mouth were obscene — as was the drool falling from your lips, down your cheek, and along the skin of your raw neck.

both of billy's hands were on the back of your head now, giving you slightest — almost ghost like — push down. you welcomed it, hoping to show him you could take him far, farther than he thought you could handle.

above, he was going crazy. fucking nuts. his entire body was hot and on fire, and it took every ounce of him to not drag you back up into his lap and impale you on his cock. however... his muscles were tired, and his sweet girl looked so perfect on her knees before him, and who was he to deny her what she wanted so badly — what she earned?

he'd never tell you — but he wanted you to have it more than you wanted it yourself. he wanted you to know that he only felt comfortable enough with you to be in such a vulnerable position like this — pretty woman, teeth so close to his jewels. he wanted you to know that you were setting every nerve, vein, blood vessel on absolute fucking fire with the way your silky tongue slid down the length of his shaft, and the way your tight, warm throat enclosed around his sensitive cock... he wanted you to know how much he adored you, and how much he wanted to give you everything you had ever wanted.

"fuck, sweetheart —" he bit. "I'm so close — you better — pull off —"

"too much for you, cowboy?" she only pulled off for a second, before she put him into the deepest parts of her throat.

the way you teased him set a raw set of anger and adoration through this veins, and he didn't know what to do with it. he was so weak, tired, spent, and fucking horny — he couldn't move, think, or fight back. all he wanted was to cum down this sweet girl's throat and make her his.

"that's it, baby, fuck —" he spat through gritted teeth, the hands on the back of your head encouraging your movements. "right there, right there — fuck."

you held your place, keeping a few inches of him in your mouth. his thick cock throbbed a few times before ropes of white decorated the walls of your throat, and you swallowed every last drop. you pumped him a few more times, for good measure — and also to get back at him for earlier.

"don't be mean to me, baby —" he whined. "come up and lay with me."

you giggled, crawling up the bed to lay next to him.

"gonna tell me how that was?" you asked. "or too proud?"

he chuckled then. his post orgasm glow was so beautiful... for the first time, william h. bonney didn't have a permanent from embedded in his brow. he looked so... peaceful.

"not too proud to admit that was the best I've ever had in my life," he laughed, letting his eyes close. you trailed a hand up and down the soft skin of his chest and stomach before curling up next to him. "going to be proud after i take you to the courthouse tomorrow and make you my wife."

you scoffed at that. "i didn't think cowboys were the settling down type."

"they're not — but i'm no cowboy, sweetheart," he rasped, turning to look at you. "you're it for me — if you'll have me, that is."

you smiled then. a real smile. the type of smile that gave billy hope.

"on one condition," you spoke.

his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded his head anyway.

"you'll ask me for real in the morning, mr. bonney."

"i'll give you anything you want, mrs. bonney — as long as you're mine."

---

what did we think?? xox

-L

#billy the kid #William h bonney #william h bonney x reader #kid antrim #billy the kid x reader #william bonney #William bonney smut #billy the kid smut #billy the kid 2022 #tom blyth

4K notes · View notes

dakotalun · 10 months

Text

"Oops" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Part 1--Eddie "accidentally" sends a tasteful pic to his best friend.

warnings: mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), strong language, description of naked Eddie

word count: 3.4k

Part 2

a/n: went a little crazy at 3am the other night and wrote this. Part two will be up later this week!! Luv y'all <3

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie is your best friend of many years, the two of you being inseparable from the moment you met. So when you got a text from him tonight you don’t think much of it, figuring it was just a dumb meme he saw or a random thing from today.

What you didn’t expect to see was a picture of Eddie standing in his bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders with a prominent boner happening.

His hair is wet as if he just got out of the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry it yet. The long dark brown locks stick to his neck and chest in a way that can only be described as godly. The tattoos on his skin are glistening but covered by the towel around his neck and as you move your eyes downward the path of hair that leads to his dick is delicious.

And talking about his dick it is, mag-fucking-nificent! The way that it hangs there, the tip swollen and red, leaking the smallest bit of precum. It has your mouth watering.

You nearly choked on your own spit when you saw it. Never in a million years did you think that Eddie would be sending you of all people nudes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder what he was packing but you never really indulged in those thoughts, until now. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, memorizing every little detail in the photo.

Eddie sends another text but you’re too distracted to see what it is. Then a stream of texts start flooding in from him.

‘SHIT!’

‘I DID NOT NMEAN TO SNED YIU THAT!’

‘IGNORE THE PICTUREA’

‘HOW THE HELL DO I DELETE THE PIC?!?!?!’

‘GOD I AM SOSOSOSOSOSOSSOO SOORRY!!’

You giggle at his frantic typing, noting all the typos. Curiosity gets the better of you and you scroll up a little to see what he had said after he sent the picture. You’re eyes go wide at the words displayed on your screen.

‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Jerked off twice while in the shower and I’m still hard. Wish you were here with me right now ;)’

You had no clue who this was really meant for but if it was meant for you you would 100 percent be on your way to him right now. The bottom half of the picture stares back at you as your eyes acan over the text again and again. You can’t deny the small hint of wetness that you feel on your underwear while looking at the two.

Twice? He came twice and is still hard. Whoever he thought about must be really hot if he can go 3 rounds without breaking a sweat. Could he go more?

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone receiving a call, from none other than Eddie himself. You sit up in bed and pull your knees towards you as you answer his call.

“Sweetheart I am so so so sorry I sent you that. It was clearly meant for someone else. If I had known it was your contact that I was on I would have never sent that at all. I want you to know that I don’t go around sending nudes to everyone or anything, I’m not a slut I was just-”

“Eddie it’s fine. No need to apologize. I figured it wasn’t meant for me anyways.” It pains you a little at the thought that someone else was supposed to receive that message from your best friend.

“I’m still sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounds smooth like spreading butter onto fresh pancakes.

“Hmm,” You fake thinking about what you want even though you know exactly what it is you want, “You’ve gotta tell me who that text was really meant for.” Silence. For a whole minute there is just silence on Eddie’s end, you’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the fast pace of his breathing.

“Sweetheart,” The nickname is not helping the situation you have going on right now, “You don’t mean that. Can’t I just take you to breakfast or buy you a new outfit?”

“Nope.” You respond popping the ‘p’ as you say it. “Either tell me who it was meant for or I send it to the groupchat.” You were bluffing. You couldn’t let the others see him like that, that was for your eyes only. Not that anyone needed to know that.

“You wouldn’t dare,” His voice turned deep and threatening.

“Try. Me.” You challenge back.

Eddie groans, “Fine. You win,” A smile spreads across your face, “It was meant for Callie. This girl in my chem class, we’ve been talking for a little bit.”

You’re a mix of emotions right now; happy that Eddie found someone he’s interested in and took his shot, confused because he never told you about it, sad because you thought he trusted you with things like that, and slightly jealous because you want to be the one Eddie sent nudes to, purposefully.

“Sweetheart? You still there?” You completely forget that you’re still on the phone with Eddie until he says something.

“Uh yeah yeah I’m here. I’m um happy for you Ed. Glad you found someone. Look I gotta go to sleep, big test tomorrow, talk later. Bye.” You hang up before he can say anything else.

Why did you feel this way about all this? You shouldn’t be thinking of Eddie in this way, he was your best friend. Best friends don’t think about going down on each other, or the way it would feel to have his cock inside you, or the moans he would release when he finally cums in you.

You shake it off and lay back down, setting your phone on your nightstand to charge. You try for half an hour to fall asleep but your mind can’t stop thinking about that damn picture. So you unlock your phone and go back to your messages with Eddie, looking to see if he deleted the picture or not. And to your luck it was the latter, the picture and text below still there for your viewing pleasure.

You’re still horny from the initial thought of him so it doesn’t take long for your hand to wander under your shorts and underwear to your clit. The thought that your fingers were his and the way he would whisper in your ear egging you on to finish.

The images of him jerking himself off in the shower flood you, his hand on the cold tiles, water hitting his back as he fists his cock, rubbing it slowly at first but becoming impatient and going faster until he cums all over the wall and his hand.

The image of his face when he does and the moans that would leave his mouth is what throws you over the edge yourself. Wishing it were him between your legs pulling it from you not your own fingers. Finally your body is tired enough to let you go to sleep, dreaming of Eddie once more.

---

You’re sitting with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire at lunch a week later. Neither of you have talked about what happened that night, both too embarrassed to say anything.

Things were normal though, Eddie would pick you up and drop you off to and from school. You’d talk on the phone every night about whatever happened that day that the other wasn’t there for. You liked the thought that the text didn’t hinder your friendship but you can’t help but be a little jealous about Eddie fucking someone else. It’s not like you were expecting him to confess his hidden undying love for you the next day but the realization that Eddie really did send you that accidentally; hurt.

The freshman are talking about some video game coming out when Eddie lean over to you.

“Whatcha’ thinking about?” There’s a smile on his face, one that you always loved seeing.

“Nothing,” You go back to eating your fruit.

“Alrighty then. Hey I was wondering what time you wanted to come over tonight?”

Your eyes grow wide, mind going back to the text, “Why?”

“Um it’s Wednesday. Horror movie marathon night, remember?” His head cocks to the side a little, his hair falling into his face. It reminds you of a dog questioning what it’s owner has in their hand.

“Oh right yeah. Um I don’t know if I can make it tonight.” That was a lie, you had nothing going on. But being in the trailer alone with Eddie after knowing what he looks like naked is not what you need right now.

“Awe come on! I rented Scream, Saw, and Halloween for tonight. You can’t make me watch them all alone,” He lowers his voice and leans closer, “What if I need protection from the bad guys?” His big doe eyes large and pleading with you.

You roll your eyes and push his face away from you, “Ugh fine. I’ll be there, how’s 8?”

“Perfect! I’ll order the pizzas, do you think you could make those amazing cookies for us?”

“You mean for you?”

“No. I mean for us, I would never eat all the cookies myself.”

“You did like 3 weeks ago! There were 30 cookies there and I had none of them.” You stare at him as he thinks back to then.

“Nope don’t remember which means it didn’t happen. So will you?” There are those puppy dog eyes again.

“Whatever but I swear if you eat all of them again I’ll castrate you.”

Eddie’s hands fly to his groin, protecting it from your threat. “Ouch, sweetheart. Didn’t know you hated my dick that much.”

I don’t. Just hate that it’s not mine. You thought, but you just rolled your eyes and continued on eating lunch until the bell rang.

---

Eddie rushed around his room looking for his favorite shirt when you showed up for movie night. You let yourself in, per usual and set the cookies down on the coffee table before heading to Eddie’s room. He was squating in front of his closet when you come in, you don’t announce yourself just stand there staring at his back.

He got a few new tattoos since last summer, two of which on his back. A skull and crossbones along with a knife wrapped in barbed wire. You haven’t seen them in person yet, it still being too cold to sit out in the sun. But looking at them now was a pleasure, the detail popping out as his muscles flex.

Eddie huffs and stands, defeated about not finding the shirt he wanted. He turns around and finds you standing in his doorway.

“Jesus! Why didn’t you say you were here?” His hand is over his heart as he catches his breath from the unintentional jump scare.

“I texted you like 20 minutes ago that I was on my way. Figured you knew I’d be here soon,” You say as you enter his room fully to sit on his bed.

“I did not see the text, I was in the shower,” The mention of this brought back memories of the photo, and what you did whilst looking at it, “Anyways pizza should be here soon and I’ve got beers and soda in the fridge.”

Eddie walks around you to his dresser, grabbing a random shirt and throwing it on. You’re sad at the loss of his bare skin but quickly shake the thought away. You get up from his bed and head to his living room, Eddie following in toe.

“So what are we watching first? I’ve seen Scream a few times but the other two I haven’t seen,” Eddie remarks as he grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them before handing you one.

You mumble a thanks before taking a sip, the bitter liquid coating your tastebuds. “I’ve seen Scream and Saw but not Halloween. Heard good things about it though, at least that’s what Robin said, Steve had other opinions.”

“Lemme guess pretty boy hated it and wished he never saw it?” Eddie laughs as he sets up Halloween on the tv.

“Yeah pretty much,” You laugh along. The thought of your friend sitting there watching the movie curled up in a blanket next to Robin bringing a smile to your face.

Eddie finishes setting up the movie and walks back the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips and some dip before returning to your side on the couch. He opens the chips and pops one in his mouth, crunching it loudly.

You smile at the normalcy of everything right now, it’s as if nothing ever happened between the two of you. Which if we’re being honest nothing really did happen, Eddie just sent you a nude on accident. It’s not like you kissed or anything. Not that you’d hate it if you did.

You snack on the chips and dip with him while waiting for the pizza to show up, never starting the movie without it. The two of you talk about nothing in particular while you sit there. Eddie tells you about the upcoming DnD campaign he’s been working on.

His eyes lighting up and hands flying around erratically as he explains what he planned, the animation in his character brings an even bigger smile to your face.

Just as Eddie concludes his explanation, inviting you to come sit in and watch it at the end, the doorbell rings notifying the both of you that the pizza was here and it was now time for movie night to begin.

Eddie pays the guy and happily walks over to the couch and sets the food on the table in front of the two of you, he can’t even wait til the movie starts playing to begin eating. You laugh at him as he opens and closes his mouth quickly trying to cool the hot pizza in his mouth, you just hit play and start watching the movie.

The pizza is gone, same with half the bag of chips and the cookies. Eddie actually let you eat a few of them before he scarfed down the others. You’re nearing the end of Scream, the third and final movie of the night when you look at your phone for the time. 12:25 stares back at you, you groan knowing that your parents are going to kill you for coming home so late on a school night.

Eddie hears you and turns to see why you made that noise. You just wave him off and go back to watching the movie, watching as Skeet Ulrich gets shot for the final time in the head. A few minutes later the credits roll and Eddie turns off the tv, letting the trailer fade into silence.

“Wanna tell me what that groaning was about?” Eddie asks turning to face you completely.

“Nothing, just didn’t realize that it had gotten so late. Parents are gonna kill me if I go home at this hour.”

“So just stay here,” He says with no hesitation, “You still have a few clothes here after last movie night. They’re just siting in my drawer.”

You think about it for a minute. You and Eddie have had sleepovers in the past, nothing special about them, just two people sharing a bed, occasionally cuddling because of the small size of it. But now the thought of it made you nervous, having him so close to you, so near yet not being able to touch him. It killed you, but it’s better than going back home right now and having your mom and dad rip you a new one.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to shower though. Coach had us run the mile today at practice and I still feel disgusting.”

“Yeah no problem, you go ahead and shower, I’ll clean up here.” He stands and starts clearing the trash from the table. You get up too and head into his bathroom, but no matter how hot the water is or how long you stand under it you can't get the thought of the picture and the words under it out of your mind.

He was right here, jerking off to the thought of someone. You scold yourself for thinking about him like that, again. But you couldn’t help it.

Recently you’ve thought about him more and more; his smile, the dimples that show when he’s really happy, how animatedly he talks, the way his hair is always unkempt but still looks so damn soft. You thought about him in ways you never did before seeing that picture; his arms, his muscles, his hands, his rings. Everything about him turned you on and you needed it to go away.

Eddie finished up cleaning and sat down on his bed, beer in hand while he took out his metal lunchbox for a joint. You walk into his room, towel wrapped around yourself, hair dripping wet from the shower. He stops his actions to just stare at you, the same way you did earlier that night.

“Uh could I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to sleep in,” You say wrapping your arms under your boobs, pushing them up ever so slightly.

Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He gets up and walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it to look for something you can wear tonight. He pulls out a pair on your underwear that you “left” there a while back and one of his Hellfire shirts. You denied his offer of some pants, saying they would be way to big on you and you’d rather just sleep in the shirt.

Eddie’s mind went straight to the gutter at that thought, you sleeping next to him, in just his Hellfire shirt and a pair of underwear he stole from you. His dick was growing hard just thinking about it. He quickly got back to looking for his joint and lighting it upon it’s appearance. He took a few hits while you changed in the bathroom, his mind slowly fogging over.

You return, hair still slightly wet with the towel in your hand. You toss it into his hamper before laying on his bed, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. You lay back and close your eyes, letting the serenity of this moment wash over you. Eddie offers you a hit but you decline, being that you don’t ever mix weed and booze together.

He finishes the joint while you finish his beer. The two of you just sitting there with the light sound of whatever record Eddie has playing. Your thoughts are quiet for the most part, just soaking in the time with your best friend, until you think of something. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for a little bit.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He responds head leaning back onto the wall where a headboard should be.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, hit me.” You reach your hand out and hit him in the thigh.

“Ouch! Not literally, I meant with the question, sweetheart.”

“I know,” You giggle.

“Brat,” He mumbles back.

“Anyways, I was gonna ask -and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to it’s just something I’ve been thinking about- but did you really not know it was me you were sending that picture to?” The words lay heavy on your tongue as you say them aloud. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s hard not to.

How did he not know it was you he was texting, your name was right there at the top of the screen. And if he was sending it to someone else how could he not double-check to make sure he wasn’t sending it to someone like Wayne or Robin.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking about the best way to tell you that, yes he did know it was you he was sending it to. And yes he knew it was stupid but he wanted to try something to see if you felt the same way about him that he does you. Eddie’s loved you for about a year and a half now, never saying anything to anyone in fear of running your friendship.

But that night he was watching a show and one of the characters did this thing where they pretended to send a text to someone “they didn’t mean to”, to see how they’d respond. He thought that maybe this was an easy way of figuring out how you felt about him. But when you didn’t respond to his photo or texts he got scared and called you. Needing to clarify what he sent, and why.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis

#eddie stranger things #munson #eddie munson #eddie my love #eddie my beloved #female reader #oneshot #smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie x reader

7K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 1 month

Note

Happy 2k babe! I have a request for fluffy Spencer smut based on the song "touch tank" by Quinnie! (the song gives me like golden retriever vibes so maybe you could put something about reader playing with his hair in there? I don't know I'm having later seasons fluffy hair Spencer brainrot and I never make requests, obviously feel free to ignore or change things if this is too specific! <3)

hi angel babe!!! i love this song!! and i too am always having later seasons fluffy haired spencer brainrot!! i wrote this super quick, please let me know if its any good, ILY!!! xo

warnings/tags: fem!reader, softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering, oral f receiving, sorta kinda overstimulation, implicit consent, praise n stuff, not proofread, written at 9 pm on a tuesday night, so fluffy

18+ (smut)

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

Spencer is clearly almost asleep on the couch next to you. That’s one of many things you find endlessly fascinating and charming about him—his ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time within minutes.

So you probably shouldn’t speak. But the stakes are low; it’s barely 7:30 in the evening.

“Spence?” You whisper. His eyes don’t open, but his thumb goes back to making little passes where it’s settled over your hip.

“Hm?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

He smiles, slight but beautiful—yet his eyes remain stubbornly closed.

“Why not?”

“’Cause I want you to be awake.”

“Then you can’t keep playing with my hair like that.”

You pout as if he can see you.

“But I like playing with your hair.”

Spencer hums, and you can tell you’re losing him again as you continue carding your hand through stupidly soft locks.

“One or the other. You can’t have both.”

“I love you both, though,” you complain. “I don’t know who to pick.”

The grin has been steadily fading from his relaxed face but it flickers back to life for a moment.

“I’m getting a haircut tomorrow. That should make it easier for you.”

“What?”

It’s the genuine horror in your voice that finally gets him to open his eyes. A little line appears between his brows as he regards you with bleary eyes.

“What what?”

“You didn’t consult me!”

The momentarily tensed muscles in his face relax and he rolls his eyes affectionately before craning his neck to kiss your forehead.

“I’m not in the habit of requesting your approval before I make choices like that.”

“Spencer, please don’t cut your hair,” you beg, genuinely distraught. “You can’t. It’s so so pretty.”

“It’s too long, baby. I don’t want to grow it out again.”

“You don’t have to grow it out! Just don’t get it any shorter! It’s perfect how it is,” you insist. Spencer narrows his eyes as you plead with him. But you stand firm in your position. His hair is sort of shaggy, sure—too long to be considered cropped and too short to be considered long. It’s like a beautiful curly halo and it’s perfect playing-with length. “I’m serious. I’m asking you to not cut it short, please. This is what I want for my birthday.”

“Your birthday’s not even—”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top? I love your hair so much and I love you more but I just really don’t want you to cut it, please—”

He’s laughing when he silences you with a soft kiss, and you melt, sighing against him as his hand slides up and down the back of your thigh. When he knows you’ve been sufficiently soothed, he pulls away, still smiling.

“Oh my god, baby—are you about to cry?”

“Stop!” you whine, burying your face into a throw pillow and screwing your eyes shut. Your nose crinkles up with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and though he’s no longer outright laughing, traces of humor still color his lowered voice as he kisses all over the side of your face. “I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t realize I’d be causing you so much emotional distress if I cut my hair.”

You sniffle away any unfortunate emotional reactions and turn your head back to him. He’s ducked down slightly, still peppering kisses over your jaw and neck, and you lace your fingers through the contentious hair.

“Obviously I’m not the boss of you. If it makes you uncomfortable I want you to cut it. But I really like it how it is.”

He hums against your throat and the vibrations send a chill down your spine. You arch against him unconsciously.

“You are definitely the boss of me. I don’t know anyone else who I like receiving orders from so much.”

“Hotch,” you whisper, and you can feel Spencer’s teeth against your neck as he smiles and presses another loving kiss to the sensitive spot above your collarbone.

“Not the kind of orders I was talking about. And I don’t particularly care what Hotch thinks of my hair, honey.” He kisses tenderly until he earns a tiny whimper from you—which sates him enough to raise his head until you’re eye-level again. His hand, however, has other plans—it creeps south, slipping under the waistband of your pajama pants. “What if we compromise? I just get it trimmed so it doesn’t keep getting in my eyes when I have a loaded gun in my hands, yeah?” You nod dutifully, looping your arms around his neck as his fingers dip beneath your underwear. When you don’t reply verbally, he prompts meaningfully, “okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, voice small as you look into his searching eyes.

For a few moments, when he finally pushes his fingers against your clit and begins rubbing with slow, gentle strokes, his eyes are everywhere on your face—then they focus back on your eyes, watching with that habitually intense interest permeated with a sense of devotion—like he wants to see exactly what pleasure looks like reflected in your irises. Like he could see through them to your brain and watch your dopamine transmitters working overtime. A soft moan escapes through parted lips, which seems to spur Spencer on. He drags more arousal over your aching bud and openly chuckles at your airy sigh of pleasure, unable to resist from giving you a short kiss.

“Feels good?”

“Mhm,” you breathe.

“Mhm,” he agrees, kissing you again just as quickly before pulling back to study your face once more. “Pretty girl.”

“You’re pretty,” you insist, with what little brain power is available to you as you rake one hand through his hair. He smiles, eyes pinging between your own and your mouth like he can’t decide where to look.

“I’m pretty?” he asks, speaking over another quiet, yet unabashed moan. You nod, hips bucking slightly off the couch cushion as he speed up the motion of his hand. The grin widens and his soft amber eyes soften further. “You’re so sweet.”

You give him a moan he can’t ignore and he takes it as a signal to slip two fingers into you, sighing in what sounds like relief just as your breath catches. The way he seems to feel your pleasure will never get less erotic. Once he’d explained it—something to do with mirror neurons—but whatever the reason, watching the way his arousal rises with yours is exhilarating.

A squeaking sound is expelled from your lungs and your whole body tenses, propelling you maybe an inch upward involuntarily.

His lips part the same as yours—but only allowing another dry laugh to pass between them.

“Relax. I’ll come to you.”

You hum as he leans down and kisses you back into the pillow—a proper kiss, this time, lips parted and the tip of his tongue grazing yours—all the while, still pumping his fingers much deeper than your own could ever manage. Each moan and gasp he allows you to release freely, only barely parting from your lips every few seconds to let you breathe and make your noises. When his fingers begin pumping faster, and you can hear it, you whine, knees clamping shut as the small of your back jumps away from the couch.

“Fuck,” you pant against his lips.

“Need you to keep your legs open, baby,” Spencer reminds you gently, giving you a peck and a moment to relax as his hand stills.

“I don’t think I can,” you admit shyly, still wriggling. “Um, can you—can you use your mouth, please?”

Your boyfriend chuckles again and your cheeks get warmer. Momentarily you allow yourself to be grateful that his face is pressed too close to your own for him to be really be looking at you.

“You still have to keep your legs apart for that.”

“I know. It’s easier when—when you’re not inside.”

The smile in Spencer’s voice when he replies gives you butterflies as if he’s not knuckle deep in you already.

“I bet you think that’s true.”

“It is!” you whine.

“You’ve never had your thighs wrapped around your head so tightly your ears pop, have you?”

“That did not happen.”

“Only once,” Spencer reassures you. “And I happen to like your thighs. So no harm done. Go lie down on the bed.”

You let out a small chirp as he withdraws his fingers from you and your waistband snaps back into place against your skin.

“Where are you going?” you ask suspiciously, once you’re on semi-steady feet and watching him rise from the couch too. At once he kisses your forehead and grabs your ass—the contrast is dizzying.

“To wash my hands,” he says, popping the fingers that were just in you into his mouth like a preliminary clean up. “Go,” he urges, jutting his chin in the direction of the bedroom door. You hang from him just a second longer, biting back a smile, before tearing yourself away and only half-skipping to the bedroom.

Only a moment or two after you flop joyfully down on the mattress, he appears in the doorway again, immediately noticing the way you’re practically vibrating with excitement and unable to hide your grin as he approaches. It seems the smile is contagious—he’s sporting one of his own as he climbs over you.

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs toothily, kissing you once and then speaking again, “I love you so much.”

It’s exactly the kind of thing that makes you feel all soft and shy and giddy and speechless—even as he gives you one more parting kiss and then is sitting up to slide your pants off.

Maybe even especially then.

The sweetness dissipates only a little, still hanging thick in the air as you kick your bottoms off, and he leans back down, pushing your shirt over your chest and pressing kisses to your ribs and down your tummy. He doesn’t waste much time, only taking one brief detour to suck a mark and sink his teeth into your inner thigh until your breath catches loud enough to appease him. Then it’s all easy—his cool fingertips trailing up and down the backs of your thighs as he kisses all over and around your core. Intimacy with Spencer is definitely a spectrum, and while you can always feel the depth of his love for you in every touch, right now it’s so tangible, so potent you can feel it in your teeth.

You coo when one of the kisses finally sticks, lacing your fingers through the hair you love so much and pushing it out of the way as he laps gently at you. He looks as beautiful as always in the golden hour light as it filters through the window, but you’ve always thought he’s just that extra bit prettier when he’s eating you out.

Visually you’re entranced—it’s only when he begins easing you into the deep end with the flicking of his tongue that your brow knits and you gasp.

“Spencer,” you whisper, and it melds into a louder gasp. “Baby.”

He hums into you, reaching around your thigh to grab one of your wrists. You allow him to drag your hand from his hair and intertwine your fingers, his hand on top of yours, pressing them against your stomach where he sweeps his thumb back and forth over your knuckles.

The display of tenderness only makes you ache deeper in your belly, singing in airy, open-mouthed praise for him with a moan you know he would describe as pretty. Spencer says things like that often. He always talks about you like you’re an art form. When it comes to talking about touching you, he’s especially poetic.

When he begins to suckle, your moans get a little more explicit.

But he likes those ones just fine, too.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, though it’s a little choked, as you writhe just slightly against him. “That’s so good—oh my god.”

The hand that’s not holding yours rapidly changes position—pressing your thigh to the side with his elbow while he slips his fingers inside you once more.

At that, you really do choke, your body attempting to sit bolt upright but set off balance by the way your hips buck. You moan, loud, lilting, head still lifted to watch as he begins fucking you with his fingers. Your fingers brush through his hair several times before you’re anchoring your hand in it and falling back.

“Wh—please, baby, I can’t—”

But you can, and you both know it. You always do this; your body sends you signs that you’re over-indulging and fights to escape the stimuli and Spencer has learned to recognize your false flags for what they are. His hand speeds up along with his tongue and you cry out again, fighting to keep your legs open and your hips on the bed as every nerve in your body seems to light up neon.

“Oh—Spencer I’m gonna come,” you warn, all high pitched and synthesized into one word. He simply hums a long mhm in acknowledgment, and decides at that moment to brush his fingers over that spot inside of you which proves to be exactly the right button to trigger your detonation.

You can’t help the way you twist then as your orgasm washes you out—jaw dropped as your final keen starts loud, sputters into silence, and melts into an exhausted whine as your hips wind down. Spencer (wisely) adjusts his position, letting go of your hand only so he can sit up as your thighs clamp shut hard. But he’s still pumping his fingers as you writhe, his own mouth hanging open and groaning as you mewl. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, ready to beg him to stop—but as usual, he knows your body better than you do. An orgasm that you had thought was on its way out gets a second life and you can’t even breathe as you feel it so deep within you, pinpointed to one spot of focus, that you have to curl in on yourself, keeling onto your side because it’s simply too intense.

Either your vision goes black or your eyes are simply closed—regardless, time ceases for an unquantifiable moment, and you come to with Spencer rubbing your back and murmuring your name.

“What did I do to you?” he laughs, not unkindly.

Your back arches as mild aftershocks trickle through your system.

“I don’t know,” you slur. “Dark magic.”

He allows himself to be pulled on top of you once more, and you tangle your hands in his hair again.

“But you’re okay?” he murmurs, using his dry hand to play with your hair and brush over your cheek.

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes fluttering shut once more. Then you laugh, sudden and unexpected to both of you. “I think. That was intense. I felt that one in my soul.”

You smile as he exhales a laugh against your skin.

“Okay,” Spencer sighs after you catch your breath, bumping his nose against yours before sitting up—this time, not allowing you to pull him back down. “I need to take a shower. You should come with me.”

“Five more minutes,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows.

“But this is your last chance to wash my hair before it’s a whole inch shorter tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you laugh, but it turns deadly serious very quickly. “Spencer, I am not letting you cut a whole inch off your hair. I need that inch.”

“For what?” He snorts.

You smile big, glad he didn’t see your joke coming for once.

“Handles! Duh!”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic

1K notes · View notes