#I’ll have to reach out to my uncle to see if he has any of HER letters still around (that side of my family never left so slight chance??) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

corroded-hellfire · 4 months

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Finally His Year - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Collab with my soulmate @munson-blurbs 🩵

Summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday and what he really wants is you.

Note: In honor of JQ’s 30th birthday woohoo 🎉

Words: 4.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The Munson house is buzzing when you arrive. There are three unfamiliar cars parked in front of it, probably from the other people celebrating Eddie’s birthday with him. You have his gift tucked under your arm and a Tupperware of raspberry and white chocolate chip cookies in that same hand, using the free one to ring the doorbell.

You barely have time to pull your forefinger back before the door swings open. Luke peeks his head around, grinning when he sees you standing there.

“Good evening, madam-a-zell,” he says in a vague concoction of European accents—none of them even resembling French. “May I take your—ooh, cookies!”

Laughing, you reach over and ruffle his mop of curls. “These are for Daddy, Luke-miere.” When his face falls, you quickly add, “but maybe he’ll share.”

This placates him, and he skips off to announce your arrival. As soon as he says your name, you hear the sound of Eddie’s feet shuffling towards the entryway.

“You made it!” He says with a huge smile. In your dreams, he pulls you in for a hug and kisses you tenderly. But this is real life, so he just stands with his hands in his pockets.

“I made it,” you agree awkwardly. It takes a moment for you to remember everything you’re holding. “Oh, these are all for you.” You maneuver it all, handing him the cylindrical tube and then the plastic container. Luke loudly clears his throat, and you grin. “Unless you feel like sharing the cookies.”

Eddie takes the presents, shaking his head at his younger son’s interruption. “I’ll consider it. Thank you, Sweetheart.”

That stupid nickname. You love and hate it; as much as he calls you that, you know you’re not his sweetheart. Because he’s married.

His wife—God, you hated that she held that title—was sipping a full glass of wine. Though she’s standing next to Nancy, the two aren’t exchanging any words.

You should go over there. Brittany is technically one of your employers, so it’s best not to rock the boat. Unless, of course, you could ensure she’d fall overboard.

Plastering a feigned smile on your face, you walk over to her. Before you can even get out a hello, she points towards Ryan and Luke.

“They have to go to bed at nine o’clock, so just have them in their pajamas with their teeth brushed by then.”

Embarrassment crawls under your skin. “Oh, I, um, I’m actually here for the party. Not to babysit.”

Brittany doesn’t seem thrown off at all; she just rolls her eyes and turns to Nancy. “Didn’t realize people still needed parties after they turned thirty,” she quips.

To her credit, Nancy just shrugs and walks to you, ignoring the snark hurled your way. She guides you over to where the rest of the group is chatting.

“Can you say, ‘Uncle Dusty’?” Dustin asks little Tiffany Mayfield-Sinclair, gently bouncing her in his arms. “C’mon…Un-kul Duh-stee!”

“Elmo!” Tiffany claps her chubby hands together gleefully, unbothered by Dustin’s frustration.

“I think your kid’s broken,” he grumbles, handing the little girl back to Lucas.

“She was fine until you held her,” Lucas quips as he holds his daughter against his chest.

“Or maybe she just thinks you look like Elmo,” Steve offers with a shrug.

“What is this, high school?” Dustin asks, looking between his friends. “Ganging up on me?”

Eddie shakes his head and gives a loud tsk.

“It’s because you’re not part of the club, Henderson.”

“Oh, because I’m not a dad?” Dustin asks, gesturing with a motion that looks very similar to jazz hands. “That’s fine. Because I’m the coolest uncle these kids have. Someone has to be that figure in their lives.”

“Are they always like this?” you ask Nancy with an amused chuckle.

“Since high school,” Nancy confirms with a sigh. “The sad thing is, I can see how they’ve matured since then.”

You giggle at her response before there’s a weighted thunk against the front of your legs. Ryan’s chocolate eyes peer up at you, a huge grin on his round face.

“Well hello, you,” you greet him, reaching down to ruffle his honey colored hair.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Ryan cheers. Warmth spreads in your chest at his words. You’re touched until he opens his mouth again to ask, “Luke said you brought cookies?”

“I did,” you tell him, tugging on a lock of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. “But they’re for your dad. It’s up to him if he wants to share with you guys.” Of course he will, you think to yourself. Eddie loves these boys more than Luke loves his Hot Wheels collection; and as you’re reminded by the five-year-old almost every day you babysit, that’s a lot.

“Maybe after he opens his presents,” Ryan muses, more to himself than you. “Or after we have the cake Aunt Nancy made.

“Ryan!”

A little girl’s call echoes around the room. The older Munson boy gives you a quick smile before running towards the kitchen where Natalie Harrington is drawing a picture.

Something Ryan said sticks in your brain though. You turn towards Nancy, brow pinching slightly.

“You made Eddie’s cake?” you ask.

The deep breath Nancy takes lets you know there’s more to the story than she’s probably going to tell you. After all, she hardly knows you. The two of you had only met a handful of times since you started watching the boys last year and none of the visits were particularly long. It's an annoyed sigh that Nancy heaves out, her petite shoulders falling with the release. She’s not annoyed at you, if her kindness and body language towards you are anything to go on. So, what’s got her so tense?

“I did,” Nancy affirms. She’s quiet for a moment and at first you think that’s all she’s going to say. But the way her head bobbles slightly from side to side and her jaw muscles tighten and release, you can tell she’s picking her words carefully before she speaks. To her, you’re her friend’s employee so how much should she reveal? “Steve, um, called Eddie yesterday morning to confirm the time for the party today. Eddie was headed out the door just as Steve called. He said he was going to the grocery store. To buy his own birthday cake.”

“His own? Why couldn’t his wife get it? Or better yet, why didn’t she make one for him with the boys?” Your mind floats back to when you and the boys made a cake for Ryan’s birthday over the summer. It was messy and overly sweet, but the love and care put into it are what made it special.

“That’s what I said,” Nancy grits out through a clenched jaw. After a few moments, you see Nancy’s body deflate. The tension rolls off her like a wave returning to the sea. “So, I made him one. Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.”

“Carrot cake?” you ask, wrinkling up your nose. It’s not that you disliked the dessert, it just wasn’t what you would’ve pegged Eddie for on his birthday.

“I know,” Nancy says with a small chuckle. She shakes her head in amusement, wavy locks of hair swaying at the movement. “He can’t be typical, right? Not chocolate or vanilla—or even strawberry, but carrot cake. That’s Eddie for ya.”

The party continues with casual conversations: milestones Tiffany is meeting, work updates for the “kids” (who were now full-fledged adults, but would always be freshmen to Eddie), and a tentatively scheduled reunion for their high school Dungeons & Dragons club. It only came to a stop when there was a crash in the kitchen.

Everyone’s heads whipped around at the sound, worried that one of the Munson or Harrington children was causing chaos, but the reason for the clamor was none other than Brittany. She’d dropped the cheese and cracker board on the ground and was laughing like she’d just heard the funniest joke.

“Oopsie daisy!” She cackles, nearly falling over with the force of her laugh. While the rest of you had been casually sipping wine or beer, she had been drinking like she was at a frat party.

“Jesus,” Nancy mutters under her breath.

Eddie glances at Steve, who nods at Lucas, and the two of them step in towards Brittany.

“C’mon, time for bed, Britt,” Steve says as patiently as he can manage. He hooks an arm around her, and Lucas does the same on the other side. It’s obvious that this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. A well-oiled machine, ensuring that the kids are none the wiser.

Small miracles, you suppose.

“We can do presents when they get back,” Max jumps in, trying to keep the attention away from the drunk woman stumbling away.

Eddie nods in agreement, collecting the various gifts from the kitchen table and placing them next to his spot on the sofa. When he sits, he spreads his legs enough that you can imagine yourself between them, pressing kisses up his thighs to his—

No. Stop it.

When Steve and Lucas return, Eddie reaches for the first package. Though the room is filled with excited murmurs and crinkling wrapping paper, you can still make out the quiet conversation between Nancy and her husband.

“Did you hold a pillow over her head?”

“No, Nance.”

“Damn it.”

You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle a smile.

Eddie pulls out a pair of sneakers from the box: white with a black check mark on the side. He immediately slides them on his feet, wiggling his toes around to ensure enough room. “These are perfect! My old ones were falling apart.”

“We know,” Nancy says wryly as Steve proudly announces, “You said you liked mine, so I got you the same ones.”

“Aww!” Dustin coos, pursing his lips exaggeratedly. “You guys are twins!

Eddie discreetly flips him off before continuing through his stash. Theo and Natalie Harrington made him woven friendship bracelets, which he immediately slid onto his left wrist. When he opens Dustin’s gift, a mug printed with the words “rock ‘n roll” underneath a cartoon rock and dinner roll, Wayne proclaims that it’s even cornier than the ones in the trailer.

Eddie’s face lights up at the present from Max and Lucas—a new Walkman and some heavy metal cassettes.

A pit forms in your stomach: is your gift going to be enough? Will he even like it? Was this whole thing a bad—

“Holy shit.”

You look up to see Eddie staring awestruck at the now-unwrapped present; specifically, the present you got for him. It’s an autographed Metallica poster that you’d spotted at the mall months ago, before his birthday was even a consideration. You’d bought it and kept it safely in your room, waiting for the perfect time to give it to him.

“Sweetheart, this is…” He just shakes his head, blinking misty eyes. “Wow. I, um…thank you,” he finally manages.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie had seen that same poster just last week. He had Brittany’s shopping bags clutched in his hands when he walked towards the record store.

Kirk Hammett’s signature called to him like a siren.

Eddie was just about ready to pay for it when Brittany marched over, plucking it from his grip and mumbling something about not having room for any more of his stupid music shit.

That had been the end of that.

“You’re welcome,” you say with a small shrug, as if it was nothing at all. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.” That wasn’t too much to say, right? It’s normal to think of someone when you see something you know they’d love, right? Even if that person is your boss?

Once Luke stops scavenging through his father’s presents like one might be hidden there for him, he looks up at his dad with wide, pleading eyes that he most definitely inherited from the man.

“Time for caaaake?”

Eddie snorts and playfully rolls his eyes. A ringed hand comes down to ruffle the little boy’s curls.

“I guess we could have cake now.”

The Munson boys and the Harrington sibling duo cheer in excitement and beat everyone else into the kitchen. All you can hear as the kids disappear into the next room is an I’m okay! from Luke.

Steve taps you on the shoulder as you step over the threshold into the kitchen.

“Hey, could you give me a hand with the cake?” he asks.

“Sure.” You follow Steve over to the refrigerator, silently wondering how many women had actually denied the handsome man anything when he asked in such a smooth voice.

The cake looks delicious as Steve pulls it out of the fridge. Nancy definitely put in some work to make sure it turned out this lovely. The cream cheese frosting is smooth on all sides with delicate piping lining the edge of the rectangular sheet cake. In a beautiful scrawl that is far nicer than your own handwriting, she had written “Happy Birthday Eddie!” in black gel icing.

Steve sets the cake down on the gray granite counter and reaches for a drugstore bag that has a pack of candles and a lighter in it. The two of you work as a team to plug the cake with the multicolored striped sticks and take turns lighting different sides of the cake.

“You got it?” Steve asks as he steps over towards the light switches on the wall.

“Yep,” you assure him as you carefully lift the flaming desert off the counter. Turning around to face the table proves the most difficult part as you slowly spin your body while keeping the cake steady.

Eddie is seated at the table, kids surrounding him on all sides as they clamor about what’s taking so long with the cake. Taking so long? You thought you and Steve worked pretty efficiently together.

“Watch out rugrats,” Dustin says, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder and pulling him out of your way.

You give the curly haired man a grateful smile before you slide the cake onto the table right in front of Eddie. As you go to pull your arms away, pale, calloused fingers reach up and rest against your skin for a moment.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Eddie says.

All you did was carry a cake over but you’re more than glad to receive praise from your boss any time that you can.

Steve flips the kitchen lights off and everyone breaks into a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. Ryan stands right in front of you as you sing, and you rest your hands on his small shoulders.

“Make a wish!” Luke calls from Dustin’s side once the singing ended. He watches as his dad purses his lips, thinking of a wish. The dim lighting in the room may be playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn Eddie’s eyes flickered over to you before he took a deep breath and blew out all thirty-something of the candles on the first try.

“Yay!” Luke cheers while everyone else claps. “Whatcha wish for?”

Ryan scoffs and rolls his eyes at his little brother. “He can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”

“For my last birthday I wished for a pet,” Luke says.

“Is that why you dug up the worm in the backyard?” Eddie asks.

“Yep,” Luke announces, a proud smile on his face.

“Wormy Munson is missed,” Ryan says, patting his little brother’s shoulder.

The attention quickly turns from squiggly little pets when Nancy asks the room, “Who wants a piece?”

“Me!” Four children’s hands shoot up at the same time, but Nancy just shakes her head at them.

“Birthday boy gets first crack at it,” she says as she slices a piece and transfers it to a Darth Vader paper plate. Nancy delivers that and a plastic fork to Eddie before returning to the counter to cut slices for the rest of the guests.

When you get your piece of cake, you slip into a seat next to Eddie’s at the table.

“So, carrot cake, huh?” you ask him with a playful smirk on your face.

“Hey, gotta get vegetables into these kids somehow,” Eddie says, reaching behind him to tickle Ryan’s belly. The older boy laughs and moves out of his dad’s reach.

“Broccoli brownies next?” you ask, a shit eating grin on your face before you pop a chunk of cake into your mouth.

“Such a smart ass,” Eddie teases, scooping some of his icing onto his pinky and wiping it off on the tip of your nose. Both boys giggle as you try to reach it with your tongue, trying to stretch it out as far as possible to lick it off. Though the boys found it funny, Eddie had an entirely different feeling wash over him as he watched your tongue snake out to try and lick the white substance off your face. His pants tighten and Eddie shifts in his seat, trying to hide his crotch further beneath the table.

Guests drift in and out of the kitchen with their plates of cake, mingling with one another out in the living room. You offer to collect the paper plates up for the garbage once everyone is done. You’re carrying the stack back towards the kitchen when you hear Steve and Eddie having a conversation in there. It’s pretty clear this is just meant to be between them, but when you hear Steve’s question to his best friend, your feet become glued to the floor.

“Think you’ll finally get lucky tonight since it’s your birthday?”

Eddie snorts. “It doesn’t seem like it.” You can practically picture him nodding his head in the direction of his bedroom where Brittany is probably snoring her ass off as she sleeps off her alcohol. You really hope she has a hangover tomorrow.

“Not what I meant, dude,” Steve replies.

This catches you off guard. Who could Steve possibly be talking about if not Brittany? Does… A sickening thought winds its way through your brain, claws taking hold in those places that are already prone to insecurities. Does Eddie have a girlfriend? It’s not like you would judge him for it after Brittany’s whoring around is common knowledge. But it drives an ice pick through your heart just picturing Eddie with his own awful, evil wife. Knowing he might be with someone who could be kind and caring should comfort you—but it doesn’t. It makes you want to tear your skin off to think of Eddie with anyone else but you. Because if he wasn’t going to be with Brittany, you wanted him to be with you. And if you didn’t even get a chance to show him what the two of you could be together? The idea threatened to destroy you.

“Watch it Harrington,” Eddie answers Steve, his voice low. It’s the closest thing to a warning you’ve ever heard from him.

A familiar toddler’s cry abruptly ends their conversation and your now-agonizing eavesdropping. Eddie shakes his head, giving Steve one last glare as he walks out of the kitchen, and looks over at a wailing Tiffany Mayfield-Sinclair.

Ryan scrunches his face. “Daddy, play her the song!”

“Yeah, play it!” Luke echoes, hands pressed to his ears.

Now you’re intrigued. “What song?”

Eddie sighs. “Boys, I don’t think anyone wants to hear me play—”

“Au contraire,” Dustin butts in with a smirk. He hands Eddie his acoustic guitar, propped up in the corner. “I think we’d all love a little concert.”

Eddie gives you a look that pleads help me out here, but you’re already invested.

“Concert! Concert!” You chant, laughing when the others join in.

He doesn’t say anything, just slips the strap over his shoulder and quickly tunes the guitar.

“If…you’re…happy and you know it, clap your hands!”

Everyone in the room claps twice. Everyone except Tiffany, who is still wailing.

“If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands!”

Same result.

“All right, all right. Let’s skip to a different verse.” Eddie takes in the baby’s squealing form.

“If…you’re…angry and you know it, do a growl.” He lets out the most ridiculous roar you’ve ever heard, and you can’t help but laugh.

From her mother’s arms, Tiffany lets out a roar of her own. Your giggle catches her attention, and she reaches out for you to hold her.

For a moment, Eddie believes his heart is going to implode from the sweet scene in front of him. He wills himself to concentrate on playing, but the sight of you holding a baby girl weakens his resolve. How many times has he daydreamed about you holding his baby girl that he shares with you? Probably too many times on the job for someone who deals with heavy machinery. In his mind she has your hair and his eyes—though he knows she’d probably gets his curls since both boys have them to a degree.

Tiffany bounces in your arms, enraptured in the music. If Eddie plays Old MacDonald, she’ll be mind-blown.

The soft timbre of Eddie’s voice, enthusiastic enough to capture Tiffany’s attention without riling her up, has your heart beating double time. Though you’ve known from the beginning that Eddie plays guitar, this is the first time you actually get to witness it. It’s as sexy as you’ve always imagined—even if he’s only playing nursery rhymes.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs as whatever had been bothering the little girl seemingly dissipates. He grins at Max and Lucas. “That should buy you about five minutes before the next meltdown.”

Sure enough, the crying starts up again, signaling the party’s end. Hugs are exchanged as everyone clears out; final “happy birthday’s” sent Eddie’s way.

There’s a small tug on your arm just as you’re about to grab your purse. “Can you tuck us into bed?” Ryan asks, eyes wide. Luke’s at his side, nodding in agreement.

“Of course.” Always the babysitter, you think, but you truly enjoy being a part of their lives. The fact that they also enjoy it makes it even better.

The youngest Munson beams at you. “Maybe you can sleep over!”

“Uh, not this time. Sorry, kiddo.”

After teeth have been brushed and bedtime stories have been read, you retreat back to the kitchen. Eddie is clipping open bags of potato chips, and you start to gather any used paper platesto toss in the trash.

“You don’t have to,” Eddie says, gesturing towards the stack of disposable cups in your hand.

You cock your brow and smirk. “Do you really wanna clean all of this by yourself?”

“Fuck no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He smiles back at you, shaking his head when he notices icing smeared on the back of a kitchen chair. “Should’ve put the boys on clean-up duty” he grunts.

“Then everything would just get shoved under the couch and they’d call it a day,” you point out, and he readily agrees.

Once the floor has been swept and the leftover food has been placed in the refrigerator, you have no valid excuse to stay any longer.

“I should get going,” you say, plucking your keys from your bag and twirling the chain around your forefinger. “I hope you had a good birthday.”

Eddie nods as he walks with you to the front door. He holds it open for you, then follows you out to your car. “Yeah, it was great. Especially your gift. It, um, meant a lot.” A slight rosiness tinges his cheeks, and he pulls you in for a hug.

You return it easily, your arms wrapping around his torso. Both of you hold on a beat longer than necessary, but you can’t seem to pull away.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. He leans in; for a moment, it seems like he’s going to kiss the top of your head, but he takes a step back. Eddie’s done it so many times in his mind before that he almost forgot he doesn’t get to do it in real life. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“I will.” You duck into your car, giving him a small wave before you pull out of the driveway. As you drive, you watch Eddie trudge back into the house from your rearview mirror.

Once he’s inside, he closes the door and breathes out a sigh. He adjusts himself over his pants, painfully aware that he’s half-hard from a simple hug. Looking towards the bedroom he shares with Brittany, he pivots away and beelines towards the Tupperware of cookies you’d made.

Taking a big bite, he chews thoughtfully, delaying the inevitable. If only he could curl up next to you instead of her. He chuckles at the insanity of the idea and takes another bite of cookie.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS

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lis-likes-fics · 11 months

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A Deal’s a Deal

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader Word Count: 11.7k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, smoking, oral (f and m!receiving), dom/sub themes, degradation, virgin!reader, gun kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Tommy is mean and she wants him to be ... A/N: So this was absolutely filthy and I will not apologize. I am American, but I used to British spelling for (as many of) the words that I caught because sometimes I like it better and it also just fit more for the fic. Also, when I say “gun kink”, I mean gun kink. This is filthy shit. Who knows? I may consider writing a second... Enjoy.

Keen eyes were the first thing Tommy noticed as Aberama Gold walked onto the yard, a sly smirk set in place among blond hair and a suit likely just as expensive as his own. The way his eyes surveyed the yard, examined every inch he could without touching any of it, even stopping by Charlie for a word, made Tommy aware it was for more than just surveillance.

Aberama finally approached, his men following after with their own vigilance. "I just took a look around. I like this place," he announced. "Fire for melting silver, canal to get it away." He stopped in front of him, well out of reach but just as imposing as the growing headache Tommy felt nagging at the back of his head. "How much?"

Tommy took a long look at him, still as a statue as blue eyes pierced through blue eyes. He considered not even regarding the question, moving on to more pressing business and pretending it had never been asked, but he knew better. Arthur drank from his flask.

"Nothing you see here is for sale, Mr. Gold."

He disagreed. "Oh, everything's for sale. Everything."

Tommy pinched his cigarette between his fingers, bringing it to his lips but not quite slipping it through yet. Aberama spilled the rest of the tea in his cup into the fire, which roared with the fuel to its flames.

"You tell Mr. Strong I'm going to buy his yard." He didn't leave room for debate.

But Tommy didn't care. "This yard has been in his family since they settled." He moved the cigarette between his lips.

"But I've decided to make it a part of our deal."

There was a long pause as the men stared each other down, testing the other's strength, their tolerance of cold eyes. The sounds of metal and fire and cups on tables next to them filled the silence and fueled the suspense of a standoff.

"Charlie?" Tommy finally spoke, calling to his uncle. "Charlie, come here." He obliged with a sigh. As he stood next to him with a dirty rag to clean dirty hands, Tommy continued. "Gonna spin a coin for your yard, Charlie."

Frustration was quick to settle at his words. He dropped his hands at his sides. "You're goin' to what?"

Tommy didn't spare him a glance, never breaking contact with Aberama as he spoke. "If it's heads, Abbie here takes all of this with my blessing."

"Tommy?" Charlie warned, upset.

"And if it's tails…" he considered for a moment, gesturing to Aberama with his cigarette in hand, "I fuck your daughter, Mr. Gold."

Aberama's grin fell. Arthur laughed, a stifled laugh into his arm at the offer. Tommy's demeanour did not change.

Now, Tommy was a smart man who did his research. He knew all about Aberama Gold's family, but more specifically about his daughter—and, even more specifically, about his oldest. He knew she was a primary school teacher, how that came to be, he was sure it was with the help of her father. He knew she was Aberama's firstborn, born from another woman he'd fallen for but lost too quick to be left without love. Lastly, he knew she was without a husband, or even a suitor with the potential of wedding bells. With how beautiful you had been rumoured to be, he didn't understand it.

He was shocked he hadn't already had you yet.

"You have three daughters, I hear, and Y/N is the oldest and also the prettiest, so I'll have her. So make her part of the deal and spin against the yard." He replaced his cigarette between his lips, putting his hands in his pockets.

Arthur was still amused. The same could not be said for Charlie as he stepped closer. "Tommy, for fuck's sake."

Tommy fished for a coin in his pocket, flicking it over. "Here, you toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

He caught it easily, staring down Tommy before moving the coin in his palm to examine it thoughtfully. Then he smiled, a slow smile spreading over his lips, ready to call a bluff.

Tommy shook his head, just as serious and solemn as before as he took in his grin. "No." He shook his head, raising a finger to point at him with grim intent. "Please don't believe this is a joke, the coin to us is sacred. Yes, Arthur?"

"Sacred," Arthur agreed, his eyes as still and as menacing as his brother's.

They continued to stare. Aberama continued to think.

Tommy gave his warning. "You toss that coin, you take a bet before witnesses, and if I win…"

"Then we'll insist that the terms of this agreement…" Arthur tried again, "wager are fulfilled."

Tommy's eyes held a threat. "Toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

Aberama considered, setting the coin on the crook of his finger and propping his thumb underneath. He contemplated, debating himself and his luck silently as the sounds of metal and fire raged against the silence and pulled the tension taut. Loud, defeaning.

"Tommy Shelby, OBE," he mumbled, still considering. Tommy saw the moment of decision behind his eyes before it reached his face. The challenge, the question of "Perhaps?" warring in his mind. Aberama smiled a small smile. "I'll take your wager."

The Shelby boys tilted up their heads.

Aberama flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent into his hands and he sighed as he closed his palm and slapped it onto the back of his hand. The coin seared his flesh as he stared at Tommy, hoping to see the right side of the coin staring back at him when he unveiled the result.

They stared, tense. "Well?" Tommy raised a brow.

Aberama removed his hand.

And his luck drained as he stared down at the coin tails up to the world.

He lingered for a moment, feeling the eyes on him burning into his skin just as the coin did. "...Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," he breathed. He took the coin and showed the boys. "Tails."

Tommy's lip twitched, although it was hardly susceptible to the eye. "Tails," he repeated, his voice darker than before. He readjusted his stance, regarding Aberama as he spoke to the uncle at his side. "Go on back to work, Charlie. Your yard is safe."

Charlie stepped closer, asking the question as though he was whispering it just to him. "Are you actually going to fuck his daughter, Tom?"

Tommy still didn't look at Charlie, watching Aberama intensely, as if to remind him that this was all his fault.

People seemed to forget who he was. They seemed to forget that you shouldn't fuck around with Tommy fucking Shelby, OBE.

"A deal's a deal, Charlie," he said. "Isn't that right, Mr. Gold?"

He stared back with fire in his eyes. "Aye, Mr. Shelby."

The cab slowed to a stop in front of the large estate you were an expected guest in. Looking out of the window and through the dark, your stomach flipped at the prospect of the meeting you were meant to attend.

Your father had told you that the infamous Thomas Shelby was interested in meeting you. You were grading loads of papers at the time when you stopped to look at him, frozen in confusion. You asked him why and he brushed off the topic like he hadn't even brought it up, giving you a time and date and leaving it at that.

And now you're here, staring at his house and feeling the anxiety of how this evening would go as you stepped out of the car and watched him drive off. You fixed your dress, straightened your spine, and released a breath before beginning the looming evening with a walk up to the door through the dark, guided only by the lamps outside.

You clicked the knocker three times, waiting with your clutch held tightly in front of you. As the door was pulled open, you were somehow relieved to be met with an older woman. Though her blue eyes were shocking and her quirked brow was intimidating, she offered a kind smile and you were put to ease.

You really shouldn't have been as anxious as you were. You were a Gold and a gypsy—if something bad was going to happen to you, you would know and you wouldn't be there in the first place.

But this was Thomas Shelby, and you were terrified. He was rumoured to be the devil himself.

The woman opened the door wider. "Hello." She looked you up and down before stepping aside. "Come in."

You thanked her quietly, walking into the house and glancing around. It was nice. "How may I help you this late in the night?" she wondered, clasping her hands behind her as she awaited your answer.

"Um…" You smiled bashfully but not without the air of respect you've grown into and been taught to demand. "I don't actually know why I'm here. My father, Aberama Gold, sent me to see Tommy Shelby. I am to have an appointment with him?"

She hummed, "Of course. Wait here while I go fetch him." She began to walk off before correcting herself, looking back at you with a respectful smile. "Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?"

"No, thank you."

She left.

You stood in the foyer, twiddling your thumbs atop your clutch as your heart skips in your chest. With a calming breath, you steadied yourself, closing your eyes and waiting patiently.

You swung a foot out, taking a step forward as you wandered farther down the hall to see inside the main room. It was large, decorated sparsely with paintings and tiny statuettes. You didn't get a good look.

When she came back, she was not alone. Turning at the sound of shoes descending stairs, you saw him.

He still wore a suit. Although his jacket was removed, his timepiece was still in place connected to its chain. His sleeves were rolled up—you weren't sure why you noticed that so clearly.

He stared at you with a cigarette between his lips as his cold, blue eyes pierced your soul. Your heart jumped again. Anxious.

He watched you, looking you up and down and taking you in. He brought his hand up to remove his cigarette from between his lips, releasing a long, smoky breath. The look in his eyes shook you.

"Thank you, Mary." His voice was deep as it rumbled in his chest. "You can go to bed now."

Mary looked you up and down briefly. She bowed her head. "Yes, sir."

You didn't break eye contact with Tommy as she ascended the stairs. Even when she was completely gone, he didn't look away. The intensity of his gaze was hard to keep up.

You looked away.

"Come," he finally spoke, walking down the rest of the stairs and meeting you. He lingered in front of you for a moment, as if he just wanted a closer look, before continuing to move. You willed your feet to do so, following slowly behind him.

He took you to his study just off from the main room, pushing the door open to allow you inside. You entered silently, glancing along the room to take it in. He had a library, a burning fireplace, plenty of sofas, and a large wall of windows. The drapes were already drawn for the night, and the large room was illuminated by a small chandelier. You set your purse on the nearest table.

You watched Tommy walk toward his desk in front of the windows. He leaned on it, crossing one leg in front of the other. He stared at you again, and you quickly became frustrated with his gaze as you sighed gently and stood across from him, keeping plenty of distance.

Silence stretched on as he continued to stare and smoke, and you were growing impatient as you stared back. The longer he watched you, unyielding, the more you felt the need to squirm. It was only when you broke his eye contact again, like you had before on the stairs, that he decided to speak.

"Do you know why you're here, Miss Gold?" he asked.

Now that this was finally going somewhere, you sighed. "Y/N, and no," you replied.

He raised his brows. "What did your father tell you, Y/N?"

You shrugged. "That you wanted to meet me and nothing else." His vagueness was really beginning to frustrate you after enduring all of that staring. Why had he stared for so long?

Tommy hummed deep in his chest, looking you up and down with a little nod of his head. He put it bluntly as he gestured toward you with his cigarette. "Your father lied."

It was your turn to raise your brows. "I'm sorry?"

Tommy reached behind him to put his cigarette out, stifling it against the ashtray on his desk. "Your father flipped a coin for a bit of property and lost. In return," he looked at you again, speaking slowly, "he gave you to me to fuck."

Your heart was slamming into your ribcage at the knowledge. Images of such a thing flashed behind your eyes, and your throat went dry. You looked down at your shoes for a moment, blinking rapidly as you stretched your jaw. "I-I don't understand," you confessed, releasing a humourless chuckle and licking your lips. "He… he wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't he?" he shrugged. When you didn't reply, he furrowed his brows. "Why else would you be here?"

You still didn't respond. He allowed you to process, though part of you felt like he was enjoying all of this, and you did not.

The anticipation started at your heart and spread through your body as it made a home in your chest, curling and writhing there in a bundle of anxious energy.

You swallowed thickly, "Are you going to hurt me, Mr. Shelby?"

He considered your question, mumbling quietly to himself as though he was mocking you, "Am I going to hurt you?" His eyes raked over your body, considering something silently in his head before he spoke again. "Come here."

You didn't move, otherwise frozen in place as you stared at him. Your disobedience seemed to astound him for a moment as he raised his dark brows and pointed to his shoes. "Here. Now." His voice was deeper with the command. He left no room for defiance.

Your body responded before your mind, not eager to see what would happen if you refused a second time. Your feet took you carefully toward him, slow steps treading the space between you until you were hardly a foot apart from him. His expression seemed to ease then, just enough to tell you that you were close enough now.

He took in your face from this distance. You could almost feel his breath. He spoke to you in a low voice, one that rumbled deep in his chest and resonated with you.

"I am a devil, but I'm no monster." Where you expected a crook of his finger to lift your chin, he gave you his hand to take a hold of your jaw and pull you close. "I won't force myself upon you, but if you agree to this, I will not be gentle. So, yes… I am going to hurt you."

You didn't respond—you couldn't. His words echoed in your mind and your mind warred with your body over what you would do in response and, thus, created none. You were frozen, staring at him as he held your face in a slight grip and held your attention in a much tighter one. You forget the fire burning smoke up its chimney. You forget the rows and rows of books lining the shelves of the office. You forget the clothes on your back, for his stare had stripped you bare for him to see.

He let go of your face, but you were not sure how well your brain registered that as you lingered in the same position, gripped in the same attention.

"If you want to leave," he said after a moment, "you'd better walk out of that door right now under the lie that the wager between your father and me was fulfilled. Hell, I'll even make you a cup of tea while you wait, and you can be on your way."

You considered that option. It would be like you never even came—except you did. And you knew you did. The stain of his stare, the hole he had burned into your clothes, into your skin, would never wash away. You would feel it every hour of every day as a reminder of the time you met the Tommy Shelby and lived not to tell the tale.

"But if you stay…" the corner of his lip twitched up at the idea, his pupils darkened and his voice deepened, "you're not leaving until I say you can." Even with their simplicity, his words made you shiver.

"Now, I will ask you once and one time only…" he leaned forward, his head very slightly tilted, his nose nearly brushing yours, "Are you leaving?"

As if you could say no with him this close to you. As if you could say anything with him this close to you.

Your options were idiotic.

Leave and live with the memories you gained here—the closeness, the silent obedience, the cold stare you could never wash from your soul. You would always feel it, feel him. He would never go away, plaguing your mind like a ghost of what could have been.

Or…you could stay. You could stay here and see what happened. You could let him ravage you, let him tear you apart and lick at your flesh and bone as he took you under his primal gaze. You could succumb to the ice in his eyes and let the burn of his touch mix together in some powerful, searing concoction. You would never wash his stain off, no matter how hard you scrubbed, but some part of you was alright with that.

And Tommy seemed to see that in your eyes.

He was amused as he shook his head, leaning back and away from you. He was teasing, you knew it now, heavily amused by the tiny reactions he earned from you as he pulled away to make you suffer a hint of withdrawal. It was with that distance that you realised you'd fallen in his trap, gone in too deep to turn back and be rescued from this tragic and ungodly addiction.

"No, you're not," he said—and, for a moment, you forget what he was talking about. "I can see it in your eyes, the same look your father had before he flipped that coin. You want to know what'll happen if you stay."

You seemed to snap out of it almost as you took a step back, establishing a bit more space as he revealed things you didn't want revealed. In doing so, you proved his point.

"You know exactly what happens if you leave. You go back to your regular life as a school teacher with siblings and a father to take care of." He chuckled silently, and you clenched your teeth. "No, you want to see how far this will go."

He raked his eyes over you for the hundredth time, and he knew the rumours were true. Pretty eyes, pretty lashes, pretty lips, pretty blushy cheeks. There was not a flaw on you that he could see. You were a beauty, an unconquered beauty he intended not to leave uncharted.

You looked away from him, glancing down between your feet and your hands and anywhere but his face as you processed his words, digesting them for what they were—the ugly truth you wished you could throw a blanket back over, swept back under the rug and hidden from view.

Tommy tilted his head as something dawned on him.

"Are you a virgin, Y/N?"

You kept your eyes on the ground, like you were watching his shoes—which you probably are—and shook your head. "I change my mind. You can call me Miss Gold." He could almost laugh at the idea, in fact, he almost did laugh. You brought yourself to look at him, your eyes stern with poorly hidden dismay. "And if I was?"

It made sense. No husband, no suitor, no time for one anyway. His lip lifted very slightly in the corner, and it felt like he was laughing at you. "The proper phrasing is 'and if you are?'" He leaned in, taunting you. "Because you are, Y/N."

You huffed to keep your eyes from fluttering at the effect he had on you. "How do you know?" you asked, doing your best not to sound as upset as you were. Your best was very poor.

He breathed a silent chuckle. "Because if I say the word 'sex'..."

You licked your lips and shifted your weight to your other leg, realising your mistake as soon as you made it but not showing it. You glanced away from him, and that was when you showed the realisation of your second mistake.

He pointed at you, ever amused. "You do that."

You thought for a moment over a way to say your next words without confessing anything—even if you knew it would be rendered unnecessary, as he seemed to read you like an open book.

"What if I did want to see what would happen?"

He inclined his head, lifting a brow. A small huff of a breath made up a tiny chuckle at your words. "Look at you," he said. "A good girl so bored she wants a go with a gangster."

You shrugged a shoulder. "All my family's gangsters and gypsies. It's in my blood."

He stared at you, cold and frozen like a statue. You stared back, gaze darting from eye to eye.

"In your blood," he muttered to himself.

You had no time to process what happened next. All you felt was his hand on the back of your neck and then your cheek against the cold wood of his desk. You groaned at the suddenness of it, stunning you completely—especially when his body pressed against the back of yours, crushing you against the desk and keeping you there.

Your breath was erratic, your pulse loud in your ears. Everything had happened so quickly, you were still catching up. The only thing that grounded you was the cold shock of something against the back of your head and the cock of a gun in your ears.

It was all suddenly very real—the anticipation, the suspense. You held your breath.

"Maybe I lied," he rasped in your ear, his voice just as dangerous as his gun to your head. "Maybe I want to see what's in your blood instead, eh?"

Your lips parted as shallow breaths passed between them, loud in your ears but likely nearly silent to him. You swallowed hard, frightened and exhilarated. "You're not going to kill me, Mr. Shelby."

"Oh, yeah? Why is that?" He seemed to press the gun even closer, trying to scare you some more. But you were a Gold, and guns to heads were not as effective to you as it might have been to someone else from a family that wasn't yours.

"Because you want to see what will happen."

Surprised by your answer, he scoffed. "Maybe you are a whore." He pushed his hips harder into you, thus pushing you harder against the desk. The edge of the wood cut into your thighs, aching and proving very uncomfortable. A strained breath grunted from you.

You smiled slyly, looking back at him as best you could. "Which is it?" you chuckled, "Whore or virgin?"

He took pause, shaking his head as he uncocked the gun. "No," he chuckled darkly. "Just a twisted little girl who gets off to guns at her head."

Your smirk dropped, amusement gone at his words. You furrow your brow, thoroughly upset that he would accuse you of something so crude. "I don't."

"No?" he asked before leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and making you shiver. "Then why are you so wet?"

You stilled. You hadn't realised it until he said it, the wetness between your thighs, the arousal hiding beneath your thundering pulse. That tingling sensation of simmering lust was now weighing down on you like an anvil, a terrible sentence you wanted to escape but found yourself physically incapable of. Your legs trembled, but you couldn't tell if it was from the ice or the fire rushing through your veins. God forbid it be both.

Your silence made him smirk against your ear. "You really are," he scoffed again. "That was just a guess, sweetheart."

You huffed, doing everything you could to avoid clenching your thighs. With how close he was to you, his body pressed against you so tightly, he'd surely feel it. The shame was thick enough as it was.

"Fuck you," you spat.

He was not fazed by your aggression. "I intend to."

With a sudden burst of defiance, you pushed yourself up from the desk, turning around to face him. Your faces were so close, breathing in each other's scent as the both of you refused to back down. You heard him uncock his gun, tossing it onto the table behind you without breaking eye contact.

"This isn't the first time I've had a gun to my head, nor will it be the last," you told him. "And it's definitely not the first time a man's expressed his desire to fuck me."

"But it's the first time he's been able to, eh? Because before you had Daddy's protection." His hand landed on your waist, roughly pulling you toward him so your bodies were touching. It was useless to try to hide to fluster he put you in, but you did your best anyway. His voice was nearly a growl. "Well, where is he now?"

You shook your head, breathing shallow breaths. "I don't need his protection."

His smirk was small and taunting as he stared at you, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

"You do from me."

His lips crashed down upon yours as he pulled you close. Your surprised gasp was cut off, silenced by his harsh kiss. The feeling was foreign but not entirely unwelcome. Even as the force of his lips had his teeth smashing yours, cutting into the top of your own lip and greeting you with the taste of blood, you welcomed it.

You kissed back, moving your lips with his and following his lead but doing no more than that. Even if you had already compromised yourself, it would help not to encourage him.

When he pulled away from you, you chased his lips and felt the shame of it hot on your cheeks. He smiled at your eagerness, even chuckled at your breathlessness as he shook his head.

"My, my," he goaded. "You really do want this, you twisted little whore."

You shivered at his words and still denied. "And if I don't?" you countered, practically staring at his pink lips and proving him right.

He shook his head. "You should've walked out that door."

He kissed you again, silencing you once more until his lips had a moan clawing up your throat. He placed a hand on your chest, pulling you forward just a slight from turning you in one arm and shoving you back.

You stumbled backward, catching your footing again as you stared at him between the long distance he had put between the both of you. It surprised you and now you were trying to put your mind back in order, as though it hadn't been scrambled enough from his kiss.

"If you want to go so badly, prove it to me." He pointed to the door, urging you to leave with dark eyes and darker words. "Run. Run away, before I catch you."

You stared at him, catching your breath and contemplating. He was giving you one last chance for an out, one last chance to turn away and forget about tonight.

But you could never forget what happened here, especially not now, and not ever. Staring back at his dangerous eyes, you made your choice, knowing there was no turning back.

So you would prove that you wanted to stay as you trudged the distance between you and closed it with your lips on his, addicted to the taste of him—the taste of danger and intrigue and all things twisted in the world.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he opted to devour you, allowing your fingers to work at the buttons of his vest to remove it. You gasped into his mouth and made your decision before your inexperience could talk you out of it, separating from his lips only to kneel down before him with your eyes locked on his.

Amazed by your initiative, he encouraged you by leaning his hips out as you worked at his belt. You fumbled for a moment too long before you finally got his trousers open, finally reaching what you were aiming for as you pulled him from his underwear.

You stared wide-eyed at him as you took in the sight of his cock, the tip flushed red and the vein along the underside pulsing with his well-disguised lust. You looked up at him, finding him staring back down at you with those cold, dark eyes.

"Well, go on then," he mumbled as you continued to stare, conflicted between different courses of action.

Your body heat seemed to rise at the realisation that you were staring like a fool. You swallowed thickly, reaching a hand up and wrapping it gently around him, gliding your thumb along his tip and feeling a little more confident when his unyielding eyes fluttered. You continued on, rubbing your thumb at the head of him before stroking your fist along the length of him, up and down in a steady rhythm as you navigated what he liked and didn't like.

One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, urging you forward as your face pressed into his hips with the warmth of his cock on your cheek. Slowly, you kissed it, your lips gliding along the length as you took in the unfamiliar sensation. You slipped your tongue through your lips, licking along the side until you reached his flushed tip. Kissing the slit at the head of his cock, the bead of pre-cum there spread over your lips as you darted your tongue out to lick it.

You opened your mouth at the taste, setting his tip on your tongue and shivering at the feeling as you closed your lips around it. You built yourself up for it as you felt his heavy stare at the top of your head, bobbing your head slowly back and forth as you took the smallest bit more with each comeback. As he reached the back of your tongue, that tickling feeling in your throat began to tease you before the threat of gagging became too much to try to pass through.

By now, his cock was glistening with your saliva. As you looked up at him with eyes beginning to tear from your efforts, he stared back, lost in the pathetically illusioned look on your face. "You can't be done already," he said, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You spoke breathlessly, "Tommy–"

"No," he shook his head. "Not Tommy. You call me 'sir' while you're sat there on your knees with my cock in your mouth. You understand?"

You took in his authority, deciding whether or not you would listen. You began to scoff, "I'm not–"

"You will," he said finally, giving you that look that demanded respect. You knew, staring at him now, that he held the key to your pleasure. If you wanted to feel good, you would have to obey. As much as that annoyed you, it thrilled you all the same as he continued to look down on you like he was.

Your jaw ached with resentment, but you knew it was a front, you fighting the submission you were not meant to have. But you wanted it. You wanted him to break you down to some common whore, to strip you of your importance as a Gold and turn you into his plaything. But it was so firmly embedded, you would just have to keep fighting against it.

But that didn't matter right now, not with you on your knees with his cock in your hand.

"I can't do it…sir," you replied.

He raised a brow. "Can't do what?"

He was taunting you, insulting you by trying to make you say something you didn't want to say. It sat on your tongue like venom. Admitting what you classified as "it" felt like a new kind of torture.

"What is it you can't do, eh?" he questioned, even smirking at you like he knew he held all the cards. Because he did.

"I can't…" you swallowed thickly, bowing your head.

"No, no," he tsked, lifting your head with his hand in your hair to force you to look at him. And he wasn't lying before—he wouldn't be gentle. "Look at me and tell me what you can't do."

You huffed, speaking in a squeak of a voice. "Can't… take it all."

"What was that?"

"I can't take it all," you repeated, not yelling but not whispering either.

He smiled at you then, an evil, nasty smile that you wanted to wipe from his face. "That's all?" he questioned, laughing when you broke his eye contact. "Well, sure you can. Let me show you."

The exchange was promptly ended as his hand in your hair guided your head back to him as you took his cock in your mouth again, and he pushed you down, inch by inch, back onto him. You felt his tip pushing into your mouth, deeper and deeper on your tongue until he brushed the back of your throat. You gagged around him, feeling the sensations of the invasion rushing down your spine, resting in your belly and tingling all over.

As your nose brushed against his pelvic bone, your eyes welled up as tears spilled over your cheeks. He shushed you as you gagged on his cock, your throat adjusting around the intrusion. His hips bucked a couple of times, pushing his cock further until he could go no deeper. When he pulled out, you took as much air into your burning lungs as possible before you were interrupted by a few coughs.

As much as you wanted to slap him for the assault on your throat, one look at the pleasure on his face calmed the fire of frustration and fed the ache of arousal between your legs.

"Don't– do that again," you huffed, still catching your breath as you leaned forward on your knees to take him into your hot mouth again. You didn't go nearly as far again as you licked along his length, suckling around his cock and laving your tongue along his tip and the vein on the underside.

"The hell I won't," he mumbled, not the biggest fan of your telling him what to do but not necessarily put off by the idea. His hand remained a tangled mess in your hair as you continued to suck and lick and kiss.

You weren't expecting it when he pushed you down the second time, but at least you knew what to expect as you shut your eyes tight and took it, accepting the twisted pleasure that blossomed in your belly until he pulled out of your mouth again, keeping you back as he groaned.

You wiped your mouth off, staring at him with wet eyes and breathing through an open mouth. A deep breath exhaled from his lungs as he hoisted you to your feet, searching out your lips to bring you into another kiss. He turned you both around and pressed your back into his desk as he continued to kiss you roughly, pushing you back until you collapsed on the dark wood.

You gasped in surprise but barely had time to process as his lips continued to attack yours. His hands grasped the neckline of your dress, encouraging shivers down your spine. When he suddenly ripped and ripped at your clothes tearing them off you like a beast, you gasped and watched him turn your dress to rags.

It wasn't long before you were bare in front of him, save for the pantyhose hiding nothing from him. Then those were gone, too. Your hands instinctively flew to your body, trying to cover yourself up. There was really no reason for modesty, not now that you had already seen his cock and had it shoved down your throat, but this was entirely new and you would have rather liked a warning beforehand.

"Don't cover yourself now," he said as he entwined his hands with your own and pulled them away, spreading you out to see every inch of you with those hungry eyes. Your body trembled with the feeling of his eyes on your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the mix of emotions ruling you.

Where some would take pity, Tommy just smiled darkly and tsked gently as he leaned forward and began kissing your neck. Your mouth fell open as your eyes fluttered to see him. A slight moan caught in your throat escaped at the sensation of lips to skin and your hands struggled where he restrained them, wanting to touch him again.

His kisses were not so patient after a moment as teeth began to scrape skin, sucking and nibbling on flesh in order to mark uncharted territory. The pleasure it gave him to know that no man had ever done this to you before was intense, driving him crazy with lust, a desire to claim you as his hips cant into your own, pushing you further into the desk and otherwise hurting you—if you had not been so preoccupied with his kiss.

You moaned into the air when his hand tightened around your thigh, squeezing roughly as he groped and kneaded the flesh. His other hand busied itself around your throat and tilted your head off to the side, sitting securely there but not quite squeezing the same. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist nonetheless, though you didn’t know whether you were trying to make him stop or keeping his hand there, wrapped around your throat and effectively putting him in charge.

The hand on your thigh travelled up, smoothing along your skin until he reached your hip. It never stayed there, moving back down as his fingers brushed over your exposed cunt. Your breath stopped in your throat when you felt his fingers ghosting over your lips and gasped when you felt his middle finger slip between them before biting down hard on your lip in an attempt to silence yourself.

His lips brushed your ear as he spoke in his low tones. “You like being touched by me? Eh?” A whimper left your throat when his finger pressed into you, pushing past your folds and into the warm, wet feeling inside of you. You clenched around it, the feeling foreign and but so good. "You're practically a whore now. I did buy ya after all—cost me a penny."

Your legs trembled as he stretched you out around his finger, a second playing at your pussy before carefully joining the other. "A penny?" you stuttered. "I personally think I'd be worth at least two."

"Well, let's see then," he said, lifting his brows as he pulled his finger out of you.

You whimpered, granting him an annoyed expression at the absence of his touch so soon. "See what?"

"If you taste good enough for two pennies."

You stared at him as his lips kissed your chest, sucking on your nipples on the way down and continuing on down to your thighs. A shocked yelp came from you when he bared his teeth around a chunk of flesh, only soothed when he kissed over it.

He gripped your thighs and pulled them over his shoulders, taking your hips in his hands and pushing himself up so your body was nearly folded in half. He didn't stall you at all as he buried his head between your thighs, licking and sucking on your folds as he shoved his tongue between them.

Your head flew backward, banging against the table. You hardly noticed, even with the full throb at the back of your head, the slight dizziness in your brain. Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in dark strands and tugging him forward. His tongue was just as skilled here, commanding your body to his every will, as it was during his speeches while he commanded armies of men to join in his cause or to intimidate against their own.

One hand left your hip to play with your cunt, toying with your clit. He pushed two fingers into your fluttering hole, swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned for him to continue.

"Fuck," you mewled, closing your legs around his head and digging your heels into his back. He didn't seem to care, not until you messed up. "Please don't stop, Tommy."

But he did. His fingers and tongue retreated as he pulled back, straightening his back and letting one leg fall from his shoulder, though he kept the other firmly held to his chest.

You whined, looking at him with shallow breath. You watched him lick his kiss-swollen lips as he stared at you with black eyes. The emotions in your belly swirled between lust and frustration and fear and intrigue. He was so intimidating and you wanted more. You wanted him to keep kissing you, to keep dragging his tongue along your wet pussy. But you also wanted him to push you into the floor and take you from behind, his hips slapping into you, his hand planting your cheek against the cold floor, his mouth whispering filthy things in your ear.

"Please," you whimpered, too desperate to care about how pathetic you sounded.

He lifted a brow, saying nothing and staring. When you tried to sit up to reach his face, he pressed a hand into your chest and pushed you down roughly, leaning forward himself to paralyse you with his dangerous glare. Even with his hand on your chest, you tried to sit up still to kiss his pretty lips but he wouldn't let you. Your thigh ached from the position.

"Please," you whispered again, a broken moan as the lack of pleasure became too much, welling in your chest and making your body tremble.

He tilted his head.

You let out a shaky breath, moving your free leg outward to spread yourself even wider for him. "Please, sir," you concede. "Please keep going. I want it."

He didn't continue. His eyes bore into yours and you shuddered. With a gentle huff, you handed over the last of your dignity. "Please, sir, I need it."

He lingered there for a moment longer before smirking. You thought he was going to kiss you when he leaned forward, but instead he took your bottom lip between his teeth and but down before returning to his previous position between your legs.

He began again with the same intensity, devouring you as though you were his last meal. You whimpered and moaned and cried from the pleasure he forced into you. As he shoved his fingers into you, spreading them apart and thus stretching you wider, suckling on your clit and kneading it with his tongue, a coil tightened in your belly as everything seemed to follow.

Your moans built to whining breaths—too high and pitchy to be real—but genuine nonetheless. He didn't let up or slow down, drunk on the taste of you and too far gone to stop just yet, not without his reward.

The warm, wet feeling of his mouth became too much, the suckling of his lips even moreso. You squeezed your eyes tight, arching your back as a loud moan ripped from your throat. Your breath was rough and forceful as it rasped in and out of your throat, and your hands clenching in his hair tugged and tugged as his tongue continued to work. The pleasure took siege of your body, attacking every nerve ending until you were naught but a pile of flesh and blood and bone.

The high slowly descended to bring you back to Tommy Shelby's study, his tongue at your pussy a distant sensation in the back of your mind before it burnt with oversensitivity. You tugged at his hair, grunting as you pulled his head away to catch your breath.

His chin glistened and his lips were plump with blood as he stared at your recuperating body. He pulled his fingers from your fluttering pussy, taking them between his lips to taste you.

"Too much?" he asked, not in any way sensitive as he stared. "What, it feels too good, it hurts?" All you could do was nod. He breathed a laugh. "Have you ever touched yourself before, love?"

You didn't have it in you to be shy as you shook your head. He didn't take that answer this time—not humiliating enough, you supposed.

"Eh?" he urged, lightly smacking your arse to get a proper answer.

You grunted, shaking your head. "No, sir."

"That's your first time cumming then," he said more than asked, watching your dazed eyes slowly return to the dull bite of their natural rebellion—though he knew he broke you down enough for it to be too weak to matter.

He still awaited an answer. "Yes, sir," you obliged.

"Well, congratulations," he said. "Most men don't know how to please, so most women don't get to cum."

You disregarded his comment, still stuck on the aftershocks of pleasure as your eyes wandered the room. You whimpered when he licked you again, suckling around your clit and earning a jerk from your body.

He sat up, moving your legs off his shoulders like they were nothing important to him. He wrapped a hand at the base of your skull and pulled you up to sit. "Come here," he said, bringing you close to his face. "Have a taste."

He pulled you forward and crashed his lips against yours, too rough but just as amazing as all the rough ones he'd given before. The taste of you was strange but addictive as you came back for more, even as he pulled you away.

Tommy backed away from you, leaving you bare and hot on the desk. His hair was a mess, and he licked his lips again. He gestured toward you. "Stand up." You did as you were told, steadying yourself on unsteady feet. "Turn around."

As you obeyed, he came up behind you and pushed you onto the desk again, just as he'd done before. You grunted at the impact and clenched your thighs at the effect it had on you. You hated how good it made you feel, his treating you so roughly, without a care to just how rough. You hated even more how much rougher you wanted him to be.

Your prayers may have been met with extremity when you felt his gun to your head again as he spoke into your ear.

"I could kill you," he considered, pressing the gun further.

Your heart kicked up, and the adrenaline took over as his unwavering voice promised your demise. You held back your moan and responded, "But you won't."

"Why not?"

"You need me," you insisted. He laughed. "It's true. You kill me, well I'm Daddy's favourite. There'll be war. You make me go, I'll just keep coming back to finish it. You fuck me now, your wager is fulfilled and you get to fuck a virgin. What man doesn't want that, eh?"

Oh, you were good. Even if he was going to kill you, your words were enough to persuade him otherwise. He pressed the gun into your temple and the clicking sound of him clocking it reverberated in your ear. You moaned a long, deep moan as you clenched your thighs tightly together.

He smiled, laughing quietly to himself as he shook his head. "A proper whore, you are."

"Then fuck me, sir. That's the purpose of a whore, isn't it?" You gripped the edge of the table when he pushed his hips into you, aching that same spot on your thighs from before and making your lust all the worse.

He lingered, the cold barrel cocked and ready. You held your breath and awaited his decision before he removed it from your head. You sighed gently, missing his warmth when he stepped away from you.

Your hips jolted when the cold tip of his gun pressed to your pussy, spreading your lips apart to see you still wet for him. With the gun still cocked, your heart pounded against your ribcage and you felt the anxiety building deliciously in your body. He hummed, considering something in his head. You stayed as still as possible, certain your breath was loud as you wondered what he was thinking.

You heard him kneel, hyperaware of every sound he made behind you. His hand nudged the other side before he was leaning forward to taste you again.

You whimpered. "You're a dirty whore for being this wet," he said. You bit down on your lip.

He stood again and bent himself over your body. "You got my gun dirty," he tutted, shaking his head like he was scolding you as he shoved the barrel in your face. You could see your arousal gleaming off of it, shaking at the sight of it so close. "Clean it up."

You didn't move, paralyzed by fear. He didn't like that. "Clean. It. Up."

You let out a wavering breath, "Yes, sir." You leaned forward slowly, not even certain you were actually moving, and stuck your tongue out the slightest bit. You shut your eyes, making contact with the gun and a tiny whine slipped.

He watched you do as you were told, licking your slick from his gun and loving every second. A tear slipped down your cheek, slow and beautiful. He kissed it from your skin as you cleaned the gun.

When he deemed that you'd done well enough, he uncocked it and put it away. Your body relaxed, all of the pent up energy inside of you calming a slight as the threat of so much danger lifted from you.

He slipped his hand around your throat and leaned into your ear again. "Such a good girl, crying for me" he husked in your ear. "I'm gonna make you scream."

You felt the head of his cock push between your folds, coating himself in your slick, and there was plenty to go around. He straightened his spine as he took a hold of your hips, just as rough as you were expecting, before he shoved his cock into you. You moaned loudly as the harsh drag of his cock invaded your cunt, stretching you out around him.

"Fuck," you cried, gripping the desk harder. He held you steady as he fucked into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust. The slick you'd gathered would have to do.

You clenched down on him, thighs aching and trembling and becoming too much already as the tears built in your eyes.

Chants and cries of "yes" and "more" and "harder" spilled from your mouth and into the air, a loud and filthy cacophony of blasphemous praise. He held you down and he held you still, dominating your body as your new god as he ruined you for any man.

"You want more? Sure you do, so desperate for a fuck," he taunted, his harsh words accompany the harsh smacks of his hips. It was loud and continuous and it felt so good. "Such a dirty little thing, filthy and twisted. You like having a gun to your head, you like me being mean to ya. Where's all that pride gone, eh?"

The tears streamed down your face, decorating you in a way that Tommy could only describe as "beautiful".

"That's right. Cry for me, little whore," he grunted.

You did. Your thighs hurt and your throat is sore and your fingers ache from grasping the desk so hard, but you cried for him and the overwhelming pleasure, a depraved sound he fed from.

One of his hands left your hip to toy with your clit as he pressed his chest to your back. He bit the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, cruel and uncaring, before kissing the spot like an absent-minded apology. Your voice was raspy as he drew quick circles at your clit, chasing your next high as though it were unattainable.

And who knows? With Tommy, it might be.

"More," you begged, despite the loss of breath in your lungs, despite the haze of your mind. You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave you. "Please, sir, more." He cursed under his breath.

That crashing high from before curled in your belly again, hot and searing, like molten lava. You shuddered when it erupted, squeezing around his cock as you nearly sobbed. "Ahh, fuck!" Your head went fuzzy at the sensations as you gushed around him, sucking him in tighter.

Tommy grunted, his hips stilling before he pulled out of you. You thought he was done, but he seemed far from it as he wrapped his arm around your midsection, lifting you from the table and turning. You thought he was heading for the sofa, instead he lowered you to the ground on your hands and knees, which shook with the aftershocks of an orgasm you were still recovering from.

He pressed down on your back, pushing you onto the floor so your hips were angled up. He grasped your waist, smacking your arse once and earning a cut-off shriek.

He steadied you before burying his cock in you once more, sighing from the warmth your body provided. You whimpered at the feeling so fresh after cumming, slowly adjusting to the pleasure as he fucked into you with the insistence of a starved man.

Once you settled into it again, you moaned into the sensitivity, easing the rock of his hips rubbing you against the floor with your palms planted on the wood. It was cold and hard but the way his cock brushed in and out of you was so electric that you didn't care.

"There we are," he said, guiding your hips quickly as he pulled you in against him. "Fucked on the ground where you belong. Don't you agree?"

You struggled with nodding—though you knew he wouldn't accept it anyway. "Yes, s– Ah!– sir." He rutted into you, his thrusts almost animalistic, and he kept on.

He leaned forward, bracing one hand next to your head as you reached out to grab it. His breath was loud in your ear, full of broken moans disguised as heavy grunts.

"Good," mewled. "Feels good, sir."

"Yeah?" he asked, a particularly harsh slap making you whimper. "You want more, you pathetic whore?"

"Please, sir."

"So polite all of a sudden," he spoke breathlessly.

When he pulled out of you again, you thought you'd scream. But he eased you up to flip you onto your back, standing on his knees and staring down on you. You watched him unbutton his shirt, undoing each button one by one until he was able to shed it from his arms. You stared at the bare skin of his chest, taking in his tattoos, his muscles, the light patch of hair.

Grabbing you by your legs, he pulled you into his lap after leaning back. He set your legs over his shoulders once more, guiding himself back into you before he leaned forward. Your legs ached from being put in this position so much—but hell if you cared, because when he seated himself fully inside of you, the moan you left out was deep and guttural. He reached so much deeper than before, brushing a spot inside of you that set your body ablaze.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close as his hips snapped into yours. His thrusts were shorter in this position, grinding into you and brushing that spot over and over and over again. You whined and moaned through every moment of it, your eyes tearing up and the tension in your muscles building.

Your hand splayed out over his cheek as you tilted his head toward your face, wanting to watch him as he fucked into you. His eyes gazed at you, the intimidation from before not quite as cruel as it melted into the intimacy of the moment. His forehead pressed against yours and you breathed in each other's air as he shoved your hips together.

The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you were intoxicating, filling the air with a filthy cadence that mixed with the carnal pleas on your tongue and the raucous groans on his.

"Look at you," he said, planting his hand next to your head once more as the other held your hips up for the right angle. "So desperate, pathetically beautiful."

You gave him a drunk smile, looking between his eyes and lips. "You think… I'm beautiful?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, shutting you up with a rough thrust. Your head fell back and exposed your neck, which he graciously nipped between his teeth.

You yelped when the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit again, sinking into a breathy moan as you looked between your bodies to see it. You looked back up at Tommy, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body, succumbing to his touch.

"Fuck," you breathed, clenching around him at the feeling of your aching clit being stimulated again. You weren't sure you could cum again, but to hell if you weren't going to try.

Your arms wrapped around his back as your nails took root in his shoulders, scraping down his flesh to find purchase for the overwhelming passion. The sound Tommy made was nearly a moan, which he covered with a hiss as he clenched his teeth.

You kissed him, lips bruising, teeth clicking, tongues flicking as you drank the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum again, sir."

He raised his brows, though his rhythm was wearing. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

You corrected yourself, kissing him again to add in your favour. "Please, sir, can I cum again?"

His grin was almost sinister as he regarded you. You were learning, and fast. His unsteady hips rocked you back and forth on the ground, and his breath was timed with each little thrust. You could tell he was going to lose it, so close to joining you as you encouraged him by clenching and squeezing, sucking him into your cunt and getting him addicted to it.

"Fuck, yes. Go on and cum for me, sweetheart," he groaned, giving you the permission you needed as the pleasure washed over you like a wave of fire.

Your back arched, your weak moan stuttered in your throat, and you couldn't help but utter his name as the ecstasy shook you. Your cunt fluttered around him, and your moan continued until it melted to helpless little whimpers which then dissolved into each breath.

Tommy buried his face in the crook of your neck when he came after you, growling in your ear and his muscles tensed under your hands. His hips rutted into you, sinking in nice and deep and putting you in a position that would have been fairly uncomfortable, had you not been so devoured by his deep fucking that you hardly even noticed. All you could feel was the pressure of his body on yours and the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, your cunt so tight around his cock that you milked every drop.

Slowly, his muscles loosened and his grip on your hip let up. He sighed, a long, deep sigh that released the rest of his tension as he began to straighten his back again. You stopped him, wrapping your hand around the back of his head and pulling him down for one more kiss. This one was so soft, a slow kiss that rendered your body useless. Everything was limp and lazy as the tender kiss changed the entire dynamic of the night.

It lasted longer than it properly should have as you both came in for more, treasuring it, cherishing it, until it had to come to its imminent end. He pulled away from you, staring at your face for a moment longer before he sat up, pulling out of you and making you shudder from the sudden loss and the even more sudden chill.

You stayed on the floor as he walked toward his desk and tucked himself back into his underwear. Your eyelids were heavy, drooping down as you lacked the strength to stand. As Tommy picked up his case of cigarettes, he looked at you over his shoulder, still laying there. Your legs were still spread out, your pussy dripping with both your cum on display and your arms framing your head. You'd passed out.

Tommy rubbed his cigarette between his lips before he lit it. His eyes never left you as he took the first puff before discarding the light and walking over to you. He knelt, tucking his hand under you to take you into his arms and set you on the sofa. He readjusted your body, your legs closed and one of your arms covering your chest.

He stood there a moment. You looked peaceful as you slept—absolutely debauched with your messy hair, tear-stricken cheeks, and swollen lips—but peaceful. Your face nuzzled into the cushion, and your lips twitched with whatever was going on in your head.

It took more than he would like to admit not to brush the apple of your cheek as he cleared his throat quietly. He picked up his disregarded shirt and draped it over your shoulders before choosing to walk back to his desk. He sat down and sifted through some files he pulled from a drawer to busy himself.

He didn't keep track of how long you slept or how long he sat there. He hadn't realised when he dozed off, tired out from you and from work.

You stirred from your place on the couch, opening your eyes and wondering why the floor was so soft. It took a moment to remember where you were, why you were naked, and why your thighs were so sticky.

Taking a deep breath in, a familiar scent filled your nose as you noticed the shirt over your body. You sat up slowly, pulling it to your chest and taking another deep breath. The scent made you dizzy, and you slipped it over your arms. The shirt was big on you, hanging low as you pulled it closed around your body.

Your body ached as you moved to stand, running a hand through your hair and stretching your sore limbs. Why were you so sore?

You took two steps, examining the floor and taking in all the clothes—scraps and fully intact—laying there, before you looked up and saw him. Tommy was passed out at his desk, bracing his face on his arms as he slept.

The events of that night flooded into your mind all at once and suddenly, everything made sense. You looked down at your dress of scraps again with a frown as you picked it up, rolling your eyes before using it to wipe away the cum glueing your legs together and discarding it back to the floor.

You padded over to Tommy, glancing over him and silently making your way to the window to peek behind the curtains. It was still dark out, so you hadn't slept long.

You returned to Tommy, lifting up his half-burnt cigarette and putting it out properly in the ashtray it was sitting in. You stared at him, watching him sleep.

You never thought the devil himself could ever look so peaceful.

You couldn't help yourself—you reached out and brushed some of his hair from his face. You just wanted to see him a little clearer. In doing so, he woke. It wasn't a slow waking like yours. His was fast, nearly startled as his eyes opened and his sharp inhale shocked his senses. Before he could jolt up to his feet, his blue eyes found you and his dark brows almost convinced you that he despised you as he granted you a hard stare.

But his expression shifted at the sight of you, after he'd properly taken you in and recognized you. He blinked away and sighed, sitting up slowly and leaning back in his chair. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down before reaching for his case of cigarettes again.

He picked one out, rubbed it between his lips, and lit it up in silence. And, in silence, you took it from between his lips and set it between your own. He stared at you, lips parted and amused—though, you had to look closely to notice.

"Apologise."

You stared at him with a raised brow, blowing out a billowing breath of smoke. He was surprised you smoke.

He looked you up and down before sighing and leaning back again. "Alright, I'll bite," he said. "What for?"

You took another deep breath before moving it again, blowing it out before gesturing toward him with his cigarette. "You called me pathetic."

"You are pathetic."

"And you called me a whore."

"You are a whore."

"You called me a pathetic whore."

He opened his arms, shrugging as he watched you. You raised a brow and blew out some more smoke.

"Apologise."

You weren't harsh as you said it, and you didn't look particularly hurt. In fact, you looked like a fucking angel dressed in his shirt, smoking his cigarette, and demanding he apologise for something you so obviously enjoyed.

He gave in, smiling as he rolled his eyes. "I apologise for calling you a pathetic whore…even if you are a pathetic whore."

You watched him for a moment, considering whether you'd accept his apology.

"I also want you to apologise for pointing a gun at me. Twice. And then touching my fucking cunt with it."

"No." He said it so simply, so finally. There was no way you'd get him to budge. "You liked it too much."

You thought about that and shrugged. Fair enough.

"I also–"

"Shut up and come here," he said, turning toward you with his open legs and arms.

You smiled and stepped between them, letting him take hold of your waist—even if you were still sensitive there because you didn't want to give up the affection. You guided the cigarette back between his lips, your fingers pressing against them as you did. He smoked it before taking it out and staring at you, blowing the air out as he thought.

Tommy reached into his pocket, digging around to pull out a coin. He handed it to you, and you shook your head at him. "That's not funny," you mumbled, stifling a laugh.

"Congratulations, you're worth two pennies."

"Fuck you," you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I've already done that." You laughed again, shaking your head and ignoring the warmth in your belly.

You stared at him, rubbing the coin between your fingers as you toyed with it. He watched you think to yourself, biting your lip as your eyes so obviously flicked between his eyes and lips.

"Thank you, Tommy," you told him softly. "I needed this."

His smile faltered slightly as he continued to watch you. He sighed, unaware of his thumbs stroking patterns into your sides, "I didn't do it for you… but I'm happy to have helped."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted. Looking down at the penny, you smiled slowly and held it up. "How about a wager?" His subtle amusement encouraged you.

"If it's heads…you get me a new dress because you ripped mine to shreds."

He let out a small scoff, shaking his head gently.

"And if it's tails…" you smiled. You lifted your leg, slipping into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands found your arse, pulling you forward so your bodies were flush against each other. Your eyes fluttered as his cock brushed your pussy, already exciting you for the probable future. You focused on him again, "...you fuck me again—this time naked."

He smiled and nodded his head. "Toss the coin, Miss Gold."

You licked your lips as you readied it between your thumb and finger. Your eyes locked for a moment between moments, drinking each other like forbidden wine. You flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent, you caught it, and you took a moment to close your eyes and hope before you let it show.

You couldn't hide your elation as you picked up the coin and showed him. "Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," you smiled. "Tails."

"A deal's a deal." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you in, "I would've fucked you otherwise." He kissed you in a mix of the roughness and sweet tenderness from earlier.

Between breaks, you sighed heavily. "Thank God because I need you," you confessed, kissing him again.

You undid his pants once more, this time pushing them down his legs and finally ridding him of them. He let you wear his shirt, refraining from admitting just how much he liked seeing you wear it.

The kiss was a mess as you devoured one another. He rocked your hips in his lap and you moaned at the pressure as his cock spread your lips apart. "Fuck, this is gonna be a long night," you hummed.

"Shut up and ride my cock," he demanded, not nearly as harsh as before but just as breathless as you now.

You smiled. "Yes, sir."

Peaky Blinders taglist: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr Tag yourself here...

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader smut #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby x reader smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #female reader #tommy shelby x female reader #smut

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 6 months

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 19

Part 1 Part 18

Eddie comes back to himself with Will Byers slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He’s standing in front of his trailer, panting like he’d run all the way here.

He probably had. His thighs have their own heartbeats, pulsing off-beat with the thrumming of his heart where it’s up in his throat.

He puts Will down. The kid’s crying. Eddie is, too.

He wants to run back, find Steve. Even with his legs shaking so hard they barely hold him. Even without a weapon. Even if Steve’s probably already dead. But Steve said to keep the kid safe, so that’s what he’s going to do.

He pushes the door open, leading Will in by the shoulder. His fingertips are numb – static running through them until he can’t feel Will’s body hitching with sobs. The sound of them is muffled, too.

“It’ll be okay,” he says, feeling very far away. His throat feels like mincemeat. Has he been screaming? He can’t have been. There’s no monster on his door.

“My Mom—” Will says. He’s curled into a ball in Wayne’s chair. When did he get there?

“Steve’ll keep her safe.”

Eddie knows it’s true as he says it. Remarkably, Steve Harrington is a good dude, and isn’t that the worst fucking thing in the world to realize right now? Steve Harrington had risked his life for a little kid he barely knows, a lady he’s probably only met in the grocery store check-out line, and a high schooler who’s guts he hated a few days before.

And now he’s dead.

Eddie keeps thinking about his last words. They keep running through his mind, steady enough to keep time with, even as his heartbeat speeds up enough to make his blood vessels feel tight. “I’ll see you at home.” Home being the Munson’s trailer. Home being where there’s a little boy and Eddie fucking Munson waiting for him to make it out alive.

Who says that?

Steve fucking Harrington promised to come home when there was no chance of making it out alive.

Will is still crying in Wayne’s recliner, and Eddie wishes, desperately that his Uncle were here now. He’d know how to comfort Will, how to get out of here. How to keep Steve safe.

But he’s not here, so Eddie kneels by the chair and hold Will’s hand while he cries. It could last hours or minutes. Eddie doesn’t know. He’s not really here.

Not when Will asks, “will Steve be okay?”

Not when he replies, “Steve’s like an action hero, Byers. He’ll be walking through that door at any moment.”

Not when Will’s answering silence echoes through the room like condemnation.

His tears have dried on his face, sticky with salt. He doesn’t notice when Will reaches over and wipes them away.

Eddie Munson isn’t in the living room waiting for Steve Harrington to come through the door.

He’s still in the Byers’ hallway, watching King Steve raise his gun. There’s no fear on his face, just a heartbreaking mix of wistfulness and resolve.

Eddie wants to know what he was thinking in that moment, with that expression. Was he standing there with a monster in front of him, wishing more than anything that he was hiding back in Eddie’s bedroom all the while, knowing his rightful place was right there saving lives?

Was he back further still, both in that hallway, and in the cafeteria trading pudding cups with Carol Perkins, standing at the threshold of a realistic fantasy and an unending nightmare?

Maybe he wasn’t thinking anything at all.

Eddie will never know. Steve Harrington is dead. And Eddie wasn’t there.

“Eddie?” Will asks. He sounds scared. Eddie comes back. Steve said to keep Will safe, and he will. “You need water.”

Eddie laughs. It sounds more like he’s choking. “You’re the one crying, baby Byers.”

Neither of them comment on the dried tracks running down Eddie’s own cheeks.

Eddie’s knees feel like concrete as he gets up to go retrieve his backpack. It’s not by the door, not along the path from the entrance to the living room. He checks his bathroom and bedroom, can’t quite remember where he’s been. It’s not there.

“I think I left my backpack at your house,” Eddie says, then laughs, struck hysterical at the way it comes out. Like he’d just gone to Will’s house after school to hang out, and not to contact his Mom from the wrong side of the beyond.

“I still have mine,” Will says.

He slithers forward in the chair, giving himself enough room to slide it down his shoulders from where it’s still strapped to his back.

They only put two bottles in the kid’s pack, not wanting to bog him down, but it should be enough for today, at least.

As they drink from separate bottles, grimacing at the taste of silt, Eddie’s thinking about how he’ll have to get more water tomorrow. Without Steve. Should he go alone? Should he bring the kid? Should he curl up in a ball and die?

Steve took the only viable weapon and fucked off to die. It hits him suddenly; how goddamn angry he is. How dare he? Couldn’t he have pulled this shit a few days ago when his only attachment to Harrington was that he was another living person, that Eddie wouldn’t have to be alone? How could he do this, after they’d played D&D, and played truth and dare, and survived together.

Steve Harrington had carved out a little spot for himself in Eddie’s sternum and then went off to die.

He doesn’t notice his hands shaking until Will crouches in front of him, grabs the open water bottle, and caps it.

“Shit,” Eddie says. “Sorry, kid.”

“Steve will be okay,” Will says, like he believes it and not like he’s just repeating Eddie’s own bullshit back at him.

Eddie nods. The anger is sucked out of him as quick as it arrived. His chin is trembling, and it feels like a lozenge is stuck in his throat. He swallows it, coughs out a “yeah.”

Will pushes Eddie’s bangs back and almost petting him in a move he definitely learned from Mama Byers. At the edges of his eyesight, he can see his bangs spring back down at wonky angles. He doesn’t bother fixing it.

“He beat Xanathar, he can definitely kick a Demogorgon’s butt,” Will says, smiling with his lips, but not his eyes.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, trying for his usual pep, moving forward anyway when it falls flat. “He’s going to come bursting through the door at any moment on his noble stead and tell us tales of his vanquishment of the great evil.”

They smile at each other vacantly. Will folds himself into Eddie’s side. The warmth is comforting. Nice. Eddie slides his arm around the kid, pulling him closer.

They wait.

And wait.

Will’s asleep, face pressed into his ribs, by the time Eddie’s eyes start drooping. The stressful day is catching up to him. The days of hunger and fear stacking on top of his eyelids, pulling them down. But he can’t sleep.

If he falls asleep, the day will be over, and Steve Harrington won’t have come back.

He fights it. He loses. He sleeps.

The door creaks when it’s opened – a rusty hinge Uncle Wayne’s meant to oil for years.

It’s not Sir Steven on his noble steed, with his sword held high in victory. No. It’s even better. Steve Harrington stands at the threshold, a little worse for wear. There’s a bloody scratch cutting across his forehead, heading alarmingly up and into his signature hair. His shirts muddy, and there’s a bruise blooming alone his cheekbone. But he’s breathing. He’s alive.

Eddie loses time again, but it’s okay now because he’s in front of Steve, and he’s looking into his pretty, brown, living eyes. He slaps his face, once, too hard. Doesn’t even notice his hand moved until the sound echoes through the room.

Eddie darts forward, kissing the spot, three times quickly. He’s smearing snot and tears across King Steve’s face, and he couldn’t care less.

He feels out of control, untethered and wild, until Steve wraps his arms around Eddie tight. Eddie hugs back, harder than he should when Steve’s injuries remain largely a mystery.

But if he doesn’t keep his hold on the other boy, he thinks he might shake apart.

“You’re alive,” he says, wet and shaking, voice muffled into Steve’s neck.

Steve laughs. It vibrates through Eddie’s cheek, shakes something loose in his chest. “Yeah.” It’s barely a breath, but he hears it. “I said I’d come home.”

Steve Harrington is alive. And he came home.

Part 20

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #my fic

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ellieslovr · 2 months

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A Visit To Mr.Miller’s House

CW: age gap, daddy kink, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy. This is a dbf joel miller fic. Reader has no physical description, Joel is able to pick them up. Joel Miller x F! Reader. wc:3,071

A/N:wow, it only took me a month to upload this time! Look at that. Anyways, this is my first Joel fic, so let’s see how it goes. Enjoy! I have many more ideas for him.

Summary: After your dad asks you to go pick up something from Joel’s house, you get a lot more than you bargained for.

You really hadn’t been thinking when you’d borrowed one of your best friend’s shirts. You’d had an impromptu sleepover, leaving you without a shirt to wear to bed. She dug through her drawers and tossed one towards you, laughing.

You scan the text on the front. “I LOVE DILFS” it read. You glanced up at her. “Seriously?” You said.

She just laughed. “You’re just wearing it to sleep, you’ll be fine.” You just roll your eyes and slump onto the bed next to her, nestling under the covers.

You’re awoken the next morning by your phone repeatedly ringing, and you yawn as you reach for it.

Seeing that it’s your dad, you groan and hit accept. “Are you just waking up?” He asks. Hello to you too, you thought.

“Yeah, I spent the night at a friends.” You reply. “Oh, well I have a favor to ask.” He said, and you could hear a shuffling noise in the background. “What’s that noise?” You ask him.

“I’m working on repairing this old car, but I need one of the parts for tomorrow.” He told you.

Before you could respond, he continued. “Since I wasn’t gonna be home when it got delivered, I had it sent to Miller’s house. Think you could go pick it up? I won’t be home till late, so you can just leave it on the table.” You groan internally. Of course he’d have it delivered there.

Your dad and Mr.Miller, or Joel as he’d insist you call him, were lifelong friends. They’d known each other since high school, and still hung out from time to time. It’s not that you didn’t like Joel, in fact it was the complete opposite. You liked him too much.

As a kid, you’d always seen him as a sort of uncle figure, but that changed as you got older. Now, you couldn’t be around him without being reduced to a blushing and stuttering mess.

You snap out of your thoughts and realize your dad is still waiting on a response. “Yeah, I’ll grab it. I’m leaving here in a few minutes.” You say.

“Thanks sweetheart, I’ll see you later tonight. Bye.” With that, he hangs up the phone. You turn around and see your friend grinning at you.

“What?” You ask. She smirks. “You have to go to Joel’s house~” She sings. You toss one of her pillows at her. “Shut up.” She laughs and throws it back at you, and you place it down onto the bed.

You finish packing your stuff, and your friend walks you outside to your car. You wave her goodbye and she wishes you luck with a wink, which you scoff at.

The drive back home is about twenty minutes, so you decide to take the longer route. The less time you have to see Joel, the better. You pull up to your house, and exit the car.

Once you’ve put all your stuff away, you pull a jacket on and head over to Joel’s house. It’s winter time in Texas and although it wasn’t freezing, it was still pretty cold. You walk up the front porch steps, and ring the doorbell. You wait a minute or so, and there’s no answer.

As soon as you lift your fist to knock, the door swings open. Joel peers down at you, dressed in a stained white muscle shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He must’ve been working out.

You swallow hard, trying to remember what it is you’re here for. “Oh, it’s you. Hey kiddo, c’mon in.” Joel says, ushering you inside. You smile at him.

“Thank you, Mr.Miller.” He shuts the door. “Call me Joel, sweetheart.” He tells you. You know the name doesn’t hold any weight behind it, but it still gives you butterflies nonetheless.

“You caught me right in the middle of my workout.” He says, using a towel to wipe the sweat off his face. You try to not let your eyes wander to the droplets rolling down his neck, no doubt cascading down his abs.

Joel doesn’t seem to notice that you’re distracted, and carries on. “How about you take your coat off and stay a while?” He asks.

Your heart skips a beat. “Actually, my dad just wanted me to pick something up.” You told him. His face dropped slightly. “Oh, right.” He replied, gesturing to the package sitting on his table.

“I could stay for a little though, I’ve got nothing to do today.” You told him, mentally cursing yourself for being unable to say no to him.

He brightened up. “Atta girl, I’ll grab you a beer.” On his way to the fridge, he stopped. “You’re old enough to drink right?” He asked.

You stifle a laugh. “I’m 24 Joel, yes.” You reply. He just chuckles and rummages around the fridge, pulling out two cans. He sits at a comfortable distance from you on the couch, and cracks his open.

You inadvertently watch the way his muscles ripple as he lifts the can to his mouth and takes a sip. He groans and places it down on the table.

“So, how’ve things been? Staying out of trouble?” He asks. You shrug your coat off, nodding.

“For the most part, yeah.” Joel’s eyes “accidentally” flick down to your chest as you do so, and his breath catches in his throat. He’s blushing. “Interesting shirt you got there.” He says.

You give him a confused glance, and then look down. “Oh, shit. This is my friend's shirt, I completely forgot I borrowed it from her.”

Joel’s grip on the can tightens, the metal bending under his grasp, his veins popping out slightly. “So that’s what you’re into these days?” He asks. “Dilfs?”

You laugh. “I’m surprised you even know what that means.” You reply. Joel smiles, some of the awkwardness dissipating. “Hey, I’ve been around. I’m not that old.” He teases. You watch as he leans back against the couch. “Your dads been good?” He asks.

You nod your head. “Yeah, he won’t be home until late because he’s working on something.” You tell him. You don’t miss the way Joel’s gaze darkens at your words.

“Yeah?” He says. He’s staring at you now. You shift a little under his gaze, big doe eyes staring up at him.

“Mhm. Might be out all night.” You murmur. He’s so close now. You can feel his breath fanning across your cheek. “Tell me to stop.”

He whispers it almost pleadingly, hand coming up to cup your cheek. Part of him knows this is wrong, that your dad will kill him if he finds out. The other part of him doesn’t care though, he just needs you so bad.

You lean into his touch. “Don’t stop.” You tell him. Joel curses under his breath and then he’s kissing you, his lips warm and slightly chapped.

You moan into his mouth and he loses control, wrapping his arms around your waist. When you pull away to breathe, he starts to kiss your neck. “Joel..” You mewl, moving to tug his shirt off. He complies, helping you pull it off.

You drag your nails up and down his bare skin, and he shivers. “Take me to your bed?” You ask. He nods and scoops you into his arms, heading towards his bedroom. He kicks the door open and places you gently on the bed, before shutting the door.

He immediately begins to remove your shirt, dropping it to the ground. He kisses down your chest, pulling a hardened nipple into his mouth. You arch your back, whimpering softly. Joel nearly growls at your reaction, and moves to pinch the other between his fingers.

You’re squirming underneath his ministrations, and he decides to take pity on you. He helps you shuffle your jeans off, leaving you in just your underwear.

Your arousal is evident through the fabric, a wet patch staining it. Joel groans low in his throat, dragging a single finger up your slit. You buck your hips into his touch, a soft whine leaving your throat. “Joel..” You mumble.

He leans in and kisses you to distract you, while he slips his fingers into your panties. He quickly finds your clit, brushing his thumb across it.

Your breath hitched. He slides them off with ease, adding them to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Something about him being fully clothed while you were naked sent a rush of arousal through you.

Joel stands and pulls his tank top up over his head, wiping the sweat off his face with it. You catch a glimpse of his chiseled abs and the happy trail leading down his pelvis. He notices you staring and slips his gym shorts off.

Your eyes drop down to his bulge. He’s huge, bigger than any guy you’d ever been with, and he wasn’t even fully naked yet. You wait with baited breath as he slowly pulls his boxers down, revealing his hard cock. Jesus Christ.

He takes it between his hands, stroking it gently. “Open.” He tells you. You comply, letting your mouth drop open. He guides himself into your mouth, and you close your lips around him. He groans. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

He barely gives you time to adjust and he starts rocking his hips back and forth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. The sounds he’s pulling from you are obscene, wet and messy. You swipe your tongue across his tip, and he curses under his breath.

“I gotta pull out baby, m’ not gonna last long.” He tells you. You let your jaw go slack, and he pulls out. He begins to dig through his drawers, and you peer over at him.

“What’re you doing?” You ask. He grabs a box. “Condom.” He replies, pulling one of its package. You chew your bottom lip. “I’m clean.” Joel sighs.

“That ain’t my concern, sweetheart. I don’t need to be knockin’ you up, your daddy would kill me.” You pout. “I’ll go get a plan B after.” He groans. “You’re a stubborn one, ain’t you?” He asks.

“I mean, we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it.” You told him. He shakes his head. “That’s not it, I just didn’t want you to feel like you have to.” He said. You smile.

“What a gentleman.” You tease. He grins bashfully, looking down. “Yeah, you know me. So what’ll it be?” Your cheeks flush. “We don’t need it.” You tell him. He nods.

“Sounds good to me.” He tosses it to the side, and positions himself between your spread legs. He drags himself slowly up and down your slick folds, groaning quietly.

“Joel, please.” You urge him. He shakes his head. “No baby, you gotta beg me. C’mon, use that pretty mouth.”

“Please fuck me Joel, I need it.” You plead with him, looking up at him through your lashes. He gives in, and pushes into you agonizingly slow. Despite not being a virgin, it still stung a bit because of his size.

Once he was all the way in, he kissed your forehead. “Stay still baby. Get used to it.” He tells you. You do as he says, and a few minutes pass. You wiggle your hips, and a jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. “You ready?” Joel asks. You nod.

He lifts one of your legs over his shoulders, and repeats the process with the other. Your body is pressed against him now, his skin flush against yours. He slowly starts to fuck you, reveling in how tight you are around him. “You’re so fucking pretty..” Joel murmurs against your lips.

You let yourself melt into his touch, knowing he’ll take care of you. His cock drags up and down your walls, lighting a fire in your belly. Joel grunts.

“Fuck, look at you. All spread open for me.” You whimper and lean up to kiss him, which he happily obliges. He gives you a hard thrust, and you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck, you feel that in your tummy, princess? You feel how deep I am?” You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. “Feels so good, Joel.” You tell him. He smirks. “That’s not my name baby.”

You wrack your brain, trying to think of what he means. Then, it hits you. “Daddy?” You say.

His smirk widens, and you feel his cock throb. “There you go.” He replied. You look up at him.

“Didn’t think you were that much of a pervert.” You tease. He raises an eyebrow. “The way you’re squeezin’ around my cock says otherwise, baby.” He tells you.

He hikes your legs up onto his shoulders, pushing deeper into you. “Oh, fuck-“ He grunts, muscles straining. You watched his arms flex as he held you in place, thrusting in and out of you.

“Christ, you’re tight. Them college boys ain’t doing it for ya, huh?” He asks with a smirk. You moan, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts. “No daddy.” You reply, reaching between your legs to find your clit.

“You let them fuck you like this, baby? You let them fill you up?” He asks you, a possessive edge to his tone. You whimper.

“No daddy, just you.” You reply. He laughs, reaching down to cup your cheek. “That’s right baby, this is my pussy from now on. Understand, sweetheart?”

You’re so cockdrunk now, that all you can do is nod dumbly as he continues to thrust into you. He just grins and slips his thumb into your mouth.

“Atta girl, just needed to be taken care of, huh?” He murmurs, pushing it deeper into your mouth. “Yes daddy.” You sigh contentedly as he continues at a steady pace.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer, dragging your manicured nails down his back. You wince, hoping you hadn’t scratched him too hard.

He groans and speeds up, the tip of him pressing right against your cervix. He has you in a mating press now, thrusting wildly. “I’m getting close sweetheart, you sure you don’t want me to pull out?” He asks you.

You lock your legs around his waist, your pussy gripping him tighter. “No. Want you to cum inside daddy, want you to fill me up.” You tell him, dragging your nails down his bicep.

He curses under his breath and spills inside you, muttering obscenities. You climax shortly after him, and slump down further into the bed. You both bask in the afterglow of your orgasms, while Joel presses gentle kisses all over your face. You sigh happily and look over at him.

“You’ve been real pent up huh?” You ask with a smirk. He playfully shoves you. “Shut up, I usually last longer than that.” He replies.

You chuckle. “I’ll have to put that to the test next time.” He raises an eyebrow. “There’s gonna be a next time?” You blush.

“Well, I just figured maybe-“ He cuts you off with a laugh. “I’m just teasing, baby. Listen, how about I take you out to dinner? You free Sunday?” He asks. You nod.

“Yeah, I’m free.” He grins. “Good. C’mon, I’ll help you into the bath and then we can order take out. That alright with you?”

You nod and lift your arms up, causing him to chuckle. “You wanna be carried, princess?” He asked, gathering you into his arms.

You slump against him, exhausted. He holds you with one arm as he turns on the water and warms it up, letting the tub fill.

He gradually adds bubbles, to which you raise an eyebrow. “You take bubble baths?” You ask him. He chuckles sheepishly, hand coming to scratch his cheek.

“They say it’s supposed to help relax you.” He replies. You shrug, sinking down into the water. “I’m not complaining.” The scent of lavender hits your nose as Joel climbs into the tub with you.

He looks a bit funny, hunched over and hugging his knees to make room for himself. He grabs a bottle of flowery shampoo, and you smirk.

“You got a lot of ladies showering here, Miller?” He rolls his eyes and uncaps the bottle. “It’s for when Sarah visits. Now do you want me to wash your hair or not?”

You respond by leaning your head back, dipping your hair into the water. Joel smiles at that and begins rubbing the shampoo into his hands.

He massages it through your scalp and you close your eyes, sighing in contentment. He finishes up with the shampoo and cups the water in his hands, washing it out.

He repeats the process with the conditioner, and starts washing his own hair. Once he’s finished, he turns the water off and stands up, pulling you with him. He grabs two fluffy towels from the closet, and wraps one around you.

“You good with Chinese food?” He asks, ruffling his hair with the towel. You nod. “Yeah, get beef lo mein too.” You tell him. He laughs, shooting you a glance.

“Demanding.” He teases. You roll your eyes, crossing the room and letting the towel drop. Joel falls silent, his eyes dropping down to admire your body.

“What were you saying?” You ask with a smirk. He blushes. “The beef one you said?” He asks. You nod, moving to tug his towel off. He bites his lip.

“I’m not sure I have another one in me, sweetheart.” He tells you. You hum. “I know. Just wanted to take a look.” He laughs and exits the bathroom, dropping the towels into a laundry basket.

When he gets to his room, he dresses in a pair of boxer shorts and an old t shirt. When he hands you one of his shirts, you pull it on over your head and smile at him. “It’s big on you, but you look good in my clothes.” He tells you.

You grin. “Not the only thing that’s big.” You tell him, leaning into him. He rolls his eyes. “Oh, and I’m a pervert?” He asks jokingly. You don’t respond, instead opting to pull him into a kiss.

Joel kisses you back, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip. Your stomach growling is what forces you two apart, and you blush.

“You gonna order that food?” You ask him. He grins and wraps an arm around you, leading you to sit down on the couch.

“Sure thing sweetheart.”

#dbf!joel #dbf joel miller #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller smut #joel smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel the last of us #the last of us joel

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greatooglymooglyyy · 2 months

Text

The Last Ride Chapter Four (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

contains: angst, verbal fighting, feelings of loneliness, general sadness, fluff, parental issues, 2.1k words

a/n: sheesh. that's all i gotta say

the last ride masterlist

For the first time in my life, my alarm wakes me up on my birthday. Instead of forcing myself to get up quickly how I’ve trained myself to, I allow myself a few moments to stare up at the ceiling, dreading the lack of notifications on my phone.

My dad had sent out a quick and haphazard message the night before, not even waiting until midnight, and I’m under no delusion that anyone else cares enough to call.

Sighing, I push myself up out of the bed and head to the shower, longing for the chance to have some part of me feel brand new.

When I’m out and dressed, I stare in the mirror for an embarrassing amount of time. I turn my face from side to side, smoothing my fingertips over nonexistent wrinkles and laugh lines that should be deeper. Every year, I hope that I’ll look into my reflection and see someone different. I cross my fingers for a version of myself that feels wiser, kinder, and more comfortable in her skin. But standing here now, freshly nineteen, the only thing I see is a girl who’s running out of time.

****************************

After a very uneventful breakfast, I head out to meet Chris to help with the fence repairs. I’m hoping he’s in the mood to take it easy on me today but of course, he’s feeling the opposite.

From the moment I hop in the pickup truck, he’s throwing task after task at me. By the time the sun is high in the sky, I’m exhausted and defeated. But when I lean against the wall for a second, Chris happens to come around the corner, scowling. “We ain’t got time to lay around today, Scotch. We’re behind on yields.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Go take some hay out to the boys at the stables. Take the pickup truck and I’ll have someone drop me around there in a second.” He cuts in, tossing me the keys and walking away before I can respond.

I grit my teeth to keep from throwing curses at his back and do what he said, motivated by excitement to visit the horses.

When I walk in, all I see is chaos. Cinnamon’s got a mean grip on some poor guy’s shirt and is refusing to release him.

“Let me go, you mean old bastard!” The boy howls. Why he doesn’t just take his shirt off and charge it as a loss? I don’t know.

Another worker brandishes a whip to scare her into letting go but Cinnamon doesn’t even flinch. My kind of woman.

Despite how entertained I am, I decide to intervene, hoping my girl still has a soft spot for me. Cautiously, I approach and coo for her attention. She seems to physically relax at the sight of me so I reach out and stroke the side of her face until she releases him. When she does, I reach down for her treats and feed her some, offering praise. “Good girl. What’d that bad man do to you? Huh?”

“I ain’t do a thing to that monster!” He wails, scrambling up from where he fell when she let him go. I ignore his whining and tell the boys about the hay before turning my attention back to Cinnamon. I notice she’s still wearing her head collar, which is probably what he was trying to remove, so I take it off for her and she neighs in satisfaction.

Someone clears their throat behind me and I groan internally, knowing who it is before I even turn.

“Did you not hear me when I said we had a busy day?” Chris asks, his voice rough with irritation. I sigh before giving him a brief explanation, even though I know he won’t care.

He doesn’t say anything for a second but then walks over, his voice softening slightly. “Alright. Go help them unload before I dock your pay.”

****************************

When it’s time for lunch, we do what’s become our custom and sit together in the bed of the truck to eat. Sometimes the other ranch hands join us, crowding around and telling inside jokes, but most days it’s just the two of us.

Today, we eat in comfortable silence, my mind too full of self-pitying sadness to conjure up conversation. Chris nudges me with his shoulder and I look over. “What’s up with you today? Missing on the mall?”

I roll my eyes at his joke, the small barb cutting me more than it would any other day. “I’m sick of you acting like it’s impossible for me to have any depth.”

He laughs, not picking up on my tone. “C’mon, Y/N. You’re as deep as an autumn puddle, darlin’.

Anger pours over me like a cold shower and I slide off the truck, packing up my trash. “Fuck you, Chris.”

“Whoa.” He says, eyes widening. “Relax. It was a joke.”

“Was it?” I ask glaring.

“I mean…” He sighs and takes off his hat to scratch his head. “I’m just sayin’. You’ve had it easy. Perfect parents who gave you the perfect life. Not all of us have it that good.”

It’s my turn to laugh at the audacity he has to make statements like that about my life. “You know what, Chris? You’re right. I’ve been privileged. I’ve been lucky. But what do you know about my life? What’s so perfect about it? Is it the friends that couldn’t care less about me? My parents? You mean the woman who ran out on us when I was ten? Have you ever spent your birthday waiting on the stairs for your mother to come back because you convinced yourself she wouldn’t miss it?”

I scoff in disgust, despising the sympathetic look on his face. “Or did you mean my dad? The one who spent my entire life throwing gifts at me and then punished me for being who he raised me to be? So fucking perfect. Thanks for pointing that out.”

Chris opens and shuts his mouth twice, finally speechless. He reaches out a hand as if to pull into him. “Scotch-”

I back away so he can’t touch me. “Save it. God. You are so self-righteous about who you think I am. But all you’ve done since I got here is pretend you know everything about me.”

I storm off, spotting my uncle and asking him if I could work under him instead today.

“Did you talk to Chris about it?” He asks hesitantly, looking over my shoulder at him. I nod quickly and he raises an eyebrow, clearly seeing through me. But at the look of desperation on my face, he caves and points me towards the goats.

****************************

When Aunt Birdie calls me for dinner, I’m tempted to tell her I’m not hungry but I know she will insist. I didn’t even stop to speak to her when I got off this afternoon, just ran into my room and sunk into a bath.

I step into the kitchen with my eyes low so it’s a genuine shock when they yell out “Happy birthday”. My eyes are full of wonder when Aunt Birdie comes over with a beautiful jumbo cupcake from the local bakery. She’s placed a “19” candle in the center and hands me a lighter to make a wish.

I think about it for a second. “Can I maybe save it for later?”

“Of course, bunny. It’s your birthday. You make the rules.” Aunt Birdie answers sweetly, pushing my hair out of my face.

I look down at the cupcake again, my eyes getting teary. “I didn’t think you remembered.”

“Oh, honey. Like your dad would ever let us forget. ‘Sides, ain’t a year passed since you’ve been on this earth that I ain’t mailed you out a card.” Uncle Buck chimes in.

And it’s all I have not to shatter into a million pieces on the floor.

****************************

That night I sit crisscrossed in my bed thinking over my wish. The lamplight tinges the room yellow and it just makes me sadder.

I pick up the lighter, my hands shaking as I spark it. I close my eyes, feeling childish but not willing to risk wasting my wish.

“I wish to never feel this alone again.” I whisper, my voice quivering before I blow out the fire. As soon as I do, whatever was keeping me together inside snaps and I fall apart.

I put the cupcake on the nightstand and curl around myself, sobbing until I shake into my pillow. I stay like that until I feel like there are no tears left in my body until the sobs turn to sniffling hiccups.

Just as I start to calm down I hear a sharp knock on my window and sit up. I wipe my face quickly and peer out, staying far back in case I have to yell for my uncle.

“It’s me.” A voice calls and I step closer on instinct. Chris is kneeling in the grass outside my window, his face pressed close to the glass.

Confused, I unlatch the window and slide it up, going to my knees so we can be at eye level. He leans his head into my room, his hair covered by a new trucker hat and a gold chain dangling from his neck.

I look down at my pajamas and cringe. He would come to my window on washday. My eyes must be bloodshot from the way I just cried but Chris doesn’t comment. He just crosses his arms on the windowsill, looking past me into the room.

“You decorated.” He notes with a small smile, nodding at the new rug and bedspread. I’d hardly call it interior design.

“Well, you know me. Too shallow to leave well enough alone.” I answer bitterly, bracing a hand against the wall.

Chris’ face drops at this and he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that… I owe you an apology. It was a cheap shot even without knowing the whole story.”

“Mhm.” I agree, still a bit too petty to accept his apology. The silence between us becomes a bit awkward for a second before I speak. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Is that really how you see me? Just a surface level city broad?” I ask quietly after a beat and my heart hammers when he hesitates.

“Do you want me to be honest?” He asks cautiously, using the same tone he approaches the bulls with. I nod, despite not knowing whether it’s the truth.

Chris turns his trucker hat backward, giving me a good look in his eyes and studying me before he answers. “I did at first. Now I reckon that’s just what you want everyone to think.”

His statement settles over me like the shine from a spotlight. But for once it doesn’t feel like an accusation.

“Anyway,” He starts, leaning back and picking up something from where it lays at his feet. “A little Birdie told me it was your birthday.”

Surprise must be all over my face because he grins from ear to ear as he hands me a wrapped rectangular box. I peel the paper off slowly, still in shock that he thought to get me anything and gasp when I see its shoes. Chris clears his throat like he’s nervous and I look back up at him. “Evie told me you liked hers so I just thought…” He trails off, picking at the paint on the windowsill.

I fling off the top excitedly and pull out the boots. They are gorgeous, almost an exact match to Evie’s except brown with a cut out of some flower along the side instead of a name.

“What flower is this?” I ask as I run my finger over the leather in wonder.

“Waterlilies. It’s your birth flower.” Chris answers before adding a low and embarrassed. “If you don’t like ‘em, it’s cool. I know it probably ain’t your style-”

I cut him off with a hug, wrapping my arms tight around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder. “Thank you, Chris. This means a lot.”

He freezes up at first but slowly returns my hug, pulling me closer. “Don’t mention it, Scotch.”

I finally pull away and wipe at my face, cursing myself for being so emotional today. Chris gives me a lopsided smile before he taps the window once and sighs. “I gotta get home. Get some sleep. We’ve got horses tomorrow.”

I grin back at him and nod, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “Okay. Goodnight, boss.”

When he’s gone, I pull the window back down and lock it before looking back down at the boots. I place them on my shoe rack, tossing a pair of my Ricks to the side to make room. I stare at them for a long while, the swirling feeling in my chest growing until I finally make myself go to sleep. And when I dream, it’s of fields of waterlilies.

🏷️/ @xoxo4chrisss @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo

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shanastoryteller · 2 months

Note

HAPPY GALANTINE’S SHANA

I would love some Momma Hera or anything MDZS. THANK YOU. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Xichen isn't in his room.

"Told you," Wei Wuxian says. "Bet you a bottle of wine he's in Da-ge's."

"Do I look like a fool to you?" Nie Huaisang demands.

Wei Wuxian whistles. "We'd need a lot more alcohol and maybe a flow chart to answer that question."

Nie Huaisang hits him with his fan.

Lan Wangji takes a deep, calming breath. There are plenty of reasonable explanations for why his brother is out of his room after curfew that don’t involve Nie Mingjue.

He can’t think of any, currently, but that’s because the two of them slap fighting each other behind him.

“Enough,” he snaps. He can’t turn them over to the one duty senior disciple because they’re clan heirs and any punishment could have political implications, which means Xichen or Uncle need to be the ones to issue them. But Xichen isn’t here and Uncle won’t be pleased to be woken up over a couple tardy disciples. The issue of the wards is concerning, but they’d been back in place when he’d gone to check, and there’s no real reason it can’t wait to morning. “Go to your dormitory. I’ll report your actions to my uncle in the morning.”

Xichen would have been more lenient, but he thinks they could benefit from a strict punishment.

“Why don’t you escort us there?” Wei Wuxian asks with a smile that makes Lan Wangji want to lean away from him or maybe lean cl – no, definitely away. “This place is so big. You don’t want me getting lost, do you?”

The paths are rather easy to follow, even at night. They hadn’t seemed to have any trouble getting here in the first place.

Nie Huaisang retches. “Seriously? First Da-ge and now you? What is it about the Lans?” He pauses, looking Lan Wangji up and down in a way that he’s not totally certain he’s comfortable with. “Okay, I mean, I suppose I see the appeal, but still.”

Wei Wuxian reaches out to punch Nie Huaisang in the side without looking at him. “Shut up.”

“Maybe we should get more alcohol,” he continues, not listening. “I think I’m going to need it.”

Lan Wangji leaves them still bickering.

The next morning Nie Huaisang wails all throughout his punishment. It’s not even that bad – he doesn’t even have to do a handstand, just copy rules of punctuality and prohibition.

Wei Wuxian, on account of meddling with the wards (Xichen had been impressed but Uncle hadn’t been), has to a handstand for several hours in the courtyard.

Doing it shirtless seems unnecessary.

Winking at him every time he walks by also seems unnecessary.

“Wow,” Xichen says, the time he’s unfortunately there to witness this behavior. “Are you sure he’s adopted?”

“Shut up,” Nie Mingjue grumbles.

Xichen listens about as well as Nie Huaisang had. Lan Wangji can’t mind, because he shouldn’t be saying that to him anyway. “Because I remember you at a certain age-”

Nie Mingjue draws his sword and Xichen is laughing as he mirrors him, the two of the sparring across the courtyard.

Lan Wangji is glad that Xichen has a friend.

He just wishes him visiting wasn’t necessitated by Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang making a mess of everything as quickly as possible.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #brownielocks57 #untamed

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loveinhawkins · 10 months

Text

The day before Spring Break ‘84, Eddie has a panic attack so bad he stays locked in a bathroom stall long after the final bell has rung.

And it’s so stupid. It’s not like the whole thing came as a surprise to him: he saw the writing on the wall even back in December, his grades on a continual downward spiral he couldn’t shift.

But he kept on trucking cause he’s still got the mind of a five year old, apparently, hoping against hope that things would just miraculously work out.

Idiot.

He doesn’t have anything worth getting riled up over, no mistreatment to distract him—sure, if it was O’Donnell doing the honours, she might’ve been a little mean about it, but instead he’d been directed to the school receptionist who confirmed the ‘unfortunate news’ with an uninterested if pleasant smile.

She asked if he’d talked to his homeroom teacher about his predicament, and he’d promptly lied through his teeth and said yes, even though he’d rather die than do anything of the sort. Then she went on about his ‘many options’, a prospective timetable for next semester, some forms to fill in, blah, blah, blah.

“Would you want a call home?” she’d said, already reaching for the phone. “We can go through the process with—”

“No, thanks,” Eddie told her quickly. He stuffed the forms into his bag. “I’ve got—I’ll let my uncle know.”

The thought of Wayne having his day off interrupted by such news made him feel nauseous.

Fuck, Wayne. He’ll be waiting for him.

At that realisation, Eddie goes cold then hot then cold again. He stumbles, gets the stall door open eventually, shakes the jittery feeling out of his fingers.

The parking lot’s still busy—students lazily chatting, perched half in, half-out of their cars; all they’ve got to worry about is whether they’re invited to Tina’s or Josh’s or whoever-the-fuck’s—depends on whose parents have unwisely left their house empty for the week.

Eddie’s stayed so long that he’s missed the bus, so he starts the trudge home, grits his teeth at every stab of his boots cutting into his heels—the van isn’t even on his periphery yet, still many months of scraping and saving to go until it’s his.

He’s almost out the school grounds. He crosses the road entirely on autopilot, startles when he realises that he’s had to make a car do an emergency stop.

Steve Harrington waves him on with a tiny little flick of the finger, all breezy, and great, that’s all he fucking needs—Mister Cool being polite to him.

He gives a small nod of thanks before continuing his walk. Keeps his head down, eyes on the sidewalk. Doesn’t bother about whether he steps on any cracks or not; he figures his luck isn’t changing any time soon.

His palms itch. He knows it’s stupid and embarrassingly self-centred of him, but he can’t get rid the thought that everyone’s looking at him, that everyone knows somehow.

Wayne sees him coming from the porch. By the time Eddie reaches him, he’s gone inside and out, re-emerging with a can of cream soda that he cracks open and holds out with one hand.

Eddie can’t take it. He reaches for the contents of his bag, cringing inside at how the papers are already creased, he can’t even manage…

He passes the forms to Wayne. Can’t look him in the eye.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Uncle Wayne,” he says—and mortifyingly, his throat closes up, and that’s all he can get out.

There’s barely a pause before Wayne says, “Eddie. Can you look at me?” When Eddie does, he clicks his tongue quietly at whatever he must find. “Kid, you’re all right. S’not the end of the world.”

Eddie scoffs. “Damn well feels like it.”

Yup, petulant as fuck too. Why not? Might as well crash and burn.

He at least makes sure to shut the front door as apologetically as he can. There’s one singular plate in the sink that he sets about scrubbing even though it hardly needs it.

He hears Wayne come in; he’s reading still, turning the pages over thoughtfully.

Eddie keeps scrubbing.

Wayne’s probably reading the test results. Eddie doesn’t need to see to know the ones that’ll be lingered on.

He couldn’t even pass English. The one thing that was meant to be in the bag, where he could scrape a C-, and he…

What the fuck’s wrong with him? Where’s the sense in being able to write a good campaign on a whim when he can’t even…

“Eddie.” Wayne passes the cream soda can across the counter. “You keep workin’ at the sink any longer, and m’gonna start thinkin’ you’re ‘bout to give me your last will and testament.”

Eddie chuckles. Scrubs at his eyes and obligingly steps away. He picks up the can—the cold metal soothes the itch trapped in his palm.

Wayne folds the papers neatly, corner to corner.

“I’ll help you fill everything in,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll get a pen.”

But Wayne shakes his head. “Not tonight. We’ve got plans, remember?”

Eddie laughs again. ‘Got plans’, according to Wayne, means watching T.V in comfortable silence, Eddie lounging on the couch; Wayne might occasionally read out a crossword clue he’s stuck on before typically solving it on his own, and Eddie would drop off to sleep early, his last impression that of Wayne treading lightly from his armchair, turning the volume down.

It’s a comforting thought.

But he… he should be…

Wayne gives him a knowing look, waves him over to the couch.

The creak of the refrigerator door opening. Wayne’ll be starting dinner soon. Some sorta pasta, probably: it’s tradition, whenever school ends.

“Hey, Ed.”

Eddie curls up on the couch, knees to his chest. “Mm-hmm?”

“It’s fixable, all right? It ain’t a chore. You know that, right?”

Eddie smiles—he sniffles and doesn’t bother scrubbing at his eyes again when they fill up.

“Yeah, I—I know.”

The words are old, a truth he’s had to be reminded of many times; it started back when the world had ended once before, when Eddie, newly moved into Wayne’s trailer, had stammered, “I-I won’t bother you, Uncle Wayne, I swear, you won’t need to—”

And then he learnt the very first rule of the universe—save for the fact that Wayne would always, always be there to help him.

It ain’t a chore, loving you.

#eddie munson fic #steve has a tiny cameo because i couldn’t help myself #eddie and wayne munson #eddie and wayne munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #eddie and wayne munson ficlet #eddie munson #wayne munson

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petersbaby · 1 year

Text

Here is what the people want

Porn - Gross/perv stepbro!eddie

Warnings: stepcest, male masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering

It was a random Wednesday night, just like any other. Nobody was home besides you, your mom having a girls night with her friends, Wayne at work, and Eddie out doing stupid shit like probably doing donuts in a random parking lot with his friends, all high as fuck or drunk undoubtedly. You were grateful for this time, the house was too busy these days and sometimes you really wished it was still just you and your mom.

After school, you’d brought a bowl of cereal up to your room and ate it as you watched TV. It had been a few hours now, and you decide you want more so you grab the bowl and head down to the kitchen. Once you set it down on the counter and go to open the fridge, you hear a strange noise.

No one is supposed to be here, so you of course get a little scared. If there’s someone in the house who isn’t supposed to be, you’re fucked. It’s not like you had a gun or anything in case of an intruder. But listening closer, it sounds like a woman. Like a woman… crying?

“What the fuck?” You whisper, creeping closer to the origin of the sound which seemed to be the living room. When you peek inside, you instantly take in everything that’s going on. The big TV in the living room is playing a porno with volume loud enough you could probably hear if you were standing outside. Your eyes drag over.

On the couch sits Eddie, your nasty step brother who is notoriously perverted. He’s made all kinds of comments to you and tried to make moves on you but that was always kind of on the down low. You’d never seen him be so outwardly and unashamedly gross. Anyways, he has his dick in his hand, stroking it up and down with a slight noise of wetness. He’s in his boxers with his erection sticking out from the hole in the front of them, legs spread lazily and laid back with his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him.

“I’m telling your uncle AND my mom about this.” Your voice is heard from across the room and his head snapped to the side to look at you.

“No you’re not.”

“Mark my fucking words. I’m sick of you being so gross. You’re getting WAY too comfortable here.”

“Wait, wait.” He begs, eyes going wide and blanket covering his lap once he can see you’re really serious. He didn’t wanna have to explain this to either of your parents or get kicked out. That’s the last thing he wants. He grabs the remote and presses pause.

“Come here.”

You cross your arms over your chest.

“No. I’m not helping you, weirdo.”

“I know, I know. I could help you.”

You approach him suspiciously.

“I don’t want or need your help.”

He takes your hand, pulling you down onto the couch. His hand finds itself on your thigh, slowly moving up, and for some reason, you don’t stop him. You let it happen, even though you know you shouldn’t. Your breath catches in your throat.

“No?” He asks innocently, fingers reaching beneath your skirt and to your center where you could admittedly feel that it was wet.

“Fuck.” You curse yourself.

“Here, lay back. I’ll make you feel so good you forget all about this and you’ll definitely not tell them, yeah?”

You don’t respond verbally, but lay back on the couch for some godforsaken reason. He smiles his almost predatory smile.

“I need to hear it. If I eat this pretty pussy of yours, you don’t tell them about the porn.”

“Yes.” You breathe, the closeness of his body to yours dizzying and the air getting thicker while your cheeks flush and you get even wetter. His musk was intoxicating, the smell of unwashed denim and tobacco with a little sweat mixed in emanating off of him.

He starts to place kisses on the inside of your thighs until he gets to the lacy edge of your cotton panties, hooking his fingers into the sides and pulling them down your legs as you shiver in anticipation. Your legs try to close in shyness, but he pushes them back apart, attaching his mouth to your core and applying open mouthed kisses to it, messily making out with your clit and running his tongue up and down your folds.

It all happens so fast, it’s so intense and all at once to the point where a particularly loud and high pitched moan escaped your mouth in shock and pleasure. He pulls away slightly, soothing you. “Shhh.” He kisses the meat of your inner thighs to give you a second to sort of recollect yourself.

“Okay, okay.” You whisper, subconsciously holding in your breath.

“Good girl.”

His mouth meets your clit again, lightly sucking and swirling his tongue around and around it. You can’t fight of the need to moan and whine, never having felt this sensation before. It was the first time you had something so lewd done to you and you absolutely loved it. The mouth on him was something mind blowing, something you could easily get addicted to. But no, you can’t, and you shouldn’t. Sure, this shouldn’t be happening, but this will be just a one time thing. Right?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sensation of a thick finger sliding into your hole, the pointer finger to be exact. You gasp at the welcome intrusion and he takes a break to come up and see how you look. Desperate, that’s how you look. When he pauses, you start to grind up against him, trying to fuck yourself on your finger.

“Yeah?” He asks with an amused and devious smile.

So goddamn cocky.

He must see the frustration in your face at his teasing as he adds in his middle finger and brings his mouth back to your cunt again, working them in and out of you while he licks and sucks your clit.

You moan progressively louder and louder each time he pushes them deep inside and curls them, hitting your g-spot repeatedly while your swollen clit gets attention from his tongue. With this, you start to cry and mewl, hand shooting down to grab his head and push it further against your throbbing, hot core while tangling some of his hair into your fingers.

“Mmh,” He whimpers pathetically against you when you pull on his curls and it only drives him to go faster. He doesn’t know if there’s a time in his life that his dick has been any harder.

“Eddie, Eddie, oh my god, ah, fuck.” You cry out, white hot pleasure wrecking your body and temporarily blinding your vision while you cum around his fingers, which he soon pulls out to replace with his tongue. He laps up everything you had, everything you gave him gladly, gratefully.

“Holy shit. Ah- get off of me.” You pull his head away before he was done cleaning you up and he looks up at you like a confused puppy.

“Too much. Feels good but it’s really sensitive.” You whisper and he nods in understanding now.

“Fuck,” he comments under his breath, hand returning to his cock which was incredibly hard and dripping precum all over the front of his boxers. You look down and see his little-or big- problem and then back up to him.

“Fine. You can cum on me. Just this once. And never again.” You offer, exhausted and still a little high from your orgasm.

Too high to care. He excitedly pulls his dick back out, coming to kneel in front of you and start jerking himself off over your body and occasionally rubbing his cock against the warm skin on your lower stomach before spilling out onto you, cum mostly collecting in your bellybutton with some threatening to run off of your stomach and down your sides onto the fabric of the couch below you. He quickly scoops it up with his fingers and wipes them on his shirt, as though that’s a casually normal thing to do.

“Ew.” You say plainly.

“What? I’m gonna change clothes and wash them, duh.”

“Yeah right. While you’re at it, wash this blanket too.” You add, grabbing the blanket he was using earlier and wiping down your stomach with it.

“Ah, I just washed that.”

“Watch it.”

“I mean.. no, yeah, that’s fine.” He shrugs, trying to sound cool and collected.

#tw stepcest #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem reader #perv!eddie #perv eddie #stepbro!eddie #eddie munson brainrot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader

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maysileeewrites · 4 months

Text

gold cage, hostage to my feelings || teaser

pt. II of my best friend!Coryo x reader mini-series; read part I here

summary: things between you and your best friend become even more intoxicatingly confusing when an upcoming ball is announced ...

After class, the upcoming ball for the Academy’s founding celebration are all anyone is talking about.

Really, you think, as you navigate your way through the halls of the Academy, trying to evade Arachne Crane and her ever-persistent questions, with the way people are talking, one could think that the ball is tomorrow, instead of in three weeks time.

As you pass Festus Creed and his group of friends, you can hear them complaining, trying to come up with a way to get out of attending the ball altogether.

„Well, there’s no way you’re getting out of this one, Felix, your uncle’s the President, after all“, Festus Creed is saying loudly and out of the corner of your eyes, you see Arachne scoffing and rolling her eyes.

„Idiots, the whole lot of them! Well, I certainly don’t want any of them to be my date for the evening, do you?“

Clemensia giggles, shaking her head. „No. Though we don’t really have much more options to choose from other than them. I mean, Dean Highbottom said that we could bring family members or friends that are not attending the Academy, but I don’t want to ask my cousin to be my date!“

Arachne laughs, the sound high and shrill, and you close your eyes, wishing you were anywhere else but here. Where is Coriolanus? The last you’ve seen of your best friend was after class, when he quickly hugged you to his side, saying that he would meet you in the dining hall for lunch, but he had something important to ask Professor Sickle first.

„You can always ask my cousin, if you want“, Arachne now says, laughing, when she sees the irritated look on Clemensia’s face.

„Your cousin Francis? No, thank you, I think I’ll pass. Maybe I’ll ask Coriolanus though …“

You don’t say anything, quickly looking away and trying to hide your irritated frown. Why does she want to ask Coriolanus? It’s not like Coriolanus and Clemensia are that close … well, at least not as close as you and Coriolanus are.

Surely he wouldn’t say yes, though, would he? But what if he does agree to be Clemensia’s date to the ball?

No, he wouldn’t. Or would he? No, that’s absurd, he’s probably going to ask you. But then, why hasn’t he done so already? Why didn’t he say anything right after class? He probably just wanted to wait for a quiet moment, where it’s just you two, no excited chatter and buzzing excitement surrounding you.

But what if-

„Oh yes, Coriolanus would indeed be a fine option, maybe I’ll ask him myself …“, Arachne is now saying, drawing you out of your thoughts.

Clemensia laughs, the sound slightly irritated. „Well, I had the idea first …“

Arachne nods, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. „That may be true, but you haven’t done anything about it yet, have you? Besides, it’s probably pointless anyway, Coriolanus has probably asked Y/N here already“, she says, now turning to look at you with pointedly raised eyebrows.

You reach up with a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, trying not to let your irritation at her words show.

Before you can say anything, though, Clemensia is turning towards you as well. „Right, I forgot. Has Coriolanus asked you to be his date to the ball? I mean, if he hasn’t, I could always still ask him …“

You bite down hard on your lip, feeling your throat closing up. You don’t want to admit - especially not to Arachne Crane and Clemensia Dovecote of all people - that your best friend has in fact not yet asked you to be his date to the ball and that you yourself are unsure whether he actually will. Before that … incident that one morning a few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes, yes, of course Coriolanus will ask you to be his date to the ball.

Now, though, things have changed.

You feel - differently towards your best friend. You’ve already felt differently about him before that incident, realizing that you might have felt more towards him than just friendship. That incident only further confirmed that what you feel for Coryo isn’t just friendship.

You don’t want to just be his best friend anymore.

You want him - and not just like a best friend.

You want your best friend, want to be with him.

Want to feel more of that feeling you’ve felt that morning, when he was pressed against you, his hand between your legs, his lips on your neck.

You want all that, and so much more. Even knowing that you’ll never have it, because Coryo will only ever see you as just his best friend - even though you feel like he’s started behaving differently around you as well.

You can’t quite explain it, but something in the way he talks with you, something in the way he looks at you has changed. Before that incident, you’d already caught him staring at you here and there, his gaze on you lingering. Now though, it feels like his eyes are on you all the time; giving you a teasing taste of the feeling from that morning-

„Y/N?“ Arachne’s irritated voice draws you out of your thoughts and you feel your cheeks growing hot. If only Arachne and Clemensia were knowing what you were just thinking about, then they probably wouldn’t look at you so smugly.

„Has Coriolanus asked you to be his date to the ball?“

You clear your throat. „I-“

„There you are!“ An arm snakes around your waist, drawing you back against a muscled chest - Coriolanus. You smile, letting yourself fall back against him, feeling his grip on you tightening.

„Arachne, Clemmie“, Coriolanus now says, acknowledging the two girls. Both of them look uncomfortably surprised to have your conversation interrupted by him, sharing a look between them.

„Coriolanus …“, Arachne says, finding her composure first. „We - uh, were just talking about the ball, wondering whether you already have a date?“

Even though you can’t see Coriolanus’s expression, his grip on your waist tightening even more, with his other hand settling on your hips as well, caging you in his embrace, tells you exactly how irritated he feels by Arachne’s question.

„As a matter of fact, I have“, Coriolanus says, and for a moment, you feel sick with nervousness. Is he really going to ask Clemensia - or, even worse, Arachne?

„Y/N will of course be my date to the ball.“

You feel your heart starting to beat faster at his words, even though you feel slightly annoyed as well. Because even though you’re elated at the prospect of attending the ball with him, you really wish that he’d actually asked you to be his date.

„Oh, uhm, that’s - lovely, isn’t it, Clemensia?“, Arachne says, not even trying to hide the obvious disappointment in her voice.

„Yes - lovely, indeed …“

„Wonderful“, Coriolanus says and even though you can’t see his expression, you just know that he’s smirking at them. „Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have something I need to talk to Y/N about …“

And before you know it, he’s turning you around in his arms, guiding you away from Arachne and Clemensia - guiding you away from the hall full of of chattering students, until you’ve reached a quiet, secluded nook.

Coriolanus’s hands are still on your waist and as you look up into his bright, piercing blue eyes, you realize just how close you actually are. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin and he’d only need to lower his head towards you-

„So?“, he says, smirking down at you, „will you be my date to the ball?“

When he sees your surprised expression, he laughs, leaning in even closer to you, and you feel your heart starting rapidly in your chest. He’s so close - so close that your lips are almost touching-

„I know you, Y/N“, he says, still smirking. „And I know that you want me to actually ask you - so, will you be my date to the ball?“

I'm so sorry for the long wait, but with all the Christmas and New Year's excitement, I just didn't really get around to writing. I've finally started working on Part II of don't want you like a best friend, though, and I hope that this extra-long teaser makes up for the long wait!!

series taglist:

@asapkyndall @slitsphilia @ravenclawprincess33 @mckennah123 @serving-targaryen-realness @mentallyyy-unstable @mizuki80 @snows-wife @prettyinsatiable @ashcosmo @generally-awqward @snowflxke @nallasstuff @ajs-222 @spiritofbuddha @notyourwildestdream @earthangel-111 @bhdem @toogardenheart @iheartinkonpaper @daisiesformylove @ebsmind @dominqueeekk @cherrybomb8484 @dangelnleif @minmin1328 @xhyaryx @nycweb-slinger @acatwriteshere @lookclosernow @allcheesemelts @bxtchopolis @hopefulcupcakerebel @squidscottjeans @evan-peters-wife @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @ghsface @spear-bearing-bi-witch @loxbbg @floralcyanide @ilikefictionalmen @smxipixie @devils-blackrose @lcvecstiel @leigh-kay @r02eg0ld @gottoomanycelebritycrushes @nomorespahgetti @wpdarlingpan @sabrinasbd @alwaysvettel1 @flu0re @alpha-mommy69 @iwantosleepwithyou @hikarikram @scarletttargaryen @angelicblondie @ultrav10l3nce @kuroosbby001 @coriosgf @wearemadeofstardust0 @w4llfl0wers

comment if you want to be added to the taglist! (please check your settings whether anyone can tag you in posts, otherwise I won’t be able to tag you!)

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow x reader #tom blyth #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #x reader #the hunger games #don’t want you like a best friend 🦋

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pedgito · 2 years

Note

okay but reader edging eddie until he’s basically in tears begging?? i know you’ll do it perfectly i’m on my knees asking for it

author’s note: EDGING!!! it’s literally my biggest weakness and i know eddie loves that shit, you can’t change my mind. i hope this isn’t too terrible lol

cw: 18+ (minors dni), orgasm denial/delay (edging), oral (f receiving), handjobs, desperate and begging eddie, dry humping (sort of), eddie kink shaming himself out of embarrassment (reader is super reassuring), if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.2k

“Have you really never—“ Eddie stares at you with a skeptical look, “Shit, am I actually that weird?”

The absurdity of the question makes you laugh, wondering why Eddie felt the need to psychoanalyze his own kinks and preferences all the sudden, both of you bare naked and pressed against one another. If there was any other time to talk about, now was definitely not it. But, Eddie was stuck on it and it wasn’t going to end until he reached his conclusion.

“I haven’t, not to myself,” You explain carefully, finger pointing at your chest, “—I mean, I haven’t to anyone else either, to be clear. But, I know what it is. It’s not weird.”

“You think so?” Eddie asks, tilting his head slightly as he squeezed at your waist.

“It’s just delaying orgasm.” You laugh softly, the idea creeping up on you suddenly, “Do you—do you want me to try it with you?”

Eddie nods eagerly, hair bouncing over his shoulders, “I guess it’s not different than when we watch each other anyways—“

“Oh, no,” You interrupt, hoping to clarify, “I meant me edging you.”

“Huh,” Eddie huffs, eyes widening slightly, piercing into you deeply—Eddie was always so remarkably expressive, both in his face and his actions, “uh, yeah—yeah we can do that.”

Eddie’s adamant about taking care of you first, insisting he would take his time and he meant it. He’s soft, but sure in his touches, gentle traces of fingertips along the inside of thighs, over the soft pudge of your belly, using his grip to spread your thighs wide and breath in the smell of your arousal, mouthing at your cunt teasingly, featherlight licks through your folds until it’s nearly unbearable—it’s torture, but you wouldn’t expect anything else, not with the way Eddie cherished you so deeply. He was always afraid he was going to lose you—not that you could ever leave him, but he’s never managed to have any stability in his life outside of his uncle and had to deal with everyone always wanting to run in the opposite direction of wherever he was. He was a disease to the town of Hawkins, a constant stain on their otherwise perfect image, and you couldn’t believe it. Eddie was nothing that everyone said he was��vile, disgusting, rooted in evil.

The only thing Eddie had to offer was love—deep love, for everyone he cared about in his life, and it showed.

When he brings you to a slow orgasm, fingers drifting in his hair to pull at the strands in earnest, you cry out a broken moan as he overstimulates your already sensitive clit, before leaning away to press a quick kiss to the inside of your thigh, smiling against the skin.

Eddie moves slowly after that, crawling his way up toward his pillow until he can plop himself down on the mattress. You’re in the middle of pulling your underwear back up when he shifts, trying desperately to get comfortable. You smile to yourself, hurrying to finish pulling the garment back on before curling up against his side, his shoulder pressed into your chest and his head leaning heavily against the wall as he propped himself up slightly.

“You seem nervous.” You note, teasing him slightly.

“I just—I usually get kind of,” Eddie tries to find the right words to not sound so embarrassed, but he has to be truthful, “loud, I guess.”

“Eddie, baby,” You laugh softly, “that’s not a secret.”

Still, you can see his worry and try to soothe it.

“Don’t hold back, seriously.” You assure him, “I want this to be good for you—and I’ll stop if it gets too intense or you’re not into it anymore.”

Eddie nods slowly—he knew the playing field was level, there was never any type of power dynamic that needed to be fought between you two, it was equal give and take. A mutual assurance that both of you felt good and enjoyed yourselves as much as possible. Eddie was a better lover than he cared to admit.

“Do you still have that small bottle of lube?” You ask, breaking his stupor as he stared over at you. His face tenses for a moment in thought before he suddenly remembers, swinging his body over yours briefly to rummage in his bedside table until he finds the tiny bottle and tosses it into your hand wordlessly. “It’s just—the friction and all.”

“No, I get it.” Eddie laughs knowingly, having been on the wrong side of too many dry handies from himself in desperation, before he figured out what felt good, rather than just crudely trying to deal with the problem.

You do him the favor of warming it up in your hand briefly, his eyes watching intently as you move, rubbing it briefly with careful fingers before taking his already half-hard cock in your hands. It’s a simple touch, nothing to drive him crazy, but the wetness is slightly jarring and makes him wonder just how long he can hold off.

You’ve learned Eddie inside and out, all the small touches that drive him crazy, the little nuisances in the faces and noises he makes when he feels that pit in his stomach growing, pleasure settling deep in his groin and his balls tightening up as it nears, his face scrunching up in concentration. You save him the torture of being too agonizingly slow, squeezing him with a solid enough pressure that has him groaning out into the silence of the trailer, his upright positing faltering slightly as his head hits the pillow.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie sighs and if that’s any indication, you’re not sure how much longer he has left, “maybe—maybe a little less.”

You loosen your grip slightly, still keeping at the same steady pace as before and Eddie’s face relaxing, a subtle nod of appreciation as he shifts back up slightly, glancing up at you briefly before staring down at his cock, delicate fingers wrapped around the length of him. He should feel slightly offended that you’re so good at this, better than him even, but he can’t focus on any of that right now, your hand speeding up gradually as his hands grip for the sheets, his toned thighs tensing and struggling to keep still as his hips bucked into your hand out of pure instinct, not realizing he was even doing it until he feels that heat grow at the base of him and then you’re letting go of him completely, hand moving to rest gently against his thigh.

“Did I time it right?” You ask softly, squeezing gently where your hand rested.

Eddie nods dumbly, still fighting off the urge to come like this, untouched by you.

“Again?”

“Please?” Eddie begs, shifting to rest his palms behind him until he’s leaning up fully, head thrown back in an effort to not look at you or himself, knowing it would push him over that edge quickly.

His voice is soft when he speaks, pleading—it’s a contrast from his usual showy attitude and crass dirty talk, always finding ways to make you blush until your face runs hot, giving you no other choice but to close your eyes and look away, too overwhelmed by his heated gaze. But, it was his turn now and he was just as bad, only a lot more vocal about it.

Eddie alternates between deep, forceful groans when you squeeze just a little too much, to long, drawn out moans as you pull up his shaft, squeezing at the tip and letting your thumb rub over the slit there, spreading around the mess he’d already made of himself just from almost getting there, the slick of precome overtaking the need for any lube or spit. You keep at that for a few seconds—torturous and dreadful for Eddie, but enjoyable for you as you turn to look at him, his mouth hung open in a choked off gasp, eyes shut tight.

When he finally finds the energy to open his eyes, they immediately lock onto yours, and Eddie’s never looked more wrecked or shameful, eyes pleading for relief but you know he can take—it’s what he wants and he can always hit the brakes whenever he needs to, but you knew that wouldn’t happen.

“Tell me when.” You order him softly, squeezing gently at the base of his dick before starting a rough pace, nothing that Eddie’s prepared for as he groans loudly, the weight of him falling into you weakly, using what little concentration he had to pull your face toward him, his lips ghosting over your own, his breath breeching your own lips as he hissed, that initial feeling hitting him quickly.

“Fuck, stop—stop.” Eddie grunts out, pulling your hand away weakly, his dick twitching at the sudden lack of stimulation—his face is flusher than before, breath labored as tries to focus through the lingering ache, letting you lick slowly into his mouth, tongue tracing against his top lip teasingly.

It goes on for another fifteen minutes, slow and languid strokes to keep him teetering on the edge, enough that he can catch his breath and still talk through it, murmuring soft praises toward you despite how well he’s doing himself—he can’t help but compliment you, it’s like a second nature.

“God, so pretty—so fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart.” He says, voice strained. You smile with a hint of something, daring him to look away.

“I want you to watch,” You tell him, voice steady, “and no matter how bad you want to come, you’re gonna hold off.”

Eddie nods in understanding, letting you guide his face by the chin until he can look down, fingers wrapping around the length of him carefully, even a simple touch was enough to have him taking in a sharp intake of air.

You try not to feel bad about the whole thing, but Eddie thrashing and struggling to hold back beside you is enough to spur you even further into it, working him up the point of him not even making sense, groaning out unintelligible words as you keep up the same rhythm of tugging, waiting for him to give you that sign, and then letting him go completely.

Eddie’s never been so worked up in his entire life, on the verge of tears, mouth falling open in a broken sob.

“Oh fuck,” He curses, “Please, please, please—“

It’s the only thing his futile brain can come up with in the moment, begging and willing to do just about anything if it meant he could finally get some release.

“Are you calling it?” You ask with a soft laugh and despite the obvious welling of tears in his eyes, he laughs too.

Eddie nods furiously, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as his hips bucked up into your fist, “Yes—yes, please, I can’t—“

“Can’t take it?”

“It hurts,” Eddie whines, “Feels so fuckin’ good but I need to come, baby please—“

He can’t even form a full sentence, a mess of broken sobs and pleading words as he looks up at you with wide eyed innocence.

“I just—let me touch you?” Eddie begs, his hand reaching up to push your arm away with not much resistance on your end.

Eddie maneuvers you easily, hands tucked under your thighs as he switches positions, shifting until he’s laying over you and his aching cock pressed up against the soft cotton of your underwear, the only barrier keeping him from slipping inside and ending all his suffering. He doesn’t even think about that, rutting into you with a desperation you’ve never seen before, hands touching whatever he could find until they settle on your face, face pulled taut until he catches your eyes and he’s done for, collapsing and burying himself in the crook of your neck, making a mess of himself and you in the same instance, coming with a deep, drawn out groan. It’s so intense that it aches, even in the aftermath as he catches his breath, feeling like his stomach was in knots.

Eddie releases a long, shaky sigh against your skin, his hand coming down to rub tenderly at the line of your jaw.

“—Good?” You ask hopefully, not sure of his expectations in comparison with his own experiences. Eddie only catches the tail end of your question, until you finally speak again, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah—yeah, I’m fine.” Eddie assures you, his voice sounding unnaturally raw, “Gotta catch my breath, sorry.”

You give him a moment, rubbing your fingers through the soft ringlets of curls, pushing his bangs away from his forehead where they were stuck from sweat, his eyes shut in exhaustion. Eddie laughs suddenly, giddy despite his evident exhaustion.

“I’m a horrible person for enjoying that so much,” Eddie says, blush filling his face in embarrassment, “aren’t I?”

You shake your head gently, humming a quiet, “Mmm, no.”

Eddie doesn’t know why he feels so ashamed, but it’s never bothered you—his openness with his sexuality and the things he’s enjoyed—and you hate that he still feels constant shame about certain things.

“Besides, you sound so cute when you beg.” You tease, earning a nose scrunching face of disgust from Eddie at the word.

“Cute?” Eddie asks, “Not me, sweetheart. That’s impossible.”

You nod challengingly, leaning up into Eddie’s space as he pulls away slightly, grabbing his discarded shirt to clean up the mess, “Sorry, I meant adorable.”

Eddie doesn’t argue, but allows himself the final word.

“That’s right,” Eddie smiles, leaning over to press a quick kiss against your forehead, mumbling against the skin, “and don’t you forget it.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #1kfic

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