best friend’s sister | kaspbrak reader x richie
summary: richie has the hots for eddies sister
contains: not proof read i am so sorry if like the plot doesnt flow its 11 pm and my head hurty jsjjs, okay so smut, choking, hair pulling, degradation though i mostly focus on description, they dont use a condom but im imagining yn is on the pill (use protection folks!!), fingering f!recieving, use of the name princeess, a needless amount of plot sjsj i got carried away, rushed ending, sorry if im rusty at this jsjs, lazy title ikkk, i think that’’s all the content warnings? lmk if i missed anything out!! also this was a request!<3 6k words
"oh god, doll you're gonna be the death of me," richie mutters, watching you as you stand up, walking to the other side of the room.
you pick up your shirt from where you had tossed it at some point when you had first got here. you wanted to hit him with it, instead you use the hem of the shirt to cover up your ass that richie was blatantly staring at, you look around for your shorts, ignoring him, "have you seen my other clothes?"
this had become yours and richie's ritual for the past few months. fuck like you were gonna die tomorrow, find your clothes, get a breakfast at the diner.
you loved it.
richie sits up in bed, resting on his elbows, accentuating his collarbones as he did so. you always wanted to kiss them but you always got too lost in the whole doing it part. he glances around, "hm, im not sure, huh. so you should get back in bed right?" you roll your eyes at him, whining, "richieeee." the sound of his laughter makes you almost want to get back in bed. the way richie tozier laughed was enough to make anyone crumble, or want to hit him.
his hair, unruly and messy, fell over half of his face in curls you had been clutching just minutes ago, he smiles, "y'know you remind me most of ed's when you're pissed at me, it's cute."
you find your shorts under richie's bed. you must pull a face out of disgust because richie starts cracking up again. you swat him, "don't bring my brother up after we just did that," you mutter, shuddering. poor ed's, you thought.
that was another precursor to the aforementioned 'ritual'- make sure eddie had other plans so he didn't have time to think about where you were.
you use the mirror on richie's wall to rearrange yourself, brushing through your hair with your fingers, adjusting your clothes, making sure any hickies or marks stay below the collar of your shirt. going into your house looking like you had just gotten railed within an inch of your life wasn't the brightest idea, eddie was protective enough as it is, you can only imagine how he'd be if he found out you were having sex. let alone sex with his best friend.
your thoughts are interrupted by richie putting his arms around you. you swallow thickly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. something about how his chin rested on top of your head made you smile, he kisses the side of your face, "there's that pretty face.." he hums, his arms around you, pinching your cheeks, "just perfect."
you smile. you can't help it. you and richie weren't official, just a little more than friends with benefits and a little short of an actual relationship. it was working. you both had needs and the other took care of those. it was a win-win for everyone involved.
you’re the one to break away from the embrace. “c’mon, we should get going.”
at the diner, you and richie sat in a booth towards the back, huddled behind menus. richie, you noticed, always liked browsing the menu despite having been here a thousand times before and almost always ordering the same thing. you raise an eyebrow at him, "do you really need to read it? youre just-" he holds his hand up in a shh motion that makes you want to smack him upside his head, "i swear to fuck, richie-" you kick his skinny ankle underneath the table.
"woah doll, you're gonna have to wait till after we eat before you start playing footsie with me-"
groaning, you duck your head behind the menu so you didn't have to look at him. it was making you blush too much. being raised by sonia kaspbrak meant a couple things, one being that you spent the majority of your former years in and out of doctor's offices and emergency rooms, the second being that you were sheltered. massively. you didn't know what half the dirty things richie whispered to you meant sometimes but you sure as hell weren't going to admit that. you usually just asked bev what they meant under the guise of them being some rude words you read from a bathroom stall wall. the unfair advantage here was that richie wasn't sheltered. at all. every slightly filthy word he uttered felt designed to make you too flustered to move.
he raises an eyebrow, by now he had learned your cues, your silences, when you were needy, "did that get to you doll?" he says, you can feel the toe of his shoe brushing over your ankle. he lowers his menu and just before you two can embark on your first public display of affection, bev pops between the two of you, eyebrow raised, "am i interrupting something?"
she's joking of course, as if there'd be anything between you and richie of all people.
richie's quick to react, shifting his entire posture, leaning away from you and into his seat. he was a natural at this, you realise, not sure if this made you feel better or worse, "very funny beverly, no, i just wanted to catch up with my second favourite kaspbrak." you know that if you would've asked him who the first was, he would say sonia.
bev slides into the booth, next to you, humming. you and bev had always been close, she let you borrow the dresses and tops that she knew your mom wouldn't buy for you and you made her feel sane when she needed a break from the guys. "what're we ordering yn? i'm getting waffles," she says, eyes idling over the menu options.
richie takes the menu from your hands and folds them over, putting them on the side. you and bev talk as he flags down the waitress and reads out your orders. he gets exactly what you would've ordered for you.
it occurs to you that you would’ve quite liked to kiss him. then and there, leaning over the napkins he’s folded into swans and his cup of coffee.
you suppress the urge and tune into bev’s voice. listen, listen, listen. don’t give yourself time to think.
you suppose that part of the ritual was only done by you.
because the proximity of maine, derry to the sea, any cold air that bounced off of the sea just ricocheted back at you. so when you got an especially warm day, you made the most of it.
bev had headed back to her place to pick up towels from her place and you and richie set off on your bikes to the quarry where you’d meet up with the rest of the losers.
you lapped up any air that was going by you as you rode, the only reprieve from the heat around you. richie biked alongside you, his eyes darting to you every so often, just a few moments ago he would admit that maybe the image of you slightly sweaty with your hair up had elicited some.. imaginative thoughts. thoughts that he got lost in until a car honked at him for accidentally riding too close to it. besides you, he looks at you with that look on his face that lets you know he’s about to say something dirty, “soo, are you gonna do any swimming at the quarry?” you roll your eyes, yep. he smirks, “so are you gonna let me put your sunscreen on for you this time?” groaning, you put your hand out in an attempt to swat him, he yelps, you laugh at how he wobbles on his bike and consider your revenge extracted.
the trail towards the quarry itself was hard to bike through so you dismount and walk, wheeling it besides you, richie does the same. he had a habit of staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, you never knew exactly what he was looking at, only that whenever you turned to look back at him, he’d turn his head back around and face forward like it hadn’t happened at all. face warm and brow furrowed, you face forward. asshole, you think, asshole, he has no right to make me so.. ugh.
you two were the first to arrive in the clearing at the quarry's edge, you lean your bikes along some trees, richie's with yours. sonia had refused to get you a bike without training wheels which was well, as humiliating as it sounded. if nothing else, at least richie found it funny, chuckling to himself, "it looks like the kind of bike you take to brownies or scouts." "shut up." "no you're right doll, brownies would definitely know how to bike without training wheels."
you roll your eyes at him, trying to swallow the laugh that threatened to surface. his arm comes around your waist, it felt.. nice, secure, like it was meant to be there. you make yourself think about how many girls he's probably done that to in order to distract yourself. "hey," he says softly, the soft tone he used whenever he was kissing you, the kissing on its own, not when the kissing was the lead up to other things, "what's on your mind?"
you, you idiot, you would’ve answered if you maybe had a little less pride. You turn away from him, glancing over your shoulder, “when are the rest coming here?”
“um, not sure,” he says, sounding a little disheartened.
you kick a rock with the toe of your shoe, “well, they should hurry, we agreed to meet up at this time-” words fall short as you turn around, richie planted a kiss at your lips. you pull back, eyes wide, “richie.” it wasn’t uncommon for him to kiss you, a peck or two here or there but not so publically. despite your reservations, you stayed beside him, even closer now, dangerously close now, any closer and your lips would’ve barely brushed over each other.
it happens before you can process it, slender hands slipping to the seat of your shorts to pull you closer. you smell the gum on his breath. cinnamon. you look at him square in the face. then you’re kissing him. you couldn’t get enough of him, you realise, you pulled him towards with hunger, every inch of you aching for him. one hand - by god, those hands - moved to your waist, leg pushed in between yours. it was needy, clamouring, hand up his shirt, hand in his hair, hearts going thump, thump, thump, faster and faster.
“richie please- "
“yn!” bev calls over, going up to you, “let me put some sunscreen on you, you’re already starting to look flushed.”
distant chatter broke between you two, he withdrew from you, giving you a second to adjust your clothes and breathing. you watch richie walk over to the losers, he’s casual. only you could notice the slight bulge in his (mercifully) baggy jeans.
you swear you see richie smile, overhearing this, knowing damn well that it had nothing to do with the sun.
“so are we going to naomi’s party?”
you dried your hair, in your bra and underwear. sonia’s idea of an appropriate swimsuit for public swimming pools included a rash guard, “she’s having one?” bev tended to catch wind of these things faster than you did.
she nods, adjusting her sunglasses, telling you that her parents were out of town and apparently naomi’s boyfriend had some really cute friends for you two to get a good luck at if you did go. bev said ‘you know the ones, you’ve had to have noticed them’. you shrug, saying you hadn’t really been looking at guys.
richie comes out of the water a few moments later. his hair gets pushed back and towelling until it resembles a dark wet mop. it made your ever-present draw towards him all the more frustrating.
groaning, he stretches his arms upwards, "that was nice," he hums absently, arms stretched up, he glances down at you and bev lounging on some towels, "what are you two talking about?" he asks, sitting down besides you. you noticed the way his wet lashes stuck together in small triangles.
you needed a distraction from him, something, anything, to keep yourself from thinking about what happened when you two were alone. the way the smoke from bev's cigarette caught in the wind would have to do. you fix your eyes on it as your answer, "naomi’s party, if we're going, etcetera, etcetera," you supply. bev nods, gesturing with her hand, the smoke moving with her gesturing hand, "we havee to, it'll be fun," she insists, "i was just telling yn about all the cute guys that are gonna be there, im sure there will be cute girls too," you're sure that's some try to tempt richie into wanting to go. all richie hears is the part about cute guys for you.
he raises an eyebrow, "yeah? didn't know you were in the market for a guy, mary."
you wanted to punch him.
the first time he had called you mary, you didn't get it. hey mary, is eddie always so nasal sounding? mary, what kinda ice cream do you want? no, mary's taken a liking to me, don't you think ed's?
it wasn't until a couple weeks of knowing richie that he burst out laughing, "mary! like the virgin mary! cus you're a goody two shoes, geddit?" you had slapped him and ran away, embarrassed, ignored him for a week. back then, richie was just ‘eddie’s friend’ and not the fully formed richie you knew now. you thought you and richie had been getting along, but no, you were a target for a pran, how novel! a week after that, richie had begrudgingly muttered to you while you were looking for geodes in the creek running through the barrens that being a goody goody isn't 'so bad'. truthfully, he just kind of missed having you around.
that was around five years ago and the nickname still irked you.
you barely give him a glance and shrug, "there’s no harm in seeing who’s available.” you didn’t really know whether that was the truth or not. you weren't exactly keen on meeting new guys but it's not like richie was your boyfriend or anything, so you might as well, right?
you keep staring at the smoke, not wanting to think about the way richie’s jaw tightened, how is eyes wandered over you. if you thought about it too much you mightve started to get worried that there would be girls at the party for him too.
on friday night, you and bev were getting ready at bill’s house.
“okay so, eddie told your mom that you’re studying at susie’s house, so you’ll be late coming home and as far as she knows, eddie’s having a sleepover at bill’s,” she reminds you, fixing the hem of your dress to be about five inches shorter than it was when you first bought it, a few sewing needles stuck into the corner of her mouth. you thank god that bev had taken a liking to all things fashion so that you weren’t stuck wearing what looked like your sunday best to a party. she shifted her weight back and looked up at you, smiling at her handiwork, “you look perfect.”
glancing in the mirror made you smile, she’d somehow managed to make the dress look pretty, flowy.
“i know it’s a little- well, a lot shorter- but it makes you look great, plus it'll make sure you don’t get too warm if you dance later, but i can undo the stitches if you want, ugh where’s that seam-ripper-” you stop her short, shaking your head, “bevvie it's perfect, thank you, stop worrying,” you assure, turning around in the mirror, “you’re a god bev, i don’t know how you do it.”
bev looks just about ready to take a bow when bill knocks at the bathroom door, “are y-you two nearly done? i have to get ready too!”
bev leans towards the door, calling back to bill, “would you rather we smoke in your room? i thought here would be better, y’know, not having i soak into your pillows and stuff but if that's how you want it..” bev did have one lit earlier.
there’s a pause on bill’s side of the door for a few good seconds. “five more minutes.”
leant back against the tiled wall, you laugh, “you have that boy wrapped around your finger,” you say, partly in awe. bev just giggles and leant out the window, eyes cast down, she was wearing a flowy short blue dress that reminded you of summer. "look who’s here,” she says, cigarette perched between her fingertips. you hold the edge of the window frame to keep yourself steady as you lean outside slightly, from there you could see richie sat in his car, window rolled down and arm outside the window. the faint thrum of music from the car was accompanied by the sound of eddie’s voice, he must’ve been in the passenger’s seat.
bev sits up straight, stubbing out her cigarette in the sink basin, her voice bright as she pulls you by your arm outside, calling, “better hurry up bill! richie’s waiting outside,” the two of you head downstairs in a flurry of swishing fabric and perfume, bill cursing you two out for leaving him with such little time to get ready which just made you laugh.
your stomach gave a small roll as you got in the car. richie looked good. he cleaned up good for parties which always sort of surprised you. each curl seemed purposeful in framing his jaw, the whole look softened by his mass of freckles smattered over the bridge of his nose and high cheek. you find it funny that he used to tear one into stan for wearing cardigans ‘like some old lady’ in his own words but he was wearing one now in what he called ‘the cool, kurt cobain way’ of course, not in the stan way.
his eyes find yours in the rearview mirror, he must like the glittery eyeliner you had done because his eyes crinkle in the corner like he’s smiling. eddie turns around, “yn did you call mom about- you’re gonna freeze to death in that!”
bev laughs, “and she looks great, doesn’t she?”
“whatever, did you bring a coat?”
bev starts to explain to eddie that bringing a coat would mean carrying it around everywhere during the party, to which eddie said that it was better than getting frostbite and drops his jaw at bev muttering okay mom. and not once during that conversation, or the next when bill, stan, ben and mike get in the car, do your eyes leave richie. richie’s eyes, his shoulders, his hand at a loose ten and two on the steering wheel. the tension between the two of you felt thicker somehow, more palpable. it wasn’t something you’d noticed until later, when he helped you out of the car. his arm extended out for you and you held onto it. in the split moment you went from sitting in the car to standing beside him, he had slipped the words ‘you look good tonight, princess’ into your ear. It near sent shockwaves down your spine. not just the words said but the cadence. he had to keep his voice relatively low of course, but the lowness of it, the closeness of it to your ear, all of it, made you feel a bit weak.
standing next to him, you could better appreciate well, the everything about him. his hair reflected the streetlights as the sky darkened, it seemed to burst forth from his skull in a cloud of dark curls. you try to remember what it had been like to hold them, to tug at him.
but then his arm lowers and your hand lowers back to your side. it would be too couple-y to do after helping you out of the car. no, you’d enter as friends, nothing more. you link arms with bev as she opens the door.
the music swells in your ears and you take a second to adjust to the low lighting inside. bev was right, it was already packed. presently, she squeals in your ear, excited, “c’mon yn, lets get drinks,” she says, then looking back at the guys, “find us somewhere to sit?”
richie watches the two of you disappear into the crowd. eddie looks around and manages to grab a couch in the corner of the room for all of you, stan raises an eyebrow, “i’m not sure bev and yn will be doing a lot of sitting around, eddie.” he shudders at ‘whatever the hell’ stan is implying and says that you’ll need a place to put your bags down anyway.
leaning back, richie runs a hand through his hair, glancing around for you, he was always scared you’d get lost somewhere in places like this. though soon enough, you weave your way through the crowd, drinks in hand. there’s a moment where you smile the second your eyes land on richie, like you’re relieved to see him before you look away. you sit next to him nontheless.
as you put down the few beers you’ve brought over, richie noticed a few things. one, how good your legs looked in your dress with your legs crossed over like that, giving way to the flowy fabric, letting it ride up probably more than you intended it to, two, how you seemed to glow in the low light of the room, three, the undeniable urge he had to lean forward and kiss you.
that urge wasn’t helped by the fact that whenever a song you or bev liked came on, you’d hop up, holding each other’s arms to go dance. through the crowd, he could see small snippets of you two, her hands at your waist, guiding your movements. dear god. however hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to look away, every look lingered, over the arch of your back, the curve of your hips, the smile playing on your face as you relaxed, trusting yourself to move to the rhythm of the song playing. manicured hands glide up your body, your lips parted in a smile. you knew you looked good and you didn’t intend on letting him forget it.
he hadn’t realised he was staring until your eyes met his. you seem to giggle, the corners of your eyes crinkling, like you were having your fun with him. cat and mouse.
you hold his stare all the while swaying your hips, smirking, low lights dancing over the soft an glittered plaines of your face. you were teasing him, coaxing him on, and you both knew it. a show of look at me and how you can’t have me, though richie very well would’ve stood up and danced with you then and there. god knows he wanted to. to feel the heat of you pressed against him, the grind of your hips against him, to grip you through the thin fabric of your dress so everyone in that room knew you were his and his alone. but he didn’t, couldn’t, eddie was there.
taking mercy on him and his capacity to hold himself back, you and bev move away from the dance floor, sitting back down on the couches, giggling and drinking to cool down. bev smiles triumphantly, “that was so fun! see, i told you dancing there isn’t embarrassing, it’s fun.”
you mull over it, “okay maybe it was a little fun,” you admit, leaning back, seemingly out of breath, “i need a break though before i snap a heel. or my ankle,” you consider. you’re sat besides richie, you turn to him, “don’t you fancy dancing rich?” he shakes his head, painfully frustrated. he wanted you. you keep pushing, “you seemed to really wanna go up there with how you were staring.”
you kept your voice quiet enough so that only he hears it. it’s satisfying to see how he grits his teeth, clenches his jaw, “no, don’t feel like it tonight mary,” he mutters, voice quiet. you take that as a victory.
turning to your other side, you see stan, “what about you stanny? not feeling like it?” stan chuckles at the thought of dancing up there, “yeah maybe after a couple drinks, you looked like you were having fun though.” richie raises a brow, stan was looking at you? the nerve.
a giggle passes your lips, “i was, kind of scary, but good-scary,” you say, shifting towards him, playing with your hair as you spoke, “maybe we could dance together later on?”
the cold glass of the bottle richie was holding clinked as his rings pressed against it, hand turning to a fist.
“i’m not sure you’d want to dance with me yn,” he laughs, “i’m not the best at it.”
“aw cmon, you’re a smart guy, you’ll figure it out.” thats when richie knew you were trying to get on his nerves, as if teasing him like that wasn’t enough, you had to go and flirt with one of his friends. a soft coy smile flitted over your face, feeling richie’s eyes boring holes into the back of your head.
richie sees stan’s head dip slightly, saying something to you quietly, something that makes you laugh, smile and flutter your lashes all the more. you cross your legs and richie’s sure anyone in a five mile radius would confirm that stan was checking you out.
if eddie had been there and not looking around to confirm the nearest fire exits in the house just in case, richie knows he would’ve told stan to quit it. but he isn’t so he doesn’t.
you give stan a look that richie is well acquainted with, you look at him over your cup, eyes wide and innocent, you smile, responding to whatever compliment dear old stanny gave you, “aww thank you stan you’re the sweetest.” you and stan had gotten pretty close, stan always lending you books, you liking to borrow his cardigans when it got cold. by trying not to notice, richie noticed it all the more. like how now he was noticing how stan’s arm was going across the back of the couch so that you could lean your head back against it.
you shift against him, body angled towards him. richie resisted the urge to pull you back over towards him and grips the bottle in his hand, you weren’t his, he reminds himself, nothing he could do about that.
tilting your head up, you look up at stan. you never noticed how hazel-y his eyes were, they were pretty. he ducks his head slightly so that you can hear him over the music playing, “i mean it, you look great tonight yn.” the softness and lowness to his voice added an intimacy to the statement, it was nice.
giggling, you smile up at him, “what, are you flirting with me stanny?”
“what? would it be so bad if i was?”
on second thought richie might crush this bottle with his hands.
you don’t get much further before richie stands up, “i’m gonna get some fresh air,” giving you a look that said meet me outside before sauntering out.
you smile at that, you loved getting under his skin like that.
for about five more minutes, you talk to stan, letting richie wait outside the thought of how pissed he must look made you giggle. after letting him freeze his ass off in the night air, you stand, telling stan you were gonna go check on richie. he nodded, smiling and turned to ben for some conversation.
in the night, richie stood besides his parked car, a cigarette lit and shoved into the corner of his mouth, when you get close enough to get a good look at him, you smile, smug, “something wrong rich?”
he stubs out the cigarette, “get your bratty fucking ass in the car while you can still walk.”
“well that’s not a very nice hello is it?”
needless to say, you got in, tugging in richie after you, sprawled over the backseats, your dress hitching up at your thighs. he paws at you, hungry. laughing, you coo, “a little desperate aren’t we richie?” you say, running your hands through his hair, pulling at it lightly. if he wanted to play rough, he was going to get rough.
he grunts against your neck, biting the skin there, “shut that pretty mouth or i’ll fuck it and leave you here.” you let out a whine as he lifts your leg, pulling you towards him, “heh that got you to shut up didn’t it?”
positioned between your legs, he grinds his bulge over your clothed centre, making you moan, hands tightening in his hair, “sh.. shut the fuck up rich,” you pant helplessly, hips bucking up against it, searching for friction. the cold metal of his rings presses tightly against your warm skin as he grips your thighs, spreading them apart roughly. looking down, he eyes the wet patch thats formed on your underwear. “yeah? you want me to shut up? sure looks like it, princess.”
you bush red hot with embarrassment, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, silently begging for him. “ah ah ah,” he tuts, pulling down the strap of your dress, “those fuck me eyes might work on stan but you’re gonna have to try a little harder.” you pull a face, looking off to the side, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
he laughs then, condescending, like he’s finding you amusing, you don’t remember that little stunt you pulled back there? you’re too cute,” he cups the side of your face, humming, “fuck i can’t wait to ruin that makeup.” it was fun to feel your face heat up underneath his hand.
his hand tucks underneath your underwear, pushing them aside, his fingers pressing against the wet heat of your cunt, eliciting a moan from you. he smirks, rubbing your clit, feeling your hips push upwards, begging for more, “such a whore arent you? teasing me like that, in front of everyone. it’s pathetic.”
you let out a choked sort of moan, the kind that went straight to his dick, “mhh, don’t act like you didn’t like it,” you look up at him through hooded lids, blissfully moaning as he works a finger into you, “oh f-fuck yes, god, i know i got you hard earlier didn’t i? just by dancing and a little bit of flirting,” you giggle, another finger being added, curling inside of you, rubbing against that sweet spot. you were driving him crazy and you knew it. the near pornographic sight of your chest heaving with pleasure, your laboured breathing, the feeling of your legs trembling around his hand, all of it was driving him crazy.
you smirk up at him, taking his silence as admitting it, “so really who’s the pathetic one?”
quicker than you can process it, his hand is wrapping around your throat, squeezing at the sides, positioning your face to look up at him. it’s rough and angry, harsh. he looks down at you, “for a second there, i was thinking about going gentle on you but you’ve lost that privilege now.” he pulls his fingers out of you, you whimper, missing the feeling o him stretching you out like that. he cleans his fingers off with his mouth, muttering how sweet you taste. his hand goes to his belt buckle, undoing it with one hand, pressing down harder at your neck with the other, the feeling made your head swim in the best way possible. he smirks, “see? isn’t it better when you just lay there and look pretty?” the sound of his buckle being undone falls like music to your ears. “richieeee,” you whine, you wanted him to hurry up, and seeing how big his bulge looked certainly wasn’t helping your case.
his hand leaves your throat, which while an inconvenience to your pleasure, was almost worth it to see it wrap around is bulge, stroking himself to the sight of you laid out in front of him, “fuck, look at you, all this for me.” you nod, urgent at this point, you needed him, “only you richie, no one else, only you,” you pant through needy breaths, you watch him pull his waistband down until his cock bobs out. the first time you had saw it, you could barely imagine half of it inside of you, now you needed it.
still, your eyes widened at it. the size of it was enough to leave you bruised an aching for the next day or so but god, he knows how to use it. your eyes go glassy at the sight.
he notices your staring, wrapping his hand around his length, pumping it slowly, “if you want my cock, you’re gonna have to beg for it, princess.”
he lowers himself so that the flushed tip of his cock rests teasingly over your cunt, heat flowing through you at him being so close yet so far from where you wanted him.
your brows furrow, “richie, please,” you whine. you would’ve pushed your hips down onto him but he was holding you in place. you could feel the slight throb of him against you.
“you can do better than that doll, i’ve heard you do it before, don’t go all shy on me now.”
you were whimpering, desperate for any stimulation. wrapping your legs around him. you were a mess and you couldn’t control it any longer. “please richie fuck please ruin me, i don’t care about stan, you’re the only one who can fuck me properly,” the words tumble out faster than you can manage, “i need you, i -fuck- i need your cock so fucking bad richie, i’ll do anything you want, i’ll be a slut, your toy, anything,” you promise, on the verge of crying from the lack of stimulation. you beg, plead, “remind me who i belong to.”
smiling, he leans down, kissing you, “that wasn’t so hard was it?”
he briefly grinds the underside of his cock over your soaked slit, giving you reprieve from the teasing. then, he grips your hips tighter, his tip pushing into your hole. your heart was pounding, relief washing over you as he finally pushed in, the stretch made you grateful he fingered you first. your eyes roll back in pleasure, your face blissed out. you look up at richie, you always thought he looked so god like this, his brow furrowed and mouth parted just slightly as he felt you take him. you noticed how he liked to look down as you took him, he liked seeing you taking him. “so fucking tight,” he mutters, holding your hip tight enough for bruises, “this pussy was made just for me, just for me to use,” he mutters, partly to himself. your hands go to the back of his neck, holding onto him, you were panting feeling him fill you so completely.
he shifts your hips slightly so you can take him better, feeling your poor cunt try and accommodate his size. “oh g- god,” you whimper, shaking at the feeling, clenching around him. richie looked so pretty like this, you thought somewhere in between the white hot pleasure. his eyes so intently fixed on you as he rocked his hips forward, pushing into you. his hips become flush with yours, the pain subsided into the need to feel him fucking you, fucking you like he didn’t care if you were limping tomorrow, like he wanted you to walk around with everyone knowing you got fucked the night before, like he owned you.
he presses his forehead to yours, letting you adjust to the fullness, taking in your moans and whimpers as you clung onto him. he looked to you for approval before slowly pulling out and rocking jis hips back and forth. you gasp as he thrusts into you, driving even deeper than what he felt like before.
he’s slow at first. he draws out your sweet cries and moans. he builds his pace till his pelvis is slamming against your hips, the length of his cock pressing against your g spot with each movement. you were sure that you’d be left with a bruised cervix after this.
your eyes prick with tears at the sheer intensity of it, your body limp as he picked you up so he could fuck you at a better vantage point, using you like you were a ragdoll. a very pretty ragdoll, he would’ve said if he wasn’t busy fucking you like you were a toy.
your head lolls backwards, moans pulled out from you as he used you, the base of his cock hitting against your swollen clit. he holds the back of your neck, his words against your ear, “my cumslut. that’s all you are, something for me to use until i’m fucking satisfied,” he says, met with your babbles of yes, yes, yes, harder, harder, please, i love being your slut.
at one point, he cups your cheeks, your mouth opening on command, letting him spit onto your tongue, he said, “swallow.” so you do, loving every depraved, filthy moment of it.
your climax comes in hot waves of pleasure that have you clenching around his length, gasping and arching in his arms, “there! fuck k.. keep there oh g-” you ramble, lost in the feeling. the sight of you falling apart in his arms was enough to have his thrusts get sloppy, feeling you spasm around his cock, “so good so fucking good for me,” he groans, letting out an animalistic grunt as he reaches his high, pumping his cock into you, filling you up, making sure you take every last drop.
still clutching onto him, you twitch around his cock, dumbly panting and whimpering with oversensitivity, tha.. that was nice,” you mumble, your hazy voice sounding sleepy. he wraps his arms around you to keep your lax body from collapsing then and there.
you feel his lips press kisses to your shoulders, neck and cheeks, peppering them lovingly. you cling onto him when he withdraws and shake your head, “nuh uh rich, stay,” you murmur, pressing your head against his chest. it felt safe there. his eyes soften at the gesture, without pulling out, he positions himself, laying with you in the backseat.
his face read concerned, “did i go a little overboard?” the question makes you giggle and you shake your head, “not at all, just perfect.”
in that moment, of you pressed against him, your eyes shut and his on you, you both realised that you wanted this. wanted each other. he hated watching you talk to stan like that earlier, he didn’t even want to think about you dating someone else.
richie looks down at you, his eyes soft and dark, he was tracing the shape of your jaw, “yn?”
“wanna go out to the diner tomorrow?”
you smile and press against his touch, “i’d like that.”
he pulls your dress down, holding you tight. god, telling eddie he had a crush on his sister would be a nightmare-
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” eddie shrieks it from outside the car window, knocking loudly at the glass. he just had to take one look at the state of you two and the fogged up glass to know.
you prop your head up, the realisation dawning on you, “oh shit..”
richie groans, making sure you’re covered up, “well mary i did tell you you’d be the death of me..”
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