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wheresarizona · 4 months ago

Text

but he’s the one I want

summary: All you needed was to see if your dad’s friend, Joel, had a spare key to your father’s house. Instead, you get railed within an inch of your life on Joel’s couch.

His brown eyes squeeze shut. “Lord help me,” he says under his breath. A second passes, and then he’s looking at you. “Fuck it—I’m already goin’ to hell.” Joel’s large palms grab your face, pulling you in to crush his lips against yours, muffling your surprised sound.

pairing: DBF!Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller/College Student f!reader (no physical descriptions)

rating: E (18+!!! No y/n, DBF!Joel Miller, slightly possessive Joel Miller, pre-Outbreak, age gap, explicit consent, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, spit as lube, overstimulation, sex on stairs, body worship, slight body insecurity, getting caught, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, Die Hard is a Christmas movie debate)

word count: 11.5k+

a/n: Alexa, play “But Daddy I Love Him” by Taylor Swift. I don’t know where this came from (daddy issues), but I hope you enjoy it! Reader is freshly 21 in my head, Joel is 35 (it’s months before his birthday), and Tommy is 29. Let me know what you think! Big shoutout to @devineconjuring for going on this journey with me and betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Main Masterlist

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s a Friday night; the sky is dark, but the porch light is on. You hug your jacket a little closer to your body to stave off the chill in the air as you wait outside the front door for someone to answer it. A masculine voice calls out, "Comin’!" Footsteps thud on the hardwood floor as they head your way.

Seconds later, the door is cracked open, and you’re met with the home’s owner, Joel Miller. Just the sight of him in his jeans and navy blue t-shirt has your heart rate picking up in speed, the man looking as handsome as ever.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees you.

"Hey," he greets. "What are you doin' here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

University of Houston—go, Cougars!

You smile. "Three-day weekend—I have Monday off. I thought I'd surprise my dad since it's his birthday."

The confused look doesn’t disappear. "I coulda sworn he told me they were goin' to Vegas to celebrate a few days ago." ‘They’ being your father, stepmother, and your teenage half-brother.

“Well, I guess it slipped his mind to tell me they were going out of town. He must be getting forgetful in his old age.”

The relationship you have with your father is… complicated. It’s not bad by any means—you get along and love each other. He just wasn’t very present when you were growing up—he lived in Austin while you were with your mom in Houston, only seeing him a few times per year. Now that you have a car and your mom moved out of state last year with her new husband, you occasionally made the three-hour drive to your dad’s to visit and do your laundry free of charge. It was also where you now stayed on your breaks from school.

Joel opens the door a little wider and crosses his arms over his chest, your eyes moving from his face to admire the broadness in his shoulders and the muscles in his forearms. Having his full attention on you makes the nerves in your belly flutter around like a bunch of butterflies were let loose.

“He’s not much older than me,” Joel says. His eyebrow lifts. “Are you callin’ me old?”

The man in question happens to be one of your father’s best friends—or so you’ve been told. In all of the visits to your dad’s growing up, you could count the number of times you saw Joel on one hand. Over the past year that you’ve been coming to Austin regularly, you’ve had much more interaction with him, which has led to you developing a little bit of a crush. Who can blame you, though? He’s gorgeous—the chocolate-colored eyes, the hair that looks so soft, that perfect nose, and those kissable lips.

“If the shoe fits,” you reply with a shrug and a smile.

“Kids these days,” Joel grumbles under his breath, shaking his head. “Did you come by just to call me old?” he asks.

“Oh, no. I was expecting at least one person to be at my dad’s, so I didn’t bother bringing my house key. I’m here to see if you possibly have a spare I could borrow—I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number.”

Maybe he’d give it to you now…

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I don’t.”

Hot and a sweetheart—how is he single? Is he single?

You frown, feeling annoyed that you drove all this way to Austin for no reason. You should’ve called ahead, but that was your mistake, assuming your family would stay in town for your father’s birthday. “This was a waste of gas,” you muse. “Love that for me. Well, it looks like I’m heading home, or maybe I’ll get a cheap motel room. Thanks anyway, Joel. Have a nice rest of your night!” You do a little wave at him.

You start to turn, but stop when he says, “Wait,” and you face him again. He opens the door wider. “It’s too late for you to be drivin’ all that way, and there’s no reason you should pay for a motel when I’ve got a guest room you can stay in. You can get a good night's sleep and leave tomorrow mornin’ when the sun’s shinin’.”

Again, a sweetheart—why hasn’t anyone snatched him up? Or have they?

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He finally offers you a friendly smile and moves to open the door all the way. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I was feelin’ lonely anyway with Sarah gone at a sleepover. It’ll be nice to have some company that isn’t my brother.”

Lonely? Nice to have some company? That sounds pretty single to you. Your night just got a lot more interesting. “Thank you so much! I’ll do my best to be better company than your brother.”

With that, you make your way inside, toeing off your shoes next to a pair of his work boots.

“That won’t be too hard,” Joel says as he shuts the door.

You stop in the entryway because you’re not quite sure where you should be going since you've never actually been inside his house. You only know where he lives because your father once asked you to drop something off here.

“Let me get your coat and bag.” You hand him your small purse, and he moves behind you, helping as you shrug off the long jacket you’re wearing, which he hangs up on a nearby coat hook with your bag. “Oh.” He stops in his tracks, and you look at him, seeing his widened eyes staring at your body. “Were you plannin’ on goin’ out tonight?”

You glance down at your outfit, and you can understand why he’d make that assumption at the sight of the cute little black dress you’re wearing—it only reaches mid-thigh and has a V-neckline to show off your breasts.

“Not going out—it’s laundry day. I do my laundry when I come to Austin, and this was literally the last clean thing I had.” Your eyes lift to see his glued to your chest, and you think that’s an interesting development. “I have spare clothes I keep at my dad’s that I planned on changing into.”

It’s the truth, and you’re a little thankful this was your last clean outfit. You can only imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been coming over here in a ratty old T-shirt, granny panties, and your Spongebob Squarepants pajama pants.

He clears his throat and looks away. A rosy blush appears on his cheeks as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I can put my jacket back on,” you tell him, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“No, no.” He meets your gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s fine—do you need to use my washer and dryer?”

“You’re already being nice, letting me stay over. I can wash my clothes at the laundromat when I get home.”

“It’s really no big deal.”

“Thank you, but I’m good.”

“Okay.” His hands go in his pockets, and he seems to get very interested in the short console table against the wall, staring at the contents lying atop it—a stack of unopened mail and what you assume are his keys and wallet.

“So, what were you doing before I interrupted your evening?”

“Oh—” He looks at you again. “—I was watchin’ a movie. Would you like to join me?”

You smile. “Sure—lead the way.”

He takes you to the living room, where a movie is paused on the television, and lets you know you can sit anywhere. Your choices are one of two armchairs and a maroon leather sofa, and you choose the sofa while he heads for the kitchen.

“Would ya like a beer?” he calls out on his way to the other room. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond because a second later, he’s back at the doorway to the living room with a confused expression again. “Wait, are you old enough to drink…?”

The question makes you smile. “Yes, Joel. I’m old enough to drink.”

“Legally…?”

You giggle. “Yes. I can legally drink. You wanna card me?”

“No.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Beer?”

“Sounds great.”

“Okay.” He nods.

As you sit on the couch waiting, you become very aware of the situation you’re in. You’ve spoken to Joel one-on-one a handful of times over the last year, but it always happened at a barbecue or a holiday party—places where there were other people around—you’ve never been alone with Joel. This is new territory, and you’re not entirely sure what to expect, especially considering how he was staring at your chest.

Would you fuck him if given the chance? Yes, zero hesitation. Do you think you have a chance with him? Maybe, and that thrills you. Just two things are working against you: your age and the fact he’s your father’s best friend. Those are two hurdles you’re not entirely sure how to get over, but you’re definitely game to try.

Your conversations were always friendly in the past, and you’re proud to say you’ve made him laugh a few times. You think you could possibly charm him. What you know for sure is he’ll need to be very aware that you’re interested; otherwise, he won’t even fathom trying anything with you—thank god you’re wearing this dress. Nerves are swirling in your tummy at what could happen tonight, and you’re eager to see where things go.

Joel returns with two open bottles of beer, handing you one, and you thank him as he takes a seat right next to you. He leans forward to grab the remote and hits play before sitting back and taking a drink.

He’s so close to you that you get a whiff of his cologne—it has a spiciness to it and some citrusy notes that, when combined, smell amazing. It makes you think he took a shower when he got home from work today—and, suddenly remembering he’s a contractor, you imagine him shirtless and sweaty while using a hammer. The thought causes your mouth to go dry, so you lift your bottle to your lips for a sip, focusing on the TV.

It’s easy to figure out what he’s watching when you see Josh Hartnett in clothes from the 1940s.

“Pearl Harbor?” you ask, now holding your drink on your lap, picking at the label with your fingernail.

“Yeah.” His head turns your way, his beer resting on his thigh. “Have you seen it?”

Meeting his eyes, you answer, “Oh, yeah.”

He frowns. “Because it’s a girly movie?”

“Um, kinda? The guys are pretty easy on the eyes, and the story is interesting. I wouldn't say it’s super girly. Sure, it’s a romance, but there’s so much action and drama about the war in it.”

“The back of the DVD said nothin’ about it bein’ a romance.”

“Are you enjoying it, at least?” you ask.

He sighs and looks back at the television. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then enjoy it! If anyone asks what we watched, I’ll tell them Die Hard.” You lightly pat his thigh closest to you, feeling the muscles tense under your palm.

His gaze returns to you. “You’ve seen Die Hard?”

“Yes. A few times.”

Because it’s your dad’s favorite movie.

His upper body slightly turns your way, his arm going behind you on the couch. The closeness and the attention he’s giving you make your skin heat.

“I want you to settle somethin’ my brother Tommy and I disagree on—have you met Tommy?”

“Once.” At a barbecue. He didn’t catch your attention like Joel did. “What am I settling?”

“Do you think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

“What…?”

“Tommy is fuckin’ convinced that Die Hard is a Christmas movie, and I say it’s just another action flick. A good one, but definitely not a Christmas movie.”

It takes you a second to process what he asked.

“I mean,” you start, “it takes place on Christmas Eve, at a Christmas party, and I’d say it’s a Christmas miracle that John McClane happened to be there to save the day. So, yeah, it’s totally a Christmas movie.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me. Just ‘cause it takes place on Christmas Eve at a Christmas party doesn’t mean it’s a Christmas movie.”

You point the neck of your beer at him. “You forgot John McClane being a Christmas miracle. Makes sense to me that it’s a Christmas movie.”

He takes a deep breath. “So, are you tellin’ me that—what the fuck is that movie called?” His eyes leave you as he thinks, trying to remember the name. “Lethal Weapon!” He looks at you again. “So, you’re tellin’ me that Lethal Weapon would also be a Christmas movie? Have you seen that one?”

Yep, with your father.

“I have, and yeah, it’s a Christmas movie. You’ve got drug dealers using a Christmas tree business as a front, Christmas is mentioned all throughout, they use a bunch of Christmas songs, and it ends at Christmas dinner. Absolutely a Christmas movie.”

“Say you’re messin’ with me, darlin’. You know what a Christmas movie is, right?

“Yeah, you’ve got the heavy hitters—It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol—then those stop-motion ones that are delightful. I’d put Die Hard and Lethal Weapon in the same category as Home Alone.”

“Why the hell do you think Home Alone is a Christmas movie?”

“It’s set during the holiday season, and there’s a ton of Christmas imagery and music. Plus, you’ve got Kevin going on a similar journey as the main character in It’s a Wonderful Life where, in the end, he realizes how much he loves and needs his family—sounds pretty Christmas-y to me.”

His jaw clenches, and it’s seconds before he inhales deeply and looks back at the TV.

“Son of a bitch,” he sighs, shaking his head. “They’re fuckin’ Christmas movies.” He takes a long drink of his beer.

You grin. “They are indeed,” you reply and pat his thigh again.

His bottle lowers, and he looks over at you. “Even though you somehow made a dumbass like Tommy make sense, you’re definitely better company than him. He’d never let me live this down.”

He’s visibly relaxed, and you have, too. The fact he’s enjoying you being there has calmed your nerves, and you’re having a great time talking to him. Plus, he’s nice to look at.

“Then it’ll be our secret,” you say. “Like how we’re totally watching Die Hard right now, and not—” Your eyes go to the TV, and they widen. “—the one sex scene in Pearl Harbor.” It’s nothing too risque and honestly kind of lame.

Joel looks, too. “They’re just rollin’ around on the ground…”

“It’s PG-13, Joel. I don’t know what you’re expecting from a movie where they can only say fuck once, and titties are prohibited.”

His head turns your way. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he says, and when your eyes land on his, you find that he’s smiling—your heart skips a beat.

“A good something or a bad something?”

“A good somethin’.”

You share his expression. “You’re something else, too.”

“A good somethin’ or a bad somethin’?”

“A very good something.”

His eyes darken, and suddenly, his attention returns to the movie. Joel clears his throat, then chugs the rest of his beer, leaning forward to set the empty bottle on the coffee table.

When he sits back, his arm is still behind you on the top of the couch, and he scoots the tiniest bit your way to have your bodies touching.

It’s clear that there’s a shift to the energy in the room, and the tension becomes palpable—he likes you, and you think there’s a possibility he more than likes you with how close he is. The thought has your heart pounding, and you’re unsure what to do next. You’ve only been with boys your own age, and Joel is so much older and more experienced.

The panic has you blurting out, “Are you seeing anyone?” Then, backpedaling, “Not that it’s any of my business, so don’t feel obligated to answer.”

He looks at you, and you keep staring at the TV, almost wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

“Why do you wanna know?”

“I’m nosy.”

He huffs in amusement. “You only wanna know ‘cause you’re nosy?”

“That’s what I said.”

“No other reason?”

“Can’t think of any.”

“Okay—no, I’m not seein’ anyone. What about you? You got a boy back in Houston worryin’ about you?”

“Nope.”

“Really?” The genuine surprise in his voice has your head turning to see the matching expression.

“What’s so shocking about that?”

He frowns. “I beg your pardon, darlin’. It just doesn’t make much sense that someone as pretty and fun as you doesn’t have a line of boys waitin’ their turn to take you out.”

Those butterflies in your stomach are flapping around again.

“Not really.” You shrug. “Plus, the guys my age usually only want sex but aren’t very, um, giving, if you know what I mean.”

Now he looks grumpy. “Selfish boys,” he grumbles, and it makes you smile.

“So, not an issue with someone older like you. Good to know.” You squeeze his thigh and keep speaking so he can’t reply, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you single?”

For some reason, he can’t look at you now, focusing on your hand. He reaches across his body to grab yours with his larger one, staring at your fingers. He lets out a long, weary sigh, his thumb rubbing against each of your dark blue-painted fingernails.

“Women don’t particularly like that Sarah is the most important person in my life and my top priority…”

“But she’s your daughter, she should be your top priority.”

“That’s the logic, but they want me all to themselves and don’t like sharing.”

“Joel?”

His face lifts to meet your gaze.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve dated some truly shitty women.”

He smiles. “I guess I have. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve given up on datin’. It’s just a waste of time.”

“That is such a shame.”

His dark eyes get even darker. “You’re trouble.”

“Why am I trouble?”

His eyebrow arches. “Your daddy would kill me.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second as you take in the statement—he’s into you, he’s really into you. Now, what are you going to do?

“Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask and move to put your beer on the table. When you sit back, you cuddle a little closer into his side. “You were worried about me driving home in the dark, so you offered me your guest room—we watched Die Hard, then turned in for the night. You’re a stand-up guy for keeping your friend’s daughter safe.”

His eyes move from yours to your mouth, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face—his palm is so big his fingertips almost reach the back of your head. He starts leaning in, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought that he’s going to kiss you, and you stop breathing when his lips are only a hair’s breadth away from yours.

And then he pauses.

“Tell me why you really came here tonight,” he rasps.

That confuses you, your brows pulling together, and you sit back to see his face. “I did? I needed to see if you had a spare key to my dad’s house.”

His eyes are on yours. “Bullshit—there’s no way this just happened to be the last outfit you had.” He looks directly at your tits.

“It is if you wait super last minute to do your laundry, and I told you, I have other clothes at my dad’s. Why do you think I came over here?”

His gaze goes back to yours. “With that dress you’re wearin’ and how you keep lookin’ at me, for a lot more than needin’ a key.”

“You thought I came over here to seduce you…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Wow.” You gently pat his cheek. “You think I’m way bolder than I actually am—me coming here and the outfit was not premeditated.” You shake your head.

His eyes round, and you’d think he was burned by how quickly his hand leaves you and how he moves away a little to put space between you. “Fuck, have I been readin’ this wrong?”

You scoot to have yourself against him again. “The assumption I came here specifically to seduce you was very wrong. But you’re right that I definitely want you to fuck me, Joel.”

“Shit,” he breathes out and scrubs a palm over his face. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

Turning his way, you rub your hand along his jeans-covered thigh. “No, I’m not,” you tell him. “Stop thinking, and kiss me.”

His hand lowers. “Not thinkin’ is gonna get me killed.”

“Not thinking is going to get you a blow job and pussy.” You press your palm between his legs over where you can feel he’s already hardening. “Hell, I’ll sweeten the deal—you can come anywhere you want.”

His eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you smile. His reaction makes you brave.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we’ll go back to watching the movie and pretend nothing happened. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and we’ll go as far as you’re willing to go.” Your hand moves up to hold his cheek, and it’s a good sign when he leans into your touch as you stare into his eyes. “But I’m going to make myself crystal clear, Joel. I want you—badly. You’re beyond sexy, and the fact you’re older and have a lot more experience than me is a big turn-on. I’d love to know what good sex is like for once and maybe have you teach me some things.” You shrug your shoulder. “It’s up to you, though. Just know I’m more than willing.”

This kiss is unlike any you’ve experienced before. You’re used to overeager boys practically shoving their tongues down your throat the first chance they get, yet here’s Joel claiming your lips—you can feel his every want and his desire for you with how thoroughly he kisses you. The soft pillow of his mouth moves with yours, his scent filling your nose—hints of the beer he drank and his spicy cologne imprinting this moment in your mind. Your eyes flutter closed, and your head goes dizzy from the arousal igniting in your belly.

Just one kiss and you know you’re ruined for anyone else.

His arms go around you, and he mouths at your chin. “Come here,” he says against your skin. “Get in my lap.”

You do as you’re told, bunching up the bottom of your dress at your waist and moving to straddle his thighs. His hands go under your clothes to grab your ass, and he’s so surprised to feel bare skin he leans back with the confused expression you’re becoming intimately familiar with.

“You really didn’t come over just to fuck me?” he asks. His palms wander, and you know he’s discovered your thong when he hooks a thumb under its stretchy waistband—they were the last clean pair of underwear you had.

“I really didn’t.” You’re curious about something. “But if I had, what are the chances that I would’ve succeeded…?”

“With this dress and a little convincin’? Pretty good.”

You smile. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful and smart. I know this is a bad idea, and it’ll probably bite me in the ass later, but I’m so fuckin’ lonely, and you’re just too damn temptin’ to pass up.”

The truth is clear in his eyes and makes you kiss him—your fingers comb into the hair at the back of his head, finding it softer than you thought it’d be. It starts off slow and tender, just lips to lips, until Joel deepens it, the tip of his tongue making it past your lower lip. Hearing that he’s lonely tugs at your heart, and you want to do everything you can to make that loneliness disappear. Things start to heat up, and all you can do is follow his lead, moaning as he explores your mouth with his tongue. With his palms on your backside, he helps you rock your hips, grinding yourself against his hard cock beneath his jeans, rubbing your clit just right to fan the flames growing in your core.

When you finally need to come up for air, his hand grips your chin to turn your head as you pant, Joel kissing and nipping at your skin from the base of your neck up—tingles wash down your spine when he nibbles on your jaw. He gently bites your earlobe, and you gasp when his hot breath tickles your ear.

He huskily whispers into it, “You want me?” His hand fondles your breast.

“Yes.”

“I can touch you?”

“Anywhere.”

“I need you to be a good girl and tell me when you do and don’t like things—understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he purrs.

The way those two words make your cunt clench has you moaning, ”Fuck.”

He easily unzips the back of your dress, tugging the garment up and over your head, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. You’re sitting astride his lap, the dark pools of his eyes taking in your mostly naked body, his big hands massaging your bra-covered breasts. It’s surprising that being under his gaze, you don’t immediately feel self-conscious, and you think that has to do with how he’s looking at you—the desire and appreciation clear as he admires you.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nodding towards what he’s touching.

“Yes.”

He sits up straighter, and it’s quick work for him to get your bra off, it landing on top of your dress. He’s focused on your tits, holding them in his palms, weighing them. He leans forward, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and the sudden shock of pleasure has your breath catching in your throat, your fingers grabbing handfuls of his shirt for something to hold onto. When he grazes his teeth over the stiff bud, your entire body shivers—your panties have a wet spot from your pussy leaking your arousal for him. He gives your other breast the same attention, leaving your skin shiny from spit when he comes off of it with a wet pop to look at you.

“Lie down on the couch, baby.” He pats the empty seat next to him. “Your head all the way at the other end.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You scramble out of his lap, the couch’s leather creaking as you crawl over to where he instructed and sit back on your elbows to see what’s happening. Joel grunts as he gets up to stand, watching in interest when he squeezes the noticeable bulge at the front of his jeans. His arm goes behind his head to grab his shirt, pulling it up and off of his body to bare his torso.

At seeing so much of his golden skin, your jaw goes slack—his freckled chest is so broad, tapering down to his trim waist, his abs showing a little bit of muscle definition you think is from doing manual labor and not working out. Your eyes fixate on the happy trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Sure could get used to you lookin’ at me like that.”

That has your attention snapping up to his face, where you find him smirking, and you close your mouth.

“Sorry,” you apologize, your eyes darting away from him.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, darlin’. Makes me feel pretty fuckin’ great about the shape I’m in.”

You look at him again. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re in great shape and so hot—you’re really down to fuck me?” You point at yourself.

He kneels on the sofa by your feet, his hand on the back of it to steady himself.

“Darlin’, if I didn’t know your daddy, and you were a stranger I met in a bar, I’d bring you home in a heartbeat. I feel like a real lucky son of a bitch that someone as young and pretty as you has any interest in an old guy like me.” He lifts one of your legs and gently kisses the inside of your ankle, the sweetness of it making you melt a little.

“Oh, I’m very interested in you.”

“Is that so?” he asks and spreads open your legs. He crawls over you, and you lie back, Joel nestling his hips between your thighs for you to feel how hard he is as he dips his head, kissing up the column of your throat—the nerves in your stomach flutter wildly.

“Yes,” you whisper and need to touch him, wrapping your arms around his torso to press your palms against the warm skin on his shoulders—his body shudders, a rumbling groan coming from his chest.

You squeak in surprise when his lips are suddenly on yours, kissing you hard.

He takes over all of your senses—he’s all you see, he’s all you feel, he’s all you taste, he’s all you hear, he’s all you smell. It’s him, and him alone—his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his weight on top of you. Your fingers thread into his hair, moaning as he takes over your very world, reveling in this feeling of being wanted.

His lips leave yours, both of you breathing a little heavier. His teeth gently sink into your chin before kissing along the underside of your jaw.

He speaks into your skin, his words muffled, “I’m very interested in you, too. I shouldn’t be, but I am.” His mouth ends up at your ear, and he quietly asks, “Can I eat your pussy?”

“Oh.” The question surprises you. “I’m usually the one who asks. Do you want me to blow you first?” There was always a quid pro quo when it came to oral.

His head lifts to look you in the eye.

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?”

“You’ve been with some truly shitty boys.”

It makes you laugh, and he smiles.

“Ain’t that the truth,” you reply.

“It should always be ladies first—may I?”

What a gentleman.

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” he says and pecks you on the lips.

He doesn’t immediately move off of you, and it catches you off guard. Instead, his mouth blazes a trail, kissing down your body—your neck, your chest, and your belly. This is when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head. Joel is getting up close and personal with your imperfections—your scars, stretch marks, cellulite, all those little details you normally kept hidden in the safety of dark rooms or under shirts when you hooked up with someone. Now, you’re basically naked, the lamp is on, and he can see it all, which makes you feel uneasy.

He kisses just above your belly button, then below it, going lower and lower until he places one last kiss on your panties, over your mound. He sits up on his knees, tracing the lines and curves of your thighs and hips with his large palms while he drinks you in as you lie there—you have to fight the urge to cover yourself, unable to meet his gaze.

The silence is broken when Joel speaks. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your eyes seek out his face where you don’t find any deception, but you have to ask, “Really?”

“Really.” He nods. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His attention goes to the apex of your thighs, and the pink of his tongue swipes along his bottom lip as if he’s imagining how you’ll taste. He strokes the pad of his thumb over the visible damp spot on your underwear, his other hand squeezing his cock that’s straining in his jeans.

“I bet you have the prettiest pussy, too,” he says, and gets his fingers under the elastic waistband on your panties, pulling them down and off your legs, the air cool against your now bared skin. He shuffles back a little, then bends forward, spreading your lips open with two fingers as his face hovers over it. You think your heart might beat out of your chest with how fast it’s thudding, your skin feeling so hot. “I fuckin’ knew it, such a pretty pussy,” Joel murmurs. He circles your clit with his thumb, and the pleasure has every muscle in your body tensing and your eyes closing. “You’re gonna taste so good.”

He loudly groans as he drags the flat of his tongue along your cunt, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

“Oh, god,” you moan, your body squirming at how good it feels.

Joel has to pin down your hips with an arm across them to keep you still, his face buried in your pussy. He goes straight to the source, lapping at your entrance to taste your arousal while the tip of his perfect nose rubs against your bundle of nerves, his facial hair prickling your skin.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’re fucked.

It’s not even a minute in, and you can already feel your orgasm taking shape low in your belly, the muscles beginning to wind up. If you thought the first kiss ruined you, you know you’re ruined by how eagerly he’s eating you out—who knew this could be so good? You have to wonder how you’ll ever be able to fool around with anyone else when Joel is all you’ll be able to think about or compare it to—this is the only moment doubt invades your mind. You feel like this is all a mistake, but it’s quickly squashed by how unbelievably horny and curious you are.

His mouth lifts, and you whine at its loss. “Gimme a second,” he pants. “I gotta see how tight you are.” That’s when one of his thick fingers presses to your soaked opening, and he slowly starts to push it inside.

The slight stretch makes you gasp his name, your fingers clawing at the sofa’s maroon leather.

“Christ,” Joel says. “You’re squeezin’ me. With how fuckin’ tight you are, I’d think this is your first time.”

You sit back up on your elbows and open your eyes to look at him.

“You just have massive fingers, and it’s been a while.”

His gaze meets yours as he smirks. “Well, I’m gonna loosen you up with my massive fingers, and I think you’ll enjoy it.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. His head dips, flicking his tongue side-to-side against your clit when you feel the sudden pressure of his second digit pushing into you—there’s even more of a stretch and the delicious feeling of being full. You fall back on the couch, tangling your fingers into the brown waves of hair on his head, moans falling unbidden from your lips. His digits crook as they pump in and out of you, sliding along your upper wall when they press into something that elicits white-hot pleasure, making you keen and wiggle under the hold he has on your lower half.

Yeah, you’re totally and completely fucked.

He’s relentless with his mouth and fingers as you careen toward your end, free-falling in the throes of pleasure. He’s really going to get you off, and you think you might be in love with him. Is that crazy? Falling for the guy you absolutely should not fall for—that you can’t even have any kind of future with—because it’d ruin both of your lives, especially his.

Why does that make you want him more?

You definitely understand now why Eve ate the forbidden fruit—the temptation leads to such sweet gratification when you give in.

He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, sweeping his tongue around it, and you can hear the wet squelch of him fucking his fingers into your cunt. Your thighs are trembling—you’re so close, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter until it snaps, and you’re coming with an unintelligible cry. Your body seizes up, euphoria exploding out from your center, radiating to your fingers and toes. Joel removes his digits, his tongue taking their place to catch every bit of your slick he can get, groaning as he lets no drop go to waste.

You’ve never come so hard, feeling a little floaty as you ride out your high, your chest heaving heavy breaths. With how shaky your arms and legs are, you’d think you were out in the freezing cold.

Joel’s mouth comes off of you and he sits up, rubbing his hands along the outside of your legs.

“Such a good girl for me,” he says. “Was it good?”

“Was it good?” you parrot back at him and push yourself up into a sitting position. “It was more than good, Joel—oh my god, it was amazing.”

The bottom half of his face glistens in the lamplight, his shiny lips turning up in a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You still wanna fuck?”

“I think I will die if you don’t fuck me.”

He chuckles, and that’s all the answer he needs. He’s off the couch instantly, and you watch as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and gets his jeans undone, shoving them and his boxers down his legs so fast it makes you giggle. He’s balancing on one foot, peeling off his sock, and you finally get a good look at his dick—it’s hard and bobbing between his legs, the tip flushed red and shiny from precum, and your eyes round at how big he is.

“Second thoughts?” he asks, taking off his other sock.

Your gaze rises to his, seeing he’s frowning. “No.” You shake your head. “It’s more, ‘I sure hope that thing fits inside me.’”

He crookedly smiles, his chest puffing up a little. “It’ll fit—I promise.” And he has the audacity to wink at you.

Just as quickly as he got off the sofa, he’s getting back on it, kneeling in the space between your spread thighs. His attention is on your pussy, rubbing the tip of himself against your swollen clit and through your wetness. Nerves swirl in your belly, along with arousal, his free hand giving your hip a reassuring squeeze before he’s spitting on his fingers and slicking up his cock. He notches himself at your entrance, and your heart is in your throat as you hold your breath.

“Just relax, baby,” he says. “You can take me.”

He slowly starts feeding his hard length into you, making you gasp when the fat head breaches your slick cunt, your eyes squeezing shut, your fingers digging into the couch’s leather cushions. A groan rumbles from his throat, and you answer with a drawn-out moan as he burrows his thick cock deep inside you, your tight walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. Full doesn’t even begin to describe how stuffed you are—he’s hot inside you, almost searing, and you can feel him pulsing. He bottoms out and goes completely still, his hands on your hips in a bruising grip.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he rasps. “You okay?” His thumbs stroke circles on your skin.

“Yes.” It comes out as more of a squeak. “I just need a second.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Darlin’, baby, and now sweetheart when his dick is inside you? Is he trying to make you fall in love with him?

He bends at the waist, one hand on the couch holding up his weight while the other massages your breast, his lips wrapping around your pebbled nipple, the sparks of pleasure going straight to your pussy. Your fingers wind up in his hair; what he’s doing to you has you whimpering at how good it feels and only makes you wetter where you’re joined. He pulls each of your legs up to rest on his ribs while his mouth moves higher, kissing your sternum and up the arch of your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you squirm underneath him.

His hands end up on either side of your head, his lips leaving behind a wet streak of kisses along the hinge of your jaw to finally ghost over yours—you can feel his breaths and smell your musk. He’s so close it wouldn’t take much more for your mouths to meet.

His nose nudges yours. “Need more time?” he whispers.

Enough has passed that you don’t feel as overwhelmed. You slide your palms up his back to his shoulders.

“No,” you answer just as quietly. “You can move.”

He pulls out almost all the way and pushes back in as his mouth claims yours, muffling your sounds when he sets up a rhythm of long, hard strokes. You’re gone—all rational thoughts go out the window, and the only thing you can think about is how his cock is moving in and out of you. It’s so distracting you’re having trouble kissing Joel back because your brain keeps screaming, ‘so big, so full, so good.’

You’re feverishly clutching at his shoulder blades, your nails leaving crescent moon imprints and scratches you’re sure will bleed on his golden skin, Joel moaning into your mouth. It surprises you when you feel the familiar tension of another orgasm making itself known deep in your core, the pressure rising with each thrust, the angle of them causing him to slide against spots you never knew existed, and you don’t ever want this to end.

His lips leave yours, pressing his forehead to your cheek. He’s breathing hard, sweat beginning to bead on his skin as he keeps the same pace.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this pussy. Just wanna stay inside it until my dick is all it knows.”

Your legs are quivering, your body is burning up, and you can’t get enough of how fucking good this feels. One time—one time—and you’re addicted, you’re drunk on the pleasure and will do anything—anything—for this to happen again.

“It’s yours,” you gasp. “Oh, god, it’s yours!”

His lips move to your ear, huskily asking, “It’s mine, baby? Your pussy is mine? I’m fuckin’ ya that good?”

You’re so out of it and lost in the lust you start babbling, “Yes, it’s yours—fuck, ruin me,” you whine.

“That’s what you want, for me to ruin your perfect little pussy?”

“Please—make me feel it. Make me ache to have your cock inside me again. Make me yours.”

He growls, and you think you’ve said the wrong thing because he’s immediately pulling out, your eyes springing open in time to see him sit up on his knees.

His big hands grab hold of your waist. “Flip,” is all he says, and you find yourself getting manhandled onto your front, Joel tugging you up onto your hands and knees. He wastes no time sheathing himself back inside you, pushing in so deep that your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.

Joel’s hips are flush against your ass, the full length of him seated all the way inside of you—you can’t think, your mouth open in a silent cry. He’s filling you to the absolute brim, and it becomes evident your cup has truly runneth over.

He was right, though. It did fit.

A shuddery breath escapes you. He only allows you a moment to get used to the new fullness before he’s pulling out until just the tip of him remains and snapping his hips forward hard enough it knocks the air from your lungs—this is how you learn what it’s like to really be fucked, and fucked good.

His fingers dig into the skin on your waist, pulling you back as he thrusts forward at a pace that has you lightheaded, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids each time he presses against that heavenly spot inside you.

Warmth grows in your belly, the sounds from the TV overshadowed by the filthy cacophony of skin hitting skin and the audible wetness of his cock working in and out of your used cunt—he’s grunting with each stroke, your moans stuttering from the onslaught.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks through gritted teeth, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust.

It’s a struggle to gather your thoughts and form a response with how good he’s fucking you.

A palm lands on the side of your ass in a loud smack, the sweet sting causing you to clench around him and whimper.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he says. “Is this what you wanted?”

All you can gasp out is a single word. “Yes!”

“Am I fuckin’ you good?”

“Yes!”

He’s pounding into you at a near-brutal pace, the fire inside you only getting hotter as each second passes.

“Look at me,” he orders.

It takes everything in you to turn your head and look over your shoulder. Joel is a sight to behold—a flush rising from his chest to his cheeks, the sweat on his skin making it glisten under the lamp’s light, and his hair sticking wetly to his forehead. His eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed over, his jaw clenched.

He slows, his gaze on yours.

“You wanna be mine?�� he asks.

“Yes.”

The moment your answer leaves your lips, he’s blanketing your back, holding himself up with a hand on the couch, the other going under you to palm your breast and tweak your stiff nipple with his fingers.

He lightly bites your earlobe, his facial hair scratching your cheek when he kisses it.

“I’m gonna make you come,” he says through heavy breaths. “Then I’m gonna fuck you full of me—you want that?”

A shiver moves through you, and you gulp.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

His hand smooths down your front over your stomach to between your legs, where he starts circling your clit with two fingers. It’s like a live wire along your spine, electricity sparking in your core—that added to the sensations of his cock splitting you open and pushing in and out of you has you rocketing toward your release.

“You gonna come for me?” His hot breaths fan over your ear. “You gonna let me feel you come all over my cock? Come on, let me have it—come for me.”

Joel’s bent over you, fucking into you harder and faster, his fingers deliciously swirling around your throbbing bud as he grunts in your ear with every thrust, all of it driving you higher and higher to your end.

You’re so worked up that it doesn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—the muscles in your belly pull tight, your orgasm ripping through you, gasping Joel’s name. He sucks in a breath when your pussy clamps down on him, then loudly groans, continuing to fuck you through your high, and doesn’t stop—his fingers keep up their assault on your clit, and his hips snap into you in quick, short bursts that extend your high. You come, and come, and come to the point your arms give out, and your body shakes and twitches from all of the pleasure coursing through it.

When you think you can’t take any more, relief washes over you that Joel follows suit. With one last thrust, he buries himself all the way to the hilt inside you as he falls forward, his front framing your back, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder. He comes with a dirty, rumbling groan—you feel his dick thicken and pulse, hot spurts of his spend filling you. He grinds his hips, fucking it as deep as it will go, then stills.

The movie’s ending credits are playing, hearing the music and your and Joel’s ragged breaths as you both come down. He’s at the same awkward angle as you, with your hips up and your faces down—his sweaty chest is pressed to your back, your bodies sticking together everywhere they touch. It’s not the most comfortable position, but with how your limbs tremble, you’re not entirely sure you can even move.

You asked him to ruin you, and oh boy, did he deliver—you’re absolutely, positively ruined. It kills you that after whatever this night is, you’ll have to go back to subpar sex with guys who couldn’t find the clit if they were given a map and detailed directions. This is the second time tonight that you fear you’ve made a grave mistake hooking up with Joel, and the post-sex clarity is not helping the situation at all.

What were you thinking?

That’s easy; you weren’t. Or, at the very least, you weren’t thinking with your brain. Your pussy took the lead on this one, and it looks like she’s gotten you into a bit of a situation.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Joel’s arm wraps around your middle, and he turns you two onto your sides, the couch just barely wide enough to fit you both.

“Tha’s better,” Joel slurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. His hand over your stomach feels around until he finds your smaller one, lacing your fingers together and holding it to your chest—oh, he’s cuddling with you. It’s unexpected and nice. You close your eyes and enjoy this taste of intimacy.

Many minutes pass before he mumbles something you can’t make out.

“I’m sorry,” you start and are immediately embarrassed by how hoarse and scratchy your voice sounds from all the sounds you made tonight. You clear your throat and try again, “I’m sorry—what did you say?”

He turns his face so it’s out of your hair.

“I asked if you wanna stay over,” he says.

You smile. “Are you getting forgetful, Joel? You said I could stay over when I got here.”

“Fuckin’ smartass,” he grumbles, and you giggle. “What I meant was, do you wanna stay in my room? With me,” he clarifies.

“Only if you’re okay that I sleep naked—I’m not wearing my dress to bed.”

“Was kinda hopin’ you’d be naked.” He kisses your shoulder. “But if you’re more comfortable wearin’ somethin’, I can get you one of my t-shirts—it’s no big deal.”

“It baffles me that you’re single.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because you’re incredibly sweet, amazing in bed, a great father, very handsome, hardworking, and just an all-around catch. If I had the opportunity, and you know, there wasn’t the elephant in the room—” The fact he’s much older than you and one of your dad’s best friends. “—I’d date you in a heartbeat. If you ever give dating a shot again, you’re going to make one lucky woman very happy.”

“Fuck,” Joel groans, letting go of your hand to press his palm to his face. “What the hell am I doin’?”

That makes your stomach drop, and you frown—he’s regretting everything, and you can’t blame him. The post-sex clarity is a real bitch sometimes.

“Stressing for no reason,” you reply. You’re pretty sure you can walk, so you get up from the sofa, ignoring how wobbly your legs feel and his come leaking down your thigh. “Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask, looking toward the floor for your clothes. “You let me stay the night ‘cause you were worried about me driving home in the dark.” You carefully bend down to pick up your thong, followed by your bra and dress. “We watched Die Hard,” you continue, straightening to stand. “Then turned in for the night to our respective bedrooms. You’re a real stand-up guy for caring so much about your friend’s daughter’s safety.”

You can’t even look at him, focusing instead on the TV where the Pearl Harbor DVD’s menu is on screen.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Tryin’ to pretend nothin’ happened.”

“You clearly wish nothing happened, so nothing happened—where’s the bathroom?” You need to clean up, and you’re tempted to just leave altogether.

“Up the stairs, second door on the right—when the hell did I say I wished nothin’ happened?”

“You didn’t have to. Your ‘what the hell am I doin’?’ was enough for me to get it.” You hug your clothes closer to your body. “Anyways, thanks for tonight. I think I’m just gonna use the bathroom and get out of here. I don’t want you to worry, so I’ll stay at that cheap motel by the highway.” The sign said it was twenty-something dollars a night, and you can swing that. You start heading toward the stairs.

“Hey, stop.” You don’t. You keep walking, willing the unshed tears in your eyes not to fall.

Why are you so upset? You’re well aware that this can only be a one-time thing. It was something fun and sexy where you got to fuck the older, unattainable guy you’ve been crushing on for a while. It wasn’t anything serious, and couldn’t be anything serious, because there’s no future for you two together. Not when he’s a good friend of your father’s. That kills any chance of having a relationship with Joel.

What hurts is he regrets it and wishes it never happened—you’re a mistake, and who wants to be someone’s mistake?

His heavy footsteps sound behind you. “Darlin’, stop,” he says again, and you continue ignoring him. Fingers latch around your bicep and lightly tug. “Please, stop for a second. Talk to me.” Finally, you do as he’s requested, standing still in front of the staircase. He turns you to look at him in his big brown eyes, his hands holding your arms.

“I don’t wish nothin’ happened,” he says. “You were talkin’ about how if things were different, you’d date me, but since they are the way they are, you won’t. I was thinkin’ to myself ‘what the hell am I doin’ wishin’ you’d change your mind,’ when I know it’s for the best.”

“Oh—really?”

Hope swells in your chest, butterflies fluttering around in your tummy.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Tell me you want nothin’ more to do with me, and I’ll grab you a towel and some of my clothes so you can wash up and retire to the guest room unless you’re truly set on stayin’ in a motel. In that case, I’ll pay for your room somewhere safer and much nicer, so I know you’ll be okay. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and I’ll take you up to my bedroom so we can shower, either together or separately, whatever you’re comfortable with. Then we can get into my bed where we can talk and figure things out.”

It sounds like he doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing, either, and that makes you so happy you let your clothes fall to the floor to throw your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his. Joel groans, his arm sliding behind your back, hugging you closer to him, his other hand cradling your cheek. Suddenly, he’s backing you up until your heels hit the first step, and he guides you to sit on a higher one, Joel kneeling on a lower stair to be at the right height that his hips slot between your thighs when he lays you back. He licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

With how good he made you feel tonight, how wanted, you need more of him. There’s a looming fear in the back of your mind that this is too good to be true—that you’ll never be with him like this again, which makes you desperate for him. Your hand snakes its way between your bodies, taking his half-hard cock into your palm, slowly stroking it—a low rumble comes from the back of Joel’s throat. He gets his hand to the juncture of your thighs, sliding his fingers through the puffy lips of your sex, gathering your arousal and his come on his fingertips to rub at your swollen clit.

“You’re mine,” he says into your lips.

“I’m yours,” you answer.

This is how you end up fucking on the stairs, Joel thrusting into you at a pace that has your toes curled and your fingers gripping his ass—your spine tingles from his mouth exploring your neck, mapping out the spots that make you gasp and moan, and you’re in heaven.

A door slams shut on the other side of the railing, and your eyes fly open.

“Hey, Asshole!” a man calls.

Joel’s hand covers your mouth, and you watch the intruder walk through the dining room to the kitchen without seeing you.

“I brought over pizza so you can stop bein’ a sad and lonely sonofabitch!”

Joel immediately pulls out and gets off you, using his strength to help you flip over. “Upstairs,” he whispers, tapping you on the hip, and you go as quickly and quietly as you can with Joel following.

You make it to the second-story landing, and he grabs your hand, tugging you all the way down the hall into what you know is his bedroom by how it smells like him. He closes the door and locks it before beelining to his dresser, roughly pulling out one drawer from which he grabs a burgundy t-shirt, then another that he gets a pair of stretchy gray sweatpants.

“Is this a dress?!” Is yelled from downstairs. “Do you have a girl over?! Who’d wanna fuck your sorry ass?!”

Surprisingly, the clothes in Joel’s hands are not for him; he shoves them into your arms and ushers you over to his bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” he says, flicking on the light, the fan automatically turning on. “It’s Tommy. Stay in here, and I’ll kick him out.” Obnoxiously loud footsteps are coming up the stairs, and he has to take a deep breath, his eyes to the sky like he’s praying God will smite his brother right this second. “Lord, give me strength,” he breathes.

“Where would you even meet a girl?!” Tommy asks from the hallway. “All you do is work—you never go out.”

Joel pecks you on the lips. “I’ll be right back—stay in here,” he tells you again, and this time, he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

There’s banging on the bedroom door, and your ears perk up as you put on the clothes.

“Go home, Tommy,” he says.

“Not until I know who this pretty dress belongs to.”

“Give me that—it’s none of your fuckin’ business. Leave.”

“Come on, Joel—we know the same people. Did you finally give in to Nikki? She’s wanted to go out with you for a long fuckin’ time.”

“No, and it’s still none of your fuckin’ business who I have in the house I pay for. So, get goin’, or I’m gonna make you go.”

“You can be a real dick, Joel. Why are you bein’ so fuckin’ secretive?”

“Do I ask about who you take home from the bar?”

“No, but—”

“Exactly,” Joel interrupts. “I don’t give a fuck what you do in your spare time, and I sure as hell don’t need to tell you what I do in mine, so leave, Tommy—I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“With how fuckin’ grouchy you are, I don’t think you got laid at all—I’m gonna get goin’ ‘cause you clearly need the company of a woman. Bye, mystery woman with the pretty dress hidin’ in Joel’s bathroom!” he yells. “Hopefully you can cheer this fucker up! Enjoy the pizza!”

It goes quiet, and you think Joel left the room, too. You can’t go anywhere, so you decide to take in your surroundings—the bathroom is cleaner than you’d expect from a single man, you have to put the toilet seat down when you pee, and as you’re washing your hands, you notice there’s only one toothbrush in a cup.

You know you shouldn’t snoop, but you pull open the medicine cabinet and find an extra tube of toothpaste, some Tylenol, Ibuprofen, a thing of pain relief cream, then a shelf with a few medicine bottles that intrigues you—prescription pain pills, antidepressants, and heartburn medication. No red flags, but you’re a little worried about how much pain he’s in. You close the cabinet, and soft knocking on the bathroom door makes you jump.

“You can come out,” Joel’s muffled voice says. “He’s gone.”

Walking over to the door, you open it, Joel leaning against the doorframe in a white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants he must’ve put on before talking to Tommy.

He sighs. “So, that was my brother.”

“Seems nice—if I remember correctly, he’s younger, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That explains how annoying he is.”

He smiles, and an amused huff leaves him. “Yeah, he’s annoyin’ alright.”

“We have the house to ourselves?”

“We do—I walked him out myself.”

You grin. “Wonderful.” You grab a fistful of his shirt. “Because I think you said something about us showering together, and I’d like to do that right now, then go eat pizza—I’ve somehow worked up an appetite,” you tell him and pull him forward; he happily comes your way with a smirk.

“Worked up an appetite, huh?” he asks, his eyes on your mouth.

“Yes. No clue how.”

He closes the distance, his lips almost touching yours, when he replies, “Let me remind you how,” and kisses you.

An hour later, you’re walking down the stairs clean and in your borrowed clothes.

“Can we eat then go to bed?” you ask, through a yawn. “I had classes today, and that long ass drive, plus all the sex. I’m so damn tired.”

Joel’s behind you in just his sweatpants.

“I’m fuckin’ tired, too. That sounds good to me.”

The only lights on downstairs are the lamps in the living room. You walk into the dark kitchen, Joel flipping on the light as he follows, and you head for the stove where the pizza is, popping open the box to see it’s pepperoni.

“I’ll grab us some plates,” Joel says, rubbing your upper arms. He kisses the top of your head before stepping over to a cabinet.

Turning around, you’re about to ask Joel where the cups are when the dining room light comes on, Tommy standing by the switch. You gasp in shock; Joel’s immediate reaction is to grab a knife from the knife block and get between you and the unwanted visitor—it takes him a second to recognize it’s his brother.

“Goddammit, Tommy!” Joel shouts and slams the butcher knife onto the countertop. “Are you tryin’ to get yourself killed?!”

“No,” his brother answers, shaking his head, and he looks a little too amused. “But you sure the hell are! Her?!” He points at you and has the audacity to laugh. “Oh, god, Joel,” he says through his glee and grabs the back of a chair, his other hand on his chest as he chuckles. “Her daddy is gonna kill you—you’re fucked!”

Joel sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, perching a palm on his hip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he says. “I’m a dead man walking.”

“You are!” Tommy calms down, and his shit-eating grin annoys you. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” he asks. “I mean, I know what you were thinkin’. I just can’t get over you not only robbin’ the fuckin’ cradle, but bangin’ your best buddy’s daughter. How long has whatever this is—” He gestures at you both. “—been goin’ on?”

“It just happened tonight—I don’t need you lecturin’ me on right and wrong. I know it’s a fucked up situation.”

A fucked up situation? Ouch. The comment has you crossing your arms over your chest, staring at the floor.

“Fucked up is right, and I’ve got no fuckin’ idea how you’re gonna get out of it. Her daddy finds out about this, and he’s gonna shoot you deader than dead.”

“I told you I didn’t want you lecturin’ me.”

Tommy puts his hands up. “Hey, I’m not lecturin’. I’m just statin’ the facts. I wanna make sure you know this thing between you two could get you killed. You’ve got a daughter, Joel—what would you do in this situation?”

“Woah,” you interrupt, moving to stand beside Joel—Tommy’s comment about Sarah is a fucking nuke you need to try and hopefully defuse. “First of all, I just want to point out that I am a consenting adult and can fuck whoever I want. Second, I need to set the record straight and say that my dad isn’t going to kill anyone. He’ll be mad as hell if he finds out, but he isn’t going to commit murder because, truth be told, he’s never given a fuck about my life choices. I’d also like to add that this is kinda his fault for not having me visit more often because now Joel and I are pretty much strangers, and this whole thing isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

“It’s still pretty bad, honey,” Tommy replies, his attention turning to you, smiling.

“Maybe, but it’s also nobody’s business who I fuck.”

“Sure, but this person you fucked is one of your daddy’s best friends whose—no offense—way too old for you.”

“Why does everyone keep callin’ me old?” Joel grumbles.

Tommy looks at his brother. “‘Cause you are, you old man.” He suddenly looks like he just realized something. “Wait a goddamn minute,” Tommy says. “Joel, are you havin’ a midlife crisis? You’re around the age people have those, right? It’d make sense why you’d risk your life to fuck her.”

“Get out, Tommy,” Joel replies, pointing toward the front door. “I’ve had enough of you.”

His younger brother pouts. “‘Cause I called you old?”

“Out.”

“Fine.” He slowly starts walking toward the hallway that leads to the front door. “I’ll get out of your hair so the two of you can enjoy the rest of your night. Bye!”

The door loudly closes as he leaves.

Well, you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen now. Between the comment about Sarah and the other things that had been said, you wouldn’t be surprised if Joel ends this. You might as well cut your losses and get it over with to save yourself from more heartbreak.

Your eyes are on the ground, the first tear falling down your cheek. “After all that, I know whatever this is is probably over,” you quietly say. “But is there a chance I can still sleep in your bed with you tonight? And if you’re willing, have you hold me?”

He turns and pulls you into his arms.

“Yeah, you can sleep with me,” he answers and kisses your hair. “But I’m gonna need you to stop.”

You lean back to look at him with watery eyes. “Stop what?”

A sad smile is on his lips. “Jumpin’ to conclusions without talkin’ to me. You’ve already got one foot out the door, and I haven’t even opened it.”

“It’s just everything Tommy said.”

He lightly squeezes your biceps. “Tommy was bein’ a little shit. You were right when you said this isn’t as bad as it sounds, but you gotta be honest with me about somethin’.”

“What?” you ask.

His hands come up to hold your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that have fallen. “Are you positive your daddy won’t kill me? I’ve got Sarah to think about, and even though I like you a lot, I’m not gonna risk dyin’ to be happy.”

The sweetest man and the best father.

You think about it for a second, and the sad truth is you can’t imagine your dad killing anyone for you—he doesn’t love you that much. He doesn’t love you to the same degree that Joel loves Sarah. With how easily Joel grabbed a knife to protect you, there’s no doubt in your mind he’d kill for his daughter without hesitation.

“He’ll be pissed off, but he isn’t going to kill you. We also don’t need to tell him anything unless this turns into something. We can keep it to ourselves for now.”

He hums in agreement. “You know, if you wanted, you could start comin’ here to do your laundry...”

You smile. “How will you explain that to Sarah?”

“That I’m helpin’ you out, which is true. Plus, I’ve got the guest room.”

“Uh huh, the guest room that I’ll sleep in?”

“Yes.” He nods.

“Alone?”

“I sleepwalk.”

You snort. “Stop it.” You playfully push his chest. “Sarah is not gonna believe you sleepwalked into the guest room.”

He snatches your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles. “Who said anythin’ about Sarah knowin’ I’m in the guest room, or you bein’ in my room for that matter, while she’s sleepin’? There are also nights like tonight she spends with friends.”

“You really want me to hang out here?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to have company that isn’t Tommy.”

“I believe that. As long as I’m not a bother, I’ll do my laundry here.”

He smiles. “Not a bother, and you can wash your clothes tomorrow and stay another night. You could even stay over Sunday, too, since you have Monday off—you’re more than welcome.”

You loop your arms around his neck. “Yes, Joel. I will spend my long weekend with you.”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours. “Good.”

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #wheresarizona writes #joel miller fanfiction

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keeryhours · 24 days ago

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teen pregnancy series - steve harrington part 1

Steve Harrington x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Teen Pregnancy Series Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

You find yourself pregnant with your best friend Nancy’s boyfriend’s baby after a drunken mistake.

Part 2

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), pregnancy, angst, sort of cheating but not really

Word Count: 11.7k

A/N:

I have worked SO HARD on this fic y’all. I really wanted to post the whole thing (27k words) but tumblr wouldn’t let me. So here we have part 1! Part 2 will be out tomorrow! I also want to give a big shoutout to my bestie @punkrockmlchael for the banner and for my friends and beta readers @glassbxttless @lesservillain @fizzing-imagines @the-witty-pen-name!

‘King’ Steve Harrington never paid any attention to you until he started dating your best friend, Nancy Wheeler. It had been a surprise when he asked her out - you, Nancy, and Barb had been quiet and stayed off to yourselves. You were a tight knit friend group, but certainly not popular. So when Steve asked Nancy out, you and Barb had been skeptical.

“Are you sure he has the best intentions?” Barb asked. “Because it’s Steve Harrington. He goes through girls like crazy.”

“Agreed,” you added. “I’m suspicious.”

“Guys, he’s actually really nice!” Nancy always defended him. “And it’s not even that serious. We just made out once…or twice.”

You and Barb exchanged a look. You didn’t really believe Steve had changed. You feared your best friend was going to get her heart broken, badly.

“What do you guys have in common anyway?” Barb asked. “He’s not, you know…exactly an honor student.”

“Barb!” Nancy scolded with a laugh. “He’s actually really sweet and funny. And a good kisser.”

You and Barb got lost in a fit of giggles at that. It was the first time any of you were having any kind of experience with a guy. The three of you were always overlooked by the guys of Hawkins High, but you didn’t really mind. There were more important things than high school relationships. It was a little exciting, though.

“So is he your boyfriend yet?” You asked, a teasing smile on your face.

“No,” Nancy said, blushing. “I don’t know if he-“

You were all surprised when Steve came seemingly out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around Nancy and making her squeal as he lifted her off the ground. It was sickeningly sweet.

“Steve!” She mock scolded him as he sat her down, and she playfully slapped his chest.

“What? I haven’t seen you in forever,” Steve said, suave grin on his handsome face.

“It’s been like 2 hours,” Nancy laughed.

“Tell me about it,” Steve said, pulling her in for a kiss. You and Barb looked away, feeling awkward.

Finally Steve acknowledged the two of you, giving you both a polite smile. “Sorry. Can I steal Nance for a few?”

Before either of you could say anything, Steve was leading a giggling Nancy away, leaving you and Barb alone.

“I just hope she doesn’t forget about us,” Barb said.

—

“Steve wants us to go to Tina’s halloween party,” Nancy said at her locker before lunch. You and Barb exchanged a look.

“All of us?” You asked, skeptically.

“Yes, all of us,” Nancy said, attempting to reassure you both. “I wouldn’t want to go at all if you guys couldn’t come.”

“It’s not exactly…our scene,” Barb said. Her brows were furrowed as she pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “I don’t know if they really want us there, Nance.”

“Who cares?” Nancy said. “We should just go and be stupid teenagers and have fun for once.”

It took some convincing, Barb more than you, but finally you agreed to go together. You picked out a costume - a short, sexy red dress with devil horns on your head. You thought about someone maybe being interested in you at the party - you had to admit to yourself that you were a little jealous of Nancy’s relationship with Steve. It got lonely, sometimes.

Steve was picking all three of you up. Your house was the first on the way, so he picked you up first. You felt nervous as you walked down the driveway and got into the passenger seat of Steve’s car.

“Hey,” he greeted you, giving you his usual charming smile. You definitely understood what Nancy saw in him - Steve was handsome. “You look great.”

“You too,” you said, and he did. He and Nancy had gone with a couples costume - Risky Business - and he looked very good. He had a pair of sunglasses stuck in the front of his black shirt.

You mostly rode in silence on the way to the Wheeler’s house, Steve’s radio playing softly in the background. When Nancy came walking out of the house, Steve’s face lit up, and something in you sunk as you climbed out to slide into the back seat.

You felt a little better when you picked up Barb and she joined you in the back, making you feel less like an awkward third wheel. She was dressed like a librarian, which was honestly very normal for her.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived. You and Barb trailed behind Steve and Nancy into the house, following them straight to the punch bowl. Steve made a drink for all three of you. Barb took a tiny sip of hers, making a face. You tried yours, but it wasn’t too bad. Strong, though.

The party was less painful than you’d feared. You mostly stayed off to the side with Barb, drinking on your own. You watched the partygoers dance together, including Steve and Nancy, and you longed to join them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to.

At some point you lost your friends, leaving you standing in the kitchen alone. Nancy and Steve had disappeared into a bathroom, Nancy wiping at a big red punch stain on the front of her shirt. You’d watched them go, wondering what happened between them.

You continued sipping at your drink, watching the party rage on around you. The alcohol was making you less self conscious and more loose, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to join in. You wished you could. You wondered what it would like to be popular, or even to just be a normal teenage girl.

It wasn’t long before you spotted Nancy again, drunk as hell and angry.

“Where are you going?” You asked her as she drunkenly stormed through the party with Jonathan Byers and Barb trailing behind her.

“Home,” she slurred, stumbling over her own feet. You were too drunk to properly question it, simply watching as she left with Jonathan and Barb in tow. Jonathan seemed sober, at least. No one asked you if you wanted a ride, too. You figured you would ‘enjoy’ the party a little longer, figure out how you were getting home later.

You turned around and walked right into Steve Harrington.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking way more upset than the last time you’d seen him. He looked like he might have been crying, his eyes red rimmed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, looking him over with concern.

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s…it’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” you said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve considered your offer. He didn’t know if he wanted to talk about Nancy right now, but getting back to the party didn’t sound like much fun either. He also didn’t really want to go home and be alone. “Sure. Okay.”

That’s how you ended up alone in a bedroom with Steve, sitting awkwardly next to each other on Tina’s parents’ bed. Steve sighed, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“Me and Nancy…I don’t know,” he started, like he couldn’t find his words. “I know she’s your best friend. I’m not trying to say anything bad about her. I love her. But I think we might be over.”

“Why do you think that?” You asked softly. You knew Nancy really liked Steve. This was their first real argument, and it seems like it was a big one.

“She just…” he sighed again. “She said we’re bullshit. What does that even mean? That she doesn’t love me?”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you said. “Nancy really cares about you-“

“But does she love me?” He gestured with his hand then let it flop onto his lap in defeat. “I don’t know. I don’t think she does. I don’t know why she would.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brows at him. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because I’m…” He gestured again, like he didn’t know how to articulate what he was trying to say. “I’m me. I’m an asshole. I’m dumb. I care too much about being popular. She’s too good for me.”

“Steve, that’s not true,” you said, laying your hand over his. “You’re an incredible person. I mean, sure you have a reputation, but since you’ve dated Nancy I’ve gotten to see some of the real you, and…I like the real Steve.”

He slowly looked up at you. “You do?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” You smiled gently. “I like the real Steve a lot.”

Steve’s eyes searched yours. His gaze darted down to your lips for only a second before meeting your eyes again. Then he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

You were shocked at first, your eyes going wide. But you quickly melted into his kiss - it felt so right. Steve moaned against your lips as he deepened the kiss and you grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him closer to you. The kiss turned heated fast, Steve’s tongue slipping into your mouth and pressing against your own. Your tongues danced together in a sloppy rhythm, your kisses hungry and desperate for one another.

His hands trailed under your dress, feeling the smooth skin of your plush thighs, one hand sliding between your legs to tease you through your panties. You gasped - you’d never been touched there before. It was new, exciting. You were wet already, and Steve could feel it.

“Wet for me?” He mumbled against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip and making you gasp. “I can feel you.”

You blushed deeply, feeling ashamed. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was gross?

He didn’t seem like he thought it was gross. He seemed like he liked it. He pressed against something that had you moaning against his mouth, your grip on his shirt tightening.

“Have you ever been touched before?” He asked, hand slipping beneath your panties. His fingers traced between your folds, collecting your wetness on his fingers before he started rubbing against that bundle of nerves again.

“No,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “Never.”

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You didn’t know that. No guy had ever said that to you before. You thankfully didn’t have to say anything because Steve pressed his lips to yours again, kissing any words away. It felt weird to have his tongue pressing against your own, the way his hands grabbed at you, like he wanted you.

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, pulling at your red dress. You heart thundered in your chest, wondering what was going to happen, if you were really about to lose your virginity to Steve Harrington. Who was your best friend’s boyfriend - or, used to be.

You nodded, and Steve smiled, pushing you back onto the bed. He climbed over you, slowly kissing from your legs upwards as he pushed the dress higher and higher. You were shaking, nervous even through the haze of the alcohol. But his touch was so nice, it felt so good, you wanted to keep going.

He pushed the dress over your head until you were left in nothing but your bra and panties, suddenly horrifically self conscious. You crossed your arms over your body on instinct.

Steve gently grabbed your arms, moving them down. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “You don’t have to hide from me. I love your body.”

He sat up then, removing his shirt. His chest was muscular, and he had a lot of chest hair. It was hot, manly. You rubbed over his chest, feeling the ridges of his muscles, the skin beneath your touch. He shivered on instinct, a low moan coming from his lips.

You could feel how hard he was from where he was pressed against your thigh. He grinded against you, moaning, and you felt scared - he seemed big. You didn’t know how you were going to take him - you’d never taken anybody before, and Steve seemed like an advanced place to start.

He reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, removing it completely. His lips found your nipple right away and you let out a mix between a gasp and a moan - it was unexpected and new, but it felt good. Steve sucked on it, running his tongue around it, making you arch your back into his mouth. His hand played with your other nipple until he switched, giving them both attention.

When he was done, he kissed down your chest and stomach, back down to your panties. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, looking up at you. “Can I?”

You looked at him. “Can you what?”

Steve chuckled. “Taste you?”

You didn’t really know what he meant by that. “Um, sure?”

Steve smiled at you, then he pulled your panties down your legs. You felt infinitely more exposed now - no one had ever seen you there before. There were a lot of firsts tonight. Steve spread your legs, and you would have been embarrassed if he hadn’t groaned at the sight.

He lowered himself between your legs, and you gasped loudly when you felt Steve’s tongue between your folds. He groaned again as he began to devour you, sucking at your clit and running his tongue over it.

The feeling was like nothing you’d ever experienced in your life. You moaned uncontrollably, hands shooting down to tangle in Steve’s hair. He moaned against your pussy as he ate you, loving every moment of it.

Steve was grinding his hips against the bed, his cock rock hard and aching beneath his pants. He lapped up every bit of wetness you gave him, you were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

“Christ,” he moaned against you, truly burying his face into you and breathing in your scent. “You taste so good. I can’t get enough.”

You were losing your mind. Pitchy moans spilling from your lips, body writhing on the bed. Whatever he was doing was incredible, it made your body feel like it was full of electricity, a coil tightening deep in your belly.

“Steve…Steve…” you moaned, pulling on his locks. You started grinding yourself against his face, desperate for more more more, desperate for him to never stop. You thought you might die if he did.

You felt something pressing against your entrance, making you jump. “What…what are you…?”

“Jus’ getting you ready,” he hummed against you. “‘s okay?”

You were too out of it to think much about it. “Um…yes.”

You gasped loudly at the intrusion of his finger pressing inside you. You’d never even done this to yourself before, the feeling completely foreign. Weird, but good. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you, you were so wet there was hardly any resistance.

You were so lost in the pleasure he was giving you that you barely noticed when he began pushing a second finger inside. But suddenly you were even more full, his fingers curling deep inside you and pressing against something that had you moaning his name even louder.

“Steve! Oh, fuck-“

“That’s it,” he moaned against you, “just like that. You gonna cum for me?”

You whined in response, shaking hand tightening in his hair. He chuckled, moving back to suck on your clit again and sending you reeling. He pumped his fingers faster and faster, your back arching off the bed as your vision began going white.

“Oh, god- fuck! Steve, ohmygod, holy shit-“

Steve put his all into it as your orgasm hit you, working you through the most mind blowing experience of your life. How was he so good? You felt like you’d died and gone to heaven.

“That’s it, baby, cum f’me,” he encouraged you, but as the orgasm intensified you began grinding against his tongue, shutting him up happily. He moaned against you, sending vibrations through your clit.

He rode you through it until you couldn’t take it anymore, until you were pushing him away and he was grinning with the confidence only King Steve could possess. You suddenly understood the nickname.

He kissed up your body, working his way back up to your lips. He quickly undid his pants, shoving them and his boxers down his legs. You were right - he was huge. He wrapped a hand around his massive cock, slowly stroking it as he looked down at your body.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he slurred, and he wobbled a bit as he sat up on his knees. The room felt like it was tilting back and forth, like you were on a boat. It was not helping the nausea building in your stomach.

Steve spread your legs, settling himself between them. He grinded his cock through your folds, coating it in your wetness as he nipped and sucked at your neck. “Y’ready?”

“Uh…yeah,” you said, holding onto Steve’s shoulders. It made you feel safer somehow.

His thick tip pressed against your entrance, and you let out a loud gasp as he pushed through, stretching you around his cock. Your nails dug into his back, making him hiss as he slowly pushed deeper inside.

“Fuck. You are so tight.” His breath was coming out in huffs of hot air against the skin of your neck, quiet moans beginning to spill from his lips as he bullied his cock further into you. “Shit. You can take it. I know y’can take it. Just let me in, baby.”

You tried your best to relax your muscles, trying to just lose yourself to the feeling and let Steve have you. It was starting to feel good, the deeper he filled you the more full you felt. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt.

Steve moaned loudly into your neck once he bottomed out, pumping into you shallowly a few times before he pulled farther back, slapping his hips into you. You let out a mix between a gasp and a moan, your eyes squeezing shut.

“You okay?” he asked, but it was obvious in his expression that he was desperate to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you said. “You can keep going.”

Steve smiled down at you before pressing his lips to yours again and setting a quick pace fucking into you. The sounds of your skin meeting and the bed - Tina’s parents’ bed - creaking from Steve’s movements filled the large bedroom. You worried people would be able to hear you from the hall.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Steve praised, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. “So good f’me. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you, baby?”

You whined in response, brain complete mush as Steve fucked you and the room spun around. You closed your eyes, hoping to calm the situation.

Steve pushed your legs up higher, pressing your thighs into your body and spreading your legs wide. This allowed him to get way deeper than before, and now he was letting out desperate moans, losing himself in the pleasure of you.

“Shit…I’m gonna cum,” he said as his thrusts became sloppy and fast, his cheeks, neck, and chest flushing red. “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, are you gonna take it, baby?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, not even processing the question. There were no thoughts of condoms, no thoughts of pulling out even. Neither of you thinking, Steve neared his release inside you, holding onto you tightly.

“Take it, take it,” he cried out, biting down on your neck as he let out one last guttural groan, spilling his cum into you, every last drop as he rode out his high. You held onto him, feeling all of him.

Steve’s chest was heaving with his breaths as he pushed up on his arms, placing a kiss to your lips before he pulled out, collapsing on his back. You didn’t know what to say. You just laid there for a few minutes until Steve eventually rolled over to the side of the bed, standing and pulling his clothes back on. He tossed you your dress and you used it to cover your body, suddenly feeling self conscious.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” he said as he slipped his shoes back on. “It’s been a long night.”

—

The next Monday, Steve and Nancy walked into school hand in hand. Your heart stopped in your chest at the sight, guilt eating you from the inside out. You tried not to get sick over it as you went through your day, until you got to talk to Nancy and Barb at your lockers.

“He came to my house with flowers,” Nancy said, smiling. “He said he was sorry and he didn’t want to be without me.”

“Aww!” Barb said, hand over her heart. “That’s so cute. He really cares about you.”

“Yeah,” was all you could add, because you knew you were the worst friend on the planet.

You were even more surprised later that day when someone grabbed your arm on the way to lunch. You turned to see Steve, looking at you seriously. “Can we talk?”

You hadn’t seen Steve since he’d been inside of you, you know, taking your virginity, a couple days ago, and that was the only thing going through your mind at that moment. “Um, yeah, sure.”

Steve led you down the hall and into the library, opening the door for you to one of the study rooms. You followed him inside and he shut the door, turning to you with an expression that told you how stressed out he was.

“Look,” he said, “about Tina’s party - what we did - I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done that. I…really care about Nancy, and I don’t want to hurt her. I want to be with her.”

You just listened to him speak, his words only intensifying the ache in your chest. You knew it was coming, but it still hurt. You didn’t say anything, waiting for Steve to continue.

“I just don’t want this to get out,” he said slowly. “So…is it okay if we keep this between us? Never to repeat or be talked about?” He looked at you hopefully, praying you would keep the secret.

“Oh,” you said. “Sure. I won’t tell.”

“Awesome,” Steve said, breathing out a sigh of relief. “You know, it would just hurt Nance if she knew. And it’s never going to happen again, so there’s no point in her knowing, right?”

You weren’t sure you truly agreed, but you nodded along anyway. “Okay.”

“Good.” Steve smiled softly at you. His large hand rubbed your upper arm. “Thanks for understanding.”

The rest of the school day was extremely awkward - at least for you. Nancy and Barb were totally oblivious to what you’d done, and Steve was acting like he barely knew you.

You wondered if this was something he’d done before - taking girls’ virginity’s and then acting like it never happened, leaving them behind. When you slept together, you hadn’t exactly thought you and Steve would be together after (well, you were drunk so you weren’t thinking much at all), but you didn’t think he’d just go back to Nancy like nothing happened.

Something about it stung.

And they stayed together. This wasn’t the fling you had originally warned Nancy it might be. They seemed really into each other, which was really unfortunate for you, because you realized something that left you horrified.

You had developed feelings for Steve Harrington.

You always thought it was bullshit when they said in church as a kid that every time you have sex with someone you give a piece of yourself away, but you had truly given Steve a piece of yourself you couldn’t get back. But he hadn’t done the same for you.

Maybe it was different for guys? Or maybe you were just an idiot who fell for her best friend’s boyfriend after having sex with him.

It was hard to look Nancy or even Barb in the eye at all. Steve may have been able to forget what you did, but you couldn’t. You had betrayed your lifelong best friend. How were you supposed to keep this to yourself? You didn’t deserve their friendship.

Of course Nancy noticed your extreme self loathing - she was always perceptive. Steve’s just lucky he was better at lying than you.

“Are you okay?” She asked you after school one day while you and Barb were studying in her bedroom. “You seem upset lately.”

Oh, god. It was going to come out. You were going to blow it.

“I’ve just been kinda sad,” you said. “Just…stressed with college applications coming up.”

“Oh yeah, me too,” Barb said, a weary sigh coming from deep in her chest. “I’m worried I don’t have the grades. I want to go to Emerson with you guys, but I don’t have an extra curricular either.”

You were grateful as the conversation easily transitioned into college applications and the upcoming test in Mrs. O’Donnells. Your brain was elsewhere.

Not only were you consumed with guilt, but also the memory of Steve all over you, his hands, his mouth, his cock-

“Are we still having our movie night this weekend?” Barb asked a bit later as you were all preparing to leave.

“Oh,” Nancy said sheepishly, a blush rising to her pale cheeks. “Actually, Steve planned a surprise date this weekend. I’m not sure what we’re doing, but…” she giggled. “I don’t know. He might want to do more.”

Your head snapped up then. “You guys haven’t had sex yet?”

Nancy blushed even deeper. “No. I’ve been nervous. I want it to be with the right person at the right time. But I think we might this weekend.”

You felt sick. Not only had Steve slept with you before Nancy - your best friends couldn’t even know you’d lost your virginity - but now he was probably going to actually have sex with her. You wanted to say something, to stop it, but what could you say?

Nothing.

So you watched Nancy gushing about Steve and pretended it wasn’t killing you inside, pretending like you didn’t have feelings for him and never had. You were pretty good at pretending, after all.

—

It had been two months since the hookup when you started getting sick. You assumed it was a stomach bug at first, to the point that you let your mom take you to the doctor - only to get the biggest news of your life.

“You’re pregnant,” the doctor said, and you were suddenly grateful you’d told your mom you didn’t need her to go back with you.

The news had sent you reeling. There in the doctor’s office, your head spun, your vision dotting like you might pass out. Because this could not be happening. There was only one potential father, and he couldn’t be, he was with Nancy, you couldn’t do this-

The doctor gave you pamphlets on your different options, which you hastily stuffed into your bag. You weren’t ready to tell your parents about this yet. When you walked out of the office and your mom asked what the doctor said, all you could say was “Nothing, just a virus.”

“Did they give you any medicine?”

Yeah, a prescription for prenatal vitamins. “No, mom.”

Your mom looked worried. “Maybe we should go somewhere for a second opinion, you’ve been so sick it’s not normal-“

“Mom, I’m really fine,” you attempted to assure her. Please, you were not ready to come out with this yet. To anyone.

“I’m just worried,” she said, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t want you to be sick.”

“I promise I’m okay.” You gave her the most encouraging smile you could muster. “I’m feeling better today already.”

That was not true. You were getting sicker by the day, the “morning sickness” (more like all day sickness) kicking your ass. You knew this was your fault, but you still found yourself mad at Steve. Both of you had drunkenly agreed to sex without a condom, so it wasn’t really fair to put the blame on him, but when you were on your knees in front of the toilet for the 15th time that day, you didn’t care much about fair.

You were utterly panicked over the idea of being pregnant. What did this mean for your future? College? Falling in love one day? What guy your age wants to settle down with a step kid?

You considered abortion, but ultimately decided not to. Adoption was also considered, but you figured this was your baby, and you wanted to keep it. You felt bonded to it. Like whatever came, you were in this together.

What about Steve? How would he feel about this? Not good, you could imagine. He was still going strong with Nancy, and-

Oh god, Nancy.

She would never forgive you. Your friendship was over. You ruined everything. Barb would probably hate you, too. You would be friendless, boyfriendless, and pregnant.

Great. Good decisions, you thought to yourself.

You kept the news to yourself for weeks. You couldn’t bear to tell a single soul. Who could you tell? No one would be happy for you. Every person you had to tell would end in disaster.

It was weird, seeing Steve with Nancy, happy and like you never even existed, while you carried his child. You felt an internal longing towards him, like maybe the baby knew who their father was. Which was crazy, because it was still only cells working to become a human being.

You had your first ultrasound before you told anyone. You borrowed the car and drove yourself, stomach in knots as you waited in the waiting room. The ultrasound itself was uncomfortable - you always thought of them like they were in the movies, the little wand on your belly, but they explained that this early they usually do an internal ultrasound, which is just as unpleasant as it sounds.

You watched as the image showed up on the screen. The tiny little vaguely human shaped blob, wiggling around in there - inside of you. Alive. The tech took measurements, and you even heard the heartbeat. It took your breath away. You wondered what Steve would think if he knew, if he’d been there to experience it.

The tech said you were 9 weeks pregnant, due in July, which lined up perfectly with Halloween night. Not that there were any other possibilities. She printed you a bunch of photos, showing the tiny baby from multiple different angles.

As you left with the photos clutched in your hand, you wondered how long you had before you were forced to come clean about this. Not long, you figured. Would it be better to just come out and say it now?

No. You weren’t doing that. You were not ready for that.

Going to school with this secret held deep inside was a lot already. It felt like everyone who saw you knew, even though that was impossible. Like it was written on your forehead.

Having to face Nancy and Barb was even worse. They treated you just like normal, like their best friend, meanwhile you were hiding the biggest secret possible beneath your sweater.

Seeing Nancy with Steve was even worse. They were so happy together. You knew they had to be sleeping together by now. You were nothing but a distant memory, a cheap hookup, another one of King Steve’s conquests.

Except that wasn’t true. The baby growing in your belly proved that. This was one hookup he’d never forget.

—

When you were 13 weeks pregnant, you noticed the smallest bump in the mirror. It took your breath away as your hand rubbed over it, the firm mound of your stomach seemingly popped overnight. This was bad. This meant you were out of time.

You dressed in a loose sweatshirt and leggings, which was not your usual style whatsoever. Nancy and Barb immediately noticed something was up when you met them at your lockers.

“Are you sick?” Nancy asked, reaching for your forehead with the back of her hand like your mom.

“A little,” you admitted. “I’m just not feeling great.”

Nancy looked at you sympathetically. “Maybe you should go home. I can bring you some soup after school.”

You shook your head - “I can’t. I’ve already missed too much school.” Between the days you’d missed with your morning sickness and the days you’d have to miss for appointments, it was woefully true.

Nancy still looked concerned. “I’m just worried about you. You look rough. I don’t want you being sick at school-“

She was cut off with a squeal as Steve came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He whispered something in her ear that had her giggling before he turned to you. His brows furrowed like he was thinking something, but he didn’t say anything to

you.

“Ready to get to class?” he asked Nancy. He’d taken to walking her to every single one of her classes. It would have been sweet if not for your current situation.

“Oh, sure,” Nancy said, closing her locker. She turned to you. “You’ll let me know if you feel any worse, right?”

The guilt ate at you. Yeah, Nancy, thanks for caring about me, I’m just sick because I’m carrying your boyfriend’s baby. “Yeah, I will.”

Steve gave you another lingering look before he walked off with Nancy, arm wrapped around her shoulders.

It was later that day when you caught Steve alone. You approached him quickly, taking your chance before you could talk yourself out of it. “Steve. Can I talk to you?”

There was a certain dread on his face that almost made you wonder if he already knew what you were going to say. “Um. Yeah, I guess.”

You found yourselves back in the library study pod you’d had your first conversation in, which felt…poetic. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, fidgeting and uncomfortable as he leaned against the study table. his gaze darted around, like he didn’t want to meet your eyes.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked. He was ready to get this over with, whatever it was.

“I…” you thought for a moment about what the best way to break the news would be. You realized you probably should have planned your words, that would have made this a hell of a lot easier.

Steve looked at you expectantly. He didn’t want to say get on with it, but at the same time…. “What is it?”

You fiddled with your bag strap, feeling sick to your stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

Steve just looked at you like he didn’t even hear you. He just blinked. Then, finally, a grin spread across his face, which had you confused.

“Ha, ha. Good one,” he said, bowing his head as if he respected the joke. “You had me scared for a minute there.”

“Steve, I…” you tightened your grip on the strap of your bag, wishing you were anywhere but in your current situation. “I’m not joking. I’m being serious.”

His smile dropped immediately. He started sweating, feeling like his shirt was too tight and he couldn’t breathe. His head was spinning. He leaned on the table for support. “No. You’re not.”

“I am,” you said, frustrated at the way Steve seemed to be choosing to not understand or believe you. “I’m pregnant, Steve. For real.”

He shook his head. “No. No way. It’s not mine.”

You jerked back as if you’d been slapped. “What do you mean it’s not yours?”

“It’s not…there’s n-no way it’s mine,” he said, his voice shaking as he stuttered over his words. He scrambled desperately in his own brain for any way out of this, anything that would disprove his involvement in all of this, but he came up with nothing.

“Steve, you’re the only person I’ve ever had sex with and you know that,” you hissed at him through gritted teeth, having gone from scared to pissed off that Steve really had the nerve to deny this baby.

“I don’t know, maybe you hooked up with someone after me. I wouldn’t know. And then you come telling me it’s mine because my family has money? Well-“

“Are you serious?” You raised your voice slightly, making Steve look around in a panic as he tried to shush you. “You know it’s yours. And you’re really accusing me of wanting your money? I don’t give a fuck about your money. I just thought you deserved to know you’re gonna be a dad.”

Steve paled. “I-I…there’s no way, there’s-“

“I know this is a lot to take in,” you said. “Believe me. I know.”

“Can you prove- can you prove it?” he asked, but it was obvious he was just scared, grasping at anything that would make this go away, anything that would make this not real.

You lifted your sweatshirt. The bump was obvious, perfectly round, and not at all in a ‘maybe you just gained some weight’ kind of way. Steve somehow went even more pale, and you suddenly worried he might pass out.

“Shit,” he hissed. “I- what- how far are you? How long have you known?”

“I found out a month ago. I’m 13 weeks.” You fished the ultrasound photos out of your bag, handing them over to Steve. His hands were shaking terribly as he took them from you, looking over the distinctly baby shaped blob growing inside of you, and sure enough your name was printed at the top.

“How…how many weeks are there? In a pregnancy?” Steve asked, feeling like a total idiot.

You didn’t treat him like one. “40.”

Steve let out a rush of air. “Okay. There’s time. Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the style that probably took him an hour this morning. “What…do you want to do? About the baby?”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like, do I want to keep it?”

“Well…yeah,” he said. “Do you?”

“It’s too late for an abortion,” you said. “But…I had decided I wanted to keep it. Him or her. I couldn’t…I don’t think I could carry a baby and give them up.”

Steve nodded slowly. It wasn’t what he was hoping to hear, but what he expected to hear. He understood, in a way. He didn’t love the idea of an abortion or adoption either. “Okay. Um. What happens now?”

You didn’t know either, to be honest. “Well, um…do you want to be…are you going to be involved?”

“With…the baby?”

“Yes, Steve.”

He looked around, took a deep breath. “Well, like. It is my kid, right? So…I’m not going to abandon it. Or you. I’m not…I’m not like that, I swear. I own up to my shit.”

“You just tried to tell me I was lying about it being yours for your money-“

“Okay,” Steve said, holding a hand up, “I get it. I’m sorry. I just panicked, okay? This isn’t exactly great news right now.”

“What about Nancy?”

Those words were like a bomb dropped in the tiny room. No one said anything - it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out, like a vacuum. No one knew the answer to that question. What about Nancy?

“She’s going to kill me,” Steve finally said, burying his face in his hands. “Fuck. She’s going to break up with me for good.” He began rambling, his internal monologue spilling from his mouth without filter. “And what about my love life? No girl is going to want to go out with me with a kid on the way. No girl is going to want to go out with a dad at our age. And my parents? Jesus, what a fucking disaster-“

“Steve,” you said, cutting off his frantic rambling. “Calm down.”

He nodded, taking a few deep breaths. You’d never seen him so worked up. “Yeah. Okay.”

“We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?” you said, wondering how you ended up being the one comforting him. “We have time. There is a rush, but we have like 6 months. We…look, Steve, we’re gonna be okay, I think.”

He sniffled, and you wondered if he’d started crying. “Have you told your parents?”

Silence. “No.”

Steve nodded again. He ran both his hands through his hair this time, a nervous laugh spilling unprompted from his lips. “Oh, fuck. We are fucked.”

The bell rang, signaling the start of the next class you were now officially late for. You subconsciously rubbed a hand over your belly, adjusting your sweatshirt and high waisted leggings back to cover it as well as you could. Steve watched you, his eyes locked on the bump the entire time.

“Can I…feel it?”

The question caught you so off guard, you thought you might have imagined it. “What?”

“The…your stomach?” He felt so awkward. “Can I touch it?”

You blinked at him. The question was so out of nowhere, the last thing you expected him to say. “Oh…sure?”

You lifted your sweatshirt again and pushed down the waist of your leggings, exposing the skin again. Steve walked towards you hesitantly, extending his hand. Finally he reached you and placed his hand on your stomach.

His hand was so big, the entirety of the bump fit beneath his palm. It felt weird to have him (or anyone) touching you like this. Steve had a look of awe on his face, his thumb caressing the firm skin. It was a tender moment, one you didn’t expect.

“It’s really real, huh?” Steve said quietly, almost to himself. “There’s really a baby in there? …My baby?”

You smiled gently. “Yeah. There is.”

Steve stayed there for a minute longer, just feeling. When he finally pulled away he didn’t say anything, just lowered his hand and watched as you readjusted your clothes. Just watching you.

“I guess we better get back to class,” you said. “We’re late.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Steve laughed humorlessly again. “But I don’t think it matters much anymore. College is out the window.”

You hadn’t even thought about that. That made you feel sick, the idea of throwing away all the hard work you’d put in throughout your years in high school. Watching Nancy and Barb go on to Emerson without you. Not that they’d want you to come with them, anyway. They were going to hate you soon enough.

God, Nancy and Barb. How were you supposed to tell them? Hey, Nancy, I have some news - I’m having your boyfriend’s baby. You felt the panic rising in your own chest now, for about the millionth time since you’d found out. Steve stepped forward, a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, “it’s okay. Calm down, it’s…it’s not good for the baby. We’re gonna figure this out.”

His words surprised you, the way the tables had turned. He took deep breaths with you as you calmed yourself. “I just don’t know what we’re gonna do. I don’t even know where to go next. I’m-“

Steve said your name, grounding you to the moment. He pushed your hair behind your ear, eyes roaming over your face. He wondered if you had been this beautiful all along, or if you being pregnant with his child made you even more luminous.

“It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna take care of you. Both of you. Okay?”

You just nodded, stray tears escaping down your cheeks. “Okay.”

You had to trust him.

—

It was gym class that fucked you over in the end.

You had managed to get out of class since you’d started showing, with excuses about your period and headaches and stomach aches. But eventually your gym teacher got tired of it.

“You’re changing into your uniform and you’re running with us today,” she said. “No excuses.”

So you changed in the bathroom stall, which was already strange enough. You waited until the rest of the girls had left the locker room, including Nancy and Barb, before you walked out and stood in front of the mirror.

Oh, god.

It was worse than you thought. The bump was clear as day below your shirt, perfectly round beneath the soft thin material. You looked at your reflection in horror, smoothing your hand over it, wondering if there was anything you could do to hide this. But when your gym teacher yelled through the door for you to hurry up, you realized you were out of time.

It was coming out. Now.

You walked out of the locker room with your arms crossed over your stomach. You had never felt more exposed in your life. The girls were all sitting on the basketball court stretching, laughing and giggling with each other. You approached Nancy and Barb and slid to the ground next to them.

“Are you cold?” Nancy asked, immediately giving you a strange look. “Because I have a sweatshirt in my locker you can-“

You were about to take her up on that kind offer when the teacher blew her whistle, calling everyone to line up. You joined the rest of the class, and she gave you a look. She called your name - “Arms down. What are you doing?”

You felt like you were on stage with a spotlight directly on you. Every girl in your class was looking at you, wondering what the hell you were doing. You had no choice. You lowered your arms, and there was a collective gasp.

“Holy…shit…” Tina said, not even attempting to hide her laughter.

Nancy said your name softly, and you turned to face her and Barb. “What…” Nancy said, looking at you wide eyed and shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “What did you do?”

It was fight or flight, and your brain decided for you. You turned and sprinted back into the locker room, tears falling immediately. You were sobbing by the time the locker room door slammed shut behind you, but it opened again seconds later.

Nancy called your name again as she and Barb hurried to your side, wrapping their arms around you. You wanted to push them away. You didn’t deserve their comfort.

“How did this…” Nancy began, but she was at a loss for words. “Who…when did you…”

“I’m 14 weeks,” you sniffled, wiping at your eyes. “It was…Halloween.”

Nancy gasped. Her and Barb exchanged a look. “Why didn’t you tell us? Who was it? Does he know?”

Your hands were clenched into tight fists. “Yeah, he knows.”

“Who’s the father?” Barb asked again, since you hadn’t answered Nancy either time she had said it.

What could you do? It was time for the truth to come out, ready or not.

“It’s…” you drew in a gasping breath, choking on your own sobs. “It’s Steve’s.”

The room went silent besides the sound of your crying. No one moved. No one dared to move. It was like the calm before the storm, the peace moments before the tornado rips the roof off the house.

“Steve?” Nancy said finally, looking at you like you were dumb and had said something completely outlandish. “Steve…Harrington? My Steve?”

Her Steve.

“Yes,” was all you could say, your voice barely a whisper. “It was…Nancy, I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. It was at Tina’s stupid party, after you and Steve had that fight, we were talking and- just- one thing led to another, and-“

Nancy held her hand up, stopping you. Barb just looked between the two of you, her expression one of absolute shock. Nancy’s normally calm face had been replaced by a mask of pure fury, rage and disappointment and hurt. Betrayal.

“You…you slut!” Nancy spat, and she might as well have slapped you in the face. You recoiled, jerking back as if she had truly struck you.

“Nancy, I-“

“I don’t want to hear anything else you have to say,” she said, standing to her feet. Barb looked between the two of you before she stood, too. Her side chosen.

“I can’t believe you,” Nancy said. “You were really that jealous? You couldn’t stand the thought of me having a boyfriend - of me being with King Steve Harrington - so you had to jump in the middle, huh? Take him for yourself?”

“Nance, that is not it, we were both so drunk-“

“But you knew it happened,” she said. “You knew it happened, and you both made a fool of me. Pretending like you hadn’t…fucked each other, like everything was fine between us, like you weren’t keeping the hugest secret in the world.” She shook her head. “You know what? You two deserve each other.”

She turned them, leaving the locker room and going back to class with Barb following behind her. You stayed there on the floor, alone. You pulled your knees to your chest as close as you could and sobbed, burying your face in your arms.

You cried, and cried, and cried. But you had no right to feel like this. No right to be hurt. You were the one who fucked up. You really betrayed your best friend.

You were the scum of the earth.

Lunch was right after gym, and you didn’t know what to expect. You knew you weren’t going to be happily sitting at your table with Nancy, Barb, and Steve. But on your way to the cafeteria, in the deserted hall, you caught Nancy talking to Steve.

“Do you have something to say to me?” she asked him, her face just as angry as the last time you’d seen her.

“What?” Steve asked with an awkward chuckle. “Babe, I have no idea what you’re talking about-“

“Don’t call me babe,” she snapped, making his eyes go wide. “There’s nothing you think you should tell me?”

He noticed you then, standing off to the side. His wide eyes landed on you, then dropped down to your stomach. He looked back at Nancy. “Oh, fuck, Nance, listen-“

“No, you listen, Steve Harrington.” Nancy pointed a finger in his face, her own twisted in pure fury. “No one treats me like a fool. You think you can go around, fucking whoever you want, being as reckless as you want, then come to me with flowers and lies and act like nothing happened? Like you didn’t fuck my best friend?” Her voice broke at the end of her sentence, and your heart felt crushed in your chest. You realized the gravity of your fuck up - the cherished lifelong friendship you’d lost.

“Nance-“

“Don’t.” She looked up, trying to stop the tears threatening to fall. “I don’t want to hear it. Whatever excuse you have for me, I don’t care. I don’t care that you were drunk. What you did is beyond forgiveness.” She turned and met your eyes again. “For both of you.” When she looked back at Steve, there was resolve in her eyes. “We’re over.”

Steve watched, dumbfounded, as Nancy turned and stomped towards the cafeteria. He felt helpless as he watched her go - the potential love of his life, at least that’s how it felt - over one, stupid, massive mistake. He turned around and punched the locker with a loud “Fuck!”, leaving a large dent in the grey metal.

You approached him cautiously, not sure what you should do, if anything. He turned to you with tears welling in his brown eyes. He looked devastated. You felt guilty about that, too.

“Steve, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Not now.”

You watched helplessly as Steve stormed off, leaving you alone in the hallway. You really were alone. Completely.

—

You had pretty much resigned yourself to the fact that your life was over. No friends, no boyfriend, the father of the baby possibly not involved. You didn’t know if you could trust Steve to stick around like he said, especially with the way he had left you earlier.

After school, you had to call your mom to come pick you up. You made up a lie about Nancy having a doctor’s appointment, and your mom told you she’d be there after work.

With time to kill, you ended up in one of the study pods again. You flipped through your physics textbook, no homework to be done. You had nearly fallen asleep when the sound of someone walking in startled you.

You looked up to see Steve, giving you a sheepish look as he settled into the small space. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey?” you said back, cautious of whatever he had come to say. With the way things were going for you, it couldn’t possibly be good.

“I just…” he sighed. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, about earlier. I shouldn’t have stormed off and left you like that.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry about…Nancy.”

“It’s not your fault. Well, not any more your fault than it is mine.” He huffed a short laugh. “We both knew this was coming, though, didn’t we?”

You supposed you did. It didn’t make it any easier.

“She was my best friend since kindergarten,” is all you could offer. Then, like a dam breaking, you burst into tears. You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed, wishing you could undo everything.

“Hey, hey,” Steve said gently, wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you into a tight hug, his large hand rubbing your back soothingly. It helped, surprisingly. You knew you were soaking his polo shirt. “You’re okay. Breathe for me, alright? You’re okay.”

You tried to breathe slowly, following the slow up and down of Steve’s chest. Eventually you were breathing with him again, slow and steady. “Good,” Steve said, and even the rumble of his voice through his chest was soothing. “Can’t have my baby mama freaking out on me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Steve was good at getting you to smile when it felt like you never would again, that was for sure. He put his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back slightly to look at you. His face was etched with worry as he took in your puffy bloodshot eyes. “I mean it, you know. It is going to be okay.”

“What about Nancy?” you asked, lip wobbling as you thought of your former best friend again.

“Nancy…” Steve sighed. “I hope she’ll come around. You know, things won’t be the same, but…”

But she might not hate your guts, you finished the thought in your own head.

“You’re not upset that she just broke up with you?” you asked.

“Of course I am,” he said, letting out a sigh. “But you’re my main concern.”

“Me?” You were taken aback. “Why me?”

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh. “Really?” He placed a hand on the bump, an affectionate gesture. “That’s my little nugget in there.”

Something about the way he said it sent heat to your cheeks. It was the most affection you’d received from him since you told him. And it was…nice. You hadn’t had anyone to be excited about this with you, to talk about the future and baby names and whether it would be a boy or a girl. You wouldn’t have any friends jumping to throw you a baby shower or anything, but maybe Steve could be that support for you.

“Yeah,” you said simply. “It is.”

Steve smiled softly at you. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to either of you. I hope you know that. You have my word, and I don’t go back on my word. I was a boy scout.” He held up a salute. “Scout’s honor.”

You laughed. It was incredible to be feeling lighter than you had in months. Steve had that effect on you, somehow.

“I may not know how to be a dad,” he said, “but I guarantee I’m going to be the best one.”

—

Steve kept his word. He stuck by your side. It didn’t take long for the news to spread around the entire school - not just that you were pregnant, but that it was Steve’s, and that he and Nancy had broken up.

Nancy was still furious. You hated that you had dragged her into this with you, that the whole school was laughing at her for being so clueless. It wasn’t her fault and she didn’t deserve that.

Steve didn’t let anyone say anything to you. The first time Tommy tried to give you shit, Steve punched him in the face. Somehow, they were still friends.

Steve walked you to every class, carrying your books for you and not letting you lift a finger. You sat with him at lunch, ignoring the dirty looks from Carol. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to be friends with her. That was okay with you.

He started picking you up for school and bringing you home. Usually your parents weren’t home in time to see him, but on this particular day, 16 weeks into the pregnancy, they were.

“Maybe you should come inside,” you said, looking at Steve with your brows furrowed, worry etched in the lines formed on your face. “Meet my parents. Maybe…maybe we should tell them.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Look, parents usually love me, but I’ve never had to tell some I got their daughter pregnant.”

You laughed lightly. “Yeah, well…I figure we have to.”

You climbed out of the car, pulling your sweatshirt back on. Steve followed, placing a hand on your back as you both walked up the sidewalk to the front door. When you entered the house, the smell of pasta greeted you instantly. Your mom was in the kitchen and your dad was sitting in his recliner, watching TV.

“Hi, honey,” your mom greeted you without looking up as you walked in. When she finally did look up, she let out a little “Oh!”! at the sight of Steve. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we’d be having company tonight.”

Your dad looked over, suddenly interested. He eyed Steve, like he was thinking or he knew him from somewhere. “Mom, Dad, this is Steve,” you said, hands in the pockets of your sweatshirt. You could feel the bump beneath your hands,

“Hi. Steve Harrington,” he said in his usual charming way, moving to shake your mom’s hand first and then your dad’s.

“Harrington?” your dad asked, eyebrows raised. “Are you related to Richard Harrington?”

“That’s my dad,” Steve said, his cheeks turning red. You wondered what Steve’s relationship with his dad was like.

“I work for your dad,” he said. “Have since before you were born.”

“Oh,” Steve said awkwardly. You cringed - that was going to make this whole situation even more uncomfortable.

“So what’s the occasion?” your mom asked with a smile as she put the lid back on the pot. You hated that you were about to ruin their good mood.

“Um…Mom, Dad, I have something I need to talk to you about.” You gestured between you and Steve. “Something we need to talk to you about.”

Your mom was instantly concerned, your dad suspicious. “What about?” she asked.

“You might want to sit down.”

That made their worry even worse. Your dad turned the TV off as you and Steve took a seat on the couch, your mom coming in to sit on her chair. “Okay…” she said, “should I be scared?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. Your dad reached over and grabbed her hand. You looked at Steve, who gave you a soft reassuring smile before grabbing your hand. He squeezed it, and you squeezed his back. You took a deep breath and looked back at your parents. The guilt ate at you. “I’m pregnant.”

There was only silence. Your mom covered her mouth with her free hand, tears coming to her eyes. Your dad looked dumbfounded, neither of them knowing what to say.

“And…Steve is the father?” your dad finally asked.

“Um…yes, sir,” Steve said, blushing furiously. Because wasn’t announcing a pregnancy basically telling people ‘hey, we had sex!’? There was only one way we got here.

“Oh, jesus,” your mom said.

“Are you intending to marry her?” your dad asked.

It went silent again.

“S-sorry?” Steve stuttered, his eyes wide.

Your dad looked angry now. “Are you planning to marry my daughter? Make an honest woman out of her?”

“I…I-“

You knew your dad was traditional, but you didn’t expect him to demand you get married. You were only 18. You and Steve weren’t even together.

“Dad, come on,” you said, pleaded. “Don’t do this. It’s humiliating.”

Your dad said your name sternly. “You don’t understand how serious of a situation this is, clearly. Your reputation is going to be drug through the mud. Both of you.” Your dad looked between you. Steve felt as if he was being scolded by his own father - no, that would be worse. “You need to get married. Be together for this child. I know the Harringtons can take care of you.”

“Dad!”

“Look, we’ll revisit this,” your mom said, drawing everyone’s attention. “What’s important right now is this baby. Do you have a doctor? Have you been going to appointments? Taking prenatals?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” you said.

“No, I’m not done-“ your dad interrupted, but your mom cut him off.

“No more. You’re stressing her out. It’s bad for the baby.”

“Stressing her out?!”

“Steve,” your mom said, ignoring your dad entirely. Steve was grateful for the interruption. “Are you planning to stick around? Be a dad?”

“Of course,” he said instantly. No hesitation whatsoever.

Your mom smiled. “Good. That’s what matters. We can talk about marriage later.”

Steve paled again.

“This is ridiculous,” your dad said. He stood, walking over to the phone on the wall. He angrily dialed a number, then pressed the phone to his ear.

“Dad…?” you said, dreading whatever he was about to do. “Who are you calling?”

He ignored you. Then, finally- “Mr. Harrington!” he greeted the man on the other line.

Steve looked as if he might pass out. You gripped his hand tighter. “Dad, don’t do this. Please don’t do it like this.”

“Mr. Harrington,” he said into the phone. “Did you know your son is at my house? With my daughter?” A pause. “Yes. Well, apparently, we’re going to be in laws.”

You closed your eyes, the embarrassment and dread physically painful. Steve was nervously bouncing his leg so hard the whole couch was shaking. Your mom stood up, trying to talk some sense into your father, but the damage had already been done.

Your dad held the phone out towards Steve. “He wants to talk to you, son.”

Steve walked over to take the phone like he was walking to his own execution. His hand was shaking as he took it from your father’s hand, then held it to his ear. “…Dad?” He held the phone away from his ear as you could hear the man screaming from where you sat across the room.

“Dad, listen…I-yes, I did, but it-…yeah, I was seeing Nancy. It’s a long story. I-…she’s not a-…okay. Yeah. Okay. See you at home. Yeah. Bye.”

Steve hung up the phone, looking completely dejected. This had gone way worse than you expected. Steve was horrified. You felt guilty once again, that you were putting Steve through this and that you had let your parents down. They didn’t even know about the whole Nancy’s boyfriend thing yet.

“I gotta go,” Steve said to you, looking apologetic and sad. He put his hand on your upper arm, thumb caressing it over the material of your sweatshirt. Then, surprising you, he put his hand on your belly. He smiled down at it affectionately. “Bye, lil’ nugget.” He looked at you again. “See you tomorrow.”

Even with Steve gone, the tension in the room was still high. Your mom was looking at you like she couldn’t believe her baby girl was doing things like having sex and getting pregnant. Your dad looked at you like you’d disappointed him greatly. You didn’t know which was worse.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and freshen up for dinner,” your mom finally said, forcing a kind smile onto her face.

“Okay,” you said. You were grateful for the excuse to get out of this room. You hurried up the steps, heading into your bathroom to pee for the millionth time that day and then take a shower. You stared at your body in the mirror when you got undressed - it was weird, the changes it was going through. You looked so different already, and it wasn’t even halfway through yet. Almost, though. That thought was terrifying.

After your shower you blow dried your hair, then walked into your bedroom wrapped in a towel. You collapsed back onto your bed. Your back hurt, your feet hurt, and you still weren’t even that big yet. God, how embarrassing will it be to go through graduation super pregnant? You hadn’t even thought of that. The whole school watching you knowing what you did. And Hawkins was small. This would follow you forever.

You dressed in a t-shirt and comfy pants, brushing your hair out and doing something with it. You didn’t have the energy to put in much effort. You didn’t even put on any makeup before you went downstairs, taking a seat at the table and putting a serving on your plate. It was still tense, like you’d interrupted a heated conversation. You didn’t want to put stress on your parents’ marriage, too. You had already caused so much collateral damage.

After dinner, you waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, just as you were starting to doze off, the phone next to your bed rang. You snatched it off the receiver so fast it barely had time to make a sound.

“Steve?” you said quickly, praying it was him and that he was alright.

“Hey,” he said, his familiar voice bringing you a weird sense of peace. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” You couldn’t believe Steve was worried about you first amidst all of this. “Are you okay?”

He sighed deeply. “Yeah. My dad is pissed. Both my parents are furious.”

“Oh,” you said. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. But, uh…they want to meet you.”

You froze. “They want to meet me?”

“Well, yeah. You’re having their grandchild.”

When he put it like that, it sounded so much bigger. You put a hand on your stomach, rubbing in circles around it. “Okay. We can do that.”

“It’s not just to yell at you, I promise,” he said with a slight chuckle. “They got that out of their system with me tonight I think. They just want to know you. They want to be involved with the baby.”

“Okay,” you said again. “Um…when?”

“Friday maybe?” he asked. “You can ride home with me after school.”

“Alright.” It was quiet again for a while. “I’m glad you’re okay, Steve. How are you feeling with the whole…Nancy stuff?”

He sighed. “It sucks. I’m not gonna lie to you. I miss her. I miss her, like, a lot. She won’t even look at me. It hurts.”

You felt terrible. “Steve, I’m so sorry. This is such a mess.”

“Yeah, it is.” You could almost hear a smile in his voice when he spoke again. “But it’s not all bad. I’m…kind of excited to be a dad.”

Your eyebrows flew up. “Really?”

“Yeah. I always wanted to be a dad.” A beat of silence. “It’s earlier than I wanted, sure, and I’m not even sure what we’re going to do, but I know that we’re having this baby and I’m going to love them and be the best dad. Better than my dad.”

His speech made you feel fuzzy inside, your heart beating hard in your chest. You hadn’t thought about the good parts yet. You’d been too stressed with Nancy, Barb, your parents, Steve’s parents, college…maybe being a mom wouldn’t be so bad.

“You gonna coach little league?” you asked, smiling. You felt giddy, like a teenage girl kicking her feet and talking to her crush. Only, you didn’t have feelings for Steve like that.

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed. “I am! I’m looking forward to it. I played baseball, basketball, I was the captain of the swim team…”

“Wow. I knew you were a jock, but I didn’t know you played so many sports.”

“Good at them, too.” The pride was evident in his voice.

“Are we gonna have a little sports prodigy?”

“God, I hope so.”

You laughed. Steve made you feel a way you truly didn’t understand. It was like butterflies in your stomach, goosebumps on your skin. You remembered what it felt like to kiss him, to-

“What if they’re more like me?” you asked. “Will you be disappointed?”

“Like you?” he said. “What, smart as hell? No, of course I wouldn’t be disappointed. I’d be so proud to have a genius kid.”

“Genius?” you laughed. “I am not a genius.”

“You’re super smart.” A pause. “Our baby would be lucky to be like you.”

Your heart beat harder. “Steve-“

“Oh, shit. I gotta go. My parents grounded me and put me on a curfew.” He scoffed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” When you heard the click of him hanging up the phone, you felt disappointed. Like you missed him immediately. Your fingers itched to call him back.

You made yourself turn off the lights and get into bed instead. Your head was plagued with thoughts of Steve. You couldn’t think of anything else. You had visions of him holding a newborn baby, playing with a rambunctious toddler, playing baseball with a kid, smiling with a teenager. You had a whole life ahead of you with Steve. You, Steve, and your baby.

You wondered if it would be a boy or a girl. You didn’t know if you had a preference one way or the other. As cliche as it was, you just wanted a healthy baby. You felt like you needed to grow up fast now. It wasn’t just you you had to worry about, you had to think of this baby all the time now, first.

You thought you liked being pregnant. It felt nice to carry the baby with you, to be so impossibly close to them, having them inside where they’re safe. Despite the morning sickness (which had thankfully come to an end), you would maybe miss being pregnant after having the baby.

You drifted off eventually to those thoughts- feeling content.

sorry i forgot the taglist!!

@crispystarfishhottub @luveediary @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @melaninjhs

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simpforboys · 1 month ago

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frat!perv!manipulator!rafe who gets something from topper’s dumb gf…

warnings: oral (m), cheating, ditsy!reader, cursing, ball worship

series masterlist

shoutout my roommate for helping me w the idea

“Rafey?” You call out after Topper leaves the shared frat room.

Rafe was sitting at his desk doing his business analytics homework, headphones over his fluffy hair as he sat in only grey sweatpants and a tight black shirt.

“What, sweetness?” He pulls his ear out of the headphone, dropping his pencil as he turns to give you his full attention.

You give him a big grin, biting on your lip as a small, shy giggle leaves you. Your eyes trail down to his crotch, the outline of his dick on display in the grey fabric.

His gaze catches where you’re looking at, a small smirk curling onto his lips.

“Wha’s that look for, baby? Hmm?” He asks teasingly, heart pounding against his chest as the familiar stirring in his cock starts.

“I like your pants, Rafey.” You mumble, your feet in the air behind you as you lay on your stomach.

“Jus’ the pants, huh?” He questions cockily.

You giggle, rolling off of Topper’s lifted twin xl as you cross the room over to Rafe.

He watched as you sank to your knees in front of him, batting your eyelashes up at him as your hands ran over his clothed bulge.

“Careful, sweet girl. Ya don’t know wha you’re gettin’ into,” he grunts.

It was the first time you ever initiated anything. Everything had all been on him… but fuck.

After he ate your pussy on Friday night, he’s been trying not to bend you over and fuck you until you grow a brain in that airhead of yours.

“Can I suck your dick, Rafey?” You murmur in that soft, sweet voice of yours.

And it took everything in him not to cum right then and there.

As soon as he nods, you tug his sweats down, mouth watering as you see his dick for the second time.

“Is it aching?” You ask, wanting to help him.

“Mhm, yeah, baby. S’hurtin’ s’bad…”

You stare up at him as your hand grips the base of his big dick, your tongue sticking out to swirl around the thick mushroom tip, already leaking precum.

His eyes roll back and he places his hand on the back of your head, already trying not to cum.

“Good girl… really good girl.”

You push your head down more, your hand moving to massage his balls. His cock was bigger than Topper, balls heavier, less hairy.

He was just… better.

“Fuck — oh my god, fuck, yes.” He practically whines, hips bucking up into your mouth.

You giggle against him, staring up at him with those pretty eyes as you push down until your nose is pressed against his pelvis, cock buried deep in your contracting throat.

He’s already leaking precum down your throat, toes curled, his other hand moving to push his hair back.

“Takin’ my cock like a fuckin’ slut, sweet girl. Look a’ya… as soon as your boyfriend leaves you’re crawlin’ over ‘ere, wanting t’suck this big dick.”

You pull back, gasping for air as spit spews out your mouth, eyes glossy.

“Mhm, Rafey, you’re so big.”

You murmur, before the hand that was fondling his balls moves to wrap around his girthy cock, stroking it slowly as you dip your head down to suck one of his balls in your mouth.

“Shit… jus’ like that. Worship those balls, baby.”

You bat your eyelashes up at him, still stroking his dick as you slurp on his sack, spit rolling down your chin and neck.

He lets you suck for a bit before he guides you back onto his shaft, his hands grabbing your head as he pushes his hips in and out of your slutty mouth.

“Gonna cum f’ya, sweetness. Ya want me to fill that pretty throat?”

All you could do was gag and choke on his cock, gurgling noises and his grunts filling the dorm room.

And as soon as your hands touch his thighs, he’s spewing hot semen down your esophagus.

“Swallow it all… fuckkkk…”

His eyes are rolled back, toes curling as he pants and whimpers.

His sweet girl just gave him the best god damn blowjob of his life, and he didn’t even need to initiate it.

Yeah. He’s definitely going to fuck you.

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rafecameronssl4t · 4 months ago

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Cheeky Interview || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: just Rafe being cheeky during the after race interview

Warnings: none

Word count: 926

A/n: no f1 for awhile :(

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!rafe x reader au masterlist)

The press room buzzed with energy as Rafe Cameron leaned back in his chair, the epitome of relaxed confidence. His racing suit was tied around his waist, revealing the snug black undershirt clinging to his toned frame. The cameras loved him; his cheeky grin and smouldering blue eyes ensured that.

“Rafe, fantastic result today,” a journalist began, her pen poised. “P2, and some excellent overtakes out there. How are you feeling?” Rafe flashed a grin, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah, it was a good day. The car felt great—big shoutout to the team for that. But, uh…” He paused, the corner of his mouth quirking up mischievously.

“I think I’ve got someone else to thank for the extra motivation today.” The room perked up, sensing something juicy. His PR manager, Mia, sitting in the corner, visibly tensed. “And who would that be?” another journalist pressed, leaning forward eagerly. Rafe shrugged casually, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his intentions.

“My girlfriend,” he said, his voice laced with affection. “She’s here this weekend, which doesn’t happen often. When I saw her waving at me on the way to the grid? Yeah, I couldn’t let her down.” The reporters chuckled, a few murmuring “aww.” Rafe was in his element now.

“She’s been in the paddock all day,” Rafe continued, leaning into the mic. “I swear, the cameras are more focused on her than the cars. Can’t blame them, though. She looked unreal. Honestly, it’s unfair—I’m out here sweating in a fireproof suit, and she’s just strolling around making me look bad.”

More laughter rippled through the room, but Mia coughed, a clear signal. Rafe ignored it entirely. So, are we saying Y/n is your secret to success?” one reporter teased. “Secret?” Rafe scoffed. “Mate, there’s no secret about it. She’s my lucky charm. I told her if she keeps showing up, I might just win the championship.”

“She was in the paddock before the race, looking way too good. I was about to ditch the car and take her out for lunch instead.” The room erupted in laughter, but Mia was already shifting in her seat, a warning look sent his way. “Rafe,” she interjected, her tone polite but firm. “Let’s keep it focused on the race, yeah?”

Rafe barely blinked. “I am talking about the race. I mean, if she wasn’t here, I’d probably be in the gravel by lap two.” He winked at the room, fully aware of the chaos he was causing. Mia pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath as the journalists continued to eat up Rafe’s every word.

“One last thing,” a bold reporter called out. “Any chance Y/n will be joining you on the podium next time?” Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “If it were up to me, she’d already have her own spot. Honestly, I’d probably just step aside and let her take my trophy. She deserves one just for putting up with me.”

Mia cut in again, this time more forcefully. “Thank you, everyone. That’s all for now!” As the reporters reluctantly began to pack up, she shot Rafe a look that clearly showed she was annoyed. Rafe only shrugged, his grin never faltering. “What? They asked. I answered.”

“Next time,” she hissed under her breath as they walked out of the room, “stick to the car and the team. You’re impossible, Cameron.” “Impossible or irresistible?” he quipped, glancing back at her. But his smirk softened as he spotted you waiting at the end of the hall, your smile brightening the moment you saw him.

“See?” Rafe said, nodding toward you as he strode up, his confident smirk softening the moment his eyes met yours. “Totally worth it.” You couldn’t help but grin, stepping closer. Rising onto your tiptoes, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he smiled against your lips, his warmth seeping into you.

“How was it?” you asked softly, glancing over his shoulder just in time to catch his Mia pinching the bridge of her nose. “Typical Rafe,” she muttered under her breath before walking off, clearly exasperated. Rafe chuckled, the sound deep and full of mischief, as his hands slid to rest on your hips.

His blue eyes sparkled with playful defiance as you raised an eyebrow at him. “What did you do this time?” you asked, laughter bubbling in your voice. Rafe held his hands up in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Why do you assume it was me?” he said, feigning innocence with an exaggerated gasp.

“Because,” you replied, crossing your arms as you tried—and failed—to look stern, “most of the time, it is you.” He leaned closer, his smirk downright wicked now. “Fair point,” he admitted, dropping his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “But come on, you know you love it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop your own smile from breaking through. “One of these days, you’re going to get yourself in real trouble.” He shrugged, pulling you back into his chest. “Probably. But as long as you’re there to bail me out, I’ll survive.”

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girlballs · 2 months ago

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shoutout to women with thick eyebrows and big noses btw

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littlexdeaths · 4 months ago

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𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 (𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖)

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, insecure eddie makes an appearance, eddie’s pov, tons of kissing, drug use (weed), grinding/dry humping and a whole lot of cheese, what can i say? (it’s a given with these two)

part four | part six

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 4.9k

a/n: damn this was a long time coming. thank you guys for being so patient with me during this writing slump. also big shoutout to @strangerstilinski for gifting me that one porno title. but i really need to give the biggest thank you to my bestie @undead-supernova ! august, you have truly helped me improve my writing so much over the past year, and i hope you know how much i love and appreciate you. this chapter is dedicated to you boo xx.

“You cannot be serious, sweetheart,” Eddie deadpans, looking between you and the VHS tape clutched between his fingers.

You feel your face warm, his overly exaggerated tone causing another customer in the horror section to give you both a sideways glance.

“As a heart attack,” you mumble, grabbing a copy of Children of the Corn to read the back cover in order to avoid his piercing gaze.

“Never seen Alien, she says…” he huffs under his breath, “It’s a classic!”

When you finally dare to peek up at him under your lashes, he’s giving you a look of utter disapproval that wavers on the edge of teasing.

“Sci-Fi isn’t really my thing,” you shrug, putting the tape back and reaching for another.

“But Evil Dead is?” he muses, leaning forward over your shoulder to glance at the cover art.

The background is dark, with two grotesque-like hands reaching into the frame and toward a bloodied Bruce Campbell holding a chainsaw above his head. When Eddie leans in closer to get a better look, the tips of his fingers brush against your own in the process. The gentle touch sends your body into overdrive and you swear your heart is about to leap out of your chest from the proximity.

“Well…what about this one?” you ask, stepping out of his embrace to head further down the aisle, ignoring the rising heat in your cheeks as you nearly stumble. Damn heels.

“I would argue that this is a classic.”

But Eddie just slips in behind you again, resting a hand on your hip while you hold a copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in your hands.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, holding back a snicker as you gasp in mock offense.

“You doubt my judgment?”

“Of course not,” he insists with a small snort. “But…maybe you have a thing for guys who wield chainsaws.”

You catch the sly grin that stretches across his lips out of the corner of your eye, a loud laugh puffing out from his chest when you playfully smack his shoulder. Eddie grabs the tape from you, leaning in a little closer until his lips brush against your ear.

And he doesn’t miss the subtle hitch of your breath.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart…” he cheekily assures, “Your secret is safe with me.”

When you throw a playful glare his way, he merely winks in response. Then he turns on his heel to stride back toward the front counter, snagging a box of Reese’s Pieces on his way. You fumble a step behind him before glancing up.

The employee manning the counter is someone you know all too well.

His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, the ends brushing against his forehead and falling into his eyes. But he’s still just as handsome, if not annoyingly so. And when Eddie sets the tapes on the counter, Steve barely spares him a passing glance. His brown eyes quickly settle on you as his lips pull up into a lazy grin.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asks, the cadence of his voice is low but filled with a sticky sweetness that has your cheeks warming.

And if you didn’t know any better you would think he was flirting with you.

“O-Oh, I, uh— ”

“Yeah,” Eddie cuts in, his voice a little strained. “We found everything just fine, man.”

Steve gives you another soft grin as he snaps open the first case, a small snort leaving his nose.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the gore fest type.”

But that slight hint of disbelief in his tone has you wanting to shrink in on yourself.

“Then you don’t know her very well,” Eddie mutters under his breath.

Only, his snide comment isn’t as quiet as he initially intended.

But Steve says nothing, just clears his throat and runs a hand through his chestnut locks before sliding the movies across the counter. The clacking of the keyboard fills the uncomfortable silence as you tug at the worn vinyl on the counter.

“That’ll be $12.35.”

You can feel Eddie tense beside you.

“I thought the movies were 2 for $4 tonight?” you chime in softly, confusion scrunching your brows together.

Steve’s lip quirks up in a slight smirk as he glances between you and Eddie.

“Well, Munson here has racked up quite a lot of late fees…” he trails before whistling. The flash of amusement in his eyes has Eddie’s narrowing in warning.

But that look only seems to encourage him.

“Looks like we’ve got Erotic Night of the Living Dead, returned three days late. Munch Masters Vol. I…”, Steve pauses to scroll further down the list. “…and Vol. II, that was a week late.”

He flashes Eddie a condescending grin, “Must’ve really liked that one, huh?”

But before Steve can embarrass him further, Eddie fishes out his wallet and slams a couple bills down onto the counter. He grabs the tapes, tucking them under his arm and slips his hand in yours. The boy all but pulls you out of the store, his chin tucked toward his chest to try and hide the flames licking his cheeks.

Despite his ever growing irritation—fueled by the embarrassment of what just transpired—he still opens the door and helps you into the van.

Ever the gentleman.

“Harrington’s got some nerve,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he slides into the driver's seat. “With his nice smile and his stupid hair…” His voice drips with condescension as he slams the driver's door shut behind him.

“Embarrassing me is one thing. But blatantly flirting with my girl, right in front of me—like I wasn't even there?! That’s low even for him.”

Eddie doesn’t even realize what he just let slip, too busy fumbling to stick the key into the ignition.

A beat passes before you manage to gather the courage to speak, the jingling of keys echoing in your ears.

“Your girl?” you ask carefully, heart lodged in your throat.

Eddie’s whole body tenses, taking his time in setting the tapes down on the dashboard before finally turning to face you.

“Well…I, uh, shit,” he whispers, splotches of red beginning to creep up his neck while he exhales sharply through his nose. “I wanted to ask you in a proper, more romantic way—”

You suddenly turn in your seat, your grip on his collar firm while your lips manage to cut him off with a surprised hmph.

But he’s quick to recover, mouth molding over yours with an intensity that would make your knees buckle if you were still standing. And he keeps kissing you, slowly, deeply…until the windows begin to fog up from the heat of your mingling breaths.

“I don’t need romantic, Eddie,” you manage when he pulls away for some much needed air, your nose nudges against his own before you press another gentle kiss to his swollen lips. “Just you.”

And his answering grin is all the reassurance you need.

“Welcome to my castle,” Eddie says, gesturing toward the pale blue trailer with a tentative smile.

He barely let you push open the passenger door before he was running around the front of the van, almost dropping the VHS tapes tucked under his arm in the process. But the soft giggle you let slip when he bows and offers you his hand had his heart skipping a beat.

He keeps your fingers intertwined as you walk alongside him to the door. The uneven gravel makes the otherwise short distance in your heels a little more treacherous than normal. But Eddie is more than willing to catch you at the slightest hint of a wobble in your step.

The night air is far more frigid than either of you anticipated, and the shiver that ripples through you has him nearly dropping the keys in his rush to open the front door. He curses softly, breathing out a sigh of relief when the door finally swings open.

“Ladies first,” he grins, gesturing you forward.

Once you're both safely inside Eddie drops the keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes and switching on lights as he goes. He inwardly cringes when he spots the fast food wrappers scattered across the counter and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

What a great first impression, Munson.

But when he remembers the current state of his bedroom, his face pales.

“Uh, I’m just gonna…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck before motioning behind him with his thumb. “Grab a new shirt, but go ahead and make yourself at home.”

Eddie waits until you’ve taken a seat on the sofa before starting down the hall. He’s frantic when he bursts through his bedroom door, immediately eyeing the pile of clothes strewn across his unmade bed. A disaster he left in the wake of trying to pull together a last minute Halloween costume.

He found the orange shirt that’s currently adorning your frame in the very back of his closet, a lost relic from the one time Wayne had managed to take him hunting. Eddie had fallen asleep up in the deer stand and almost shot a crossbow through his boot, and Wayne had vowed never again.

He had grabbed a discarded sharpie off his nightstand, the cap tucked between his teeth as he scribbled This is my Halloween costume across the front in his signature messy scrawl. While it wasn’t his most creative idea to date, it was either this or the god awful pirate costume he’d been suckered into a few years back. That most definitely did not fit him anymore.

Eddie scoops up an armful of clothes, tossing them onto the already cluttered floor of his closet. His movements are erratic, nearly tripping over one of his amps in the process. While Eddie isn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, he is unable to disguise the way his hands are trembling.

He’s nervous, so fucking nervous.

And when he dares to peek out of his room and down the hall, he immediately has to remind himself to breathe.

Because there you are, sitting on his couch, wearing his shirt. Looking almost heaven sent, your eyes alight with wonder as you take in the collection of hats and mugs adorning the walls.

“Get a fuckin’ grip, man,” he mumbles to himself, dropping to his knees to shove more of the remaining clutter under his bed.

Once he returns to his feet, he slips his jacket off his shoulders and tosses it over the back of the chair before rifling through the top drawer of his dresser for a new shirt. Despite what a majority of the town believed, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was no stranger to the sins of the flesh. He’d lost his virginity his first senior year in the back of his van to band geek, Polly O’Donnell.

Which was probably why her mom had failed him two years in a row. Not that he was keeping score or anything.

But even in that moment, Eddie hadn’t felt this nervous.

Maybe, it was because he didn’t harbor the same feelings for Polly that he did for you. Or perhaps the real reason was that he just didn’t trust people or their intentions. His tumultuous upbringing and treatment by his peers was testament enough of that. So Eddie kept most people at arm's length, not allowing them to see past his scary façade.

It was safer that way.

But one look from you was enough to have his carefully crafted walls crumbling down, laid to rubble beneath his feet.

And that’s the thing that scared him the most. That he would willingly throw himself (and his heart) into the crossfire if it meant you would continue to look at him like that.

Man, he had it bad.

He huffs out a breath, grabbing the first unwrinkled shirt that he can find and pulling it over his head. The male takes one final glance around his bedroom, deciding it’s good enough before he turns to leave. But something on his nightstand catches his eye, the joint he rolled earlier practically beckoning him with the promise of sweet relaxation.

And with the state of his jangled nerves, he could use all the help he could get.

So he slips the joint behind his ear, spinning the lighter between his thumb and forefinger as he pads down the hall toward you.

And while his nerves were ravaging his insides, you aren’t faring much better.

You had counted every mug and hat that lined the walls of his living room twice over, in a feeble attempt to distract yourself from the fact that you were actually here with him. All alone, with no prying eyes or listening ears to interrupt you. And despite the fact that he just put a shirt back on, it doesn’t stop your thoughts from wandering to not so innocent places.

The sleeves are cut off, showing off his surprisingly toned biceps. An array of dark ink flows over his arms, the black shirt making him appear almost paler in comparison. You tuck your lower lip between your teeth when you see the muscles in his forearms contract when he places his palms flat on the counter.

Your thighs press together as your gaze travels lower, where his jeans cling a little too tightly to his—

“You still up for some pizza?” he asks, picking up the phone and interrupting your thoughts.

“O-Oh, right!” you blink, averting your eyes. “Pizza sounds great.”

He quickly punches in a number before you can ask any further questions, holding the receiver up to his ear.

“Hey man, it’s Eddie,” he says after a few moments.

The male tucks the receiver between his ear and shoulder while he speaks, fingers drumming lightly along the countertop. The movement causes his hair to fall over his face, a stray curl eventually finding its way into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah the usual.” he sputters, spitting the hair out and tucking the wild curls back behind his ear. “But uh, can I get olives on half?”

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes roll into the back of his head fondly. And it has you contemplating what other ways you could make his eyes roll back.

“No no no, I have not become an ‘olive enthusiast.’” He scoffs, fingers curling into air quotes. “I just, I have…” he pauses, dark eyes flicking over to you. “I have a guest over tonight.”

And the way Eddie has to hold the phone away from his ear has you stifling a giggle. You can hear a muffled voice on the other end, their enthusiastic lilt apparent even from where you are perched on the end of the sofa.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” He chuckles, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But that should be it.” Eddie tucks the phone back in between his shoulder, reaching to grab his wallet from his back pocket.

“Oh wait, wait!” He exclaims, slapping his palm down onto the counter. “Add on an order of those cinnamon breadsticks too.”

You wish you could’ve been privy to their entire conversation, because the way Eddie flushes a deep crimson before he playfully tells the person on the other end to ‘kindly fuck off’ and hangs up the phone, has you beyond intrigued.

He takes a couple more bills out, tossing them on the counter and slips the wallet back into his pocket. The chain jingles against his thigh with each step he takes, your eyes unintentionally following the movement. He plops down onto the sofa beside you, the heat in his cheeks fading into a soft, rosy sheen.

“Nina’s is busy tonight,” he murmurs, setting something onto the small table beside him. “So, it might take a little longer than usual.”

“How did you know Nina’s Pizzeria was my favorite?” you ask, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion.

“Well,” he hums, leaning his head back against the cushions and giving you a lazy grin. “I just assumed you had much better taste than Domino’s, sweetheart.”

You playfully whack him with one of the throw pillows beside you, a stunned expression crossing over his features. Half of his hair is ruffled from where the pillow connected with his head, and this time you can’t contain the giggles from bubbling up in your chest.

“Oh you are so going to regret that, baby.” he taunts, eyes narrowing in a predatory manner.

And your whole body stills.

Baby. He just called you baby.

Eddie uses this moment to his advantage, pouncing on you with a wicked cackle. His hands find your sides, quickly pulling giggle after breathless giggle from you. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, you squeal and begin to thrash beneath him as he continues to torture you with his fingers.

Your attempts to get him back are futile. Eddie is much faster, taking both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. Both of your chests are rising and falling rapidly from the exertion, your faces mere inches apart.

His curls create a dark curtain around you, his eyes flicking down toward your lips. His minty breath washes over you, causing yours to lodge in your throat. You just stare at each other, both of you fighting the urge to close the remaining distance between your mouths.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat, “Movie time?”

“Movie time,” you agree.

And just like that, the moment is gone as quickly as it came. Eddie clumsily climbs off you, almost falling off the sofa in the process. His curls bounce as he springs back up, offering a hand to help you sit back up.

“Now my fair maiden, what film dost thou choose?”

He holds up both cases, the choice of movie concealed by the large Family Video logo. You purse your lips, glancing back and forth between the cases as if looking at them longer would somehow reveal the title beneath.

“That one.”

You point to the one in his left hand, and Eddie tosses the other back onto the coffee table. He pops open the plastic case and chuckles before looking up at you.

“Texas Chainsaw it is.” He grins, removing the tape from its case and heading toward the TV.

Eddie crouches down, balancing on the soles of his feet as he loads the tape into the VCR. our eyes can’t help but wander across the expanse of his broad shoulders and down his back. The hem of his shirt rides up ever so slightly as he reaches to switch the tv on, exposing the band of his boxer shorts and the pale skin of his lower back.

“However,” he continues, glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes are warm and full of mischief. “You are not leaving this trailer until you get to experience the cinematic masterpiece that is Ridley Scott’s Alien.”

The playful threat has your whole body warming, feeling thankful when he finally switches off the lamp. The darkness of the room is a welcome reprieve with only his silhouette visible, illuminated by the glow from the TV. He bounds back over and takes the seat beside you.

You allow yourself to sink further into the sofa while Eddie grabs something off the side table. The spark of the lighter ignites the handsome features of his face, and the slight stubble along his jaw. His plush lips carefully wrap around the end of the joint, cheeks hollowing slightly as he inhales deeply.

The sight alone sends a delightful shiver up your spine, shifting your gaze back toward the television as the smoke billows out from between his lips.

“Are you cold?” he asks, draping his arm over the back of the sofa in search of the old quilt that was previously thrown over it.

But said quilt had unfortunately fallen behind the sofa in the midst of your scuffle, well beyond his reach now. Eddie leans in closer, cursing softly under his breath as he attempts to locate the missing quilt in the dark. You can feel the warmth radiating from his chest, which causes another shiver to pass through you.

“Maybe a little,” you murmur.

And the male doesn’t complain when you nuzzle yourself further into his side, happily curling his arm around your shoulders. He takes another hit from the joint as the trailers continue to flash across the screen, the upcoming releases now the furthest thing from your mind.

“You want some?” He holds the joint out toward you, blowing some smoke out the corner of his mouth. “No pressure, of course.”

You carefully take it from him, your fingers brushing against his own in the process. Despite your initial reservations, you immediately lift the joint to your lips, feeling his eyes continue to linger on your features. In your nervous haste you inhale a little too quickly, the smoke evading your lungs in sharp fragments that has you immediately coughing it back up.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there, killer,” he teases, gently rubbing your back, the touch a welcome distraction. “You gotta inhale slower.”

He takes the joint back from you, keeping it between his fingers while you continue to cough your lungs up. You’re very thankful he can’t see the way your eyes are watering as another cough racks through your chest.

“Have you ever smoked before?” he asks, only curiosity lacing his tone.

“Um, once,” cough. “In the ninth grade when I stole a cigarette out of my aunt’s purse.”

The memory is sparked, causing a smile to tug at the corner of your mouth. Your Aunt Bev had been visiting from Reno for Christmas, like she did every year. The eccentric woman was always decked out in colorful rhinestones and bright blue eyeshadow, spinning wild tales of her nights out on the strip much to the chagrin of your mother.

But you had never seen her without a trusty pack of Camel Turkish Golds.

So when one of your older cousins claimed you were too much of a prissy pants to join in on their smoke session (aka the infamous cousin walk), you took it upon yourself to swipe one from her purse and hoped she wouldn’t notice. But you received the lecture of a lifetime from her when you came back looking guilty and smelling like nicotine.

As you recount the tale back to him, you purposely leave out the part where you almost threw up in a snowbank because you were coughing so hard. No need to subject him to that visual. And while that experience had you swearing off cigarettes for the rest of your life, that didn’t mean you should deny yourself this one…right?

“Well your aunt’s absolutely right you know,” he says after a moment, that mischievous sparkle back in his eyes. “Cigarettes are terrible for you.”

You go to reach for that pillow again, ready to whack him in the head for good measure but Eddie chucks it across the room before you even have a chance to grab it. The pillow narrowingly misses the tv set by an inch, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

“Ah, ah ah!” he tuts, wagging a finger in front of your face. “Don’t mess with the mane, sweetheart.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes fondly before turning your attention back to the movie. But Eddie keeps his gaze on you, admiring how the soft glow highlights the features of your face. Your nose, which scrunches up in the cutest way whenever you’re annoyed. Your gentle eyes, that look at him as if he could do no wrong. And your lips—god, your lips. They’re slightly pouted, shiny with spit.

And Eddie's perverted mind can’t help but start to wander. He wonders how your lips would feel wrapped around him, or if those pretty eyes would roll back when he buried his tongue inside you.

Jesus H. Christ, was it getting hotter in here?

Eddie wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, willing all the blood in his body to stop rushing South.

Popping a boner during a horror flick, that’ll really impress her, idiot.

God, he was too sober for this.

The male quickly tears his gaze away from you, picking up the lighter and relighting the forgotten joint. He doesn’t notice your eyes drifting back toward him, like a moth to a flame.

He inhales deeply, allowing the smoke to curl into his lungs and dull his sexually intrusive thoughts. But he feels you staring, your eyes transfixed on where the smoke billows out from between his lips. He glances at the joint, then back at you. Then Eddie gets an idea, an awful, sinful idea.

He whispers your name as the room is bathed in darkness again, giving him the final push he needs.

“I want to try something…” he mumbles, carefully removing your glasses and placing them on the coffee table. “Do you trust me?”

You nod automatically.

“Then come here,” he says, voice hoarse.

And when you crawl into his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips…

Eddie is a goner.

Miraculously, he manages to keep his composure, despite the way his heart is about to leap out of his chest. You’ve never been this close before, where he can feel the warmth of your thighs seeping into his jeans and smell the faint perfume lingering on your neck.

Even in the dark, he can see that flicker of bashfulness cross over your features, that sudden urge to avoid his heated stare. To tuck in on yourself, to hide away. But to his surprise, you hold his gaze, bold and unwavering when one of his hands falls to rest on your hip. He attempts to soothe you, his thumb circling up and under your shirt.

“Inhale slowly, alright?” he gently reminds you.

His other hand brings that joint back to his full lips, the cherry end igniting brightly as he inhales.

Only this time when he lowers the joint, he leans forward. His lips brush against yours until they part beneath his own, the smoke slithering out and into your awaiting mouth. You inhale slowly—just as he instructed and let the smoke curl in and around your lungs.

And when you breathe out, he’s right there, inhaling the dissipating smoke into his own mouth with a proud smile.

“See? You’re a natural.”

Eddie takes another long drag and leans in again, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. And maybe it’s the look in his eye or the weed beginning to lull your nerves, but you fist the collar of his shirt and pull him into you, crashing your lips together for the second time that evening.

The male barely manages to discard the joint before he’s reeling you back in, tongue gliding over your lower lip and into your awaiting mouth. You taste like Juicy Fruit and a hint of purple palm tree delight, a combination that sets every nerve in his body on fire.

Your fingers wind into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently tugging and earning you a throaty moan. Eddie swears he’s lost it when your sweet moans begin to echo his own. The sound travels straight down, where his cock is straining pathetically against the seam of his jeans.

An uphill battle he’s been fighting since you kissed him in the parking lot of Family Video.

And when you feel that hardness pressing against your inner thigh, it only encourages you to keep going. Giving an experimental roll of your hips that has Eddie’s head lolling back onto the cushions, a choked sound resembling a whine escapes his mouth.

This new position provides you with easier access to his throat, giving you a surge of confidence before your lips find a home there and teeth nip wherever they can find purchase.

Eddie pants as your lips only trail lower, a grunt of your name mixes with a slew of curses when you suck a large bruise onto the base of his throat. Your lips make an audible pop when they detach from his skin and you lean back to assess the damage with a satisfied grin. He looks beautifully wrecked, lips swollen and eyes glossy.

You trace over the blossoming shades of red and purple on his neck with your fingertips, humming softly when you feel a shiver pass through him.

“My turn,” he insists, gently tipping your head back.

When he leans forward, lips brushing against your collarbone, he can almost taste the spiked punch from earlier. A bitter, yet sugary sweet flavor that has him groaning low in his throat. The sound reverberates through your chest and has your hips grinding harder against his own.

The fabric of your panties are completely soaked, making a mess on the front of his jeans with each frantic buck of your hips. His fingers begin to trail lower, sneaking under your skirt and grazing over the elastic of your panties. Feeling emboldened, you take his wrist, pressing the heel of palm against your center.

“Oh shit,” he groans, fingers circling up and over your aching core. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart.”

You can only manage a soft whine in response, allowing him to guide your head back down to capture your lips together.

An abrupt knock sounds just as a blood curdling scream erupts from the television. Both noises pull you apart with a sudden start, which has you nearly falling backwards off his lap and onto the floor below. But Eddie keeps a steady grip on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he huffs out a breath of frustration.

“Pizza’s here.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld @scarlet-bitch @thecreelhouse @vamp-bunny @notwantingtoadult @keeksandgigz @avobabe87 @kellsck @definitionwanderlust @ainelantv @bring-it-on-back

#the freak writes 🫧#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson series #[ series: let’s go—don’t wait ]#[ the munson files ]

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sweetpascal · 1 year ago

Text

" someplace nice "

summary: when simon finally comes back home from deployment, he makes sure he spoils you in the best way possible. *wink wink*

warnings: cursing, teasing touches, husband!simon needs a warning of its own UGH, filthy car sex, messy pussy eating, wet noises, missonaryyy, filthy nasty dirty talk, we already know simon has the mouth of a sailor hehe

wc: 2.8k

notes: first of all, i wanna give a big big big shoutout to @suimon because without her AMAZING FUCKING PHENOMENAL works of art, i wouldn't have gotten out of my writing funk and they truly have inspired me 🫶🏼 second of all, i was on twitter and came across this spicy video and it basically helped me create whatever this is 😭 enjoy !

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to go out tonight. in fact, you’re ecstatic to go out with your husband. it’s only been two days since simon has been back from being deployed for almost one month. he had spent the two days sleeping and getting up to eat when it’s necessary, only to go back to sleeping. you didn’t care about that. you were just happy that he was back home. safe. alive. on the third day, he surprises you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“we’re going out t’night,” he tells you, eyes all soft with a barely there smile on his lips when you go nose deep into the flowers and sniffing deeply with a pleased smile on your face. “i won’t tell you where. but it’s gonna be a nice place.”

that night, you got ready with nervous butterflies bubbling in the pit of your stomach. it had been so long since you and simon have been out on a date night. with his deployments and your full-time job, having time for yourselves, let alone as a couple was a rarity these days.

you sprayed yourself with simon’s favorite perfume of yours and did a once over in the mirror. your hair looked beautiful, your makeup was on point, your outfit wasn’t too flashy nor too casual - it was a body hugging dress with thin straps and tasteful cleavage and some wedged heels. as you walked downstairs, you saw simon waiting for you at the bottom with his keys in hand. he was dressed so nicely and the color of his dress shirt matched your dress. with tight fitting slacks and his ‘going out’ boots, you knew you’d be staring at him all night long. your cheeks warmed when you caught his gaze. his lips had parted and you could’ve sworn his eyes sparkled. although your heels added a few inches to your height, it was still nothing compared to simon. he still stood above you, two and a half heads taller.

“so.. how do i look?”

he didn’t like how hesitant you sounded. with a slow step forward, his finger hooked under your chin to lift your head up. god, the smell of him was mouth watering. you’re on your ovulating schedule so his natural musk combined with his cologne was like sinking your teeth into the tenderest meat there is. you nearly moaned. nearly.

“you look.. almost as beautiful as the day i met you,” he told you, so genuine, so soft, and so in love.

“almost?” you giggled and caught him off guard by pulling him down and clumsily kissing his chin instead of his lips.

“mhm,” he grumbled and led the way outside to his suv.

dinner went smoothly. simon had taken you both to a nice little italian restaurant downtown. it was the perfect place for a romantic night. the tables were dimly lit with candles and fresh flowers. he did everything a gentleman should do. pulling your chair out, knowing your favorite dish and ordering it for you, getting you your own dessert, paying. but the night still had a salacious vibe to it. for some reason, simon just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. his hand kept brushing up on your thigh, subtly hiking your dress up to feel your skin under his fingertips. you had to quietly scold him as the restaurant was nowhere near empty and your table wasn’t secluded from wandering eyes.

“can’t help it,” he told you in your ear, his voice all low and gruff and husky in a way that always had you tingling. “my wife s’just so fuckin’ gorgeous to look at.” and with that, he left a warm kiss under your earlobe, knowing exactly that was the spot he knew makes you whimper. and you did. only loud enough for him to her.

during the car ride home, it began to rain. it was damn near impossible to drive with the way the rain pelted hard and fast onto the windshield and roof. simon cursed under his breath, the hand resting on your thigh tightening for a brief second. you swallowed down a soft moan as it got lodged in the back of your throat. but simon, having the ears of a true soldier, heard it. he fucking hears everything. you hated and loved it simultaneously.

breaking free from your thoughts, the car swerves to the side to go down an empty road leading to an abandoned part. it was the only place farthest from town. no busy streets. no houses. no stores. it was deserted.

“si?” you were getting confused when he put the car into park and turned the ignition off. he turns on the top light and then turns to you. you expected him to give you a kiss with how he’s leaning over the console, but instead he reaches under your passenger seat, pulls the lever, and forcefully slides your seat further back so it puts a big amount of space between you and the dashboard. “simon?!”

“gimme a minute,” was all he says before getting out of the car and getting wet from the rain.

the door slams shut and you’re twisting and turning in your seat. it was pitch black outside with no streetlights, no house lights, no nothing. your side door is yanked open and simon hops in, slamming it shut and locking it after. he’s on his knees in front of you in the passenger side as you’re still in the seat, dumbfounded. he starts to unbutton his dress shirt as he stares down at you. the dim light in the car casts shadows on his face and he looks so fucking good.

your breathing starts picking up as he kneels before you shirtless. he then starts to unstrap your wedged heels, carelessly throwing them into the backseat. you finally let out a moan when he grabs your hips and forces you to slide down your seat and your thighs fall open.

“fuck, you smell so good,” simon grunts and buries his face between your thighs to mouth and nose at your covered cunt. he licks and sucks through the fabric, further getting it wet with his saliva. “taste like fuckin’ heaven.” he’s quick to slide your panties down and hoists your dress up to pool around your hips, fully exposing your bare cunt to his eyes and his eyes only.

“s-simon,” you whimper softly, eyebrows drawn and lips parted. the ache in your core began to hurt. your hips bucked and your thighs twitched. you didn’t know what you wanted. his hot, messy tongue. his long, powerful fingers. or his thick, hard cock. all you can utter is, “please.” please, anything.

immediately, he bows his head and licks a hot stripe from asshole to clit. he focuses more on your clit. he widens his tongue and uses his big hands to hook underneath your knees to press them into your chest. the wet slurps and hot puffs of air all over your messy pussy has you keening with uncontrollable twitches.

“ooh fuck, fuck, oh my god!” you grab onto his wide wrists, manicured nails digging into the skin for some stability. “fuck me. please, fuck me!”

when your voice gets all high pitched and whiny, simon knows it’s go-time. with one hand reaching down to expertly unbutton and slide down his slacks, he uses his other hand to spread your thighs open. your right foot rests on the window ledge. with the dim lighting and the rain pattering on the car roof, everything about this was romantic. simon lowers his head and gives your lips messy, hard kisses. all tongue. all teeth. heavy breathing and hushed moans. you tasted your slick and a hint of wine on his tongue. if that wasn’t the perfect combination, you didn’t know what was.

“you ready f’me?” his voice is so gruff and thick with lust. he taps the head of his leaking cock on your messy cunt. the lewd noises made you want to cover your face from embarrassment of how wet you are. “hm? ‘s this little cunt ready f’me to fuck her?” god, the things he says would be enough to make a deaf nun cry. but you didn’t care. you ached for him, everywhere.

“plea-please, si,” you weakly whimpered. your body was on fire and you were close to tears. wetness made your lashes clump and you sniffled softly. “need you. need it bad. need you.”

he tuts. he actually tuts. and the condescending smile he sends you makes you all the more embarrassed as your cunt leaked even more slick. “poor angel,” he croons and grins wolfishly. “poor, poor baby.”

and then finally, finally, he dips the head inside your pathetic little hole. and inch by inch, he slides in and then slides back out. he slides in again a little more and slides out again. the teasing torture was enough to make you start crying. simon’s arms wrapped around your trembling frame and he allows you to bury your face in his bare shoulders. you’re hugging his big, beefy body to yourself, your hands desperately holding onto his sides.

“i-i can’t ta-take it! fuck me, please, please, simon, please.” you’re babbling incoherently, sobbing softly into his skin and curling your toes as he grinds his cock up and down your cunt before finally sliding all the way in.

“there we go,” he coos in your ear. “there’s my girl.”

almost instantly, the sobbing stops and is replaced with garbled moans and punched gasps. your lips are open on his shoulder and drool slowly begins to seep out. you hug him closer as warmth explodes throughout your entire body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“‘m y’girl,” you can barely form a coherent sentence.

“that’s right,” simon huffs, now starting to work his hips faster against yours. “my good girl.”

his hips smack into yours, his thickness filling you repeatedly. over and over and over again. the lewd wet noises of your slick leaking onto his balls and maybe his thighs has your cheeks flaming up. simon pounds into you, forcing every moan out of your chest and spilling from your lips, no matter how bad you wanted to quiet them as you two were still in the car and anybody could pull up. everything felt so good. he starts speeding up his thrusts, now pounding into you at an alarming speed and causing you to scream hoarsely in the small space. and then he slows to a grinding halt.

“mm, mm, mm,” you whimpered in his shoulder, tears freely sliding down your cheeks from the excessive pleasure you're receiving with little kisses of pain.

simon hears your reaction and does it again, this time creating a rhythm. he’ll fuck into you at a high speed and then slow down. he feels your tits bouncing against his chest and the way your swollen clit is continuously bumping against his pelvis.

“yeah,” he grunts in your ear, tightening his arms around your non-stop shaking body. “fuckin’ take my fuckin’ cock.”

your eyes slowly cross as he slows again, only fucking you with deep, slow, grinding thrusts. you’re 100% sure you’re leaking onto the seat right now. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were. simon’s cock was heaven and hell. you were obsessed. addicted, even. it look a lot of practice for you to take every inch in the early stages of your relationship. he made sure to take his time training your cunt into swallowing his hardness. simon pulled up just enough to capture your lips in a hot, messy kiss. he grinds deep inside, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix deliciously. your hands desperately grasped the sides of his face, your tongue sloppily entering his mouth and circling around his.

“can’t get ‘nough of you” simon grumbles. he keeps kissing and kissing as he grinds his hips in slow, deep circles. “my wife is jus’ so fuckin’ needy, eh?” the subtle cockiness in his tone had your pussy clenching. he grins at that and pistons his hips, fast and hard and unrelenting.

“ah! ah! ah! aaah!” you squealed and scratched down his back. you’ve been on edge for however long. time was nonexistent and this was torture. you needed that final nudge. a certain thing that helped the rollercoaster of euphoria finally crash down from the tip of the hill. “n-need.. cum. need.. n-need to cu-um!” god, you probably sounded so pathetic.

simon grunts every time he delivers hard thrusts that would’ve made your entire body slide up the seat if it weren’t for his arms wrapped around you. your thighs twitched non-stop. your toes curled and repeatedly thumped against the window. clinging onto your husband, your moans start getting more high pitched and drawn out as you got closer and closer, but simon knew what you needed. he always knew what you need. he pulls back enough to direct his attention to your neglected clit, so puffy and swollen and glistening in your slick from having no attention paid to it. simon slows his hips again and grinds to a slow halt once more. his cock throbs as your walls twitched and tightened around him, eagerly sucking him deeper.

“you poor, poor girl,” he tuts, splaying a large hand over your tummy and humming pleased as he feels the bulge of his cock nestled deep inside. “jus’ need my thumb, eh?” with the first swipe, your nails dug deeper into his skin and your thighs nearly shut. and from that reaction, simon knew it was time to finally let his beautiful wife cum.

and for the last time, his hips smack against yours at a fast speed, pounding and fucking as if tonight was the end of the world and you two had to say goodbye to each other. when his thumb lays against your clit, rubbing circles at the same rhythm of his quick hips, the dam finally broke. your body forcibly arched and your head slides between the seat and the backseat window. simon forces your thighs to keep spread open and grunts into your throat as your pussy contracts around his cock. all of your moans kept spilling out - you couldn’t stop them even if you tried. it was like electricity was coursing through your body. the wave of euphoria crashed at an alarming speed and you’re sure you’re screaming, but it sounds like you’re underwater. simon was stunned, in all honesty, at how hard you came. and you just won’t stop.

“agh!” he grunts and pulls his thumb away from your overly sensitive clit. he instead wraps his arms back around your trembling body and does three good, hard thrusts before the knot tightened and tightened and he spills inside of you. he grinds deep and slow, making sure none is wasted and is settled thickly inside your womb.

heavy breathing and weak moans echo in the car. the heavy rain slowed to a gentle drizzle. your thighs couldn’t stop twitching. simon lowers his head and kisses your pulse point so very gently, humming pleased when you sign contently. he kisses the side of your face tenderly, tracing a line from your pulse, up to your soft jaw, and then your plushy cheek. your breathing finally slowed and you lift your head to look up at simon. a bead of sweat slid down his temple and you had half a mind to lick it away. the two of you look into each other’s eyes and there wasn’t a single thing that could make you look away. and there wasn’t a single thing that could ruin this moment. simon had to swallow down the lump in his throat.

“d’you realize jus’ how much i love you?” he asks you quietly, head tilting to brush his strong nose against yours. “i would go to the ends of the earth f’you.”

at this whisper of a confession, you sniffle and let out a watery laugh, a lonesome tear sliding down your cheek that is quickly wiped away by his thumb. he leans down and hovers his lips over yours. you take the last step and curl your fingers into his hair to pull him down. when your lips touched, it felt like everything disappeared at that moment. the two of kissed and kissed until you needed air. and even though, you would take gulps of air and find his lips again. his cock was still snug deep inside. even soft, he still had some length and weight to him. but you loved this. it made you feel more connected to each other. the rain had stopped completely now. you both broke your kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting. simon lightly thumbs at your lip to wipe it away.

“now, lets get you home.”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader smut #simon ghost riley x reader smut #husband!simon

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