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morningberriesao3 · 9 months

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Dirty Words

Steve Harrington X Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Word Count: 10.2K

Chapters: 1 of 1

Content Warning: Explicit m/m sexual content including dirty talk, masturbation, hand jobs, spit and cum as lube, allusions to anal sex, scent kink, spit kink, multiple orgasms, and oral sex. Excessive swearing. Recreational drug use and drinking. This post includes explicit sexual content, foul language, and sensitive themes. It is intended for those 18 and older ONLY. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

Disclaimer: All characters in my fics engaging in sexual acts are—and always will be—18 or older, even if not explicitly stated.

DIRTY WORDS

Eddie is feeling all floaty and shit. The weed Argyle gave him really is better than the skunkweed he’s been peddling in alleyways since he was sixteen years old. Not that he’ll ever admit to it. Definitely a fact he’ll take to his grave.

But for now, Eddie has the weekend off from his new, lousy day job that Steve and (mostly) Robin managed to bag him at Family Video. To be honest, it had been a last resort. But turns out, business is shit after he fucking finally graduated high school. And now—cherry on top!—he’ll have to figure out how to file taxes and shit. Welcome to the corporate world.

With a sigh, Eddie takes another drag from the perfectly rolled joint that he made himself. Argyle can’t top him on that, at least.

Eddie giggles to himself. Top him. Shit, Argyle could top him if he really wanted to, considering how fucking pent up—

The phone rings, making Eddie jump a good six inches from the sunken couch cushion he’s lounging on. He scrambles to a sitting position, and then lifts himself onto his legs that only slightly wobble like a newborn giraffe underneath him. He runs to the yellowing, plastic phone that’s hung up on his uncle’s trailer’s wall, hoping that maybe it’s the guy Eddie’s been fooling around with on the other end of the line. Maybe he could try the whole phone sex thing. Again. And not fuck it up this time.

“Hello?”

“Eddie?” Steve asks, voice all staticky through the speakers. “Why does it sound like you just ran a marathon, dude?”

Eddie realises he’s panting. He’s not sure if it’s from the short dash to the telephone, or if it’s because his blood was rushing to his cock for a minute there instead of his lungs.

Either way, he should probably consider going for a jog once in a while or something. It’s kind of sad that he’s winded.

“Shut up, man,” he says. “Maybe I was running a marathon. You’d never know.”

“I do know. It’ll be a cold day in Hell when you decide to exercise willingly. The sun will be rising in the West. The sky will be green and the grass will be blue when Eddie Munson runs a marathon.”

“You forgot when pigs fly.” Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He nearly drops the phone that’s wedged between his ear and his shoulder. “Did you call to talk about my general lack of fitness, or is there another reason you called, Harrington?”

“I’m bored,” Steve whines. The phone line crackles. Eddie can only assume Steve is, like, laying in bed or something.

Laying in bed, in those navy blue sheets. Shirtless. Maybe fresh out of the shower. A little wet still, his hair sticking up around his head—

No. Nope.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will away the next image (a towel slipping away from Steve’s hips), because three months ago he made a rule for himself. No more fantasising about Steve goddamn Harrington.

It had been becoming nearly impossible to look the other man in the eye after some of the things Eddie imagined doing with him.

Steve continues on, completely unaware of Eddie’s wandering mind. “Robin is working tonight and tomorrow so she can’t hang.”

“Glad to know I’m your second choice,” Eddie teases.

“No! No, I would have called you either way.”

“Sure you would have.”

Eddie smiles to himself. He’s not actually miffed. He and Steve have become way closer than he would have ever imagined possible. It started when Robin would ask him to hang out, and then she’d invite him along with her and Steve, and then somehow he and Steve just started hanging out alone. And it wasn’t even all that awkward.

Turns out Eddie is cooler than Steve thought, and Steve is more of a loser than Eddie thought.

“Eddie,” Steve groans. And Eddie tries not to be perverted about how good it sounds. “Come on, dude. Let’s hang out.”

“Can’t, man,” Eddie says. “I’m busy.”

“What? No you’re not. It’s nine at night and you’re at home. I also know Wayne works a double, so he won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

“It’s weird that you know my uncle’s schedule.”

“No it’s not; he works the same shifts every week. Point is, I know you’re alone. Unless you have other friends that I don’t know about?”

“I do have other friends!” (Not really. Just a guy Eddie’s made out with a couple times in the city, and the members of Corroded Coffin who’re away for the summer.)

“Oh.” Steve goes quiet for a moment, and Eddie feels like he won. But then, “Well, are they over right now?”

“No, but—”

“Then you’re not busy! I can bring movies. I have Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Wildcats—”

“What makes you think I want to watch a sports movie?”

“And Labyrinth.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches. Shit, he loves David Bowie, and he hasn’t been able to get his hands on a copy yet. But he also knows Steve won’t just return the movie before Eddie has the chance to see it, because Steve isn’t mean like that. Not like Eddie is.

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Getting high and being alone!” And jerking off for the next hour and a half to see how many times he can make himself come before it becomes unbearable.

Eddie doesn’t add that last point, for obvious reasons.

“I like getting high. Please, Eddie? I’m so bored. And my house is empty and quiet, and you know how I get nightmares when—”

“Okay! Okay, oh my god, fine. You’re so whiny.” Eddie had no idea Steve was such a beggar. He kind of likes it. “But you have to bring beer as payment. Afterhours fee.”

“Yes,” Steve says, sounding like he’s doing something dorky like punching the air. “Beer it is. See you soon.”

“Hey, Harrington, can you give me, like—” half an hour, Eddie wants to say. But the line goes dead.

He wonders if he can manage to pump one out before Steve gets to the trailer. And the thing is, his dick is harder than he’d like to admit after hearing Steve’s voice. So he’s going to try.

Eddie runs to his room, pulls down his flannel pants so the elastic sits taut under his balls. He doesn’t bother laying in his bed; he just sits on the edge of it, facing his mirror, watching as he fists his own cock and gives it a few tugs. It’s not a narcissism thing, Eddie just likes the visual. Likes to imagine it’s someone else’s hand, or someone else’s cock. Likes to see the tip of it, shiny and red, as his foreskin pulls down his shaft to expose it.

He wonders if Steve is cut or not.

Fuck—no. No, no, no.

Eddie shouldn’t be thinking about Steve, he should be thinking about the guy from the bar. About how hard his dick had been, pressing into Eddie’s hip as they made out against the wall in the alleyway.

Yeah. Yeah, okay, that’s doing something…

Eddie watches as his hand pumps over his cock, watches as it starts to strain, the veins popping from the skin as he builds himself up. He squeezes hard around the crown. It only gives a little under the pressure, considering how hard he is, but it makes his dick offer up a pearl of precum that he gathers and spreads around the slit. When he lifts his thumb away, a sticky string connects his hand between his legs.

He likes the way that looks. He likes when things start to get messy. He wonders if he’ll ever get to see the guy from the bar’s cock like this, if he also likes to play with cum and spit.

If Steve ever plays with cum and spit when he’s on his own, like Eddie does. He wonders how Steve touches himself, what he likes, what he doesn’t like, what sounds he makes, what face he makes…

Oh fuck, oh fuck. Yeah, that’s fucking good.

Okay. Okay it’s fine, Eddie will just think about Steve one more time, and then he’ll for sure stop doing it. Just this one more time…

A jolt travels from Eddie’s cock into the tight muscles of his stomach as he imagines Steve’s face all twisted up in pleasure. Those strong thighs bracketing Eddie’s head as he sucks back little dribbles of salty white that leak out of Steve. His nose brushing against a mound of dark hair that Eddie just knows would grow thick around the base of Steve’s cock; little curls that smell like honey and almond soap, because Steve uses the expensive shit.

Jesus Christ. What he wouldn’t give to go down on Steve, just once. Just one time.

Eddie’s mouth waters as his hand flies harder, faster. He’s so fucking close. Just a quick, dirty orgasm before Steve comes over. Steve. Fuck, yes, Steve—

There’s a loud knock on Eddie’s front door.

No! Shitshitshit. He just needs two more minutes. Maybe not even that, just one—

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is muffled beyond the walls of the trailer. Eddie almost considers letting him wait outside while he finishes up, but he can hear Steve’s footsteps getting closer to his bedroom window.

A rock hits the glass and shocks Eddie enough that it sets him back. Now it would definitely take the full two minutes.

“Shit! Goddamn fucking Harrington—” Eddie stands from the mattress and releases his cock from the death grip he had on it. It bobs between his legs, so fucking stiff that there’s no way it’s going away on its own anytime soon. “One sec!”

Eddie has no choice but to tuck his cock into the waistband of his pants. The tip pokes up under his navel, like it’s staring angrily at him for not finishing the job he started. It’s throbbing, and leaking, and getting the fabric it’s tucked into all damp.

“Same,” he mumbles to his dick as he grabs a longer t-shirt and pulls it over his head.

Another rock smacks against his window.

“Coming!” Well, he was about to anyway.

He doesn’t jog to greet Steve, because he doesn’t want to risk his dick slipping from its hiding spot. That is a conversation Eddie wants to avoid.

When he opens the front door, Steve has another rock in his hand, aimed towards Eddie’s window.

“You better not throw that, Harrington.”

Steve’s head whips around. His eyes are full of mischief, a small smile on his lips. His hair is freshly washed and styled, just like Eddie suspected. And his outfit is positively sinful (if you’re horny like Eddie is). Grey sweatpants and a plain white tee, which Eddie thinks is the guy version of lingerie.

Totally unfair, especially when Eddie would just like if his dick would go soft again.

“Why did you take so long, dude? Your trailer park is scary in the dark.”

Eddie gawks at Steve. “You’ve literally fought monsters and a dark wizard in an alternate dimension, and you think my trailer park is scary?”

“Yeah.” Steve points over his shoulder to a mobile home down the lane. “There was an old dude watching me from his window.”

“Mr. Jackson?” Eddie tilts his head, sees the curtains ruffling as his neighbour draws them back. “He’s… mostly harmless. I think.”

“You think?” Steve flings up Eddie’s steps and quickly locks the door behind him.

“Totally. I mean, besides the shotgun he keeps next to his couch. But that’s reserved exclusively for handsome young men that come around the trailer park after nine PM.” Eddie checks his watch, gasps in mock fear, widens his eyes, and peers out of the window behind Steve’s head. “That means you’re not safe! I think—I think I hear him loading the gun!”

Steve grabs Eddie’s arm, just for a second, as he cranes his head to look out the window. When Eddie’s sarcasm finally sinks in, he lets go and punches him (a little too hard) where his hand had been. “You’re such a dick.”

“I think that was kind of a compliment,” Eddie says, rubbing at the place where he would surely bruise. “I did say you were handsome.”

Steve flops down on Eddie’s couch and tosses a bag full of VHS tapes and a six pack onto the ground by his feet. He leans back, like he’s making a point, flourishing his hand over the length of his body with the most disgustingly sexy lazy smile on his face. “Yeah, well, that’s common knowledge.”

Jesus.

Eddie looks down to make sure his cock is still out of sight. He can feel it pulse between his legs as he hears Steve’s voice, sees how he stretches on the sofa. But thank God, he’s still tucked away and Steve should be none the wiser.

He takes his place next to Steve—makes sure his shirt drapes loose enough around him that it hides how hard he is.

He wonders if blue balls are a real thing. Will Eddie have severe health defects if he doesn’t come? Will his boner go away on its own?

Questions that he’ll find out sooner or later, he supposes.

“Little full of yourself, are you, Harrington?”

Steve sighs. “Not at all. It’s actually hard work being this gorgeous. You would know.”

Eddie feels his cocky expression fall from his face.

Did Steve just call him gorgeous? Or did Eddie totally misinterpret his words? He blushes and figures it’s better to be safe than be sorry. “Sure,” is all he replies with.

“So,” Steve says casually, “where’s this weed I’ve been hearing so much about?”

Eddie smiles, big and sweet, and points towards his bedroom where he left the joint to fizzle out in an ashtray before he molested himself. “Be a dear and go grab it from my nightstand?”

The truth is, Eddie’s pretty sure the tip of his dick slipped from under the elastic of his pants when he sat down. Miraculously, he thinks it’s starting to deflate by the teensiest fraction, but it would still basically slap Harrington in the face if he tried to stand.

Which—good thing or bad thing? Eddie isn’t sure. That would all have to do with Steve’s reaction. But he’s not willing to find out.

Steve rolls his eyes but gets up like a good little boy to fetch the ashtray. He brings it and the lighter to the coffee table where Eddie had been smoking before.

Fifteen minutes later, Eddie is back in his floaty state with a beer between his legs instead of a hard on. Turns out, stiffies don’t actually last forever if you don’t let yourself come. It’s just very, very frustrating.

“You up for another beer?” Steve asks slowly, reaching into the bag to grab two bottles. His eyes are glazed and blown, and Eddie thinks he looks totally fucked up already. It’s hilarious.

“Yeah, I’m down.”

Steve hands Eddie a new PBR, and his eyes do this little flare thing that makes him look adorable. “Woah.”

“Woah what?” Eddie asks, popping the cap and replacing his empty bottle with the new one.

“Being up for something and being down for something mean the same thing, even though they’re the opposites. I just realised that.”

Eddie smiles against the lip of the bottle, feeling the glass clink against his teeth. “Shit, man, you’re so high.”

“Am not.” Steve honest to God giggles as he makes eye contact with Eddie. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

“I’m glad you came over, Harrington,” says Eddie after a beat. “Better than another night alone.”

Steve opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but he’s cut off by the sound of the telephone ringing.

Both men turn their heads to stare at the wall phone, but Eddie doesn’t make a move to stand up to actually answer.

Because, for some reason, his mind is suddenly going a million miles a minute.

He knows it’s not his uncle calling in the middle of work, and he knows it’s obviously not Steve. The chances that it’s Robin are slim to none because her shift doesn’t end for another half hour. Gareth and Jeff are away with their respective families.

So the most logical answer to who’s calling after dark, would be the guy from the bar.

And the thing is, Eddie doesn’t want to raise questions. Isn’t sure if he’s capable of thinking of a good enough excuse as to who it was or why he’s calling. Yeah, he could probably have at least answered and told Bar-Guy to call back tomorrow, that he has company, but his brain isn’t thinking fast enough. So he just kind of… stares at the phone as it rings.

“I’ll get it,” Steve says after a few seconds, and suddenly he’s standing from the couch and reaching for the telephone—

“No!” Eddie pounces, because that’s even worse than if Eddie just answers the damn phone himself. He flounders towards Steve, grabbing the outstretched hand, stopping it from curling around the phone. “Stop! Stop—just let it ring!”

Steve gawks at him, but holds his hands in surrender in front of his chest.

The phone rings one more time, and then the kitchenette goes quiet.

Eddie heaves a sigh of relief, even though he probably just made more questions arise than he avoided by not picking up.

“What—what was that about?”

“Nothing,” Eddie huffs, dragging his feet back to the couch.

Steve follows closely behind. Just as Eddie flops onto the cushions, Steve is on top of him, tickling the shit out of Eddie’s arms, his sides, his stomach.

Eddie was not expecting anything like this—Steve’s hands all over him, his leg slung over Eddie’s to hold him down, the smell of Steve’s breath hitting his face. It’s not a bad smell, like freshly brushed teeth and beer and weed, and it’s warm, because their faces are so close together.

All Eddie can to is half-shriek-half-laugh, even as his mind muddles with confusion (and lust. Obviously).

“Tell me!” Steve commands, digging his fingers into Eddie’s neck, down his back, dangerously close to his thighs…

The boner that he just got rid of starts to fill out once more.

“Stop, dude!” Any sense of authority is lost under Eddie’s laughter that he can’t control. “No! Stop!”

“Come on, Munson. Spill the beans.”

Eddie tries flipping onto his stomach, but Steve follows him, blanketing over his back. The panes of his chest press behind Eddie, hard and warm, crowding him against the pillows. And there’s also friction.

Friction that could easily become a problem if Steve keeps goddamn moving against Eddie, making his hips rub against the couch—

“Okay! Uncle. Uncle!”

Eddie keeps panting face-down as Steve lifts himself away from his back.

“So?” Steve asks with a smile in his voice, triumphant from his win. An unhonourable win, as far as Eddie is concerned. Tickle torture is a serious offense. “What’s up your ass?”

Eddie snorts as he sits up, casually grabbing one of the throw cushions to hold against his lap.

Nothing, he wants to say. That’s the problem.

Instead, he just kind of adverts his gaze and goes for the truth.

“I’ve—kind of—been talking to…” this guy.

It’s not like Eddie has been hiding his sexuality from Steve, per se, but other dudes are way less accepting than girls about it. His first official ‘coming out’ had been to Robin (an obvious choice after she told him she’s a lesbian), and then to Nancy.

Apparently, Steve had been really cool when Robin told him she likes girls. But this is a different situation. Steve might be afraid that Eddie will, like, come on to him or something. Which… fair enough. Eddie probably would.

So, instead of finishing with the whole truth, he dampens it down a bit, and says, “Someone.”

“Oh. Shit.” Steve’s eyes do this thing where they drop to the floor, and then shoot sideways to Eddie, his eyebrows crumpled like a cartoon above his nose. He grabs the blunt, takes a deep drag. “That’s good though, right?”

Eddie shrugs. “Sure.”

“Sweet. So what’s the issue?”

All of it. Everything.

Because said guy lives all the way in Indianapolis—two hours away—and the only chance they have to communicate is through phone. Which, by proxy, means that the only times they can actually meet up is after a phone conversation.

Not to mention the fact that they aren’t, like, official—that they just made out a few times. Once outside of the bar, and a couple times in the back of Eddie’s van, which left him achingly hard when they parted ways.

This circles back to point number one about the phone conversations. They’re awkward. They don’t know each other well, don’t know what to talk about. Things don’t just flow naturally. Not like they do with—oh, say—Steve.

Maybe the worst part is that Eddie is a twenty-one-year-old man with raging hormones that—as much as he wishes otherwise—he cannot control. His self-discipline is basically nil. Nada. Zero. He’s fucking horny all the time.

So how is he supposed to deal with long-distance plus rare phone calls?!

Bingo. Yep. Phone sex. It’s the obvious answer, is it not?

So Eddie, like, tried.

And he thought it started well!

What are you wearing? Is that not fucking obvious where Eddie was headed? Is that not the exact line that they use in movies and shit? That’s what he said—What are you wearing?—and then he shoved his hand down his pants and waited for Bar-Guy to get into it, start saying something filthy into the speaker that would get Eddie going.

Maybe like… ‘Nothing at all,’ or, ‘tight boxers that show off my cock,’ or—fuck—'a towel slung low on my hips’. Something like that!

But all Eddie got was, “Uh—sweatshirt. Jeans. Why are you breathing hard?”

And then Eddie had said, “Just thinking about you,” with his low and gravelly voice, to help keep the conversation moving (again, he thinks this is pretty obvious and, like, at least a bit sexy).

Here’s the real kicker. The dude then said, “Are you… touching yourself?”

And it was not a sexy question. He sounded completely weirded out! Horrified! Disgusted!

So Eddie pulled his hand out of his pants and basically yelled, “No!”

Deny deny deny. Eddie is good at that shit.

The conversation had gone on to other things. Dinner plans, or something. Eddie didn’t really care. All he could think about was that this guy probably didn’t want to fuck him. They’d had the opportunity before, and it never progressed. And the thought of Eddie even fisting his own cock all but repulsed him.

Such a damn shame. Because Eddie is so desperate, so pent up, so sick of fucking his own hand, that he’s literally about to drill a hole in one of Uncle Wayne’s oranges and go to town until there’s nothing left but pulp.

Eddie doesn’t tell Steve any of this. He just groans really loud and buries his face in his hands, and says, “I don’t know!”

“C’mon, man. Something’s up. Out with it.” Steve waves his hand in encouragement, vaguely gesturing to the empty trailer and himself. “Safe space.”

Eddie peeks through his fingers at Steve, and he just looks so… genuinely curious. Like he actually wants to help, or at least hear, Eddie’s problems.

“Okay, fine.” Eddie snatches the joint from between Steve’s fingers and sucks it back like it’s water, keeping his gaze from Steve’s (beautiful) hazel eyes. “It’s just that I… I kind of made it awkward. Last time we talked on the phone. I tried to initiate… uh”—he clears his throat—“phone sex.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, his forehead crinkling with surprise. His lips are shiny and pink. But that second part doesn’t have anything to do with Steve’s expression—Eddie just happened to notice them.

“Fuck,” Steve says, leaning forward to set his bottle on the table in front of them. “Yeah. I’ve been there before, man. What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened?”

“I don’t know. What did you say? I assume it didn’t go well considering how you’re all… tense and shit.”

“Tense and shit.” Eddie laughs once, then mumbles, “You have no idea.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Steve encourages.

“It’s not! I started with the classic, what are you wearing?” Eddie drops an octave, making fun of his attempt to sound hot. “And then I got an actual play by play of what they were wearing.”

Steve sits back and thinks about it for a minute—his legs splayed, and his arms crossed over his chest. “I think the issue with that is… it’s obvious, but it’s not sexy.”

“How is it not sexy, dude?” Eddie asks, exasperated. “It’s literally a steppingstone into, like, a form of sex!”

“Yeah, sure, but it doesn’t get you hot. You know?”

“No, Steve, I don’t know. Because I’m always hot. Someone could bend to tie their shoes and I’d fucking cream my pants.”

Steve hiccups a startled laugh. “Fuck. Me too. It’s been forever.”

“I don’t think it’s natural for a guy to go this long, man.” Eddie swigs back the rest of his beer and cracks a third. Lights up a new joint, too. And honestly, regardless of his tolerance, he’s pretty fucked up.

“Do you know how many chicks I’ve gone out with? None of my dates have even led to hands stuff. It at least sounds like you’re close to sealing he deal.” Steve lolls his head towards Eddie with a cheeky little smile on his lips. “I mean, if you didn’t suck at talking dirty.”

“I do not suck!” Eddie cries, grabbing the throw cushion from his lap to smack it against Steve’s smug face.

Steve catches the pillow and rips it playfully away from Eddie’s grip. “Then show me.”

Eddie stares at Steve for way too long. He narrows his eyes after a few seconds. “You’re kidding me.”

“Not kidding. I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re doing wrong.” Steve leans forward, plucks the joint right out of Eddie’s slack lips. “Just pretend I’m on the other end of the line.”

“No way, dude.”

Steve curls his hand up to look like a telephone, pretends to dial in a number. Brings it up to his ear. “Riiiinngg. Riiiinngg. C’mon, Eds, you’re getting a sexy phone call. Pick up. Riiinngg.”

Eddie feels his face flush red. He’s not sure if it’s from where this conversation is headed, or out of sheer embarrassment for Steve’s sake. “Holy fuck. You’re such a loser, Harrington.”

“I’ll just pretend you already answered and said hello. Hey, Eds. It’s… wait, what’s this guy’s name?”

Eddie opens his mouth. Then closes it again, because Steve just said guy. Not girl. Guy. Is this a slip of the tongue? Or did Buckley out Eddie to Steve? Or Nancy?

No, neither of them would do that. Maybe Steve just figured it out from context clues.

But still, to be sure, Eddie just says, “What?”

“What’s his name?” Steve askes again.

So—shit—it definitely wasn’t a slip of the tongue. But Steve isn’t freaking out. Hasn’t freaked out in the past. And he’s looking at Eddie expectantly, but not judgy or anything.

Eddie clears his throat. “Nick.”

“Nick! Strong name. Not as strong as Steve, but not everyone can be a Steve—”

“Come on, man!” Eddie groans. Again. Hides his face. Again.

“Okay, Okay!” Steve clears his throat. “Hey, Eds, it’s Nick. What’re you up to?”

Eddie sucks in a breath and lets it forcefully out of pursed lips. “Uhh—hey, Nick… I’m…”—his eyes flick sideways to catch Steve staring at him with a half-smile on his face—“no. Nope! I can’t do this.”

Eddie goes to stand from his perch on the couch, but Steve’s arm shoots out to grab him. “Alright. Let’s just do it, you and me. No phone roleplaying required. Just start with saying a compliment you’d tell Nick or something.”

“Alright… Okay… Uh, you’re—I mean Nick—is really funny?” Eddie says. Nick isn’t all that funny but, fuck, it’s all Eddie can think of. Steve is funny, though, so it’s easy enough to say.

“Yeah, good. That’s good. What else?”

“And you’re really hot. Really fucking hot.”

“Good.” Steve shifts around on the couch, maybe trying to get more comfortable. “And then Nick would say something like, You’re really hot, too.”

Eddie stifles a giggle. “I really don’t think he would.”

“Well, just pretend he does. And then it’s your turn to keep the conversation heading in the direction you want it to.”

“By saying what, Harrington?”

“Try saying how I—Nick—makes you feel.”

“Okay. You make me feel… like I’m vibrating. Like I’m pressurized, or something.”

“Yeah?” Steve breathes, his voice dropping an octave. Probably just getting more into character. “What does that make you do, when you feel like that?”

“It makes me… makes me hard.” Eddie feels his hips pitching forward. His cock twitches under his flannel pants.

A dangerous game they’re playing. Maybe Steve doesn’t know just how serious Eddie was when he said he’s pent up.

“Fuck,” Steve says lowly.

“Too much?”

“No! Nah, it’s good. It’s hot. I mean, sometimes it’ll take longer to build into that kind of stuff, but keep going.”

Eddie nods nervously. “Okay. Uh, what do I say now?”

Steve sits up a bit to adjust the band of his sweats. “Sorry. So, you said it makes you hard. And then I’d say… me too. That it makes me hard just talking about it. Just thinking about it.”

Eddie’s dick is starting to properly fill out again. It makes sense since he never got to come after taking himself right to the edge before Steve came over.

He takes a steadying breath to try to will it away. “Shit. Okay.”

“Do you like that?” Steve asks. “Do you like thinking about how hard my cock gets when I think about you?”

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie pulls at the hem of his shirt, desperately trying to stretch it beyond his crotch where he is most definitely about to tent his pants. Maybe if he wore boxers it would have been easier to conceal. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“It’s okay. It just means we’re doing good, right?” Steve slides his hips forward, making his sweats tighten against the bulge between his own legs.

Eddie lets his eyes linger there for longer than he should. There’s no way that Steve is getting turned on by all of this, but shit, he is. The proof is in the pudding—if the pudding is his dick that is suspiciously growing under the heather grey fabric.

He can’t help but blurt out, “I want to suck your cock.”

Because it’s true. Eddie’s mouth is watering just from the thought of it. But as soon as the words push past his lips, he realises that it’s not exactly fitting in the theme of phone sex. So he quickly adds, “If we were together right now. Instead of—uh—just on the phone.”

“Fuck, yeah. You’d suck my cock so good.” Steve licks his lips, and Eddie swears his eyes trail over his body, landing between his legs and then back up to his mouth. “I’d fuck your throat so deeply you’d gag and drool all over yourself.”

Eddie can’t help himself from groaning at that image. And as if his body is proving to Steve just how right he is, a trickle of saliva escapes the corner of his lips before he’s able to swallow it back.

He lifts his hand to wipe the back of it against his mouth. “Jesus, Steve.”

Steve shifts closer to Eddie. His voice is low and soft and seductive, and Eddie is having a very hard time remembering that this is a game as he says, “And then I’d ask if you’re touching yourself.”

The words echo those of Nick’s. But when Steve says them, he doesn’t sound horrified at the thought. He sounds like he wants Eddie to be fucking his hand while they talk. Like the thought turns him on almost as much as it does Eddie.

“I would be, by now,” Eddie confesses, wiping his sweaty palms against his knees. He desperately wants to trail them higher, wants to rub between his legs where he’s throbbing and hot. His pants feel like a sauna. They’re humid and sticky, and he knows it’s partly because he’s radiating heat, but also because his cock is already starting to dribble.

“I would be, too,” Steve says. “I mean, Nick would be, too. If I was Nick. And I’d—I’d ask how you were touching yourself. What it felt like.”

Eddie glances between Steve’s legs again. And—holy shit—Steve is hard. As hard as Eddie.

His cock is fucking massive, as far as Eddie can tell. Thick, and long, sitting sideways inside his pants against his hip. Eddie knows it would stand proud by Steve’s belly button if it wasn’t trapped.

And he’s also pretty sure Steve is circumcised by the obvious ridge he can see under the fabric.

Maybe it’s dumb, or false hope, or just how ridiculously horny he is (again), but Eddie is feeling encouraged. Because he’s not the only one who’s getting hot. He’s not the only one who’s participating, or the only one who’s bricked up.

So… why not get into it a bit more?

“I’d say that I have my hand wrapped around my cock. That it feels heavy in my hand. And wet. That I’m leaking all over myself.” Eddie’s hips pitch forward on their own accord, the sensitive tip of his dick deliciously grazing against the flannel of his pants. “And I’d tell you that it feels good. Really fucking good. But it would feel better if it was your hand instead.”

Steve is the first one to break.

Eddie can tell it’s an automatic reaction when he reaches for his cock and squeezes where it’s straining under his sweats. Awareness shimmers in Steve’s eyes, and he quickly pulls his hand away again. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” Eddie says fast as a whip, repeating Steve’s words from earlier. “Just means we’re doing good, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s laugh is small and breathy. “Really good.”

Eddie swallows his nerves, decides to see if he can keep whatever this is going. “What would you say after that?”

It seems it’s Steve’s turn to be flustered. Eddie can see red creeping up his neck, like his chest is flushed. It reaches his cheeks and makes him look all bright and pink. “I’d tell you what I’d be doing.”

“Which would be?”

“I’d be reaching under my pants, and I’d circle my fingers around my dick. Gently at first, because—because I’m sensitive down there. And I want to make it last.” Eddie watches as Steve’s hands lift back to his lap. And then pinch the hem of his shirt. A strip of his sun-kissed stomach flashes as his fingers tease against the drawstring of his pants. “Like this.”

Steve’s hand disappears as it pushes down into his sweats. It moves along the length of his cock. He adjusts so it’s no longer sitting sideways; it’s now straight up, as big as Eddie assumed, dangerously close from peeking past the waistband.

Eddie would not be upset if it did.

The best part is when Steve’s hand starts moving under the fabric. Long, soft strokes that Eddie can tell are featherlight, mostly just fingertips teasing against his skin. Just enough to make Steve bite down on his lip and his breath hitch in his throat.

“Steve—fuck.” Eddie’s mouth goes dry as he watches Steve touch himself. And he has a few fleeting thoughts.

First is the classic, Am I dreaming? Because surely Steve Harrington is not jerking himself off in Eddie’s living room on a Friday night while they say filthy things to each other under the guise of another dude.

Impossible.

The second comes after Eddie subtly pinches himself and doesn’t wake up. Which is, Is this a joke? Because now that he knows he’s (probably) not asleep, there must be some other horrible explanation for what’s happening. He racks his brain, plays back the events that led him here.

Eddie doesn’t think he could misinterpret everything. But he’s probably done dumber things in his life.

Plausible.

And the third—which is the thought that’s taking up the majority of his consciousness—is, Am I allowed to touch myself, too?

He doesn’t let himself consider this one too long. Because there’s no way in Hell that Eddie would be able to stop himself. Not if a gun was pointed to his head.

So he shoves his hand down the front of his pants and squeezes his cock way more aggressively than Steve.

It’s both not enough and instant satisfaction. Like when you start scratching an itch and it seems to get itchier as your nails dig into your skin, but at the same time it’s doing exactly what you need to soothe the discomfort.

Eddie’s lips part as he grabs his balls and gives them a taut squeeze. His dick basically weeps against his skin. So much precum is pushing from his slit that it’ll be a miracle if there’s any left when he actually comes. Fuck, he hopes this time he can actually come.

His heart is beating so goddamn fast in his chest that there’s a good chance if he stops for a second time this evening, it will give out. He really, really will die.

“Does it feel good?” Steve practically purrs the question.

Eddie nods fervently, but he’s not able to form words. He doesn’t know where to look; Steve’s blown eyes that seem more black than hazel, his hand that’s speeding up under his sweats, the damp patch that’s forming where his cock must be leaking nearly as much as Eddie’s if it has already soaked through the fabric, or the growing expanse of abs on show—flexing in tandem with Steve’s strokes—as his free hand continues to lift the hem of his shirt.

Fuck, Eddie wants to come. Right now. He wants to come right fucking now.

He squeezes the base of his cock, bordering on the verge of pain, to stop his orgasm in its tracks. “So good, Stevie.”

Steve’s head falls back against the couch cushion, his eyes flicking between Eddie’s legs, his mouth, back down again… back up. He’s pumping himself with more intent now, his wrist twisting with each upwards stroke. “I wish it was your lips on me. I just know how good they’d feel. You have perfect dick-sucking lips.”

Eddie attempts stroking his cock again. It zaps into the coil in the pit of his stomach, but if he goes slow he’s sure he can go at least thirty second before he’s on the edge again.

“You have no idea, Steve,” he says, his tongue wetting his lips like he just might fall to his knees and start sucking Steve off for real. “I’d keep them nice and soft like you said you like. The inside of my mouth would be so wet—fuck, I’m salivating just thinking about it. And then I’d seal them around your big cock and hallow my cheeks when you least expect it, and you’d fucking thrust into my throat in surprise—”

Eddie moans, dropping his grip on himself yet again. That time it was really close; he can feel his dick pulsing under his pants. If he were alone, he’d push them down and watch as his cock twitched against his abdomen, angry at the loss of his fingers at the last possible moment.

Across from him, Steve speeds up; his hand moving in quick, short bursts against his tip. He makes his own noise, his eyes rolling back into his skull and then closing altogether.

It takes everything inside Eddie not to grab himself and come inside his pants right then and there. Shit, Steve looks so fucking good. Eddie desperately wants to see more. The colour of Steve’s dick, the way it strains, if it’s curved or straight, if it’s shiny. He wants to see it leak, wants to see Steve’s fingers catch the pearls of precum that are soaking through his pants and rub them into his skin. Wants to see it web between his fingertips—sticky and white. Wants to suck it off of them.

Shit. Fuck. It’s a miracle Eddie isn’t coming untouched. He’s still right there, on the verge of his orgasm. One single, insignificant, breath of a touch would one hundred percent set him off.

Steve’s eyes open. He drops his own dick, wipes his palm against his t-shirt. And he scootches closer to Eddie.

Just the brush of Steve’s thigh against Eddie’s makes him tremble, makes Eddie feel like he’s going to lose any semblance of control that remains.

They’re pressed right against each other. The length of Steve’s leg is warm and strong against Eddie’s, bigger than his. Thicker. Just like the rest of him.

Steve spits in his hand. Eddie watches as it pools in his cupped palm, watches as Steve brings that hand back down to the front of his pants. He stretches the waistband away from his body, and for a split second, Eddie catches a glimpse of his cock. Just the crown, broad and pink like Steve’s lips, right before the elastic snaps back and covers him again.

Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t you dare fucking come, Eddie Munson.

“And then,” Steve says, adding fuel to the fire, “I’m gonna bend you over the arm of this couch. You’ll look so hot, with your back arched and your ass on full display.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Fuck it. Eddie sticks his hand back down his pants, but barely touches himself. Just draws a line up the fat vein on the underside of his cock. He can feel his heartbeat under the pad of his finger.

“I’ll push into you so slowly. You’ll feel so full with my dick in your tight little asshole. And you’ll make those sexy little noises the whole time.”

Eddie makes one of them right as Steve says that—a low, quiet rumble from the back of his throat.

“Yeah, just like that. And then… then I’ll start fucking you. It’ll feel so good, Eddie.” Steve fucks his fist harder, his hips lifting from the couch like he’s chasing his own touch. His hand sounds wet on his cock, slapping and squelching each time it smacks against the base. “I’m gonna fuck you so good that you start crying. That you start screaming. Your scary neighbours will know how good I’m fucking you from the noises they hear coming out of your trailer.”

Eddie wonders if he lets himself come if it’ll be the end of whatever is happening. He knows for a stone-cold fact that he’ll be able to stay hard after the first time. But Steve doesn’t know that. Not yet. Maybe he should tell him.

But for now, Eddie tries to regain some control, some semblance of his quippy, cocky personality, just so he doesn’t come off entirely as a whimpering fool (if it’s not already too late). He tries to smirk. “Bold of you to assume I’m a bottom, Harrington.”

“A bottom?” Steve asks, and Eddie realises that maybe it’s a term that he’s never heard before. Because he’s straight… (question mark?). Again, Steve uses context clues. Smart guy. He presses impossibly closer into Eddie’s side, and asks, “Are you telling me you don’t want to feel my cock inside of you? Don’t want my cum dripping from your asshole for hours after we fuck?”

Eddie’s whole body vibrates. That’s it. The end. He fists his cock and pumps it hard, pulling his foreskin forward enough to cover the head, back to expose it, all underneath the checkered fabric of his pants. “I’m gonna come, Steve. I’m coming.”

His teeth bite painfully into his lower lip as he lets himself tumble from the ledge. Cum surges from his cock hard enough that he knows it would have painted his entire chest if it wasn’t contained inside of his pants. Each wave of his climax makes him whine aloud. It sounds crude, mixed with the slick slap of his hand against his skin.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, staring as Eddie’s working fist, eyes blown wide like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

And maybe it shouldn’t, but Eddie’s left hand reaches out with a mind of its own, gripping high on Steve’s thigh. Squeezing it hard enough to leave a bruise, while his right is covered with hot, slick cum.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie babbles, riding out his orgasm for everything it’s worth. “Keep going. Keep talking. Don’t stop. I’m not finished yet, I wanna come again. Please. Please.”

“Oh, fuck, Eddie.” Steve brings his own hand down atop where Eddie’s is still sunk into the flesh of his upper leg. For a moment, he thinks Steve is going to pry his fingers away, but instead he laces them with his own.

It’s such a simple thing, holding hands, but it feels intimate. Intentional. Like this isn’t just some game.

Eddie shouldn’t be thinking that. But he is. He is. And it’s the moment he consciously knows he’ll be ruined for anyone else. End game for Eddie Munson. Steve held his hand while they jerked off. He’s in love.

Steve yanks him from his internal monologue. “You can come twice in a row?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, his hand still squeezing between his legs. Each stroke sends a bolt of lightening through his entire body, but his dick barely softens in his hand before it stiffens back up to steel once more. “Usually more than that. Four times if I want, but—but not as much cum comes out as the first.”

“Oh my God,” Steve breathes. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Can I… Can I see?”

His eyes flicker down to Eddie’s crotch.

“Sure.” Eddie pretends he’s confident as he tugs down his pants, lifting his hips enough to push the fabric under them.

His cock springs free from where it was trapped.

He doesn’t want to be self-conscious of his body, but he can’t help but wonder what Steve sees. If he’s at all disappointed that Eddie’s dick isn’t as big as his. It he thinks it’s weird that he’s uncut or that his dick curves upwards. If he let his pubes grow too long.

But Steve’s eyes go heavy with desire, taking in every inch of Eddie. The way his entire dick is shiny and sticky with his own cum, how it gets stuck in the hair that grows below it. His fingers squeeze around Eddie’s, involuntarily or in encouragement, he doesn’t know. But it makes him feel better.

Eddie is about to ask if Steve would show him more, too.

Steve beats him to it. “Do you want me to—?”

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

Steve brings the hem of his shirt to his chin, catching it between his teeth. His whole chest is on display, his olive abs flexing as he pulls down the front of his sweats, tucking the elastic waist under his balls. His hand circles his cock, so thick his fingers barely meet.

And now they’re both just… bare. Basically naked as they jerk off next to each other, hands still intertwined like they’re some sort of couple. Things go quiet for a few moments as they just watch each other. How their hands work against themselves, speeding up, slowing, twitching.

Eddie’s cum gets sticky on his hand, against his cock. When he pulls his fingers away from his body it feels a bit like glue, tacking his hand up so much that it’s hard to slide it over his length.

“Spit on it,” Steve whispers, like he knows exactly what Eddie is thinking.

Eddie nods, bringing his hand up to his mouth—

“Wait.” Steve unlaces his fingers from Eddie’s, grabs his wrist. “Can I?”

“Shit.” Eddie huffs a breath through his nose. “Sure, Harrington.”

Steve lets a long string of saliva fall from his pretty, pink lips. It wets Eddie’s palm, mixing with the cum that covers it, making it slippery instead of sticky. Instead of letting go, though, Steve brings Eddie’s hand down to his own lap.

“Wanna switch?”

And—holy fucking fuck. Eddie trembles with ill-contained delight. He doesn’t even reply, just wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock before he can even think about what’s happening. What it means. That it’s changing the dynamic—they’re getting involved with each other instead of just themselves.

It doesn’t even matter. Not right now.

Steve’s head falls back against the cushions. “Oh God, that’s amazing.”

Eddie slides his fingers up Steve’s shaft—so heavy and hot in his hand—just as Steve described he liked. Soft and gentle. He twists his wrist in the same way Steve touched himself, watches as his lips part and his brows crinkle together, marvels at the vision of Steve’s cockhead surging from his grip, so flushed against the paleness of his hand and the silver of his rings.

He squeezes a bit harder and watches Steve’s hips rut towards him.

“You look so good,” he tells Steve, voice getting lost behind the moans that Steve keeps loosing from his lungs.

“Eddie?” Steve pants, thighs twitching as Eddie dares to circle his thumb around Steve’s slit, gathering more wetness to join the rest.

“Hmm?”

“Were you serious earlier?” Steve asks, barely a whisper. “About wanting to suck me off?”

Eddie’s hand stills on Steve, his eyes shining wide with shock and want. “Yeah? I mean—yeah. Very serious.”

“…Would you?”

Steve doesn’t have to say anything else. Eddie is already sliding onto the floor, already grabbing Steve’s knees and spreading them apart so he can slot himself between them. As soon as he’s bracketed by those strong thighs, they clamp down against his waist. A powerhouse of muscle, locking him to where he kneels.

Eddie is slightly intimidated by Steve’s cock. Will he have to unhinge his jaw like some sort of python to fit it in his mouth?

He leans down and kitten licks the tip, testing how it might feel on his tongue. Steve’s body jolts from that alone, makes a little whimpering noise that makes Eddie’s dick dribble onto the carpet.

“That’s it,” Steve encourages as Eddie’s lips close around the crown of his cock. “That’s perfect. Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s all I think about.”

Eddie moans, opens his jaw wider, and then sinks forward. Steve’s cock glides against Eddie’s tongue. It tastes like hot, sweaty skin. And cum—whether it’s Eddie’s from his hand, or Steve’s pre, it’s salty and heady and makes Eddie’s mouth even more wet as he salivates.

“Fuuuuck.” Steve’s fingers bury themselves in Eddie’s curls, tugging him closer.

It’s different than his fantasies. Steve doesn’t smell like honey and almond soap, and Eddie’s nose most definitely cannot reach Steve’s pubes, even as the tip of his dick brushes against the back of his throat. But the dark curls at the base are exactly as Eddie pictured. Perfectly trimmed and up-kept, as nicely as the hair on Steve’s head.

Eddie can’t help but pull off Steve to trail his tongue all the way down his shaft. He noses along Steve’s inner thigh, shamelessly burying his face in that thick thatch of chestnut hair. And then he deeply inhales the musky scent of Steve.

Steve groans, shallowly thrusting against Eddie’s cheek, the tip of his cock grazing Eddie’s ear, getting lost in his mane of hair.

A rope of drool connects Steve to Eddie, his tongue lolling from his mouth to rub against the side of Steve’s balls as he drinks in his smell. He dips his chin lower, until Steve’s dick is standing straight up, resting against his forehead.

The noise Steve makes is fucking sinful—completely wanton—as Eddie shoves his nose into Steve’s balls and breathes him in, committing everything to memory. His scent, his taste, his sounds, his face—everything.

Eddie isn’t sure if this will happen ever again. Isn’t sure if it’ll even be acknowledged. So he’s going to enjoy every goddamn minute while he’s so up close and personal with Steve’s cock.

“Ah—Jesus Christ. You are a freak, Munson.” Normally, those words might hurt. But Steve says them with such lust that it can’t possible be construed as anything but a compliment. Eddie wraps his hand back around Steve’s cock and starts pumping him with purpose, sucking his balls into his mouth and rolling them around his tongue. The wet, slurping sounds are totally lewd in the quiet air of the trailer. “Shit. Ohhh—shit. I’m close. I’m about to come.”

Eddie hums in encouragement, keeps his lips sealed around Steve’s balls. His hand flies above his face until he can feel how tight Steve’s balls get, can feel his cock pulsing in his hand.

He pops off, rests Steve’s cockhead onto his tongue, and jerks him off fast and dirty.

“Eddie—Eddie!” Steve’s thighs tense around Eddie’s middle. Cum surges from his slit into the back of Eddie’s throat in thick rivers, coating his tongue and teeth in sticky white release that he happily swallows down.

Fuck, Steve tastes good. Feels good. Sounds even better as he comes with Eddie’s name falling from his lips. Eddie closes his eyes and revels in the moment, lets himself savour the twitch of Steve’s dick as it empties into his mouth, the intrusion as he thrusts into Eddie’s throat, and the threat of himself gagging against it. He keeps swirling his tongue, even as Steve’s cum stops spurting. Even as his noises become high, and his body starts seizing with each flick against his sensitive tip.

Eddie desperately wants to make the moment last forever, doesn’t want to acknowledge that Steve is basically crying from overstimulation above him.

Finally, the fingers in Eddie’s hair tug him away. He whines at the sudden emptiness, wants to lean back in and feel Steve’s cock soften completely inside of his mouth.

Steve’s eyes are still blown and lustful, and strangely soft, as he says, “That was so fucking good.”

He smiles and gives Steve’s knees a squeeze as he leans back, his own shaking under his weight as he hauls himself back up onto the couch. He feels a little weird now that Steve came, because Eddie is still hard. Still wanting. But he also came once himself. Not from Steve’s hands but from his words, and it was enough. Maybe he should just tuck himself away and let this thing end naturally—

Before he can make a decision, Steve is reaching towards Eddie’s lap. “Is this okay?” he asks as he wraps his fingers around Eddie’s cock.

Eddie lets his gaze fall between his legs. His dick gets swallowed up by Steve’s big hands. He likes the way it looks so red as it peeks out from his fist.

“Is that a real question?” Eddie’s hands flounder in the air before they land on the couch cushions and bury themselves there, his nails digging into the upholstery as Steve starts fucking him with his hand.

“I knew you’d be good,” Steve says lowly. “Knew your hands and your lips would feel incredible. I can’t believe how hard you made me come. I wanna make you come like that.”

Eddie’s jaw swings open and his eyebrows knit together, and he thinks to himself that it’s not going to take long at all for Steve to get what he wants.

Steve leans forward, and for a second Eddie thinks he’s going to put his mouth on him, but he just lets a string of spit fall onto the tip of Eddie’s cock and gathers it with his hand, spreading it along his skin that moves in tandem with his strokes. It’s almost as good.

“Oh, Jesus—Steve.” Eddie sucks in a breath as Steve’s fingers tighten, forcing a bead of precum from his slit. “I’m gonna come again. Keep doing that. Keep—keep doing that!”

Steve nods, watching as he works Eddie back to the edge. Watching as he expertly rubs his thumb against the spot that makes Eddie see stars.

His second orgasm is stronger than his first. Eddie’s vision blurs out of focus—probably because his eyes are crossing—and the noise he makes sounds like an animal getting fucking murdered. The muscles in his torso tighten and tense and shudder as Steve enthusiastically jerks his dick, cum gathering in his fist, eyes watching with rapt attention.

Eddie’s body goes limp as Steve slowly lets go of him. When he’s able to focus his eyes, he notices that Steve is looking at his hand in fascination, watching Eddie’s cum stretch between his fingers as he scissors them.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever done that,” he says, bringing his wet hand up to his face. Steve smells his fingers, and then decides to bring them to his spit-slicked lips. One of his fingers pop into his mouth, and he hums around it, as if he’s actually enjoying the taste of Eddie’s release.

Yep. Eddie could definitely, without a doubt, go a third round.

But before his dick does something stupid like get stiff again, he tucks himself away. “And? What did you think?”

Steve pulls his finger from his mouth, grabbing an old napkin from the coffee table to wipe the rest of Eddie’s spend from them. “I think I was wrong.”

Eddie’s heart hammers in his chest, waiting for Steve to start berating him or something for making him do something gay. Even though he’s pretty sure he wasn’t the one who initiated it.

But Steve just smiles and cocks his head to one side. “You definitely aren’t bad at dirty talk.”

A sigh of relief heaves from Eddie’s chest. He smacks Steve’s shoulder, but he smiles right along. “You’re a prick.”

As he stands to grab a towel from the bathroom, Steve calls behind him, “You seemed to like my prick.”

Eddie blushes ferociously. He catches his expression in the mirror and tries to wipe it away, but it’s impossible. He’s just bound to look like a totally fucked-out dipshit for the rest of his life, he guesses. As soon as the water runs warm, Eddie washes his hands and wets two towels. He cleans off his dick and his sticky thighs, and brings the second one to the gorgeous man who’s back to lounging on his living room couch.

“Did you?” Steve asks, taking the towel to better clean his fingers. When he shoves it down the front of his pants, Eddie adverts his eyes.

“Did I what?”

“Enjoy it?”

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “Yes, Steve, I enjoyed it. Fuck.”

“Good.”

Eddie sits next to Steve and tries not to let himself feel awkward. “Yeah. Good.”

“Want to watch Labyrinth now?” Steve casually digs into the bag he brought, grabs the VHS and wiggles it in front of Eddie’s face.

“Absolutely,” says Eddie.

They pop in the tape, and the TV screen glows blue before it starts playing through the ads. Steve sits next to Eddie, their thighs pressed up against each other, just like they had been before.

Steve reaches over and laces his fingers with Eddie’s. They stay like that for the whole movie.

_____

It’s been three days since Steve left. Since Eddie has even heard from him. Keith makes sure they don’t have many shifts together at Family Video (because they never got any work done), so it’s not uncommon that they go this long. But Eddie’s anxiety makes it feel like it’s the end of the fucking world.

God forbid he reach out to Steve himself.

But by the end of the third night, he gets a phone call.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Hey, man.” Steve is on the other line, sounding chipper and unphased.

Maybe Eddie was overthinking it.

“Oh, hey!” he says, a little bit too enthusiastically. He dials it back a bit, clears his throat. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Just got off work. I have the afternoon off.”

“Sweet.” Eddie nervously twirls the chords between his fingers. Time to be brave. “Do you—maybe—want to hang out then?”

“Yeah. That’s why I called, actually. I stole Psycho III from Family Video. Want me to bring it over?”

Eddie’s shoulders sag in relief. Things aren’t changing. Steve won’t estrange himself after what happened, because he’s a good person. Eddie doesn’t even know why he was worried in the first place.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, cool.”

A few ticks go by, and then Steve quietly asks, “Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just wondering…”

Eddie waits, the suspense nearly killing him. “Wondering what, Steve?”

“…What are you wearing?”

MASTERLIST

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im-not-samantha-im-samanta · 4 months

Text

Request by: @jellibean2018

Hello, Jelli! About two months ago you sent in a request, however my tumbl did me dirty, and I ended up with your ask, and the entire fic deleted! (Though, much to my relief, I found screenshots of the fic in a chat with my friend who was reviewing it. Thank god).

So, I have to tag you, and remind you what you wanted.

From what I remember, you wanted a fic with a female sinner Reader who was once a victim of Alastor's, and the two ending up meeting again in hell. You also wanted an unsettling vibe with Alastor reveling in the memory of killing Reader.

I also want to add that I apologize for how long you had to wait for this fic to be done. I haven't been doing well with fics lately, so this was a struggle. And my mental health started going shit too which is why I stopped posting for so long...

Anyways, I really started to struggle with writing fics, so I ended up experimenting with this one - it's kind of written with huge metaphor kind of style? Hope that's okay with you...

Anyways, hope you'll enjoy reading this at least a little, and I once again apologize.

🎙️// The sweet history we share... //🎙️

{Alastor x female!Reader}

___________________________________________

Type: Fanfic

Settings: Not specified

Genre: Unsettling? Can't tell if it actually gives that vibe though,

!TRIGGER WARNING!: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, violence, blood, saliva, dead bodies, Alastor revels in the memory of killing Reader, possible yandere vibes? Alastor sees Reader as nothing but a meal, but he puts her on a pedestal - that's probably some kind of fucked up attachment that surely has a name? I'd say the vibe is quite unsettling, but I can't say that for sure, Angel indirectly suggests the use of drugs and hints at sex related activities (but it's just a single line), and that's probably all?

Sidenote: Reader is written as a female just as requested,

Sidenote: I have no idea if I wrote Alastor well... but it feels like I really made him ooc as fuck and ruined the whole request,

Sidenote: Rereading this I think everyone is ooc as fuck even if they have minimum dialogue,

That should be all,

Hope you'll enjoy,

___________________________________________

Ah, nostalgia. Ah that sweet nostalgia. And that embrace of her.

She comes in unannounced, an unexpected guest. But oh is she welcome.

And oh so welcome are those treats she brings to the table.

She easily settles in, making herself at home. And into a cup, a bunch of memories she pours.

And that demon, the radio demon as he's called - he drinks from that cup greedily.

And like a man dying of thirst, he can't help but ask for another cup to be poured.

His senses feel high, his body tingling. A feeling of addiction is what fills him.

And he can't get enough of those sweet memories, so, he downs one cup after the other.

But with each greedy little sip, the thirst only grows and grows - he's not had his fill still.

So, the demon goes on and on, tasting one memory after the other.

And his mouth waters a big deal the more he can taste, and he savours each and every one.

Ah, and he can't tell which one of the sips of memories he enjoys the most, which one is the most saliva inducing one.

Is it maybe the giddy old memory of how he followed you through the town?

With you completely unaware? Naively trusting those poorly enlightened streets?

Trusting that a bit of weak light will keep you safe?

Or perhaps it could be the sweet memory of the thrilling chase through the forest?

That one forest where thousands of dead bodies laid buried deep in the ground?

Those dead bodies in whose footsteps you followed suit?

Oh! And what about that memory of how you so desperately tried to navigate around and hide, escape his clutches?

Even if he could hear your sharp breaths as clear as the day?

Oh! Or maybe his favourite one could be the moment of when he tackled you down?

Pinning your body under his, finally cutting the chase so the real fun can begin?

And that beautiful moment of how you hopelessly dug your nails into his skin til blood trailed down his arms?

That one beautiful moment engraved into his head of how you desperately clawed at those lanky hands of his?

His hands that trailed, squeezed and pinched at your body, feeling you up like a winning prize, like a fine piece of venison?

Ah, it was so hard to pick which one was the most treasured one!

Hell, it could even be the simple memory of the melodious sounds of your cries.

That melodious, angelic sound of your pleading, whimpering, sobbing and screaming.

Especially those sounds you made when he bit down onto your flesh.

Oh, and that taste that hit his taste buds back then...

He still remembers it like it was yesterday.

And his tongue still tingles, and saliva still floods his mouth every time he thinks of just how tasty you were back then.

And now his mouth waters as he silently wonders... would you still have such taste even now?

Or did becoming a demon change the sweet, addictive flavour of your fragile flesh and thick blood?

Oh, how his senses urge him - beg him - to just grab you and take at least one single little bite...

I'd be really easy too, now that you're a part of the hotel staff.

Silly little you, you didn't flee when you were faced with the fact that he - the one who took your life - also works for the hell's princess now.

You didn't take the more than gracious chance to turn on your trail, run and never return while you still could.

No, you are too stubborn, and you insist on staying, even despite how frightening seeing him on the daily is for you.

Silly little you! Don't you realize how easily he could snatch you away and repeat history?

All it would take is a single moment of when you're alone and-

Ah, but he can't do that - at least not yet...

Where would be the fun in that?

It sure would be a shame to end your lovely reunion this fast and early on, no?

Not to mention the odd, messed up attachment the deer demon feels towards you...

Now, not to be mistaken! What he feels isn't the usual attachment one would think of!

It definitely isn't the good or healthy kind either...

So, we shall not be mistaken, let's not get our hopes up and think he cares - for he doesn't.

You mean nothing to him - at least as far as it comes to you as a person.

Your value could be most likely compared to something of a sentimental value, a plaything at best if you will.

Still, no matter what you are to him - you are by far his most favourite one at that.

That's what can be said for a fact.

And for reasons beyond us and even Alastor, those memories he shares with you are put on a pedestal - put way above the rest.

There were so many faces that twisted in fear, so many names he kept tabs on, so many tastes he's tried, and so many lives he's taken.

But very vast portion of them is long forgotten, not really standing out all that much.

Nor holding any real value. Barely any of them mattered...

But you, on the other hand - oh, he could never forget about that one lovely night you shared...

And even when more victims - more faces, more names, more tastes - came, they couldn't compare.

No, they never could.

Those memories of you and your taste were always stuck in the back of the radio demon's head no matter what new person was on the menu - what new dish was on his plate...

So, one can only imagine just what he feels now that you're back within his grasp.

Oh, not even his wildest fantasies could've come up with or prepare him for such sweet moment!

This was like a gift from the Devil himself!

Yes, a gift - one that Alastor would make sure to cherish greatly...

Ah yes, he would cherish you so.

He'd take his time unwrapping you like the perfect little gift that you are - he would savour you.

And only when he'd get tired of messing with you, only then he'd get to the real deal.

Oh, and when he'll finally do, it'll be like a starving man plunging onto bread crumbs!

It'll be such a beautiful, satisfactorily moment - Alastor can almost feel himself drooling at the mere thought of the moment.

Oh, how he just can't wait for the very moment!

The moment is so close, and yet so far - and every little glance your way is like a test.

A test of how long he can resist the temptation.

Every little move you make, every little noise that leaves you, every little expression your face twists into.

Oh, he can barely hold himself back!

His body feels so restless, and his thoughts are all over the place.

And no matter how much he reminds himself to be patient, to not cut straight to the chase just yet.

He still can barely keep himself in check.

His thoughts are going to dangerous places, and your familiar, sweet scent teases his nose.

Oh, and you're so within reach too!

It'd really just take a single little moment and-

"Geez, that perv's still at it?".

Oh, that's right.

He's almost forgotten about those curious eyes watching him from afar.

Watching, and trying to see inside his head...

But judging by the response Vaggie's hateful comment receives, it seems she's the only one to see right through him.

The only one to see the real danger behind that wide smile he always wears...

"Ya-uh! His eyes have not left her ever since she's joined the hotel staff!".

Ah, Charlie. Dear, sweet Charlie - now she's something else.

She's completely different from her girlfriend - she's quite naively trusting and optimistic.

Fully believing that there's a piece of good in everyone.

And hence not being concerned for your safety when the deer demon started to show an interest in you.

Ah, that sweet, silly little thing.

Caught up in trying to see only the best in people and their intentions...

It's amusing - and truly adorable.

And oh, does it play into Alastor's favour oh so well...

"Okay, that's like so sick and totally-".

Oh, Vaggie - she tries, she really tried to warn the others.

Make them see Alastor for what he truly is.

But aside from Husk, nobody really listens to Vaggie's concerns.

No, she's not all that listened to when she voices her opinions on the deer demon.

Not even when she expresses her concerns for how the latter constantly follows your every single step no matter the time of the day, no matter where you go...

And to think she has quite enough of a say in things as the hotel's manager, as well as the princess' girlfriend!

Oh, that poor little thing - it must be such an awful feeling.

How humorous!

And oh, how unfortunate...

"Ah! Do you think he's-?".

Niffty is completely on board with Charlie.

Similarly to the princess - she too doesn't see the real harm in Alastor's advances towards you.

Seeing his behaviour as nothing other than subtle romantic gestures.

The little demoness' version of romance sure is rather twisted...

And yet, it's still quite surprising Niffty doesn't see the harm in things.

After all, she herself knows Alastor just as well as Husk does...

"Yeah! Strawberry pimp totally got the hots for that one!".

Angel was caught up in the spiderweb of romanticizing the same thing as well.

Just like Charlie and Niffty, he couldn't see the truth...

"What? No! Are you all crazy?! That's not the case at all! How can you all not see that?!".

Oh, Vaggie - again and again, she really tries and tries.

But the result is always the same - nobody pays her warnings or concerns any thought.

And yet she still keeps on going.

What a miserable little thing she is.

"Oh my- I have like the best idea!".

Not even Charlie notices how Vaggie nearly begs for them all to see things from her point of view.

None of them can see things for what they really are.

Alastor's got them all right where he wants them.

Without even having to try much...

"We should totally get the two to have some alone time!".

Charlie is quick to naively play into the radio demon's games.

Without even knowing she's doing that.

She can't see this all is exactly what the deer demon wants...

And neither can Angel or Niffty.

Aw, those naive little fools...

"Yes! We should- like- create some really romantic atmosphere and leave them to it!".

Niffty follows through in Charlie's steps.

She too plays right into what Alastor wants.

Though whether or not she's aware of it is up for a debate...

"We should lock 'em up in a closet together or somethin', or even give them a little... somethin'... to just... ya know, set just the right mood in.".

And angel is quick to fall for Alastor's games too...

Ah, those silly fools...

Unaware they're making all this much easier than it should've been.

They're sealing your doom - the inevitable end you're ought to meet at his clutches.

They're making this all too easy...

They're shoving the little mouse right into the lion's den.

What unfortunate silly fools.

And what an unfortunate little you.

Your friends are serving you to him on a silver platter.

All of them - or nearly all of them - thinking they're doing you a favour.

Thinking they're simply helping a mere fool in love gain the heart of his love interest.

When in reality, they're actually helping a starving predator get closer to his chosen prey...

It was rather humorous - a good source of entertainment for sure.

So, Alastor would humour the group.

He'd indulge in their schemes of trying to set you up with him.

He'd gladly play along and lead them to think he's interested in you.

Well, interested in you they way they think he is, not the way he actually is...

No, they can't know what he actually wants from you.

They won't know.

He'll make sure of it.

They won't know until the very last moment, until the deed's already done.

Or, he'll lead them to think your disappearance has nothing to do with him.

After all, the sudden disappearance of a poor little sinner like you would be nothing new in hell.

You'd just be added to the endlessly growing numbers of hell inhabitants going missing.

Your disappearance would be just a part of the mere statistics.

Well, he'll see.

All depends on which option would prove to bring more benefit.

As well as which one would prove to be more entertaining.

That's what, to the deer demon, matters the most at the end of the day.

For now, he'll just go with the flow and let the situation progress by itself.

With the occasional shove to the right direction, of course.

But it doesn't seem like he needs to wait for that long for everything to be set in motion...

"Hey, Al, you got a minute?".

Yeah, he really doesn't need to wait for that long...

___________________________________________

#hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor pilot x reader #hazbin hotel pilot x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor imagines #im not samantha im samanta requests #im not samantha im samanta ask #im not samantha im samanta works #frenklinesamuelsrequests #frenklinesamuelsask #frenklinesamuelsworks

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effeminate-wastrel · 24 days

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Something fucking weird happened to me yesterday. A few fucking weird somethings in fact.

I was at a premiere party for a local comedian's special, maybe like 25-30 people in a little art commune backyard space, kinda place with a bunch of art sculptures and free ranging cats and a fun vibey vibe.

This comedian is one of those kinda 'i'm not a terf i just think maybe trans people could tone it down a little' lesbians who i first met through a trans comic friend (who no longer speaks with this comedian over some apparently terfy views) so i'm kinda already on red alert. But there's a few other trans girls there and generally I don't think this comedian is like hateful or even terfy i think she's just kinda catring to a certain demographic of queer people that aren't as progressive or whatever.

not my particular FAVORITE crowd of people or ideology but I'm interested in hearing and hanging out with reasonable people whose views are different than mine, assuming they are pleasant and not disrespectful, yknow, so i went into the party with an open mind.

i was being a social lil butterfly as i'm wont to do and i met this big burly beardy kinda guy, he seems chill, nice enough. Later in the party after a bit of weed and drinks have been slung, he comes up to me and asks if I can help him get some drugs. He asks if I have any Clomid. I haven't ever heard of it, I look it up and he explains it's a fertility drug for cis or trans women, he described it as an estrogen blocker and i guess it makes ovaries OR testicles more fertile if a trans woman has undergone HRT, I guess.

I'm a little dumbfounded and trying to figure out what the hell is going on, why this random dude is asking me for meds i know nothing about, and i'm desperately trying to figure out the context of this request. I'm making him a little uncomfortable with my questions, trying to figure out if this is a trans man, closeted trans woman, detransitioned trans woman, or i dont even know what, and i ask for a little bit of clarity.

he offers up, "well... i was a boy who got raped and spent some time where i thought i was a woman but now i'm on testosterone again and trying to have a baby" and i'm like... okay detransitioned trans woman i guess, and i'm like yeah sorry i have no idea if i can find anyone who could get these meds for you. I asked him why he was asking me and he said "[comedian's name but ALSO his partner's name, so i don't know which person he's referring to] said you were a safe person to talk to about this. Conversation basically ended there and i walked away from it thinking it was extremely strange, not knowing how to process any of what just happened.

Then later i meet another person who's detransitioned, she was 'being a guy' for a while then kinda ended up not resonating with it and is presenting femme again.

the party just kinda started closing in on me at that point, just started feeling like more people there might be detrans, is this the audience of people, is this the vibe of the party, did the comedian mean something else when i made a joke earlier to her along the lines of "yeah looking bad is so hot right now" (just lightly roasting gen z type style and all that stuff which isn't my vibe obvi) and she said "yeahhh you couldn't be more right" in a kind of way that i could have interpreted as being in reference to ME if she was saying something along the lines of 'you ugly man in a dress' if she IS a closeted terf orrrrrrrr

idk. so much of this is spiraling based on a weird experience and also RSD that goes haywire in situations where my transness has even a 10% chance of being related. but also like. maybe my intuition should be trusted and it really was a bad situation? i just wish i had some neutral way to find out what the hell was going on but it feels so fraught

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f4riedimples · 3 months

Text

MY COLLECTION

pairings: pimp!sam carpenter x f!reader

warnings: mentions of drugs,underage drinking,sexual harassment ,provocation dancing, prostitution

wc: 1241

a/n: hi everyone, just wanted to finally come back since I’ve only been active on wattpad recently. Hope it’s not too bad!

Oh.

this has to be the worst mistake of your life.

like your whole fucking life. You knew this was a bad idea but you loved Sam so you did it anyways. It took some time convincing but you caved.

you don’t even know why she wanted to start doing this. You were only dancing but even that made you feel a certain type of way because of the way it went.

Sam would invite people over, get them tipsy, get you and the “client” in the room, you would dance, get paid, and that was that.

you didn’t complain since it would bring in a lot of income a week.

On the fourth day you made just 950 dollars in two hours. And it just kept increasing from there. But this didn’t seem worth it anymore.

it all started just a few nights ago. Sam told you who you would take to the room and dance for and that was supposed to be it.

afterwards though you saw the creepy state the guy was giving you. After he paid all his money he tried to grab you but your waist and sit you on the bed.

you immediately got up not feeling comfortable. “No touching, nothing further.” You replied calmly before trying to move past the man and check your earnings.

The dance was quite short but he still paid around 300-400. “Take off your clothes.” He order as he looked you up and down.

you almost froze up in shock and disgust. You knew this would probably happen sooner or later. “That’s not my job.” You denied with a small bit of attitude.

“I’ll give you five dollars, just take your clothes off and fuck me!” He demanded impatiently assuming your it was part of your job or you should go further instead of just selling the fantasy.

“sir, like I said, that’s not my goddamn job.” You didn’t want to raise your voice since this wasn’t a regular. You never know what this man could pull out of do.

Things were getting too intense too fast and you just needed it to stop. As the man tried to get near you again you just wanted to grab the knife hidden in one of the drawers.

just as he was about to reach you, you heard a small bang on the door. “Open. Now.” It was Sam. It was Sam! You immediately ran to the door and unlocked it.

just so no one could sneak in and try to get a free dance with friends, it was a responsibility to lock the door.

Sam immediately came in and glared at the man. “What the hell happened?” She asked already seething. She had heard some of this from outside of the door.

“she won’t fuck me.” The man tried to stay confident even though he knew Sam would be pissed off.

“asshole, she’s a dancer, not sex worker.” Sam hissed before guiding you behind her. It made you feel a bit safer knowing Sam had did something and was here to help you now.

“get out.” Sam said and the man had no choice but to leave. After this Sam immediately stopped the party and everyone went home.

she sat you on the bed and lightly caressed your cheek with her thumb. “princesa, I’m so sorry. Did he hurt you?” Sam asked feeling guilty.

you shook your head only feeling a bit shook up. “No, he didn’t. Thanks for saving me.” You whispered a bit down by the experience.

“There’s no need to thank me. I’ll always protect you from weirdos like that.” She spoke softly before hugging you. You couldn’t help but tear up.

now however you were worried things would be different.

it had been around a month since the whole incident and you were Sam were out on a date. Sam had brought up the idea of bringing in another girl which made you feel a bit jealous.

you never knew if Sam could try to find interest in a new girl. Even though you knew she was joking you couldn’t shake off another feeling you had towards the idea. Fear. Or maybe guilt.

You knew Sam would probably bring in another really young girl desperate for money who wouldn’t know how dangerous this was until it was too late. You couldn’t imagine what could happen.

you couldn’t imagine someone else go through what you did or worse while you stand by participating.

that’s why you had to tell Sam what was on your mind. “Hey Sam? We need to talk about something serious.” you were gonna be open and hope for the better.

Sam immediately got serious and paid close attention. She stare at you still with her usual caring eyes as she waited for you to speak.

“I don’t think I wanna do this. Not anymore or ever again. This whole pimp and dancer thing is just not for me.” Even before you had agreed to do this you knew that even actual strippers or dancers can usually be followed home or harassed by creepy guys.

you knew that some men and other woman felt entitled to seeing more even if that wasn’t on the fine print.

Sam took a tense breath before shooting back. “Are you serious? Like- are you sure that you wanna do this?” Sam was cautious and hesitant not wanting to seem insensitive. She also knew this could lead to lots of troubles.

she tried to respect you and what you wanted. She tried not to be so blinded by the money. At the end of the day you were still her girlfriend.

“yes.” Your voice was soft and you almost felt bad. You didn’t want to disappoint Sam but you also wanted to put yourself first.

“then okay. That’s how it’ll go. I’m just surprised because you seemed to enjoy it especially when the nights were late.” Something about Sam’s last sentence caught you off guard.

on late nights you would decide to get a little extra tipsy to loosen up your nerves but not because you wanted to do more with these clients. “Excuse me?”

“you just seemed to really like it. You never complained.” Sam spoke a bit more quietly as if she was nervous to say. She started to realize maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

“you’re the one who asked me to do this. I could’ve said no but I didn’t because ends needed to be met and I loved you.” Sam was the one who had offered you this after seeing you give her a lap dance.

she realized how good you were naturally and decided that maybe she shouldn’t “let your talent go to waste”.

before this you never consider Sam would ever even have an idea like this. She would tell you how you would deserve the best but right now it didn’t feel the same.

You’ve been dating each other for around a year and known each other for way longer. how could this be your girlfriend.

“I know. And I’m sorry. I was selfish and was desperate to pay the rent and the bills and get more than cheap food.” You let out a soft breath as your nerves temporarily calmed down.

you reached out and held Sam’s hand. “And I forgive you.” You smiled sweetly before pressing a soft kiss against Sam’s lips.

but will things fall back in place?

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #scream x reader #scream vi #scream 5 #sidney prescott #kirby reed #amber freeman #melissa barrera x reader #samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader

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silent-stories · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃

Pairing: Eddie Munson × F!Reader

Summary: One night, after leaving a party you didn't really like, you go into the woods to clear your mind. You didn't expect to meet someone there.

Warnings: Jason being handsy, swearing, mention of drugs

Your best friend dragged you to a party you didn't even want to go to. You didn't know how she managed to convince you, she told you that party was organized by her boyfriend, who was on the school basketball team and so was considered "popular" and "cool" and you couldn't miss it.

She had begged you for days, and finally you gave up and said yes.

She said you'd have fun but you weren't having fun at all.

Your friend had disappeared into one of the upstairs bedrooms with her boyfriend about half an hour before and left you alone, sitting on a couch in the corner of the room drinking from a bottle of beer while the others they danced and laughed.

You didn’t like most of the people at that party, the jocks making fun of the freshmen were an example.

You knew Dustin, your neighbor, since his mom had asked you if you could make sure he didn't burn down their house while she wasn't there. Since that day you had become kind of friends. You drove him to school in the morning when it was too cold to ride his bike and you helped him with his homework if he needed it.

You had also fought monsters from another dimension, but that was another story.

If he ever needed anything he knew he could knock on your door and you would be there for him, you loved that kid so much but you would never admit it to him.

You felt responsible for him as if he were your little brother and because of this you didn't like the comments he and his friends received at school from most of the people at that party.

In conclusion, you never should have gone.

Fuck your friend who abandoned you, fuck her jerk boyfriend and fuck all the jocks and cheerledears.

"Hey, Y/N!" You looked up to see Jason walking towards you. You would have preferred to be alone.

He dropped onto the couch next to you. "How's it going?"

You placed the half-empty beer bottle on the coffee table in front of you. "What do you want, Jason?"

"Talking to a hot girl at a party. Can't I?" he asked with a grin.

"If you're looking for "hot" girls, the cheerledears are right over there." You answered poiting to the kitchen.

"But I don't want them." Jason said reaching out a hand and resting it on your leg. "I want you."

You quickly pulled his hand away from you. "Jason, go away."

He laughed. "Come on, Y/N. Don't you want to have some fun?"

When he brought his hand to your leg again you jumped up. "You know what? This party sucks, just like you. I gotta go now."

You grabbed the leather jacket you had left on a chair and you headed for the exit as Jason followed you and stopped you grabbing your arm, making you turn around.

"C'mon, I just wanted to have some fun, don't be a bitch, okay? Don't go, we sure are better than your looser friends who-"

You felt the "crack" his nose made when it made contact with your fist.

Jason let go of your arm, bringing a hand to his face, taking a few steps back.

When blood started coming out of his nose you should have felt guilty, maybe, but a proud smile spread across your face.

No, you weren't a psycho, you were just sick.

You left the house just as some of the guests realized what had just happened and walked over to Jason.

You closed the door behind you and inhaled the cool night air. You decided that before you went home you needed some time alone with your thoughts, and you knew the perfect place.

Eddie reached the bench in the woods next to the school for the deal he had that night. A man in his 40s had come to the door of his trailer the day before asking if they could see each other the next night. He mentioned that he was having a hard time and things like that but he didn't seem too convinced to buy. Eddie went there anyway, just to be sure.

But when he arrived, the person sitting on the bench wasn't the man who said he needed drugs. It was a girl hugging herself in a leather jacket. It was Y/N.

Suddenly you looked up at him.

"Jesus Christ" You swore "you scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah, I usually have this effect on people. I'm sorry." Eddie said holding up his hands as if to show he didn't mean to hurt you.

"Oh no, I didn't mean- I'm sorry." You shook your head "I meant I wasn't expecting anyone in the woods in the middle of the night and when I heard the leaves crunching I almost shit my pants" You laughed.

Eddie was relieved that you didn't seem to be afraid of him and that you were joking. He knew you, but you two had never spoken, you only shared biology class but Dustin talked about you all the time. He said you were cool, but not like the ones considered cool in school, you were nothing like them. You were funny, kind, and always helped him and his friends when they needed something. He said Eddie would have liked you, you'd also read Lord of the Rings and other books like that.

"I thought it was Jason or someone else from the party for a second." You added as Eddie approached.

"Party?" He asked.

"Yeah" You explained "they convinced me to go to their stupid party but things didn't go as expected, I suppose."

Eddie raised his eyebrows with a questioning expression, he didn't want to ask for details so as not to invade your privacy but it seemed that for some weird reason you wanted to talk to him.

"I think I broke his nose." You patted the bench to let him know he could sit next to you. "I think I broke Jason Carver's nose."

You raised a hand to show him you red knuckles.

"Holy shit, you didn't!"

"I did." You nodded with conviction. "He called my friends 'loosers' and tried to touch me, twice."

Eddie barely registered the insult your friends – who were probably his too – received when he heard Jason touched you.

"You okay?" He asked. It came out spontaneously. He was worried about someone he'd never met before but who he seemed to already know well.

"After seeing the river of blood coming out of his nose?" You laughed. "Never been better."

Eddie found himself smiling too. "I'm Eddie, by the way."

You burst out laughing and he found himself asking if you were making fun of him, if it was all a joke. It wouldn't be the first time.

"I know who you are, Eddie." You said "we're in the same biology class."

"Right." he said, relieved. He liked how his name sounded when you said it.

"Besides, I think the whole school knows the name of the boy who walks on the cafeteria's tables making speeches." You added.

"Well, if they do, they don't seem to use it very often." Someone had called him "Munson" , for many he was just "freak" or "trailer trash".

"They should, I like your name." You said and you sounded sincere.

"Henderson was right about you."

"Dustin talks about me?"

"All the time." he said.

"I hope he only says nice things."

"He does." He answered simply.

"He often talks about you too." You said, surprising him. He didn't think he did, not to you at least.

"And what does he say?" he asked as he played with the silver rings on his fingers. He usually did it when he was nervous but it had become a habit because now, sitting next to you, in the silence of the night, in the middle of the woods, he finally felt calm, without worries. As if all the shit he'd been through in his life was a distant memory. He felt safe.

"That you are not how others think you are. That you are not a freak and you are a good person." Eddie took that as the best of compliments. "And that of course, you're not part of a satanic cult or some shit like that."

"And what do you think?" He asked.

"I think he's right about you too."

Eddie nodded, cursing himself for never having the courage to talk to you before. You weren't judging him, you were nice and you were damn beautiful.

"Why did you come here in the middle of the night anyway?" You asked after a few moments.

"I had-I had to meet a client." He said, hoping that it didn't bother you. "But apparently he changed his mind."

You shrugged. "Good for him, I guess." Eddie let out a sigh of relief.

You stayed to talks a little longer, he told you he was in a band and had been playing guitar since he was a kid and you told him about the time you were tortured by Russians with Robin and Steve.

"There's no way!"

"I tell you yes, they used knives and other stuff. I still have the scars."

You rolled up the sleeve of your jacket and goosebumps formed on your skin as you showed the scar on your arm.

Eddie resisted the urge to reach out and caress it with his fingertips.

Your adventures had probably been more eventful than his but you didn't stop listening to him even for a second and Eddie felt as if, for the first time in his life, someone was really interested in what he was saying, in what he liked.

It was one of the few moments in his life when he didn't feel like a waste of space.

"Corroded Coffin is such a cool name for a band though."

"I think you are the first person to say that."

"Impossible! What's "Metallica" compared to "Corroded Coffin"? Absolutely nothing."

Eddie laughed even though he knew you were making fun of him, just a bit. He found himself thinking that he would happily spend all night talking to you, even if it meant spending all Sunday sleeping.

"What time is it?" you asked at one point, glancing at Eddie's watch.

"Almost 2 am."

"Mh. Maybe I should go home." You laughed jumping off the bench. Your curfew had probably been broken several hours before already but you didn't seem to care much.

"I can- I mean, I can walk you-" he stammered, suddenly unable to form a meaningful sentence "if you want, I mean. It's just that it's late and I thought maybe- but it's okay if you don't want others to think that -"

"Eddie." You stopped his ramble "yes, I'd like it if you'd walk me home."

Eddie nodded making the mental note that you didn't care if anyone saw you with him and you headed out of the woods.

You walked up to your house alternating moments of talking with moments of silence.

"Here we are. That's my house." You said stopping to walk.

"Well, it has been an honor to accompany you on this long journey, princess. I hope our paths will cross again one day." He announced with a solemn tone, making a sort of bow, and you burst out laughing. "And thank you for the good you have done for the community."

You raised an eyebrow.

"The punch to Jason." He clarified.

"Oh, right." You laughed again and Eddie found himself thinking it was one of the most beautiful sounds he'd ever heard. "It was a pleasure."

"See you at school, Eddie." You waved at him before entering your house.

Eddie watched the door close behind you and the lights come on in the house.

"You're late." A harsh female voice said, probably your mother.

"I know. I met someone." He heard you reply and couldn't help but smile.

God, he wasn't falling for you, was he? Dustin would have killed him.

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfiction

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carnivorousyandeere · 22 days

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Safely Home

You almost couldn’t believe it.

You’d scored not one, not two, but three dates with the handsome, charming, polite, well-off Doctor Kim Dae-hyun. He was just so perfect that it rattled your nerves a little.

CW: date interrupted by supervillain attack, kidnapping, spiked drink, drugging, repeated trauma, near-death situations, ptsd, hypervigilance, survivor’s guilt, implications of suicidal ideation?

Your third date started off like the first two, full of good food and more charming anecdotes from Dae-hyun. But the air felt thick, and your drink tasted just a little more bitter than it should’ve. You frowned, swirling the glass thoughtfully. Dae-hyun reaches across the table, holding your hand, and his mouth opens to speak—

Boom.

Glass shards rain across the table, stinging your skin. Dae-Hyun grabs your hand. You run.

Voices ring out, screams and explosions fill the air. A villain attack. Not exactly uncommon where you live, but not an everyday occurrence either. You’ve only ever experienced one villain attack before. Your ears ring as Dae-hyun pulls you through the back door of the restaurant, out into an alleyway, through another alleyway, to a surprisingly empty parking garage.

Dae-hyun stills, looking around, breath short from running, and laughs. Exuberant, exhilarated, triumphant. Distantly, you wonder why— nobody should laugh at a time like this, right? But maybe it’s disbelief and relief of surviving when you shouldn’t have. That thrill of realizing how truly and deeply alive you are. He seems to notice how quiet, how still you are, his laughter fading into a softer sigh as he grasps your hands tighter and pulls you closer.

Your eyes and throat sting as you struggle to breathe. You feel you ought to be crying, shuddering— but your eyes are dry. All you feel is tired. So horribly, awfully tired. Dae-hyun tucks your head into his shoulder with another soft sigh, wrapping his arms around you and gently swaying back and forth.

“You’re okay. You’re safe now.”

The soft amusement in his voice clashes violently with your understanding of the world. Nowhere is safe. He should know that as well as you. A moment of hatred crawls like bile up the back of your throat. You stifle it down, trying to rationalize— he’s only being kind, trying to comfort you, it doesn’t matter that what he’s saying is untrue—

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

His words puff against the shell of your ear. Disgust crawls down your spine at the humid warmth, the utter amusement still filling his voice. It’s not right, it’s not true, and even as your mind struggles with the weight of what carnage you’ve just escaped, all you can think is that there must be something deeply wrong with the man whose embrace you’re now trying to wriggle out of.

“We almost died back there.” Your voice is distant, hollow. Maybe you are dead. A piece of you anyway, just like the first time you’d been caught in a villain attack. How many pieces of yourself did you have left? Did you deserve to call yourself dead when other people’s families had to hold real funerals? You were still breathing, what right did you have—?

Dae-hyun laughs again. The sound sends your train of thought careening to a crashing halt, mangled metal filling your mind’s eye and acrid smoke filling your nose just like it had at the restaurant this time and the time before that—

Dae-hyun wipes away a humored tear, pulling back to hold you by the shoulders and look at your face. “Yeobo, we were never in any danger! I paid them specifically not to injure either of us…” His tone darkens, thumb swiping over a cut on your cheek. “Though I suppose they failed, and I’ll have to take a cut from them…”

He rocks back on his heels, sucking air in through his teeth and whistling it out. “Still, it’s nothing some of my healing gel can’t soothe~”

A sob catches in your throat as the realization hits. Of course he could laugh so carelessly— he was the real villain. Your exhausted body slumps against him, limbs unnaturally heavy, and he holds you close once more.

“Aww, there’s no need for tears,” Dae-hyun croons, “you’ll be safe with me! I promise.”

“They’ll… somebody will come looking for me…”

Dae-hyun giggles harder, dragging you further into the parking garage, where a van is waiting. “Why would they? You and I died back there, after all~”

#oc dae-hyun #yandere mad scientist #yandere scientist #yandere doctor #my thoughts #yandere #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere cw

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sichore · 3 months

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I've been rattling around my own version of pre/earlyklok so here's what I've got so far:

Pickles has been chewed up and spat out by the industry after SnB, in ruin after faulty contracts made when he was too young to know what he was getting into. He's also extremely burned by not getting the residuals that he should have when he fucking made SnB what it was, and he's a struggling addict.

I don't know yet what all Magnus' deal is, but he never even made it that far and time is not on his side as far as the industry is concerned. So you've got a has-been and a would-be rock star meeting through the guy who would be Dethklok's first manager who think that hey, they could get something going here.

So you've got two guitarists, and maybe at some local joint, they hear a cover band, and holy shit this kid's got pipes. They approach Nathan and everyone gets drinks and he shares that he's always wanted a band (and deep down he knows that he has to have it), so fuck it, they're gonna make a band. And William's there too, I guess, because he's Nathan's buddy somehow, and they don't wanna waste energy on finding a bassist.

So they've got the start of a good thing but it's not quite there yet. None of the drummers they try have the right sound so finally Pickles is just like "fuck it, I'll do it" because he's had to do Sammy's parts so many times already, and... oh, hey, why the fuck is he bothering with the guitar again? This is where he belongs.

So now they gotta find another guitarist, and finding Skwisgaar is akin to finding a temple to a forgotten god. It's a crime that someone so talented should be regulated to rhythm guitar, but Pickles' last bit of money is fueling this, and Magnus has to have his way, so that's just how it goes.

And turns out Magnus' manager buddy who manages Skwisgaar seems a hell of a lot more competent than their current guy, so they got a new manager now. And it's rough, but it works. For a while.

Pickles runs himself ragged after Magnus is kicked out because it's all on him, this is his last shot and they've gotta make this work. And they give this scrawny kid from Norway a chance and he has Skwisgaar's approval, and then... everything starts to fall together.

Their growing fans become fanatic. People flock to them for work that borders on servitude, and money starts flowing in, and maybe now Pickles can relax a bit. Sure, the drugs may still kill him, but things are better now. He doesn't have to fight and scrape for what's rightfully his. He actually owns Dethklok this time along with the others, and life is... as good as it's gonna get.

And during all this, Nathan grows more confident in seeing his dream come true. No one knows when the shift happens, but he stops playing mediator and starts demanding things go this way and that way. Because it's his band.

And Pickles just lets him take over because sure, it's actually their band, but he's tired, man. He's just so tired of having to do things himself.

The rise of Dethklok happens over the span of 10-12 years, anywhere from 1994 to 2006. Snakes 'N' Barrels only lasted about 4-5 years and Pickles spent a handful of years remaking himself between gigs. Nathan and Murderface graduated high school in the late 80s/early 90s, and Toki is in his late 20s by the time the show starts.

#metalocalypse #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #william murderface #magnus hammersmith #and a brief mention of charles #i spent a LONG time thinking about this and this makes most sense to me #given the music and media trends for those decades and how i remember them #i havent quite decided if SnB is basically GnR or came right before #but im leaning on the former if only bc i dont think Pickles/Snazz and Slash are comparable guitarists #mtl headcanon

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jksprincess10 · 3 months

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PMAMC 2024 || A bad deal

CWs: NON CON, DDDNE dark!reader, drugging someone without their knowledge, non consensual pegging, lots of degrading, slight somnophilia, pegging without prep, reader is crazy as fuck, mentions of blood, unprotected p in v, dom!reader, toxic relationship.

Graphic by @wannab-urs

Main post

Divider by @saradika

“T’was a good deal, you should be thankin’ me.” Joel’s voice is low but menacing. She’s inches away from his face, his alcohol-tainted breath passing over her like a wave.

“You can’t decide by yourself, Joel. This is why we’re a team.” Her voice is soft and threatening like an undetectable poison. His only response is a groan, and she throws her arms up in annoyance.

She hated when he disrespected her authority. But she could also play this game better than him. She moves freely, her hips swaying as she walks to the kitchenette. She always had a back-up plan.

She pours two generous glasses of whiskey, and slips a magic capsule in Joel’s while he isn’t looking, something that’ll make him more… obedient.

She drinks from her own glass, and offers him the tricked alcohol, which he drinks without suspecting anything.

“They fucked us over last time, Joel, what makes you say they won’t do it again? They couldn’t deliver.” Her intense eyes are fixed on the brown liquid, that she’s swirling in waves.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill them if they don’t this time.”

And she knew he would. The man’s knuckles were always red with someone else’s blood. She watches intently as Joel drinks and drinks, until he starts getting unstable on his feet.

“Maybe you should sit down.” She suggests as she takes his arm, bringing him to sit on the mattress you sometimes share with him. “I know you’ll kill them, Joel.” Her fingers linger on his arm as she looks up at him. His eyes are glazed; like he’s far, far away. That shit worked fast.

She gets up and leave him on the bed, looking through herthings to find rope and other accessories she would need to punish his lack of respect.

Joel looks up at her, but his body is mostly unresponsive. “What’cha doin’ there, baby?” He slurs, like he’s drunk.

“Taking care of you.” She settles behind him and takes his arms, pulling them towards her to tie them together. She’s experienced with knots, and it’s tight enough, but not too much, so it doesn’t hurt him.

“Now be a good boy, will you? Get on your stomach for me.” She helps him settle on the mattress; his face buried in his pillow. “Rest for a bit, my sweet Joel.” She whispers against his ear, before leaving the ghost of a kiss to his neck. His body shudders under hers.

She liked him like this ; so pliant and obedient. She peels off her layers of clothes until she’s completely bare; a sight Joel was used to see. Her arms settle under his stomach, lifting him up a little to unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants and boxers all at once. It’s like she’s trying to move a corpse, but she also has experience with that. Her hand sneaks around his girth, and she’s pleased to find that he’s already hard. Probably another effect of the drug.

“What are ya –” He slurs.

“Helping you rest, baby. Shh.” You coo.

She pumps him a few times until he’s whining and asking for more. That’s when she pulls away to secure the pièce de resistance around her body ; a harness tied around her, which gives her the illusion of masculine power; a dangling black silicone dildo over her core.

She pushes Joel’s body slightly, so he lays on his side. He looks up at her with those pretty glassy eyes, and she looks down at him with a wild smile. Roles are reversed; the devil becomes the angel, and the angel becomes the devil. His eyes get bigger for a second when he sees the apparatus.

“Open your mouth.” She demands and doesn’t wait for him to obey, taking his cheeks between her fingers and pressing until he’s open for her. “Come on Joel, suck my cock. It’s the only lube you’re getting, you better make it good.”

The sane part of him has been dragged away by the drug she gave him, and she knew that sane part of him would make her pay for it later. But he disrespected her. And he hurt her. He deserved it.

She glides the black silicone dildo in his mouth. He closes his lips around it, suckling on it until it’s so wet, it pops out of his mouth, still attached to it by his saliva. She’s sure she would enjoy it if it was an actual dick made of flesh. Part of her wished his mouth was on her core instead, but later, she promises herself.

“Good.” She praises him, before helping him get on all fours. He’s pathetic like this, it almost makes her want to cry or laugh hysterically. She wraps her hand around the wet dildo and guide it slowly inside his unprepared hole. He winces a little at the stretch. She hopes it makes him think about all the times he fucked her unprepared, just because he could.

She stops the movement of her hips only when she sees that the toy is buried completely in his flesh. Her hand grabs on to Joel’s wet curls, pulling his head up so she can make sure that he’s still with her. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s still somewhat conscious.

“Hurts.” He winces between gritted teeth.

“I know baby, I know. You’ll get used to it. But You hurt me.” She coos, but her voice isn’t sweet. It’s cutting deep like a knife. “Be fucking grateful I drugged you, or else it would hurt even more.”

“You’re crazy.” His voice has no bite, he's so tired, and she laughs at him.

Her hands are on his hips as she starts thrusting slowly.

She sees the way his walls start accommodating her girth, and she feels so powerful. His body moves with the shock of hers in waves, and he sometimes lets out quiet whimpers, like he can’t let himself enjoy it.

“Come on Joel, all men like to be fucked in the ass. It’s in your nature.” She encourages him, pressing a kiss to his head as she’s slowly emasculating him. She watches as he grips on to the blankets, his knuckles going white. But she knows he can take it. He has been through so much worse pain.

“Touch yourself.” She orders as her thrusts get deeper and slower, trying to reach that part of him that would let him enjoy the act. Joel obeys; his veiny hand wrapping around his leaking cock, pumping it at a weak rhythm. “Good boy. I’ll let you fuck me if you keep obeying me like this.” She praises.

Joel doesn’t talk – which is not unlike him, but when she reaches that deep part of him, he lets out a guttural scream.

“You like that, hm?” She asks as she keeps pounding into that spot, making him see stars. She encourages him by fucking him harder and harder, and she seems to be satisfied when she feels her body tense before he comes all over the mattress.

She leaves him empty, ignoring the blood on the dildo as she discards it. She sets him on his back. “You did so good.” She praises as she kisses his sweaty forehead. “Will you keep disrespecting me?”

“No, I won’t.” He whispers.

“Good.” She bites back.

He seems exhausted and sleepy from the drug, but she’s not done with him. She wraps her hand around him, stroking his cock until it’s hard enough again. She straddles him and sinks on his length slowly. Joel is so sensitive; she can see it in the way his body tenses with her walls enveloping him.

“Rest baby, I’ll take care of you.” She whispers softly, bending over him to kiss his lips as everything goes dark for him.

#pmamc 2024 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x dark!reader #joel miller smut #sub!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x yn #joel miller fanfiction #dark fic #joel miller

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mercurytojupiter · 3 months

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the labyrinth - chapter one

a/n: do you guys have any idea how hard it is to get my friends to beta for saltburn?

warnings: farleigh being farleigh, which includes underage drugs, drinking, cigarettes and sex 18+

fic summary: ariadne gavin and her childhood best friend turned enemy return to saltburn for the last time

Ariadne is twenty-one now, and can hardly recall the last civilized conversation she had with Farleigh Start while sober. Everything about him is grating. She can't even imagine how he used to be her best friend.

He bites his lip as he throws an arm around his girl-of-the-week, whose name has come and gone from Ariadne's mind so quickly it was like she'd never heard it at all. Alicia? Felicia? She doesn't know and doesn't care. She doesn't. And she absolutely cannot smell the mix of his citrus and sandalwood cologne - a signature scent that they had picked out together when they were twelve, and yes, hers was the matching, feminine version of the same collection - and the sharp tang of cigarettes. She is not looking at his hair and thinking about how he's using the wrong conditioner because it's frizzing, and probably not even wearing his durag since he's waking up in a different bed every morning.

She's not paying attention to any of that.

She sits comfortably on India's lap, laughing breathily at whatever joke the girl just made. She doesn't know and doesn't care, but India tightens her grip and presses a red lipstick print into her neck, she takes another hit off of her blunt and waits for Farleigh to fade away.

Ariadne and India aren't dating, but they are fucking. Poor replacements for the two boys at the table, but replacements nonetheless.

Besides, if Ariadne had learned one thing during her education, it was that boys got off on girls making out. She liked it personally, but she knew some girls did it just to catch Felix's eye. Their loss, Felix didn't find Ariadne hot so he found none of the girls she kissed hot either. India has yet to learn this lesson.

Felix is talking about how some nerd was his hero or something because of the flat tire on his bike, Ariadne doesn't know and certainly doesn't care when the nerd himself catches Felix's eye.

Ariadne takes one look at the man and knows that Felix is going to string the poor boy along for months without even realizing it. Or, maybe he did. Ariadne doesn't care. She doesn't care much about anything these days, and when she does, she takes another hit, another shot, another something until the world fades again.

When she's sober and has no homework, she remembers to care about Farleigh, so she makes sure those two states never occur at the same time.

Against her will, she notes the way Farleigh's jaw tightens when Oliver Whatshisface approaches the table. This must be Oliver "Thus" Quick from his tutoring sessions.

Ariadne snorts as Farleigh shifts in discomfort and sinks back again as the conversation turns to who Ollie is, what college he's in, and other shit she wouldn't even care about sober.

Her attention tunes back in when the shot chant begins.

"Jagerbombs!" She and Farleigh demand at the same time. She shoots him a look of annoyance.

Farleigh makes a low rumble in his throat that only she knows to watch for. "It's your round, man!"

"I should go to bed," Oliver mumbles, suddenly green.

Farleigh shakes his head and curls entrancingly, so much so that she almost forgets to pay attention to what he's saying. "No, no, no, no. You can't snake out of your round."

Oliver squirms in his seat. Something about him is offputting, now that Ariadne's finished her blunt and is coming down from the high. "I'm not," the boy mutters.

"It looks like you are." Farleigh laughs, but Ariadne knows he's not joking. She knows that the alarm bells in her head are going off in his, and even more so, she senses his competitive streak flaring up.

The table boos except Felix, who seems to sense Oliver's unease. Ariadne rolls her eyes. Ever the angel, their Felix.

He's going to get himself killed that way. It's unnatural to Ariadne that anyone could be as trusting as he is.

"Okay, okay." Oliver concedes. Maybe Ariadne's imagining the way he seems to sneer at Farleigh as he gets up.

Oliver manages to get to his feet and heads for the bar, and Ariadne's final assessment begins to click into place. This kid was a gold-digging little weasel, but probably too weak to do any real damage, except for Farleigh, who seemed to be pissed off by the dude's very existence.

"Farleigh," Felix scolds.

"What?" Farleigh fakes innocently. She sees the way his round eyes widen and his lips open just enough that even India's head falls onto her palm in adoration. There's no denying that Farleigh is pretty.

"Just cut him a break, mate." Felix pleads.

It's not going to work. Whenever Felix asked any of them to be nice to his strays, they always got meaner. Her and Venetia included.

For example, poor old Eddie last year.

"What?" Farleigh repeats lower.

He'd never liked receiving orders from the Cattons. When they were younger, she might have soothed him back down, but it was no use now. She couldn't even if she wanted to.

The crack had become a canyon, just like her dad had foretold.

"That round's gonna cost a fucking fortune." Felix continues.

"Pub rules, Felix." Farleigh grins.

Silently, she agrees, but she decides she can't be here anymore. Farleigh's pretty, white and fox-like smile, had very suddenly become too much for her.

"I'm off." She declares suddenly, sitting up. The group groans and complains good-naturedly, and she watches Farleigh stare at her with an intensity she had grown used to.

She sits in her car for twenty minutes, smoking a cigarette and trying to pretend every time she's with Farleigh she can't feel him in her skin when she hears a tap-tap-tapping on her passenger window.

The man himself, grinning his evil grin.

She can't help herself. She unlocks the car.

"There you are, pet! I looked out the window and I saw you hadn't even driven away! How weird is that, hm?" He teases in that tone which he only takes with people he can't stand. She'd never imagined she'd be on the receiving end of it.

She takes another long drag of her cigarette. "You used to hate when they called me that. You almost broke Felix's nose over it."

"Pass." Farleigh demands. She hands him the cigarette and he puffs it gently. "You gave a shit about me then too. Venetia called me a dog and you fucking bit her. At fourteen."

"I was a weird fucking kid," Ariadne mumbles.

"What the hell happened to us?" Farleigh asks. His long fingers twist a ring, which she deciphers as nerves. She hates that she knows that. Because she wonders, if they aren't friends, and they aren't lovers, why does she know him better than she knows herself? Why does she think about the little things he's done since they were children and worry about his health? Why does she make sure with a glance that he's eating well?

What the hell happened, indeed.

Ariadne knows exactly what happened to them. She had a crush on someone incapable of loving her back and took the lowest of all low roads in her envy. She doesn't say that. She just shrugs. "I dunno, Far. I really don't."

Farleigh leans across the console, palm resting on her cheek, and kisses her.

For a moment, Ariadne sinks deep into the feeling. How many years had she craved his affection? How many times had she let him ruin her life just for a chance of this? His soft, plush lips on hers, their foreheads pressed against each other, his hot, warm tongue twirling with hers. It felt beautiful and religious and, above all else, right. Just fucking right. Like this was how it ought to have been all along.

But then she realizes that this isn't what she was waiting for. She pulls away, gasping.

"My dorm or yours?" Farleigh asks breathlessly.

Ariadne wants to cry. She doesn't want this. She wants him, but she wants all of him, not a night like he gave everyone else.

She shakes her head. "I can't. I can't, I-"

She scrambles for anything to say that isn't "I like you, and I've had a crush on you since we were seven."

"You can't cheat on Alicia." She settles on instead.

"I don't give a fuck about Alicia!" He huffs.

Ariadne sobs. "I know! I know and that's the problem, Far. You used to be so sweet. You used to love everyone and you would never hurt someone's feelings without a reason and I don't even recognize you anymore!"

Farleigh stares at her. "Is that why you stopped talking to me? Because I'm too mean, because newsflash, princess, you're not exactly all sunshine anymore either."

"I stopped talking to you because of Arabella Vaillancourt." She whispers before she can stop herself. Why would she say that? He's going to know exactly how immature and obsessed she is and-

Farleigh scrunches his nose. "Who?"

Ariadne bangs her head against her steering wheel. "You don't even remember. You shattered my worldview and it was so insignificant you don't even remember."

"I-"

"Get out of my car, Farleigh," she begs. She wishes it had venom in it. She wishes she had yelled or something. Instead, all there is left is exhaustion and heartbreak.

He doesn't argue, and that hurts even worse.

She doesn't speak to him again until graduation. Steals glances at him sometimes, after he breaks things off with Alicia, and shares twin looks of annoyance every time Oliver does something irrevocably stupid, but never words.

She misses it. Even arguing with him had been better than not having him at all.

Until, suddenly, on the last day of term as she packs her things, Farleigh bursts through her door.

"Felix invited Oliver to Saltburn." He says like he's announcing a death.

Ariadne groans. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, Start."

"He's worse than Eddie from last year," Farleigh complains, throwing himself on her bed like they're fourteen again.

Ariadne nods. "Like, times ten. Am I the only one who can tell that this kid is fucking insane?" She whines.

"No," Farleigh hums competitively. "I know it too."

"Shut up, this isn't about you," Ariadne commands.

Farleigh holds his hands up in the air in surrender before he gets distracted by her bookshelf.

"Is this that old copy of Pride and Prejudice I got you?" He asks.

Ariadne shrugs. "Yeah. I wasn't going to get rid of a perfectly good novel just because I was mad at you."

"Was?" Farleigh grins.

Ariadne sighs. "Am." She amends. "You are a mistake and a scourge on the earth."

"And," he licks his lips, "The first friend you ever had."

She doesn't dignify that with a response and sets about finishing packing her clothes.

"Do you ever miss Bel-Air?" He asks suddenly.

Ariadne closes her eyes and can almost smell the sea salt of Malibu Beach. Remember the small staff of her home rather than the expansive staff at Saltburn.

She also remembers her and Farleigh's mothers at the mini-bar drinking themselves into oblivion and her father yelling at her to be perfect and finds she even misses that too.

"Every day. You?"

"Yeah," Farleigh says, suddenly sounding very small.

He perks back up. "Arabella Vaillancourt was the girl I lost my virginity to at prep school," he declares proudly.

Ariadne bites back a smile. "Good. Now prove to me you've changed since then."

Farleigh practically skips out of her room.

Later that day comes the six-hour night drive back up to Lowick from school. Ariadne cherishes the drive. It's the only time she spends with the Cattons now when all of them are sober.

Venetia stretches her arms, as catlike as ever. "So, what're we going to do about the O-word?"

"Orgasm?" Ariadne guesses.

Venetia smirks. "Maybe for Felix, but I meant Oliver."

"Dad didn't get you the flat in town so you could be a bloody spy, y'know." Felix huffs.

Venetia pats his cheek. "But he never said it wasn't."

"I don't want to fuck him," Felix says sternly.

Venetia raises an eyebrow. "Then why the fuck did you invite him?"

Ariadne sighs. "I wish I fucking knew, Vee."

"Ari and I agree; the dude's a fucking creep," Farleigh says.

"I swear to god I saw him watching me change. And did you know he almost fucked Annabelle but he kept bringing you up and that's why she stopped hanging around?" Ariadne complains.

"Wait, what was that?" Farleigh raises a hand.

Ariadne doubles back. "He tried to fuck Annabelle. Little weasel-freak."

"I think he meant the part about Ollie watching you change, Pet, which I don't believe. He's gone through a lot. Did you know his dad died last week, right before exams?" Felix sighs sadly.

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "He's such a little snake I wouldn't be shocked if that was a lie. And I'm not kidding, I straight up saw him outside my bedroom window just staring at me."

"God, he deserves a good fuckin' punch, maybe it'll set him straight," Farleigh mutters. He's seething, and for once, Ariadne can't even tell why.

"Well, clearly not straight if he's hanging off Fi like you guys say," Venetia snickers.

They all laugh - even Felix- and the topic shifts to god-knows-what.

Ariadne scoots closer to Farleigh in the backseat, feeling like she did that first summer on this road.

On the first day at Saltburn, while they await Oliver-the-Golddigger's arrival, Ariadne holes herself up in her room to avoid running across the Weasel.

Ariadne only ever reads Pride and Prejudice at Saltburn. It is her yearly reminder that love is fickle and takes time and sometimes cannot be seized at all.

On her eighteenth birthday, she had gone with Vee to get the words "from admiration to love; from love to matrimony," along her wrist. Once, she had told Felix that the only people who understood her were him and Elizabeth Bennett.

A knock at her door has her scrambling up. "Dinner's in an hour."

She's shocked Farleigh came for her instead of Vee or Felix.

Farleigh leans against her doorway, already in his slacks and button-down, though his bowtie is disastrously loose.

"How'd you know to get me?" She hums, opening her closet.

Farleigh shrugs. "You always read when we're here. Figured you might lose track of time."

Sometimes she thinks that he must observe her as much as she does him.

"Is this a part of me telling you to show me you've grown?" She asks, pulling her tee-shirt off to slip on the black, floor-length dress for dinner.

Farleigh whistles lowly. "Maybe. Or maybe I thought it was unfair that Oliver saw you naked before me."

"You jealous bitch." She snarks. "Zip me?"

He strides across the room towards her - it doesn't take long, because he's always been much taller than everyone except Felix - and slowly zips her dress up. His fingers barely ghost over her skin and her whole body shudders.

"You look good, Gavin." He mutters.

She turns and fixes his bowtie. "Back at ya, Start. Y'know, you'd be gorgeous if you could keep your mouth shut."

"How will I lick Uncle James' boot, then?" He hums sarcastically.

She kisses his cheek. "You're improving, you should know." She pats his chest.

She walks past, but she knows he pumps his fist in the air from the sound of his clothes rustling.

Loveable damn idiot.

Dinner is an absolute bore. Elspeth gushes over Oliver, Poor Dear Pamela retells her sob story, and Venetia takes two bites of her dinner. Oliver is wearing one of Felix's suits. she can tell, the arms are too long, and the cufflinks are some old ones he had gotten for his sixteenth birthday.

She says nothing but shares a long glance with Farleigh. He rolls his eyes and she snickers.

Farleigh follows her up to her room. She was expecting it, to be fair.

He undoes his tie and throws it across the room before releasing the top few buttons of his shirt.

"Zipper." She reminds him. His lithe fingers are skimming her waist and her back, all the way up to the top of the zipper, and then back down again.

She throws on a tee shirt. "Go grab some house clothes from your room." She huffs. "Your hair has been bothering me since Oxford 'cause you've been doing it alone, I've got to do something about it."

He exits and returns in a tee shirt of his own and a pair of Fila sweatpants.

Ariadne missed this more than anything. The feeling of churning her fingers through his scalp. The way he simply relaxed into her palms. She loves it. She loves him.

Oh. Oh fuck. She loves him. She doesn't just like him, or have a crush, or want to fuck him out of her system, as she had been insisting since she was a kid. She loves him.

She breathes deeply, finishes his hair, and wraps it up in his durag. "When your curls pop back tomorrow, you'd better thank me."

He snorts. "Yeah, sure. Night, Ari."

"Night, Far." She watches him close the door to his room across the hall and scrambles over to Venetia's, swinging the door open.

Venetia is on the bed, painting her nails. "What?"

"I'm in love with Farleigh," Ariadne whispers, still shocked.

"Sorry," Venetia said automatically.

Ariadne slows her breathing to be heard. "I'm-"

"No, I heard you." Venetia interrupts. "I just think it's unfortunate."

Ariadne lays down beside Venetia and allows the girl to pet her hair. "What am I going to do?"

"Seduce him," Venetia says simply, petting and swirling a curl off Ariadne's head.

Ariadne groans, rolling away. "It's not that simple and you know it! I don't just want to fuck him, if I did I would have said so."

"So what, you want to marry him? Because I'll tell you now that's a bad idea." Venetia hums.

"No! Well, maybe? I don't know!" Ariadne whines

Venetia pins Ariadne to the bed. "Do not do anything stupid until you've decided what you want from him. I mean it, Pet."

Ariadne shrugs her off. "I'm not going to hurt him." She mumbles.

Venetia giggles. "Wasn't him I was worried about, Newmo."

Ariadne climbs off the bed, flipping off Venetia. "I'm going to sleep. Night, Vee."

"G'night Pet!" Venetia grins.

When the morning rolls around, Ariadne stretches out of bed at first light, throwing on a pair of house shorts and a cropped tank top. She would never have the old money urge to waste her nice silken robes on a simple breakfast at Saltburn.

She waves hello to Miss Portia, the maid, as she makes her way down.

"Morn' Liam, Joshie." She grins.

The two footmen wave to her. "Good Morning, Miss Ariadne."

Liam clears his throat. "Your boyfriend's already at breakfast."

"Oh fuck off, you nosy little-" Ariadne starts, but silences before Felix can pass them.

"Enjoy Breakfast, Ma'am," Liam grins.

Ariadne scrunches her nose and blows a raspberry at him before she makes her way to the table.

Farleigh's curls look decidedly better, she notices smugly, and she knows he's aware. He's already holding a cup of coffee and is probably the only one in the house who takes coffee instead of tea beside her.

"G'morning, guys." She hums. Everyone gives her similarly apathetic greetings. Felix looks like he fell out of bed.

She's halfway through her scrambled eggs when Oliver makes his way down the stairs. "Morning."

She waves, zoning out. Weasel.

"You sleep well, mate?" Felix asks, leaning a little over the table to look at Oliver closely. From an angle where she knows at least Farleigh and Felix can see her, she pokes her cheek with her tongue and pokes her finger in the air, mimicking a blowjob. Farleigh snorts so hard that coffee almost shoots out of his nose.

"Uh, yeah," Oliver mumbles. He's so mumble-y. It's grating.

"Hey, Oliver, have some breakfast." Felix coaxes.

Ariadne looks at Farleigh and rolls her eyes hard. She watches him smirk and feels a flutter of pride at the effect.

Duncan places Felix's boiled eggs on the side of his breakfast platter and retreats quickly.

Ariadne raises a hand and awkwardly points to her coffee cup, and a maid - Amelia, she thinks, the nice ginger one - pours her a new cup and then places the appropriate amount of creamer in it.

Ariadne silently mouths thank you and shakes her hands in a prayer-like stance. Amelia blushes and disappears from the room as if she were never there at all.

"Can I have a full English breakfast too, please?" Oliver asks quietly.

Ariadne looks at the table housing the food, and then to Farleigh, and then at Oliver the Weasel, and then to Farleigh again. She watches his eyes follow the same path and dip down to the magazine in his lap to keep from laughing again.

"Breakfast is on the side, darling," Elspeth says helpfully. "Just help yourself."

"How would you like your eggs?" Duncan asks, returning.

"It’s fine. I can get them." Oliver stammers. She rolls her eyes. Didn't he just see Felix's eggs delivered onto the plate?

"Not the eggs. The eggs are made for you." Farleigh corrects.

Felix gives him a sharp look, but in Farleigh's defence, he wasn't even being mean that time.

"Exactly. And everything else is on the side." Auntie Elspeth finishes.

"Fried over easy, please," Oliver says queasily.

"Ollie, we were just talking about the Shelley biography." Felix interjects, sweeping in to rescue the weasel.

Ariadne was sure they were, but she surely wasn't paying the conversation much mind. Until Oliver's arrival, she had been at peace, shockingly enough.

"Shelley who? Shelley, Belinda’s sister Shelley?" Poor, dear, idiot Pamela asks. Ariadne looks at Oliver. Pamela was Oliver's best future. A leech and an idiot who couldn't help but overstay their welcome.

"Oh, Percy Bysshe Shelley. The poet. The Romantic poet." Sir James explains as though speaking to a child.

"Oh." Pamela says simply because she is simple.

"Do you know the story about Shelley’s doppelgänger?" Venetia hums, hidden eagerness just below the surface of her tone.

Ariadne rolls her eyes. She couldn't count the amount of times Venetia had brought this up since she'd learned it.

Sir James, clearly sensing his daughter's nefarious tone, looks at her warily. "His doppelgänger?"

"Mmm. Shelley’s housekeeper was cleaning one of the rooms when Shelley walked past the window and waved at her. So, she waved back before she realized that Shelley was in Italy. And she was on the top floor of the house." Venetia had always had the perfect voice for telling a scary story.

"Oh, Vee. Stop, stop, stop. I won’t sleep." Felix balls up his fists and covers his ears.

Felix had always been a bit of a wimp, though Ariadne meant it in only the most loving of ways. Over countless summers they had held bonfires and told scary stories, and without fail, every time they did, All of them had to sleep in Felix's room because he was too scared to go to sleep. Ariadne is never annoyed by it though. It's a reminder of how sweet and pure their dear Felix is.

It was a stark contrast to Venetia, their resident investor in the macabre and overall gloomy and grotesque.

"A few hours later," Venetia continued, undeterred, "he drowned."

"Oh! Oh, that’s just given me goosebumps. Look, Pamela." Elspeth says dramatically.

"Oh, no." Pamela sighs in the same dull tone she says everything else.

"Look, Fi, the only important thing about Shelley was that he was married to the mother of science fiction." Ariadne comforts.

"I heard he fucked his sister, so there's that too," Farleigh adds helpfully.

Ariadne snorts, and so does Venetia.

"Oh, for God’s sake!" Sir James chides.

The weasel pokes his evil little head up. "I think that was Byron."

"Fucking English majors." She mouths to Farleigh. He gives a slight smile and nods.

Pamela and Elspeth talk nonsense about people Ariadne doesn't care about, so she reaches over the table, snatches Felix's apple from his plate, and bites in.

"What the hell, pet?" Felix whines.

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "You don't even like apples that much!"

Duncan delivers the eggs to Oliver's plate. "Thank you so much," he says, big blue eyes darting around like a frightened animal. then, the eyes peer down, and Oliver grimaces at the eggs.

"Is everything okay, Ollie?" Felix asks, that sweet, tentative sound in his voice that, when directed at the right person, could make you spill your deepest secrets and greatest fears.

The way he calls him Ollie, the way the Cattons always take to nicknames for their pets, makes her jaw tick. It's such an odd but effective way to claim possession over someone, and it didn't even occur to them that they were doing it.

"Er, ‘course, yeah. It’s just. Runny eggs. I get a bit sick from them."

Ariadne can't resist the urge. she whistles, quietly. Duncan is going to be pissed. The Cattons, especially Elspeth, will be horrendously embarrassed. The whole kitchen staff will have their asses handed to them.

"Sorry." He says as Duncan clears his plate of eggs, and again when Duncan leaves for more.

Farleigh smirks into his magazine. "Well, I'm goin' up to my room." He declares.

Venetia nods. "I'd like to head back to sleep an hour more."

Ariadne snorts. "I'm sure you can show Oliver to the pool by yourself, right Fi?" She grins wickedly, making a good show of yawning.

Farleigh waits in the doorway for her, and she flicks him in the chest as she passed him. He sets to follow her, undeterred. "Later, losers." She hums as she swings out.

#farleigh start x black!oc #farleigh start x original female character #farleigh start x oc #farleigh start smut

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giorno-plays-piano · 5 months

Text

Thorns In His Mouth

Part VI

Pairing: fae!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: obsession, dubious consent, minor character death, drugs (neither reader nor Steve are involved), slight eating disorder, mentions of tumor, high tech elves.

Words: 1.3k

Summary: Maybe it was a good idea to chat with a waitress a bit more once she brought you your order. Perhaps she could at least tell you with whom you should speak because you simply couldn’t force yourself to look at others, most of them already high, shouting something loudly or laughing or weeping. You could constantly hear the flapping of someone’s wings, weird whispers and noises, and the sound of boots and hooves that made your hair stand on end.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

________

You stared at the earrings, dumbfounded. Did he say "we"? Was Steve going to look for that elf together with you?

Apparently, you just voiced your thoughts absent-mindedly because Steve murmured something and took you by the arm, moving to the café you despised with all your being.

It was much quieter inside tonight, though. There were only a few fair folk, and they were all silently eating or drinking something: the noisy company doing drugs and who knows what else yesterday was nowhere to be seen. Thank God.

As you fell on your seat, Steve taking a place on the other side of a minuscule plastic table, a familiar fae with bright pink hair approached you two. She threw a quick glance at you, pursing her lips at the sight of Steve, but then vanished to the kitchen without a word, probably to bring you the same sweet cupcake she had given you yesterday.

Staring at the elf with furiously bleached hair, you stilled, not knowing how to start a conversation with him again. What could you even say? Why did he want to accompany you on your quest? He had nothing to gain from it. Even the earrings you had given him he returned back to you, and you've never had of any fae returning human gifts. Granted, you weren't a big specialist, but it seemed strange, nonetheless.

Why was he so invested in your search?

The question was probably written all over your face because Steve gave a shaky laugh and rubbed his eyes tiredly as if he had a hard time explaining his reasons.

"I'm a former High elf, too," he started, watching confusion forming on your face while he gave you an unhappy smile. "I held a very high position at my court. Probably among the highest, compared to the others' here. Thus, I'm a Watcher. I watch over the exiled fae and elves, help them when I can, control them so they won't do anything stupid, and end somewhere worse than here. I keep in contact with humans, those who know who we are, and see that everyone abides by the rules. I'm the most useful companion to you if you want to find someone."

His words took you aback. This malnourished, anxious elf with his badly bleached hair and unnaturally long limbs was the most powerful of the exiled fair folk? Truly? Could you take his word for it? Oh, he did mention fae couldn't lie, but it was hard to believe he was telling you the truth.

For a second, you felt a little disappointed. You imagined someone like Watcher to be alike a fairy prince from the fairytale, magnificent in his glory, tall and strong, impeccably built, with his hair shining stunningly in the moonlight as he sat a top of his giant war horse. You did not, by any means, expect to find a Watcher to be a man looking like a 90s model addicted to heroine.

"But why do you want to help?" You asked very carefully, masking you disappointment not to offend him. "I imagine I have nothing of value to give you in exchange."

Suddenly, he smiled, albeit sadly.

"You needn't give me anything. I already owe you for what you did for my kin."

Again, a mystery. You were getting tired of his inadequate responses.

Seeing you bewildered, Steve continued, "You wept when Julius died. You regretted him leaving. Nobody else would do it for him, but you did, and now he's where he should be, at peace. If not for you, his journey would be... an arduous one."

His words made you silent, and you immediately forgot all the questions you were going to ask him. He had said something similar yesterday, hadn't he? Something about it being good that you cried at the sight of Julius' body, although you couldn't even imagine what good did it do to the dead elf. Was Steve talking about a reincarnation or something? Or Julius' spirit returning back to his homeland? You had no idea, but at the memory of a dead elf lying breathless on the sofa your anxiety rose again, and you clutched the pearl earrings in your hand until it started to hurt.

"Why wasn't it enough that you cried for him?" You asked out of nowhere, still searching for some proof Steve was tricking you.

He sighed, "I didn't cry."

Didn't he? You couldn't remember, his face but a blur after you had run up the stairs and collapsed outside of an abandoned factory.

No, you couldn't remember him crying.

"He was one of us," Steve muttered, accepting a black CD pack from a waitress who appeared out of nowhere, leaving a plate with you cupcake quietly on the table before she left without a word. "And I will miss him, but neither my folk nor me weep like you do. Unless on a very special occasion, a death of our beloved or a child, perhaps. But you... you humans know a great deal about compassion and sorrow. Your tears weight more than mine."

His words struck you to your core, and for a few seconds, you just sat there in silence, staring at the distressed - or rather just ancient and rugged - black leather of his jacket. No one had ever said anything like that to you. On the contrary, your therapist mentioned many times it's not healthy to be overly sympathetic and sensitive, to the point when someone's troubles made you troubled. You had to learn to keep your head cool, he said, because no one would profit from your worry. If you wanted to help someone, you needed to stay sane and safe first.

And here he was, this strange, somewhat scary and somewhat beautiful elf, telling you Julius got to his safe place because you had cried for him.

"It's strange, how your world works," you murmured, directing your gaze to the very same leather jacket as if you were talking to it.

Steve gave a laugh, shifting in his uncomfortable plastic chair while a fairy waitress stared at him intently behind his back, her hand resting on a bar counter.

"No stranger than yours." He smiled and made a small gesture with his left hand you barely registered, and the waitress abruptly turned away from you two with a blank expression on her face. "Then it's settled. I'll bring you to one more of my folks today, and you'll tell him your story. He's not a drug addict, by the way."

It was a very nice addition, you shrugged and bit into your cupcake that tasted as heavenly as yesterday. Were you going to develop diabetes if you ate it every day? You hoped not, although it was a small price to pay for the life of your mother.

"Actually, I wanted to mention it the last time. Do you know anything about our kind? Anything at all?" The elf asked nonchalantly, tucking a strand of hair behind his perfectly human ear. Seeing you froze, he chuckled, "It's fine. I'm with you. But it'd be better if you knew at least the basics, so I recommend doing some reading and using my advice for now."

"Of- of course," you immediately answered back, stuffing the rest of the cupcake in your mouth and hurriedly wiping your lips. "I'd be very grateful for any advice!"

________

He liked what you said. His face lit up, the corners of his big mouth turning upward. Before you had a chance to say anything else, he's already at the door, leaving a five dollar bill on the counter and motioning you to follow him God knows where. It's still a bit scary, to go after a strange, twisted but still weirdly attractive creature who moved with such grace even with his oddly long limbs and whose hair looked a little otherworldly despite the cheap bleach he used. But you're alone in this unfamiliar world without him, and you didn't think twice before you jumped off your seat, handing the waitress one more five dollar bill and running after Steve.

Part VII

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy @heimtathurs @moonlightazriel @tsujifreya @lilithmoon92 @greenowlfactif @minshookie29 @nina2697

#yandere #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #mcu #mcu fanfiction

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lovelyspring7 · 2 years

Text

Moonstruck | Yandere KNJ x Reader

Preview: Namjoon had this all planned out. Your father was a smart man, but unfortunately, even smart people make stupid decisions. He had abandoned you like a coward, saving his ass like the selfish man he was, thinking that leaving you would be the safest option for the both of you.

If you truly didn’t know where your father was, then maybe he should know where you were. After all, it would be rude to not attend his daughter’s and future son-in-law’s wedding.

Genre: Yandere, Mafia au

Word count: 7,7k

Pairing: Yandere Mafia Boss Namjoon x Florist/daughter of a hitman reader, gangster Seventeen Jun.

Warnings: yandere, forced marriage, stalking, kidnapping, obsession, drugging, blackmail, isolation, murder, use of taser, non consensual touching, non consensual kissing, physicalviolence, abuse of power, manipulation, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, cursing, use of knife but not on people, blood, guns, absent mother, divorced parents, former alcoholic father.

Disclaimer: This type of content is not suitable for all audiences and I do not condone any of the presented behaviours. This is purely for entertainment and fictional purposes and I don’t think any BTS member would act like this.

Authors note: My mind is BLOWN, I did NOT just write something like this did I? Oh well, I hope you guys enjoy the one-shot. Feedback is very much appreciated!💜

Soon. Soon enough will all of this be over.

Growing up and seeing your father avoid and deal with loan sharks since you could remember. Haven’t always been the easiest to handle.

You don’t blame your father because after your mother left your dad stopped working, the drinking got even worse, and for a while you had to live with your grandparents until your dad got his shit together.

After a year he claimed he had gotten everything sorted out, but no one believed him until one day he showed up at your grandparent's house with a bunch of gifts.

The same day, he treated you to a nice day at the carnival. He brought you all the tasty sweets, went on all the rides with you, and won you a plushy that became your childhood favorite toy.

For a moment, you forget all the pain from seeing your father and mother fighting for years, seeing mysterious cuts and bruises on his body, and seeing your dad get drunk to the point where he would pass out.

It had been a while since you felt happy and hearing your father laugh and smile, it made you feel like everything was fine now.

That was until you found out how fast your fairytale was coming to an end.

“Sweetie, I'm talking to you, don't walk away!” Your father yelled from the kitchen.

“What dad?! You lied! You said you’d stop borrowing money from them.” You explained, frustrated by the whole situation.

“I know, I know I’m sorry I just-“

“Just what? Put yourself in danger once more? Dad, I can't go through this again!” You shouted, heartbroken that he would do something like that, knowing the harmful consequences.

“I’ll give the money back to them I promise, I’ll make it right.” Your father promised, stepping closer to you.

“How can I believe you?” You asked, finding it hard to believe him this time.

He took a glance at the bag filled with cash on the kitchen table.

“I’ll meet them up tomorrow and sort things out.”

“Promise me.” You said, raising both your eyebrows at him.

“I promise.” He promised, looking into your eyes.

“Come here sweetheart,” He said, pulling you into a hug.

You hesitate before wrapping your arms around him, letting him hug you. He breathed out while he kissed the top of your head.

“I promise I’ll make it right, now you go to bed, you’ve had a long shift.” He said as he quickly let go of you.

“And hey, I love you.” He said, smiling at you.

You gave him a soft smile, saying I love you back before taking a last glance at him while walking up the stairs to your room, hoping this time it would be different.

Your father started to get good at hiding, running away, and protecting himself from those who wanted to harm him. He managed to stop coming home all roughed up for a while.

He knew what he got himself into, the moment he took out his first loan, but what he didn’t know was the danger he had put you through as well.

The next morning you wake up still very tired, you look for your father but can’t seem to find him, assuming he’s out.

Running on 4 hours of sleep, you hurried to your full-time job at the flower shop.

You liked working there, mostly all your life it has been hectic and stressful, not a moment of peace and harmony, and feeling like you have no control over your life.

Taking care of flowers in the most gentle manner possible, carefully selecting the most beautiful ones one could imagine and making them into bouquets, happy to know that it would make someone’s day better made you feel content and in control of something for once.

“There you go.” You said to a customer, giving them the bouquet of the white peonies. “Thank you for shopping with us, hope your fiancée loves the flowers.”

“Thank you, she’ll surely love them, they are her favorite.” He said, smiling as he took the bouquet and stared at them lovingly for a few seconds before wishing you a good evening.

Tired from standing up all day, you stretch and as you let out the yawn you’ve been holding onto, ready to close the shop and go back home.

Before you could flip the sign that said closed, you see a woman approaching the shop, “I’ll be quick I promise.” She spoke loudly enough for you to hear from the other side of the glass door.

With that, you opened the door for her, “Thank you so much.” She said walking into the shop, “I need a bouquet for my mother, she, unfortunately, doesn’t have many days left.” She explained, looking down when she said the last part.

Feeling bad, and happy that you let her in, “I’m sorry to hear that, do you know what kind of flowers she likes?” You asked, walking toward the flowers you had left.

“I think roses?” She said, trying to remember. “Yeah for sure roses.”

“I have a few left in the storage room, I’ll go get some.” You said, taking the keys from the counter, you unlock the door looking for roses. You find some left, but you weren’t sure if she wanted a specific type, thinking you should’ve asked her that first before you came down here.

You turn around and see her standing there. “I’m sorry but no customers are allowed to be back here.” You said, cautiously watching her walk closer to you as you took a step back.

“Oh, I’m not a customer.” She said as she quickly pushed you down hard, making you fall onto the ground, along with shattering a few vases with flowers in them.

You quickly come to your senses as you try to hurry back up, but she takes a fist of your hair in her palm as she harshly pulls your head back and inserts something sharp into your neck.

“Let go!” you yell and to your surprise, she does.

You try to stand up but fall back down, laying down on your side as you couldn’t move and got weaker by the second. “I got her.” As soon as she said that, you could vaguely see two other men running into the room until your vision went fully black.

———

You try to squint your eyes open but quickly shut them when you feel a stinging pain in your throat, you hiss and try to reach for your neck so that you could rub the pain away.

Pulling, you can't seem to bulge your hand free, pulling even harder you now fully open your eyes, and you panic when you can’t seem to move from your spot. It doesn’t take a genius to realize you’ve been tied up on a chair, with both of your hands tied behind your back.

“What the fuck?” You whispered in a slightly raspy voice from the lack of water, you tried looking around for something you could use to set free until you remembered you had a pocket knife in your back pocket for when you used to trim the stems of the flowers. Utterly delighted that you had put it there, you try to reach your back pocket to pull it out but quickly stop when you hear voices coming from upstairs.

“Do you think she knows where her father is?”

Of course, this was about your father, damn it.

The voices got louder as they tried to unlock the door.

“I don’t know, but she’s our best luck for finding him.”

“We better, you know how the boss is.”

With that, a man entered the room. “Good morning sleepy head. I’m Jun!” He said cheerfully, walking down the stairs.

“How long have I been sleeping for?” You asked, scared that you might've been asleep for days.

“That's at least one of your worries.” He said, smiling.

“Your father, where is he?” He asked as he got all serious.

“I don’t know.” You said annoyed, he walked closer as he harshly grabbed your face “Don’t fucking lie to me.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“I’m not fucking lying.” You managed to say, trying to seem tough but the truth is you were one moment away from having a panic attack and crying your eyes out.

He roughly let go of your face, “Your father is a traitor, do you know what happens to lowlife scum like him? Hm?” He asked, smirking before speaking up again.

“They end up six feet under.”

Your heart began racing, you had no idea what he was talking about but whatever it was, it was something horrible. You didn’t get it, all your father did was borrow some money. Who could he have possibly betrayed?

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about?” You said truthfully.

“Your father was supposed to kill someone that caused us enough trouble, at the last second he spared his life and let him go. This almost caused us trouble.” He said, taking something out from his front pocket.

Your father attempted to murder someone? This can’t be right, you knew him, he wouldn’t do something so disgusting as taking another human life.

“Of course, we took him out, and now we need to take care of your daddy as well.”

“And you think I’ll tell you where he is?” You asked, thinking how stupid they must be for you to snitch on your father.

“For your best, I sure hope you do.” He said, holding up a taser as he walked closer to you.

“No, wait! Please!” You pleaded, trying to squirm away but it was no use, he aimed for your stomach.

You yelled from the cruel stinging pain, shaking as you lost control of your body. “What was that dear? Are you ready to talk?” He asked, not receiving an answer from you, he tried to tase you again but the ringing from his phone stopped him.

He answered the phone while looking at you, smirking. “Yes, boss? I understand, it won't happen again.” He said, as he hung up, looking embarrassed and frankly a bit shaken up.

“You’re lucky, I’m not allowed to touch you anymore. Only watch over you.” He said, putting the taser back into his pocket while standing against the wall, watching over you like a hawk.

You let a shaken sign out as you pulled your head back, relieved that you didn’t have to be tased again.

You carefully try to reach for the knife in your back pocket but can’t seem to have the strength to do so, your hands couldn’t stop shaking and your grip was weak. You had to be smart, they weren’t gonna let you go that easily and even if you did tell them where your father is, they would still kill you, there’s no doubt about that.

You tried connecting the dots, your father must have been a hitman. It makes sense, you didn’t want to believe it, but how he made money so quickly, how all of it was always in cash, and all those nights he used to come home late.

It made sense.

Your mother must’ve thought he was cheating on her if she’d only known it was much worse than that.

Getting a headache from all the shit that has been going on, taking a nap, and trying to regain your energy to recover faster would be the best thing for now. With that, you close your eyes and let sleep take over you.

———

“So?” Namjoon asked on the phone, getting out of his car.

“She’s sleeping, for now, boss, I don’t think she knows. She’ll be useless for us.”

“Don’t fucking underestimate me, you’re on thin ice Jun.” Namjoon threatened, ready to get rid of Jun at any moment now.

“My apologies, sir.” Jun quickly said.

“I’ll visit later today, keep a close eye on her, and don’t fuck up.” He said, hanging up the phone and pressing the button on the top level of the elevator.

Namjoon had this all planned out. Your father was a smart man, but unfortunately, even smart people make stupid decisions. He had left you like a coward, saving his ass like the selfish man he was, thinking that this would probably be the safest option for the both of you.

If you truly didn’t know where your father was, then maybe he should know where you were. After all, it would be rude to not attend his daughter’s and future son-in-law’s wedding.

———

You woke but you didn’t move a muscle, thankfully you felt much better than you did before. With your head down, you slightly open your eyes to see if the guard dog was there, you could see his shoes standing in the same spot you saw him last. Still acting like you’re asleep, you try to reach for the knife you had in your back pocket, you get a hold of it with your fingers as you slowly slip it out.

Still acting like you’re asleep, you magnate to cut free from the rope, catching the rope as it almost landed on the floor, making a sound. You grip the knife tightly in your hand and act as if you just woke up.

Yawning before speaking up, “hey bastard, this place got a bathroom?” You asked, looking around, jumping your right knee up and down.

“No,” he said in a monotone voice.

“What do you get out of this?” You asked in a curious tone.

“Hopefully the pleasure of killing you.” He coldly said.

“Go for it.” You said like it was nothing that your life could end at any minute now.

“Oh right, you can’t.” You smiled smugly. You could see he was getting annoyed by poking his tongue into his cheek, giving you a death glare.

You needed him to get closer to you.

“You need permission from your big, scawy boss don’t you?” You laughed loudly, mocking him.

He almost marched closer to you, bending down to your level while smiling maniacally as he took the taser out, but before he could tase you, you quickly kicked him hard in the face resulting in him falling on his back.

You quickly got up from the chair and searched for the keys to the door in his suit. Looking at him, you must’ve given that man a concussion judging by the amount of blood he had running down from his nose.

You finally found the keys, you took the taser and taser him a few times on the highest level possible just in case he woke up, and for him to have a taste of his own medicine.

You get up and walk to the basement door, still not feeling the strongest, you manage to unlock the door open and see if someone is nearby, thankfully no one was in sight.

You try to run down the stairs, looking for an exit, to your luck, you find a door leading to what seems to be a parking lot, you look at the building and it looks familiar, you finally remember where you’ve seen this place before.

In a magazine, it’s the famous luxury hotel in the country: Kim Hotel.

Was it a slump? Was the business shady? Maybe the hotel was a coverup for the bullshit that went down there.

You start panicking at the thought of being involved with such powerful people, you feel like you couldn’t breathe so you start to hyperventilate, feeling dizzy you don’t notice the man approaching you from behind. “Miss? Sweetheart, are you okay?” He said, looking at you up and down, making sure you weren’t physically hurt anywhere.

This was your chance, frantically you try to explain that you needed help “Help- help me I’ve been kid- kidnapped and-“

“It’s okay slow down, slow down tell me what happened?” He asked, looking at you while holding the sides of your arms, trying to understand you but not being able to.

You took a deep shaky breath before speaking up, “a woman, she kidnapped me and a man looked me up in the basement.” You cried, looking over your shoulder in paranoia.

“Kidnapped?” He asked, with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes! And-and this woman, she drugged me and he started to taser me.” You continue as your voice gets louder and shakier.

“Shh it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He said, trying to calm you down as he pulled you against his chest, hugging you while trying to calm you down by rubbing your back in circles in a comforting manner.

“I forgot my phone in my office, it’s not far. I’ll call the police from there.” He said, pulling away to look at you.

“Okay, but we need to hurry, they might find me.” You said, looking around once again.

“Come with me.” He said, taking your hand as he led you inside the hotel through the back door.

Trying to act as natural as possible and avoid attention. You try to avoid the workers, scared that they might recognize you and report you to their boss.

You get into the elevator and notice he’s pressing the top level. You finally reach the highest level, still holding your hand, he takes you into his office.

He was well off, he looked like it in his grey suit. He made you sit down on the couch in his office, bringing you some water to hydrate. You gladly took it as you thanked him and chugged the whole thing.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “Sir, the police.” You reminded him.

“Oh, I didn’t bring you here to call the police baby.”

“You’re the boss aren’t you?” You asked, fearing for your life, hoping that you were wrong. But his dimpled smile was enough of an answer.

You grip the armchair, digging your fingers into the black leather couch, looking at the door you came in from before.

How could you be so stupid?

“Don’t, even, think, about it.” He slowly said, watching you from his desk.

“I don’t know where my father is.” You admitted.

“I know you don’t know,” he said, walking closer to you. He tucked your hair behind your ear, you started to tremble, trying to back up a little bit he quickly got a hold of your chin as a warning not to test him. He slightly tilted your chin, making you look up at him. “Do you think your father cares about you?”

What he asked caught you off guard. Not answering the question right away, “Yes, he cares about me a lot.” You said, glaring at him.

“Is that so?” He gently let go of your face and sat down on the couch on the opposite side of you.

“Then why hasn't he saved you yet? You’d think he’d be looking for you after three days, after all, he was the one that got you into this mess.”

3 days?! You had been kidnapped for 3 whole days! You hated admitting it, but he’s right. Surely your father had his reasons, maybe he’s plotting to save you right now?

Not knowing what to say, you look down as you try to stop your tears from falling. Trying to stay strong for the both of you.

“Let’s test how much your father cares about you, hm.” He said, leaning closer to you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked, scared by what the answer might be.

“Surely he’d quickly come and try to save you by offering himself, that is if he saw his baby girl getting married to the man he hates more than himself.”

“No, no I can’t do that! I refuse!” You stood up, attempting to run to the door but you fell on your knees.

Fuck, he drugged you. The familiar feeling was back, your vision getting blurry as the ringing in your ears began.

“Ah, perfect timing.” He said, referring to the drugs he has put in your water.

“Don’t worry, we’ll sort everything out once you wake up.” He explained, crouching down to carry your bridal style. Fitting, you thought.

“No” You managed to whisper while trying to push him away, but it was no use.

“Shh, it’s okay, just close your eyes and we’ll be there before you know it.” He tried to reassure you.

Not having the energy to fight it anymore, you close your eyes, the last thing you saw was his dimpled smile while he looked down at you in awe.

“I’m taking her to my house, prepare for the wedding. And take care of that imbecile Jun.” Namjoon said to one of his men, annoyed that no one seems to be competent these days.

“Yes sir.”

This was it, he finally had you exactly where he wanted.

———

You groan as you slowly wake up, feeling hot and sweaty. You remove the blanket from your body to feel the cool air touching your skin. Feeling a little better, you quickly sit on the bed and look around, not knowing where the hell you were.

You found yourself in a bedroom, laying in a king-sized bed surrounded by soft pillows and blankets. The room was huge, and most of the furniture was black and grey, with some gold details.

You try to remember what had happened, and the last thing you remember was talking to him about getting married…

You start to get stressed out so you get up from the bed, now noticing someone has changed your clothes into silk pink nightwear. You started to freak out, he dressed you and took your knife?!

You start looking for an exit, ready to get the hell out of here. You run towards the door and try to open it, but it won’t budge.

“Going somewhere?”

You freeze at the spot you were, slowly turning around to face him.

Where the fuck did he come from?

“Baby I asked you a question?” He said with knitted eyebrows, walking closer to you. You don’t dare to move, “Nowhere.” You said in a low voice.

“For your sake, I hope not.” He said, looking at you up and down, knowing you’re lying to him.

“Where am I?” You asked, looking out the window trying to figure out where you were, but it was no use because all you could see were trees and bushes.

“Your soon to be home.” He simply said, now standing right in front of you.

“As I said, I won’t do it.” You said, fed up at this point.

“Baby, I wasn’t asking.” He said, getting slowly frustrated by your refusal to comply with his sick, twisted request.

“I’m being generous enough by letting you know beforehand.” He said, trying to catch your gaze.

“I don’t even know you.”

“My name is Kim Namjoon, I’m 28 years old, and my favorite color is yellow.” He quickly said.

You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, so you just stood there looking at him weirdly.

“How long?” You broke the silence, “How long until?”

“Hopefully, we’ll be married tomorrow.”

Tomorrow?! You thought, you slightly widened your eyes, not believing what he had just told you. That doesn’t give you enough time to plan an escape, you have to think of a plan, fast.

“Where’s my ring?” You asked, playing along to his twisted game.

He smiled, delighted that you asked him that question. “I thought we’d go on a walk, I know how much you like flowers.” He said, gesturing to you to hold his arm like two couples in love.

You weakly smiled at him as you grabbed his arm, he walked you out of his beautiful house. Too bad the owner of it is scum.

He opens the front door and you’re greeted by an almost magical looking view, it looks enchanting.

It was large and had all kinds of different flowers and plants, they all matched in similar colors, making it look neat and dreamy.

You walk closer and the fragrant floral scent gets stronger as the warm wind softly goes by while the sun shines brighter than ever, you almost forget he was next to you until he spoke up “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” You said truthfully, not being able to take your eyes off it. You walk through the garden only stopping to touch the soft, silk-like petals of a ranunculus.

You spot big yellow rose bushes and walk towards them, you slightly bend down and smell the lovely roses that had violet and almost lemony scents. The aroma calms you down, reminding you that everything’s gonna be okay, eventually.

“Why yellow?” You asked, turning around to face him, curious about what he’d say.

“I once heard that yellow roses represent delight, new beginnings, and happiness.” He said, looking at you as he had a pleased smile on his face.

The sun shined even brighter, it laid on top of his honey-like skin, he looked warm and welcoming. For a second there, he almost seemed innocent and pure.

Namjoon got a hold of your hand as he took something out of his pocket, you weren’t sure of what it was until he gently slid it on your ring finger.

Your heart started to beat fast again as this situation you were in got even more real, if he wasn’t some deranged psychopath, this would’ve been very romantic and lovely. But unfortunately for you, he was.

You quickly slip your hand out of his, and you start to get even more nervous. What if your father didn’t come? What will happen if he doesn’t? Will he get rid of you too?

All these thoughts started to race through your mind and your breathing got even quicker.

“Baby what’s wrong?” He asked, noticing the state you were in, holding your face as he scanned the issue, not knowing it’s him that’s causing you to panic.

Wanting to desperately get away from him, you try to pull yourself together for once. “Nothing.” You breathe out, looking at the flowers that give you comfort. “Nothing, I’m- I’m fine.” You reassured him, trying to control your breathing, avoiding his gaze and touch on your skin.

That was until he suddenly pulled you in and kissed your forehead, it seemed like he was checking your temperature because he stayed like that for a few seconds. He didn’t look like he believed you because he sent you to his bedroom and told you to get some rest, after all, you needed it for your big day tomorrow.

“Boss, he decided to reach out.” One of Namjoon’s men said, giving him the phone.

“Let her go!” Your father yelled at the end of the line.

“Or what?” Namjoon asked, amazed that he dared to speak in such a high insulting tone with him.

Like father, like the daughter he chuckled.

“This is between us, she has nothing to do with this.”

“Well now she does, I have you to thank for that don’t I? Father-in-law?” Namjoon teased.

Your father grew angrier by the second, ready to curse Namjoon out as he cringed at the last part.

“You put her in this situation, I’m just claiming what’s mine after all these years.” Namjoon simply explained.

“Namjoon you bastard!-“

With that, Namjoon hung up the phone. At this point, it didn’t matter if your father came to try and rescue you or not. He had his mind set already, you were his and nothing was stopping him from getting what he wants: you.

———

You sit in Namjoon’s room for what seems like hours, not being able to sleep. You look around for other possible ways to escape.

You could break the glass windows, but that would be too much of a risk. You sit on the bed, running your hand through your hair in frustration but soon get interrupted by a knock on the door.

The person enters the room, and you look up and see it’s the dog from the basement. He seemed more roughed up than you saw him last, he must’ve gotten a beating.

“Take this, Bosses orders.” He says, handing you some kind of pill and putting a tray with food on the bed.

The pill looked like a painkiller, but you weren’t taking your chances. You’ve been drugged two times already, enough is enough.

“I’m not taking that.” You quickly said.

“Please, just take it.” He said, looking at you scared of what Namjoon would do to him if he messes up once more.

You started to feel bad for him, so instead, you gave him the pill.

“You look like you need it more than me.” You said, giving him a slight smile.

He hesitatingly took the pill, looking at it for a second before swallowing it without any water.

Before he could leave, you just had to ask “Do you have any news about my father.” You asked, desperate to know anything at this point.

He stops for a moment, not sure if he should further interact with you.

He closes the door and walks closer to you. “I heard he called earlier, he’ll for sure be there tomorrow. And when he does, he’ll get killed. There’s no doubt about that.” He explained.

Relieved that your father was alive, “You said my father lied about killing someone he should have?”

He nodded before speaking, “But I think the issue is more than just that, usually boss stops when the person is dead.”

“I think he’s angry because your father betrayed, and humiliated him.” He clarified.

That somewhat makes sense, but why does he need to marry you? Maybe it was to piss your dad off?

You take a deep breath, ready to ask something that could either set you free, have you live in eternal misery, or not live at all.

“Can you please help me escape?” You whispered harshly, grabbing his arm and looking at him in desperation.

“I can’t, it’s too much of a risk.” He looked at you as his eyes widened by your sudden plea.

“You don’t have to do much, I just need a distraction.” You tried to persuade him.

You study him, not sure if he’d want to help you or not. His life is at stake already, it would be stupid to help you and he’s already risking it by talking to you right now.

He breathed out through his nose, “Okay fine, but we need to be careful. We only have one shot at this.”

“Thank you.” You said, almost not believing that he agreed with you, you could’ve sworn you imagined it.

“When you walk down the aisle, I’ll set off a distraction by shooting nearby, Namjoon will order his men to take care of it, and when he does.” He pauses.

“You run.” He says, dead serious, he takes out his car keys giving them to you, “The car is parked behind the house. You drive until there’s no more gas left, do you understand me?” He looked at you in the eyes, holding your hand with the car keys in your palm.

Before you could answer, you hear the door open. Quickly letting go of your hand, he walks out of the room with his head down. You look at Namjoon glaring at Jun until he fully leaves, he closes the door and takes off his suit jacket, “I hope he didn’t bother you.”

“No, he just left some food with a painkiller.” You said, tightly gripping the car keys in your hand. You were sure it would leave a mark but you didn’t care.

You watch him nervously as he ripped off his tie, “huh,” he said, walking toward the walk-in closet to get changed. Meanwhile, he was there, you quickly put the keys in your bra.

He came out a minute later, wearing shorts with a simple black T-shirt that sat snuggly on his body, highlighting his silhouette and toned figure.

What a waste of handsomeness you thought.

“Have you had a chance to see your dress yet?” He asked, sitting on the bed edge of the bed.

“No.”

“I have a few selected for you, you can choose the one you desire. I also have a few trustful people hired to take care of your hair and makeup.” He explained, pausing to turn to look at you. “So don’t try to escape. Understand?”

“Yes.” You said, looking at the tray of food. Not sure if you should eat it or not. What if it had some kind of drugs that make you feel too tired to run away?

Before you could decide if you should eat or not, your stomach decided for you because it suddenly started to make a grumbling growling sound.

You looked down at your stomach, cursing under your breath, embarrassed that he had heard you, but surprisingly the big scary mafia boss laughed.

You looked at him, thinking why was he laughing?

“Cute.” He said smiling, carrying the tray to the coffee table. “Eat up, it’s safe.”

Not needing to be asked twice, you decided getting some food in your system wouldn’t be so bad. So you get up and sit by the chair near the table and start eating.

After finishing your food and getting ready to wash up, Namjoon suggested that you should sleep early, to look your best tomorrow.

You finish washing up and walk towards the bed to grab a pillow to sleep on the couch. Namjoon notices, “What are you doing?” He asks

“Sleeping on the couch?” You said, stopping at your spot.

“No, you’re sleeping with me tonight.” He ordered, grabbing the pillow out of your hand while pulling you to bed.

“Fine.” You said through clenched teeth, giving up easily, not wanting to anger him.

You try to put a pillow between you guys but he quickly grabs it and throws it on the ground. Soon enough, he pulled you in by your waist so that he could be the big spoon.

“Seriously?” You asked, irritated while you tried to get away by pushing him, but it was no use.

“Shh go to sleep now, you’ll need all the beauty you could get.” He coed, turning the lights off as he wrapped his arms around you while he rested his chin on your shoulder.

Hating how suffocating, but somewhat nice it felt. You try to relax, thinking over the plan and hoping that Jun wouldn’t betray you.

This was your only chance, you couldn’t afford to mess it up.

———

You are woken by an annoying beeping sound, still feeling a bit groggy, you try to locate the sound by listening to where it came from.

Ah, the alarm clock. You aggressively hit it, still in bed with your face buried into a pillow.

Or so you thought because it started to vibrate, making a chuckling sound.

You quickly look up and see Namjoon staring at you with sleepy, sensual looking eyes, greeting you with a good morning smirk.

You swiftly get up from bed, now finally feeling fully awake. You clear your throat, “Uh, it’s bad luck to see the bride on the wedding day before the ceremony.” You explained, continuing to play the part.

“You’re right, but I have a good feeling about this.” He said, sitting on the bed before getting up to get ready.

“Baby, I need to take care of some things. Can I trust to leave you alone?” He asked, walking towards the bathroom.

You nod, as you watch him turn on the shower. You turn your back around, checking if the key was still there because it strangely felt a little too comfortable, thankfully it was still there.

Now all you had to do now was get dressed without someone noticing you have a piece of metal between your boobs.

You sit on the bed for what seemed to be a half an hour, waiting for Namjoon to get ready to leave. He fixes his tie once again, “They'll be here in five minutes. Can’t wait to see you then.” He said, gently kissing your forehead before heading out.

It wasn't long until a whole team of makeup artists and stylists swarmed into the room.

You look at the dresses Namjoon had chosen for you to choose from, they were all beautiful wedding gowns but you had to let your personal taste stay behind because you needed to choose the most practical dress to run away in.

You chose the one with less fabric and more space so that you could run fast. The dress was still very stunning as it looked gorgeous.

While you got your hair and makeup done, you couldn’t help but stare at your wedding ring the whole time. Hating the feeling of the beautiful diamond ring wrapped around your finger like that.

It wasn’t long until you were ready, the team that had gotten you ready looked pleased, waiting for you to take a look at yourself in the mirror.

You turn around and see that you looked almost unrecognizable, not in a bad way, but more in a way where you didn’t ever think you could ever look this beautiful.

Stopping yourself from almost crying at the thought of getting married this way. This was not how you’d imagined it. You were gonna marry someone you love, someone you could spend the rest of your life with, someone that made you happy and made you feel complete.

This, this was not it.

You clear your throat before recollecting yourself, thanking the team for their hard work while you sit in Namjoon’s room quietly.

You hear a knock on the door and Jun enters the room, “The ceremony won’t begin in a few, boss said you could arrange your bouquet if you’d like?”

“I’d love that.” You said, getting up as he escorted you out.

He seemed to look better today than yesterday, he still had an awful bruise on his face but you could tell it was healing quickly.

He walked you out and you could see that the ceremony was being held in the garden, you could tell by the nice subtle decorations and the beautifully flower-decorated gazebo right in the middle of the garden.

“You look pretty by the way.” He said, holding a pair of floral scissors in his right hand. Understanding that you won’t be the one cutting the flowers for your bouquet, only arranging them.

“Thank you Jun,” you said, weakly smiling at him while walking towards the white roses.

“Will you cut these for me?” You said pointing at the white roses, he cut a few of them and a few others you had told him to cut.

Holding a bunch of flowers in your hand, you return to your room, but before Jun could leave you all alone again, “Remember the plan.” He said, giving you a sad smile, as he slowly and carefully closed the door.

You arrange the flowers into a pretty yet elegant bouquet. Satisfied by how it turned out, you get interrupted by one of Namjoon’s men knocking on the door, shouting from the other side of the door that it’s time.

You take a last glance at yourself in the mirror as you take a slow deep breath, putting the veil over your face. You hold the flowers in both of your hands in front of you.

You had to remember this was a fake wedding, something to lure your father into Namjoon’s palm. But even then, what will he do to him? Kill him and then let you go after all of this is over? You’d doubt that.

You try not to think about it anymore to avoid further stress, the last thing you do before walking out is put a fake smile on your face.

You hear music playing and you understand that’s your cue, the doors open and you could see Namjoon standing in the gazebo. If it wasn’t for your fucked up situation. This would have seemed like a marvelous wedding ceremony, but it could not be the furthest thing from that.

Noticing some of Namjoon’s mobsters guarding the place making it almost impossible to run away, but you don’t see Jun.

You walk out, focusing on looking at him. He stood there with his hand on top of the left one, smiling, almost looking pleased with himself.

Sick fuck you thought.

As you got closer and closer, your heart started to beat faster and faster. Swallowing your fear, you now stand right in front of him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said, looking at you with lustful eyes.

And just like that, you hear loud gunshots. With everyone’s attention on the sound and the bodyguards running towards it.

You start running like hell.

Running to the backyard, panicking, you take out the car keys and press to unlock. Finding the car and running towards it, you open the passenger car door only to find a person falling down the seat.

It was Jun.

With a bullet through his head.

The sight had you nearly passed out, but before you could react, someone harshly grabbed your arm.

“Let go!” You yelled, trying to set free but not being able to.

He didn’t respond as he pulled you towards the garden.

“I said let go!” You yelled once again pulling away from him, only this time harder.

He lets go and leaves you alone, that is until you hear a sigh so you turn around and look up and see Namjoon staring at you with a disappointed look on his face.

Now you were fucked.

“What did I ask you not to do?” He calmly said, which scared you evermore.

“Don't try to escape.” You mumbled, trying to look away from him.

He walked closer to you as you flinched back a little, he grabbed your face to look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, but you did it anyway.”

“Baby, do you know what happens to people who disobey and betray me?” He asked, a slight smile forming on the corner of his lips.

“No.” You whispered, scared of what he might tell you.

“Come, let me show you instead.” He quickly said, tightly grabbing your arm in an almost brushing grip, pulling you towards the yellow rose bushes.

“You were right, your daddy does care about you huh baby?” He said, still pulling you as you struggled to keep up.

“Babygirl, I want you to say hello to my father.” He said, pushing you down on the soil in front of the first yellow rose bush.

“My mother.” He said, pulling you to the next one rose bush.

“And lastly,” he paused.

“Your father.”

No, no no no it couldn't be.

“Do you understand now not to test me baby?” He asked crouching down to your level as he gently held your face in his palms.

Not knowing what to say or how to react, you stare at him in shock, nodding fastly up and down.

Your dress is now completely ruined as your hands and feet sink deep into the dirt, you tightly grip the soil under you in your hands, feeling how it gets under your nails.

He looked at you in adoration as he tucked your messy hair behind your ear, taking a closer look at your face before gently pulling you in, placing his warm lips against yours, giving you a peek.

He slowly pulled away, using his thumb to wipe away the single tear that slid down your flustered dirty cheek.

“Until death do us apart.”

———

*4 years ago*

Namjoon had a heated discussion with your father. Your father wanted to quit doing his dirty work and of course, when you’re in this life you can’t get out of it, not alive at least.

“I don’t think that’s smart of you to do,” Namjoon said, getting up from his leather office chair.

“I know you don’t care about your low life but you surely care about your daughters.” Namjoon continued, threatening your father.

“Leave her out of this!” Your father yelled, pulling a gun out of his pocket and aiming it at Namjoon.

Namjoon smirked, almost laughing at the pathetic man in front of him.

“There’s no need for that,” Namjoon said, looking at the gun, but your father stood in the same position until he was knocked out by someone behind him.

“Torture him until he comes to his senses,” Namjoon ordered, looking at the passed-out man in pity and disgust.

“Yes, boss.”

That night, Namjoon decided to visit the precious daughter that he had been curious about for a while now.

What made you so special that your father would give up his life for you? That kind of thinking didn’t make sense to Namjoon.

He parked right outside your flower shop, watching you from a distance as he studied your features.

You were rather beautiful, an eternal kind of beauty, alluring and almost delicate looking.

He watched you as you finished up the last bouquet for a customer.

A bouquet of yellow roses.

He watched you as you stretched your arms up and yawned, he couldn’t help but giggle as he thought of how cute and silly you looked while doing it.

Shocked by the sound he made, he quickly cleared his throat and looked around as if someone had seen or heard him.

Why did you have this kind of effect on him? He didn’t understand but it made him confused, he started to hate the idea of you being gone so he decided to do something he’d never thought he would do: let you live.

Before he drove off, sparing your life. He looked up at the light from the waxing crescent moon.

Despite it being only a crescent moon, it looked very bright, almost white. Glowing, glimmering, and shimmering. It nearly looked magical as he felt like he was enchanted by it.

He looked at you again as you flipped the sign from open to closed.

He carefully watched your moves as you walked through a door, disappearing into a room filled with beautiful flowers surrounding your beautiful self.

You could say at that moment…

He was moonstruck by you.

2K notes · View notes

itsbackwoodsbby · 3 months

Text

Stay Away From My Son!

American Daniel Kaluuya X Black Fem Reader

Warning: Alcohol (Consumption of Alcohol)! Death (To my death anxiety girls, me too sis, had to pull through to write this.)! Depression! Drugs (Drug Dealing and Drug Usage)! Guns! Sex (Unprotected, be safe tho)! Violence!

Summary: You’re a single mother of two kids, Bryson, 17, and Brooklyn, 3. Brooklyn is a sweetheart. Not a tablet kid, always in her picture books, and lets you teach her stuff before she’s off to pre-k. Her troubled ass brother, Bryson, just wants to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a drug dealer to support the house. You try to tell him it’s okay and you can take care of it without him trying to help, especially in the way he is trying to go about it, but he just doesn’t listen. So now, you must do whatever it takes for Bryson to stay away from the local drug dealer, Daniel before he ends up dead like his daddy.

Sneak Peek: “What I got to do for you to stop fucking with my son?” You look at him with so much hatred. He looks at you and then laughs. “You going have to let me fuck before I let you take my biggest boy out of the game.” You look at him in disgust, “I’m not fucking your bummy ass, nigga!” You yell at him before you slap him. His boys roll up on you, but they fall back when he raises his hand. “Damn, you got a hand on you.” He says to you, “Maybe you should run with me.” You roll your eyes, “If I don’t want my son running with you, the hell makes you think I will do it. Stupid ass nigga.” You walk to your car. He calls out to you, “Feisty ass. You just need some dick. That’s all. It’s been three years since your man got killed? I know that pussy tight.” You flick him off and get your car.

“I love you, Bryson! Have a great day at school!” You say to your son, as you drop him off. “I love you too, mama. Love you, too, Brooklyn.” He kisses both you and Brooklyn’s cheeks and heads out of the car.

You wait for a while to see if he goes inside the building. Bryson has been skipping school a lot recently. You two got into an argument about it last night and he promises you that he won’t skip school anymore. You watch him go inside and wait 15 minutes to see if he comes back out. He doesn’t, so you go back home. You cook some breakfast for Brooklyn and yourself. You would have cooked for Bryson, but as usual, he woke up late as hell. You cook pancakes, sausage, and eggs. You cut Brooklyn’s food up and some fruit and put it on her plate in front of her. She smiles and begins eating. You fix your plate and you eat your food next to her. After you both finish eating, you clean up and go into her room to learn. You teach Brooklyn her colors, the days of the week, the months, and numbers 1-20. Then it’s back downstairs to watch Bluey on the TV. Around two hours later. your phone goes off. It’s Bryson’s school. You sigh and answer, “Good morning, Mrs. Wilson.” You say as you tap your fingers on the couch. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N. I was calling to inform you that Bryson isn’t in school now. Did you know that?” You stay quiet for a moment before answering, “No I didn’t because I dropped him off this morning and waited to see if he would come out and he didn’t.” You start to get angry at your son and his damn school. Lock the damn doors when school starts, so kids can’t fucking skip. “Well, Ms. Y/L/N, he’s not here. And if he misses school again, you will be fined and sent to jail.”

You sigh and hang up the phone. You pick Brooklyn up and she whines. “Mommy, I want to watch Bluey.” You look at her, “I know, baby. We get to Bryson before he does something else stupid.” You sigh lock the house door and get Brooklyn in her seat.

You think you know where Bryson was. And sure enough, you are right. Bryson is on the porch with a few friends his age and some men you went to school with that also hung around your baby daddy before he died. From what you see, everyone is drinking including Bryson, and smoking the two blunts in rotation. You park your car and hop out. You can hear everyone saying “Oh shit!” when they saw it was you.

“Bryson! Get your monkey ass in that fucking car right now!” You yell at him. He looks at you angrily as if you are ruining his fun. “Boy, get your ass in that car right fucking now. I’m not fucking playing with you, Bryson. Get in there now!” He stands up and brushes your shoulder as he walks to the car. You turn back to him, “Oh, you have lost your damn mind.” You are about to grab him, but someone stops you. “Aye, chill off my young nigga forreal.” He tells you. You stand there and look at him.

Daniel aka Drako. The city’s biggest kingpin. Daniel doesn’t care about anyone or anything. As long he gets his money. He recruits kids young, so that is why your son hangs with him. If someone doesn’t have his money, he usually beats them daily, until they have it. They’ll have three months, once the time is up, they are dead in the weirdest fashion. One way, they are tied up by their feet and fatally beaten up and stabbed and carved with a “D” somewhere on their body.

You look at Daniel with your arms crossed. You examine him before you say what you say. You honestly aren’t scared of him, but you do have to live to see tomorrow because you are the only one to take care of Bryson and Brooklyn. He has one of his hands in his pants and smoking the blunt. His eyes are low and red, but they are stuck on you. He bites his lips at you, making you roll your eyes.

“What I got to do for you to stop fucking with my son?” You look at him with so much hatred. He looks at you and then laughs. “You going have to let me fuck before I let you take my biggest boy out of the game.” You look at him in disgust, “I’m not fucking your bummy ass, nigga!” You yell at him before you slap him. His boys roll up on you, but they fall back when he raises his hand. “Damn, you got a hand on you.” He says to you, “Maybe you should run with me.” You roll your eyes, “If I don’t want my son running with you, the hell makes you think I will do it. Stupid ass nigga.” You walk to your car. He calls out to you, “Feisty ass. You just need some dick. That’s all. It’s been three years since your man got killed? I know that pussy tight.” You flick him off and get your car.

As you drive to your house, your thoughts start beating you up. Are you a bad mother? You can’t even protect your son from the streets. You know he needed another male figure, but why did he go to the worst one EVER? You look at Bryson in the corner of your eye. He just stares at you, mad because you embarrassed him in front of his “friends.”

He stays quiet and once you park in the driveway, he rushes out of the car and goes in the house. You get out of the car and get Brooklyn out as well. She smiles at you and holds you tightly. As soon as you’re inside, you hear Bryson slam his door and play his music loud as hell. You sigh and put Brooklyn in her room to watch Bluey. You open Bryson’s door, take his phone, and turn his music off.

“You fucking tripping. Damn just get the fuck out of my room!” He yells at you. You look at him in disbelief. Did he just cuss at you? You put his stuff in your room and come back in his room and look at him, “Did you just cuss me?” You ask him. He doesn’t say anything back, but he gives you the “I sure did.” look. “Bryson, you have lost your fucking mind. Baby, let me tell you something, I am YOUR mom! You respect me!” He rolls his eyes and puffs, “Man, get the fuck out of my room. I don’t have to respect you.” He gets all in your face. You push him on his bed, “Look here, I don’t care what Daniel ass told you about not having to respect anyone but him. But you are going to respect me. I am YOUR mother. Ight.”

He just sits there and mugs you. You've never seen Bryson be this defiant. You sigh knowing you lost your baby boy. He isn’t the same boy he was when his dad was here. He isn’t the same boy he was when his dad died. He’s heartless and reckless. He is the boy who sells drugs, gets multiple pregnancy scares from girls, and now cusses and disrespects his mom.

You look at him and talk lowly, “Bryson, you don’t get it, don’t you? You don’t need to run with him or anything. We are good. Can you please for once listen to me? Stop doing this. Your little sister needs you. Bryson, I need you.” You tear up. “And if you don’t honestly give a fuck about me as your mom, cool I’m sorry for being a shitty mother, but do it for your little sister. Do it for your dad. You know he did everything in his power to stop from following in his footsteps. Yet here you are because I am a bad mother.” You sigh and look at him as the warm tears fall down your face.

His demeanor changes and he starts twisting his dreads. He hates seeing you cry. Right now, it may not look like it, but Bryson is a mama’s boy. That’s why he tries to help you so much by selling drugs. He hates how you stress yourself out to make ends meet, making sure your babies look the best for school. He hugs you tightly.

“Mama, I’m going to stop selling. I promise. I’m sorry for hurting you.” He says. “Bryson, you say that all the time. Just to break that promise again.” You sigh and walk out of his room.

You start wishing your boyfriend, Brandon, was still alive guiding Bryson how he was. You know he’s turning in his graving, watching how his son became what he didn’t want him to become. Brandon used to tell Bryson his jail stories, how he’s forever stuck in the streets, that Bryson can do better, and why he should never be in the streets like him. It’s a slap to the face. You sigh the more you think about Brandon and how he died almost three hours after his first daughter was born. He wanted a girl so bad. Now he’s missing her, not able to physically watch her grow up.

You trudge down the stairs slowly, get a bottle of Casamigos from the fridge, and examine the bottle. Bryson has been drinking some because you left more than this in here. Or have you been drinking a lot more recently? You sigh and start drinking straight out of the bottle as you lay your head on the table. Not only did you feel like a shitty mom, you also looked like a shitty mom drinking alcohol in the afternoon. Five minutes later, the bottle is empty. You trudge back upstairs, lie down, and close your eyes for a moment. You couldn’t sleep however because every time, you hear Bryson’s phone dinging. You sigh and get up to turn it off, but you look at the screen to see it’s Daniel blowing him up, asking Bryson to come back, so he can drop off a load. You go to the messages and text back, “yea ill b over there in seven.”

You shower up and get dressed in something cute and chill. You lock your room door, so Bryson won’t try and get his stuff from out there. You go into Brooklyn’s room and see that she fell asleep, as she was watching Bluey. You pick her up and lay her in her bed. Then, you go to Bryson's room. He’s lying in bed throwing his basketball in the air. He sees you and sighs. “Momma, I’m sorry. I’ll stop running in the streets.” You look at him, “I know.” You smile. You go to him and kiss his cheek. “I’ll be back. Watch your sister for me. Don’t leave the house either.”

He nods his head. You already know he’s not leaving because he doesn’t like leaving Brooklyn alone. You smile head to your car and drive off from your house. Seven minutes later, you’re parked across his house. His boys are on the porch with him, smoking and waiting for Bryson to come.

“Man, this little nigga ain’t coming, Daniel.” You hear one of them say. “Lil bro is probably getting pressed by his fine-ass momma.” Bryson’s friend, Dominic says, making the whole group laugh. You roll your eyes. Then Daniel huffs and puffs, “Fuck! Just go without him.”

His boys leave him on by himself. Daniel sits on the porch, smoking his blunt before he goes inside his house. You wait a few and then walk across the street and go up to the door. You knock on the door. He instantly opens it.

“Man, Bryson, what the fuck?! Why you lat-…” He’s caught off guard when he sees you. You push through him and come inside. “Yeah yeah. Now, Daniel. I’m going to ask you nicely. Stay the fuck away from my son. He doesn't need this life and you know that.” You say. He chuckles and sits down on the couch, “Nah, he’s really good, Y/N. This life is teaching him a lot. How to be a man. Brotherhood. He is doing good just like his dad used to do.” You look at him, “Yeah, until you set him up. Did you even tell Bryson you’re part of the reason his dad is dead?” Daniel starts yelling at you, “I had nothing to do with his death! And you know that! I love Brandon as if he was my blood.” He was mad as hell at your accusation. “Whatever, you say.” You cross your arms, not believing shit this nigga says. He sighs, “You know what? Here’s what happened that night. Brandon died because of Taylor. Okay? Taylor was jealous because of how close me and Brandon were. You know I knew Taylor before I knew Brandon. But I liked Brandon’s work ethic and his hustle. We clicked on so much shit from the past, that was my boy.” He says and he leans back in the chair, covering his eyes. “Taylor told Brandon I gave him a drop. I didn’t. I was sleeping. Taylor knew some of our opps were sliding on their other opps. He sent Brandon over there and that’s what happened.” He sighs, “I had no clue at all, Y/N. But I did handle it.” He looks at his hands. You gasp, “You killed Taylor?” He bites his lips, trying to fight back tears. “Yeah… yeah I did.”

You look at the pain in his eyes. You were shocked he killed Taylor for Brandon. Especially since Taylor was Daniel’s blood cousin. You sit next to him and hold him. He cries in your chest. There’s a lot of emotions that you have right now. You feel bad for accusing him of your boyfriend’s death for a very long time. You feel relief that you know what happened that night.

He sighs, “This is the only way I know I can pay Brandon back by being a male figure to Bryson. This is the only way I know how to do it. By showing him the ways of the streets. No one taught me the normal way of how to be a man. I was taught to be tough. Be a street nigga. Get a good name in these streets.” He says. “Bryson doesn’t need to be in the streets. And you are teaching him how to disrespect women. I don’t like it. I hear him talking to girls. Calling them bitches and shit.” He looks at you, “Nah, that’s them other niggas. I can’t disrespect women. I love my queens. Especially the black queens” You raise your eyebrows, “Oh yeah? Then what was that when I came and got him from you? ‘Feisty ass. You just need some dick. That’s all. It’s been three years since your man got killed? I know that pussy tight.’” You mock him, sounding goofy as hell. He laughs, “Just trying to look cool in front of the boys. I’m sorry about that.” He says. “But I promise, I don’t teach the young ones disrespect. That's Fredo.” He continues. “Well, who taught him to just fuck? And fuck raw at that! I swear to God every day it’s always, “Momma, I think I got a girl pregnant.” every time. Like what the hell?” He chuckles, “Okay, that’s me. I’ll admit that. I want to be able to feel it. Connection.” You roll your eyes, “There's a condom that feels like nothing you know.” He gives you a crazy-ass look, “That shit not the same and you know it.” You look at him, “No, I don’t. All the time that I had sex has been protected.” He looks at you, “So how the hell did Bryson and lil Brooklyn get here?” You laugh, “Condom broke.” He looks at you, “So you never had sex without a condom before.” He asks you and you shake your head no.

Something about that answer turns Daniel on. He tries to hide it, but you can tell. You look down and smile. You look back up and he’s staring at you biting his lip. You giggle. Daniel has always been attractive, but you let the negative things block it. Now that some things are clear and off the table you see his fine self peeking through.

“Control yourself.” You say. “It was just a fact.” He looks at you, “Man, I’m chilling. Just thinking.” He says, chuckling. “What’s on your mind?” He looks at you clueless, “Nothing.” You shake your head, laughing, “For real. What were you thinking about?” He sits up, “Me being the first person to fuck you raw.” You laugh, “I knew it. I haven’t done that in a while for real. And besides, wouldn’t it be wrong? You are the father of my children’s best friend.” You look down. As tempting as it is, you can’t help but feel like Brandon would be mad at you. “I think Brandon would want you to move on. I’m not saying that because I’m trying to fuck. But honestly, I do. I don’t think he would want you sitting here upset and lonely.” He lifts your chin and looks into your eyes. You smile, “He would want me to. He always talked about it. I always brushed it off thinking he was just talking normal nonsense.” You sigh.

You start thinking. You've been lonely for three years. Not to mention, you stopped having sex when you were pregnant with Brooklyn. So it’s almost been four years now without dick. And sex toys can only take you so far. What’s the harm in having sex with Daniel right now?

“You sure?” You say, needing some confirmation. “I’m sure, Y/N. But I don’t want you to be unsure, you know.” He says as he rubs your back.

His hand travels down to your waist and your thighs. He looks at you. His eyes ask for permission to go further up your body. You slowly nod your head yes. He starts rubbing your pussy through your shorts. Instantly, you lose your mind. This is what you’ve been missing. A touch. He takes your shorts off and pulls your panties to the side and looks at your pussy. It was glistening with your wetness already.

He kisses your neck as he slowly rubs your clit. Then, he lowers to your thighs, sucking on them, leaving marks on them. He looks at it one more time before he dives in face first and starts eating you out. You gasp and throw your head back on the arm of the chair. His tongue slides up and down on your clit. You grip his head with your other hand. He switches from licking to sucking on your clit. Your body lifts a bit, giving him a bit of an entrance to use his fingers. He teases your hole with his two middle fingers before he curls them inside you. You start gripping his head tighter. He resumes eating you out and you can’t wait to come for him. He looks up at you to see your beautiful love faces. He smiles and slides his free hand up your hoodie and rubs on your boobs and everywhere else on your body. Your breath starts to get heavier and heavier.

“Fuck! I’m about to come! I’m about to come!” You whimper out to him. He smiles and continues to pump you faster with his fingers as he sucks gently on your clit.

You jerk up as you have your first orgasm. Your juices were dripping from his hands to his forearm. You sit up on the couch and look at him. He smiles at you before picking you up and taking him to his bedroom. Your lips connect with his for the first time and it feels so amazing. His lips are super soft. He then attacks your neck with kisses and lays your body down softly on the bed. You take your hoodie off and he takes his sweats off. His dick is semi-hard. He gets in between your legs and starts rubbing his dick on your pussy to coat it with your wetness. He leans down and kisses your neck, making you moan even more.

No warning, you feel something slide inside, making you inhale sharply. He lets you adjust to his size since it’s been a while for you. He then kisses you all over your body to relax your mind and your body, which makes you adjust to his size much faster. He looks you in the eyes as he slowly strokes inside you. You cover your face. You couldn’t even look at him with how much pleasure he’s giving you. He removes your hands from your face and makes you look at him. His eyes are filled with lust and you know he wants to make this enjoyable for you. He starts picking up speed. He rips your tank top off your body to massage your breasts as he pushes himself deeper inside you.

“Shit, Daniel!” You grip the sheets and close your eyes. “Come on, open them pretty eyes and look at me.” He says as he places his hand below your belly button. Your eyes open as soon as the pressure overwhelms you. Your hands travel to his chest and lower to his stomach, “Daniel, please, it’s too much. It’s too much.” You whimper out. “I can’t take it.” You cry out. He looks into your eyes, “No, you can take it.” He smiles at you and kisses your neck. Slowly, you move your hand back on the bed, gripping the sheets again, “Mm, just like that, ma.” He groans, locking eyes with you.

You start clenching around him. “Oh…shit! I’m about to come.” You moan out. He smiles at you and shakes his head no. You look at him like he’s crazy. What does he mean by no? He smirks and starts pounding into you. “You can come when I tell you to.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes begin to curl. You keep begging but it only turns him on more, “Mm, you look so beautiful when you beg.” He starts, “You keep on, Ima make you hold it even longer.” You hold it to the best of your ability, clenching tighter and tighter around him. He starts to twitch inside you, “You want to come?” He asks you. You nod your head frantically, but that wasn’t good enough for Daniel, “Use your words, mamas.” You look at him, “Please, please. Let me cum, baby. Please let me cum.”He is a sucker for your begging. He smiles, “Nut on this dick.” He says low.

You jerk up as you climax and he fills you up with his cum. He buries his head in your neck and places sweet nibs and kisses. He was right. It is WAY different to have sex without a condom. Getting to feel every inch of that big dick sent you head over hills. Sadly, aftercare could not be done because you have to get back to your two kids that you left. Quickly, you two shower and get dressed again. Daniel only puts on some gray sweats. He walks you back to your car and opens the door for you. You get in and start the car as he closes the door. He hunches over and motions for you to let down the window. You do so and look at him.

“So, am I going to see you again?” He asks you, sliding his hands in his sweats. “Yeah. You will.” You smile back at him and look down at his print. “My eyes are up here.” He chuckles. “Sorry.” You look at him. “Just call me whenever you want to see me again.” You say. He nods at you and you wave bye to him. You grab pizza for you and the kids on the way home and you have a good time with your kids.

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personwhowrites · 1 year

Text

Mask Man

Paring: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!reader

Wc: 2k+

Warning: Fluff, Mentions of abuse, drug use and drinking. {cringy pick up lines}

Synopsis: A night at a bar turns into a blooming friendship..

——————————————————————

You take a long sip of your drink. It was normal for you to drink until you couldn’t stand. It was a normal day at the bar for you, it always has been after a long hard day at the office. You hear the door open again, ether someone was leaving or just now entering. You stare at the cup that once held your final shot.

“Miss.. I think you should go home..” The bartender mumbled. “Navy and Military people are arriving and it can become very busy and loud.”

“.. I know.. I just don’t feel like going home..” You respond look at the glass cup. “..Found him in bed with her..in our bed..”

“..Here..” they say pouring another shot. “On the house..”

“Thanks..” you say taking it and laying your head down. “..Jesus what time is it?”

“About to be one in the morning.” He responds looking at you. “Maybe you go rest in the corner, no one should bother you there.”

You nod and get up, stumbling to your feet. You grab onto the side of the bar and shake your head. You definitely went over your limit this time. As you make your way to the corner you hear a group come in. The bar goes silent as they sit down and you sit down in the corner with your head down.

“..Jesus I have work tomorrow..” you mumble covering your head. “..My boss is gonna kill me..”

“Hey sweetie..” Someone says sitting next to you. “Why don’t we leave this place and go somewhere else.”

“I’m married..” You respond not looking up. “..So you can go scram.”

“Where’s the ring?” They ask placing their arm around you. “Come on..I’ll help you.”

“I said I’m fine..” you lift your head up and push the person away from you. “..So go hit on someone else.”

They stare at you and scoff, you watch as they walk away. You couldn’t really care less, but they did have a point. Where is the ring..you bit your lip as you close your eyes.

—

“Y/n!” Your husband called out for from the bedroom. “Wait! I can explain we.. I.. we didn’t do anything!”

“The hell you didn’t Brian!” You yell back grabbing the car keys. “I want you out my house by tonight! If you don’t fucking leave I will call the police.”

Brian rushes out the bedroom with his boxers on and looks at you. He sees the pain in your eyes, voice and body.

“Y/n we talk about this..” he says grabbing the keys away from you. “We can work this out..”

“Work.. this out?! You’re sleeping with your god damn boss!!” You yell taking off the ring. “I want a fucking divorce! That’s final! You can have fucking everything, but you will not take me!”

You grab the keys back from him. He pushes you against the kitchen counter and raises his fist at you. You flinch and tear up, this isn’t the first time you caught him. Nor the first time he has raised his hand at you.

“You listen here bitch!” He yells grabbing your arm. “You follow what I want! You do as you’re fucking told! If you try to divorce me I will ruin your life!”

“You already have! For twelve fucking years!” You say managing to push him away. “Put your hands on me again I will call the police!”

He stares at you anger feeling his body. He slaps you hard across the face making you back away from him. You hold your face and stare at him, you sure felt pain, but legs felt like running so you did. You ran out the house with the keys and your phone. You ran to the car opening the door and locking it quickly after he chase after you.

“Y/n!!” He yelled banging on the car window. “Open the damn car!”

You stare at him starting the car and buckling up. The neighbors walk outside to the yelling. You turn the radio on and put the music up loudly and drive off.

—

“Miss?” Someone says startling you. “You awake?”

You shake your head and nod. It was the bartender and he had a drink in his hand.

“This is from the group over there.” He says softly pointing to the group, it was the man from earlier. “They hope you join their table.”

“Uh.. I’ll deny the drink.. I already had to much..” you say pushing the drink away and getting up. “..excuse me.”

You walk away from him and rush to the bathroom. There he places the drink for you. The man from before goes to the drink and drops something in it. Hoping no one sees what he is doing. He mixes the drink with the straw and goes back to sit down. Moment later you walk out the bathroom and stare at the drink.

“..Bloody hell..” you say picking it up. “..Fuck it..”

You grab the straw only for someone to knock it out your hand. You look at the person that did that. He had a skull ski mask and what seemed to be charcoal around his eyes. He looks at you for a moment too.

“The hell was that!” You say angry and facing your whole body to see him better. “You didn’t have to fucking do that.”

“They spice it.” He hisses at you in a low tone that sent shivers down your spine. “Be fucking thankful.”

“Who the hell are you to tell me shit.” You hiss still shivering from his voice. “I wasn’t gonna actually gonna drink it.”

“Seems to me like you were.” He says annoyed. “Go home.”

“Like hell I will not.” You say sitting back down. “Now can you leave me alone.”

He didn’t listen to you, he sat right across from you. Soon you two stare at each other intensely. He seem to be British.. and in the army. That thought quickly alarmed you and you stare at him more intensely. Was he part of the army?..

“You gonna keep starin’ or ask.” He huffs looking at you. “It’s fuckin’ annoying to watch me.”

“Like you weren’t doing the same skull man.” You say laying your head down on the table. “You part of the navy or..army?”

“Why would you like to know?” He says crossing his arms studying your body language. “But army.”

“The hell are you all doing here in Chicago..” you mumble. “Nothing ever dangerous happens here.”

“Break.” He responds looking over at a table. “..or you can say birthday..”

You turn your head to the table he stares at. There you see three other men talking and laughing. You can’t help it but smile, it’s good to see people have some spirt in their minds. The person notices and looks at you. He seems to see something other can’t.

“How long did he cheat on you.” He says making you turn back to him. “You can’t hide it easily..”

“Fucking hell.. did he send you?” You say sitting up. “I swear that fuck—“

“No one sent me.” He mumbles. “Hold on I’ll be back.”

He gets up and walks to the bartender. You stare at him, he seems to be ordering something. The bartender looks over at you giving you a soft smile. The mask man soon walks over to the table that he looked at before. They look over at you and you look away quickly. The hell is happening? You hear one of them laugh or it could be the laughter of the tv behind your head. You stare at the table again, mind wondering off again.

—

Your phone rings as your drive. It was Brian, he was calling you none stop. You don’t reach for it instead you throw it in the backseat and put the music louder. You drive past your work and park at a semi empty parking lot. You turn the car off and take deep breaths as the Phone rings more and more.

“Cops..” you mumble reaching back for your phone. “Come on..”

—

“Lady?” Someone says placing their hand on your shoulder. “You alive?”

You quickly back up from the tough and stare at the person. It was mask man, with two drinks.

“..Uh yeah I’m uh.. dozing off..” you mumble looking down.

He places a drink in front of you and sits back down across dorm you. You stare at the drink and then look at him.

“..don’t worry it’s not spice.” He says taking the cup to his mask. “Just drink..”

He drops his drink on his mask. Forgetting he even had it on. You stare at him a bit shocked and holding back a laugh. He stare at the drink and sets it down.

“…So..” you say holding back a laugh as he just stares at the drink. “..That was something..”

You press your lips against each other and cough. You don’t want to laugh, it’s taking ever ounce of you to hold back the laughter. He notices and groans shaking his head as his shirt soaks up the drink that dropped on his chest. You finally let at a small chuckle and he scoffs.

“I’m sorry that was just..” you say calming yourself down. “I just uh never seen someone forget they have a mask on.”

You shake your head and laugh. It really seem amusing to you but not the man. He sat up and place his arms on the table startling you. He has tattoos on his left arm. A small shiver went for your spine as you stare at his arms. They could definitely crush someone..

“You done starin’” he says looking a you. “..I’m ghost.”

“Ghost? Like a ghost?” You say looking up form his arms. “..That’s uh an interesting name..”

“Code name.” Ghost says looking at you in the eyes. “We get one..in the army. Pretty much anyone gets on..”

“..What does yours mean?” You say looking at the drink. Trying to avoid his eyes. “Seems pretty scary to be named Ghost.”

“..It’s.. a long story.” He mumbles crossing his arms. “Your name?”

“Oh uh.. it’s Y/n..” you say looking down. “That’s all..”

A long silence fills the air between the two of you. He can tell something is off. You stare at the drunk in front of your and grab it. Chugging it down quickly and staring at the empty cup. He remains silent watching you tear up.

“..I uh.. better get going home.” You say standing up. “Nice meeting you.. Ghost?”

He doesn’t respond and just watches you. You make your way to the bartender and take out your wallet.

“How much is it?” You ask them looking at your money.

“On the house Y/n.” They respond looking at you. “Can you even drive?”

“I’m sober enough to talk and walk here. I think I can.” You respond taking out forty-five bucks out your wallet and placing it in the tip jar. “Have a good night!”

You put your wallet away and garb your car keys. The bartender watches you leave and goes back to work. While on the other hand, Ghost watches you get in your car and start the car. Getting up from his seat you drive off.

—

It’s been a couple weeks since you visited the bar. You been so focus packing things and getting a restraining order, lawyers and attorneys. You walk inside to get greeted by the bar tender, he seems that you are happier than the last time he saw you.

“Y/n!” He says with a warming smile. “It’s been a while how is everything.”

You take a seat at the counter and smile. A nice calm smile..

“Better than before..” you say at ease with yourself. “The regular please.”

He nods and serves you a shot. You take it down quickly and smile. He looks at you and hands you the bottle.

“Celebrate miss.” He says with a smile. “Also that mask man been asking about you.”

“What?” You say slightly over filling the glass. “What did you say?”

“I just told him you come here every so often at night.” He cleans a glass and looks at you. “He comes every so often too. Sitting down at the corner, is he a friend?”

“..Uh no.. I barely know them.” You say taking the shot. “..What has he asked?”

“Your name and number.” He responds with a smile. “He seems to like chatting with you.”

“If you call awkward silence chatting..we need to get you out this bar.” You say shaking your head. “Did he show up yesterday..?”

“Mhm..” he responds looking at the cup. “He seem to be in a rush yesterday.”

“He was just here.. for a birthday so..” you mumble. “Well from what he told me.”

“And you say that you didn’t chat with him.” The bartender chuckles and looks at you.

Your cheeks turn red, ether from the drink or embarrassment. You get up and cough.

“Excuse me.” You say rushing to the bathroom.

The door opens to Ghost entering the bar again. He looks around and then at the bartender. He sees a cup in front of him.

“She’s here today.” The bartender responds to his question. “She’s currently in the bathroom.”

Ghost just nods and sits down next to your empty seat. He stares at the seat awaiting for you to come back. After a couple of seconds of him waiting you exit the bathroom wiping your hands lightly on your pants. You look up from your hands as you walk over to your seat to stop dead in your tracks. It was him, he really did look and wait for you.

“Uh.. hi..” you say slightly nervous. “Ghost was it?”

“Mhm..” he nods and stares at you. He sees that you are happier and more calm than the last time he saw you. “..You gonna sit or what?”

You give him a warm nervous smile and sit down.

—

Before you know it your handing the man a napkin with your number. He can’t help it but so often murmure small compliments under his breath each time you laugh at his dumb jokes. The bartender walked over a bit nervous.

“I have to close up you two.” He says softly intruding the conversation. “Y/n you have work tomorrow don’t you?”

“Oh yeah! I do..” you say not taking your eyes of off ghost. “I completely forgot.”

Ghost shook his head as a small gesture of a laugh. You get up and he follows after you. You exit the bar after paying and stand next to your car.

“Thanks.. for the night today.” You say with a drunken smile. “Still can’t believe you forget that you have a mask on.”

“..I wear it often.”. ghost responds. “Y/n.. Uh Im.. leaving tomorrow..”

Your smile soon slightly fades. You stare at him a bit sadden by the news. You just now gotten use by his company.

“I’ll keep in contact with you..” he mumbles. “Promise to come by some time to visit you.”

“..I will really appreciate that Ghost..” You say with a smile. “..I better get going.. do you need a ride?”

“No.. I got my own car.” He says looking at you. His gaze sinking into your eyes. “..later Mrs. Y/n..”

He walks away as you get in your car. He looks back at you with before turning away into a corner of a street and disappearing.

—

“And that’s how I met him!” You say wrapping your arms around Ghost arms. “Ever since we been.. talking and texting..”

“Makes sense why he would leave the room when his phone rang.” Someone says sitting across from the two of you. “You got yourself a handful Y/n.”

“Enough soap..” ghost mumbles looking at you. “..Tell anyone about her I’ll kill you.”

“Ghost!” You say letting go of his arm. “No threats against your friends.”

“He does that all the time.” Soap responds. “I’m used to it.”

“…Simon..” you say angry and look at him. “Is this true?”

“No.” Ghost responds glaring at soap. “He was joking..”

“Yeah! I was..” Soap says nervously. “Joking..wait Ghost..I’m I the first to meet her?”

“..Probably..” Ghost mumbles wrapping his arm you. “..Why?”

“I’m your favorite!” Soap says with a bright smile. “I fucking knew it!”

Ghost quickly sits up and stares at him. You then look at Soap with a smile.

“Definitely are, he never stops talking about how you two work together.” You say with a chuckle.

“Y/n…” Ghost scoffs shaking his head. “..Ugh…this was a bad idea..”

You can’t help it but laugh, a small a laugh that made Ghost pull you closer to him. You can’t help it, but love his touch. You might even heard a small a chuckle from him, but.. that could be your mind. Who knows..

—————————————————————-

A/N: thank you all so much for the support! I really am thankful for all the people have have been reblogging my posts! I can’t thank you all enough for this amazing support. If you have any requests, my inbox is open. The following week there will be a lot of more posting than regular. Thank you all for 200+ followers!!! <3 Eba

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