Okay, but like. Sexworker!reader who has a booth/small room in a sex club/brothel where they spend more and more time because they love being fucked by monsters. Nobody knows their identity, (the light is low, makeup heavy etc.), but they always work in the same room, and the word spreads about how... good they are at their job. Takes wolfmen down to the knot, gags on minotaur cock, lets tentacles use all holes at the same time. Will take on as many monsters as fits in the room at the same time. Rarely taps out, has very few rules and loves being used and degraded. In this story I will-
“Ah- please! H-hold on, let me just-” A groan erupts from your throat silencing the reminder of your sentence.
You try to sit up just to get a look at the man hovering over your cunt but an impending orgasm pushes you back against the crumpled sheets beneath you.
The smell of debauchery hangs in the air but never clings to their skin, as if John devouring your cunt creates a barrier between the sin of the place and the reverence emitting from John.
Holding onto the fleeting sanity that was left within you, you grab a fistful of hair of the man in between your thighs trying to still his movements from making you come undone once more. But Price doesn’t stop, his tongue laps at your pulsing clit flicking the tip of his tongue before giving it a harsh suck causing you to once again wither in pleasure.
For only a moment, John’s actions stop as he relishes in your sweet mewls and intoxicating pleas. A smirk graces his lips against your weeping cunt. Price lowers his head once more gathering your slick on this tongue once more savouring the tangy taste of sweetness desperately seeping out of you.
Lips sticky with slick, John moves up your body peppering every inch of your skin up to your face. You close your eyes in preparation for John’s usual rough, needy and forceful kisses only to be met with one of gentleness. Like the secret caresses of Eros reserved for Psyche.
For a moment, the simple gesture felt out of place. In a building filled with lustful men looking for a place to dump their seed for a moment of blissful ecstasy, here John was worshipping your every being like a loyal follower praying their life away in a temple.
John lifts his head, breaking the last kiss off allowing a string of saliva to connect the two of you together, he looks at you properly. Your pupils blows wide from pleasure, your dishevelled hair which is probably knotted by now will no doubt be a complaining point afterwards and that oh so sweet body of yours– soft, glistening in sweat and smelling of him, of Captain John Price fills him with a sense of giddiness as he admires his priceless artwork.
With his calloused hand, John moves your hair out of your face pressing another kiss to your forehead before a gruff chuckle leaves the back of his throat. You can’t help but chuckle yourself, placing a hand on the back of his head as you caress his hair while John buries his face in the crook of your neck.
“What’s wrong?” You mumble, feeling fleeting kisses being placed on the side of your neck.
You feel John smile once more against your skin, holding onto your fuck-out body knowing that only he could bring you to Cloud Nine before he begins to speak.
“You’re so perfect, you know that?” John mumbles against your skin causing goosebumps to form from the contact.
“So perfect, like a good wife…”
Your eyes widen in shock but before you could reply soft snores retire from the man next to you. Huffing at the scene unfolding next to you. Gently pushing John off you, you tuck him into bed and close the door to the room, to give him some privacy after all Price did rent the room for the whole night.
John’s words run laps in your mind as you shake your head to rid it of such thoughts of domestic pleasures that his words bring about. It was a mistake, a sentence uttered due to lack of clarity. John could never love you, right?
thats the rule. keeps things clean. professional. safe.
but you’ve been with him since the beginning. back when he was nothing and you were running from everything. you’re the only one who knows how soft his voice can get, how annoyed he gets when a client looks at you as if you’re some whore. and he didnt even think of you as just another worker for him anymore, he saw you as his. his to protect, his to nurture.
sure, he cared about the rest of them—but in a business-like way. he only cared if they were alive and willing to make his profit. not the way he cared about you. he needed your happiness, your safety. he felt like he couldn't breathe without it.
he knew the real you. it’s not like you wanted this life for yourself, you just simply had no other choice. and he was glad it was him that took you in, he could handle you.
there was times where he thought about paying you out. saving up for a while, then writing you a fat check just to get you out of this shitty business. but he was too selfish. because if you didn’t need him anymore, then what was he worth?
thats how he justified what you two did from time to time. on certain nights when it felt right, he let himself kiss you softly. no urgency, no heat of the moment, just pure intimacy. then on other nights, there was heat. god, there was heat. so much passion that it felt like he was high out of his mind. he couldn’t tell which he enjoyed more.
and tonight, you’re off the clock. no men grabbing at you as if there wasn’t a soul beneath the skin they felt so entitled to touch. you were freshly showered, smelling of that dark cherry perfume you wore. legs smooth, hair wet against his couch. you were the only girl of his allowed to stay at his house. hell, the rest of them didn’t even know where he lived.
he watched as you softly breathed, the light hum of the a/c blending with the sitcom voices of the television. you were too pretty for this business. he always thought that.
you had just finished making dinner for the both of you, which you had done a few times in the past. it always felt too domestic, but barry knew he liked it. he liked it so much that it scared the shit out of him. you had finished eating, taking the dishes and getting up to wash them. you were wearing a pair of his boxers and a tank top. god, he could get used to that sight.
you walked back over, unexpectedly crawling to lay on him. your head against his chest, and leg thrown over his. he tensed for a minute, not expecting it. but he slowly relaxed. he let a hand snake up to your lower back, rubbing the skin there. you both didnt say anything, you didnt have too.
there was always a silent understanding that this type of thing didn’t need a conversation. you didnt need a label with him. you two just did what felt right. and this felt right.
you fell asleep just like that, before he did. he grabbed a blanket from beside him, throwing it over your body. and right before he felt himself slip into rest, he pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead, whispering a goodnight against your skin.
they need to make it so tumblr has a “view history” option because i just fucking refreshed my “for you” page trying to read something 💔💔 i forgot to like it, the only thing i caught was that it was sexworker!reader, idk if it was with matt or chris 😭😭
Your favourite regular always makes it for your last dance.
Warnings: 18+ for adult themes, no smut though. Like, one swear word. I'm not sure how strip clubs/dancing clubs work, so apologies for that, I've just taken a guess at them. This has, in fact, been proofread, but there's probably still mistakes.
Word count: 1,094
GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.
A little drabble posting in the interim of He Found the Box of Condoms Part 3 and my Santi x Reader series.
“Hey,” your name was called by your co-worker. “Your boy’s here.”
You couldn’t help the smile creep across your face. Being a client’s favourite meant easy tips and an easy shift; they usually pay well so the boss wouldn’t mind if you kept your client busy all night. You were still relatively new to the club so you only had the one favourite client.
He was running very late today, but that wasn’t new. He was taxi driver, so his hours were unpredictable, but he always knew when your shifts were, and he always made it before it ended. You were about to go on stage for your final dance of the night before you made your way home (he’d probably give you a lift).
You gave yourself a final spray of that new perfume you had wanted (vanilla scented – your favourite) and made your way to the stage as Pony played loudly from the speakers. It was cheesy, you agreed, but it was always a fun song to end the night, and you were feeling a little playful, especially now. You swung your hips as you took the steps to the stage, giving a seductive grin to the patrons who were already cheering you on.
Your eyes subtly scanned the room and there he was, sat towards the back in one of the red velvet armchairs, in his usual immaculate suit and his gloved hand wrapped around the whiskey tumbler as his eyes trained on you, a small smirk of his own on his face as he tipped his newsboy cap at you.
Jake Lockley was a little rough around the edges, but a true gentleman.
He first came in on your third week on the job. Like every other time he’d come in, he’d ordered a whiskey and took a seat away from the stage, before requesting a private dance in the back. That night, you were urged by the other dancers to be ‘the one’ that night, as a rite of passage in a way. He had made you nervous, at first; you were a greenie, and he was intimidating, in his fine suit and leather gloved hands (which you did not imagine touching you in all the best ways). But he put you at ease, telling you that he wasn’t expecting your best, he just appreciated pretty people. You had blushed at his words, which caused him to chuckle.
It seemed Jake had taken a liking to you, since he asked for you again the week after. And the week after that, and again the week after that.
That had been four years ago. He had asked you in the past if you would ever leave, and you’d answered honestly, “I make more in four days than others do in a month; why would I ever leave?”
He’d given you his signature smirk at that before offering you a ride home.
You reach the end of the stage, where the pole is secured to the ground. It’s cold to the touch and you swing your way around it, leg hooking over and you give the patrons a sultry look, biting your lip in a grin. You slide to the floor before settling on all fours before stretching your upper body, rolling your hips as the song thrums through your body, vibrating through you. You loved the thrill it gave you; knowing that you were the sexiest thing in the room and no-one could touch you.
You catch Jake’s eye as the other patrons throw their money at you. He’s always so unreadable, sitting in the back with his casual gaze on you. You felt your skin prickle and you suddenly felt so hot, despite your lack of clothing. He looked at you as though he was opening you up, reading your every thought.
You were so incredibly turned on by it.
You don’t break contact as you dance and sway to the music, your hands playing with your hair, throwing your head back as you rock your hips. You always loved putting on a show for Jake, on stage and his requested private dances, and you had no shame in admitting it. You knew nothing would happen between the two of you, but your little day dreams never hurt anyone.
The song came to an end and you ended it by swinging around the pole and ending in the splits on the floor, the notes still falling around you. You grin at the patrons before giving them a thank you and walking down the stage, swaying your hips again. You couldn’t wait to take these shoes off, and wipe off your make up, and get comfortable before going home. You see security collecting your notes from the stage and placing them in your designated bag as you go backstage as the next dancer is called.
You thank security as you pass them back towards the main floor, where they will place your bag of notes by your locker. You make your way over to Jake, who was already stood from his chair, looking at you with that grin on his face.
“You’re a little late,” you said, running your hand down his arm as you pout.
“Sorry, baby, I’ve been busy,” Jake replied. “Had to get the limo out, lots of hen dos tonight.”
“But you still made time for me,” you mutter, biting your lip as you grin at him.
Jake huffed a laugh through his nose. “Don’t I always?”
“I’m about to get off,” you grin at the double entendre. “But I can still give you a private show.”
Jake hummed as he smiled at you. “Would you like that here or at your place?”
That was bold of him. You both had flirted in the past, of course, it practically comes with the job, but there was something always unspoken between you and Jake. You were probably a little naïve, falling for a customer the way you did, and like you said before, Jake was a gentleman, and you knew him better than the other customers. But he’d never been so…outright like that. But Jake Lockley wasn’t a regular client…clients don’t offer the dancers lifts home after their shifts.
“Are you inviting yourself over to my place, Jake?”
Jake nonchalantly shrugged a shoulder. “If you’ll have me.”
Oh God, he was the most beautiful fucking man you have ever met. Why in God’s name would you pass this up?
You hum and you lean into him, your eyes hooded. “Take me home, Lockley.”
summary || in which eddie spends a night with a woman of the night - who's also his ex best friend
a/n || it is so embarrassing that a white man has a chokehold on me like this. you're a special breed, joe quinn, you are. god put some garam masala in you for sure. also this is kinda dogshit hahaha. more eddie tho, so strap in
➵ ! allusions to smut ! , making in 18+ content. please do NOT interact if you are under 18
➵ not yet proofread ➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!
warnings || fluff/smutty for like a minute/angst
➵ like super non-descriptive smut for a minute (though it is still 18+ babe, don't try anything, minors)➵ !disclaimer! reader's a sex worker, so some things about that are mentioned. this is not a glamorous take on the life style, and it also bounded by the norms of the 80s. the opinions of the characters on sex work are not my own: it is a totally normal, real job that should be respected. understand that this is through a certain lens for the point of storytelling
her hands absentmindedly fiddled with the hem of the skirt she was wearing. it wasn’t exactly like the pristine, white and green clothes that the cheerleaders wore, though it was just as short. no, it was a dark navy, and it didn’t exactly have attached athletic shorts.
similarly, the tank-top she was wearing wasn’t exactly made for the september weather, with the occasional smattering of goosebumps appearing on her arms, even in the warmer classroom. she didn’t make any attempt to cover herself though; instead, she was reminded to stick her chest out just a little bit further and to fix her posture.
she could feel several pairs of eyes looking at her, and she placed a look of innocent focus on her face, staring up at the teacher, though she could not care less about what he was saying. finally, she turned her head just a slightest bit to see the guy next to her staring at her tits almost unashamedly, and, when he caught her eye, she tried to return his bright smile. gross.
but she supposed this was all part of it - the job. advertise the goods, reel in customers, get ‘em to really stick. it worked well enough, and she usually had the ability to rake in a solid income of 30 to 50 dollars on most days. it was enough to pay the bills anyways.
she heard the bell ring, and she was out of her seat smoothly. knowing the guy behind her had been ogling all lesson, she bent over slightly as she gathered the rest of her things, walking out of the room with a forced but subtle sway to her hips. just routine, really.
she reaches her locker with just a few glances thrown in her direction, and she almost immediately notices the upside-down envelope at the bottom of her locker. she doesn’t look at it right away, though, knowing its contents already, as she instead focuses on putting her notebook away.
finally, she flips the paper over, being careful to make sure it can’t be seen by any particularly curious passer-bys. the front’s also blank, so she slips her fingers into the unsealed opening, fumbling until she feels three separate pieces of paper. pulling them out, she realizes she’s holding two 5 dollar bills, and a note.
down payment. boiler room alleyway. - c.r.
it was from a regular, and she pressed her newly acquired 10 bucks into the bottom of her hand bag. the small mirror she had hung on the door of her locker was what she then used to fix her appearance, tousling her hair so that it fell better over her face, reapplying a thick layer of mascara to her eyes, and applying a darker shade of red to her lips. the product transferred easily - which was actually preferable for her, as guys adored seeing those red stains.
she had a slight headache as she walks towards the back alley between the school building and the boiler room. no one ever came in there, and it had become the base of most of her operations.
chase was waiting for her there, with a smile that screamed that he was just a little too excited. she placed her handbag down as she neared him, and let out a small ‘oomph!’ as he pulled her into a hug. he was always one of the more touchy ones, but she could hear the crinkle of bills in his pocket, so she breathed a sigh of relief as she let his hands travel from their conservative hold of her waist and down to cup her ass. she lets out a fake, playful gasp, as if he didn’t do this every time.
he ate it up, though.
he’d handed her the money as soon as he’d let her go, tapping his foot rather impatiently as she placed the remaining 30 dollars into her bag.
he’s always a little rough with her after that, not even pulling his trousers down past his ass and not doing much more than letting her unbutton the top two of her blouse, pulling her tits so that they rested over the constricting fabric. her knees hit the gravelly pavement with some force, knowing her tights would, at best, be quite dusty when she stood back up.
she knew his type, only paying for a blowjob and rushing his way through it, leaving her chin glossy and her jaw sore, with a lopsided, though satisfied, grin on his face. he worried almost as much about someone seeing them and his reputation being ruined as he did about actually getting his rocks off.
she had a packet of tissues in her bag that she reached for as he zipped himself back up, taking another moment to collect himself.
“goddamn, that was money well spent.” she smiled, but it didn’t really feel like a compliment.
“duly noted, chase. you know i have other options, right?” she did, with different rates for different acts. he never seemed to differ from this one, though.
“next thursday?” he ignored her prompt, and she pursed her lips at his response.
“if you bring the cash.”
when she was 5 years old, she wanted to be a fairy princess. she would prance around, swaddled in her blankets to mimic a ballgown, with a spoon in her hand to mimic a wand, and with a thick hoop-shaped toy from when she was a little younger balanced precariously on her head, to mimic a crown. her father would play with her as she pretended to enchant him, as her mother would add decorations to her adorable ensemble.
when she was 12, she wanted to be an astronaut, with galaxy-themed pictures littered all over her room. she’d read every book the library had to offer on space, and had watched vhs after vhs about the moon landings. she had just the ittiest, bittiest little crush on neil armstrong, but she found him more to be cool that anything else. her mother would walk her to the library to rent out the books, and her dad would go to family video to find movies centered on sci-fi and space, and they’d all watch star-trek reruns on the weekend.
when she was 14, she wanted to be a teacher, as she’d begun to tutor some younger kids. her mother worried for her, but she worried more for herself. her father didn’t care where she’d been. he didn’t care about anything except his younger colleagues anymore.
when she was 16, she wanted to graduate. she wanted to get into college, maybe travel and visit california, before settling down somewhere that felt like home, a small town just like hawkins - as long as it wasn’t hawkins. her mother would work late nights and curse at her as she tried to clean up the deteriorating house. her father had stopped calling a year ago.
when she turned 18, she’d been kicked out of her house with just a suitcase and 100 bucks to her name.
it wasn’t too bad, though, enough for rent for a few months in a house on the outskirts of town as she tried to figure out what she could do to work. she’d debated finding a minimum wage job - maybe a clerk, or a fast-food employee, or baby-sitting. that had been until she read about something in a rather taboo magazine - sex work.
she was, frankly, disgusted by the notion, until she realized how much it paid. if you had an audience - that is - and, unfortunately, she did. she was subject to hoots and whistles anytime she’d walk past her male classmates, her assets drawing the attention of every shitty guy in a mile radius.
that’s where it had started - teasing guys until they’d be willing to pay to have sex with her. word traveled fast, and her small business had become successful over the past few months. her clients included regulars, guys who wanted to lose their virginity, guys with frigid girlfriends, guys with no game, and guys who had a lot of money to blow.
the women of hawkins high hated her. the men degraded her. she clutched the bills in her hand a little tighter, remembering what it was all for, as the cold air sliced into her arms once again. her eyes prickled as she thought of that sweet 5 year old she once was, sighing softly.
being a fairy princess is overrated anyways.
eddie could tell she was cold.
he could tell that no one else was noticing that - and why would they? they were admiring her beauty, as he had done so many times before. he supposed it was different, though, as he knew their appreciation was one only interested in the superficial: the swell of her tits and the curve of her ass. he liked to think his was just a little bit more intimate, as he thought about how nice the slightly crude flower nail art was on her nails, or how her pencil was definitely tapping along to the rhythm of crazy little thing called love.
how did he know that?
well, because it had somehow remained a song that she loved for the past 6 years. impressive, he knows, but he gets it. queen does have that effect on people. he still remembers handing her the cassette with that song as the first track, watching her face morph from slight unsure to excitement as the song continued playing. she’d given him a big hug after that, joyously telling him that she couldn’t wait to hear the rest of it.
sure, they hadn’t talked for nearly 3 years now, but that wasn’t really anyone’s fault. some people just drift apart, you know?
she and eddie had never exactly been attached at the hip, but they did talk a lot in middle school. he’d been two grades above her, and he’d always acted as more of a guide than anything when they’d first met. feeling decidedly lost in one of the school hallways, he had been the one to help her back to class. when feeling unsure what exactly to look for in the library, he’d given her a ton of suggestions. and when she had sat on the hill behind the recess playground, crying because of a bully, he had tentatively put an arm around his shoulder, trying to console her with soft words and light jokes.
they had become close friends - as close as you could be in middle school, when you didn’t share classes. she remembered being heartbroken when he’d gotten a buzzcut, already missing his long, wavy locks. he remembered her, very poorly trying to play guitar, and him helping her to learn her first chord just as she was about to give up.
eddie sometimes wondered who the girl in his history class was, considering how different she was from his middle-school friend. she’d stopped speaking to him when he was about 16, and she was 14, and he’d noticed her coming to school with sullen faces, and ever-present, faint black mascara streaks on her cheeks. she stopped speaking to - well - everyone by then, and, to the rest of hawkins high, she’d sort of just faded into the wall.
not for him, though. he’d always wonder if she was alright, but she never gave him the chance to ask.
then, as she finally stepped up to join him as a senior, the student body collectively found a renewed interest in her. at first, he attributed it to her sudden change in style and behavior, but, through word-of-mouth, he was quick to realize that that was only a small, small part of it.
he had been shocked by the career choice, as he never really imagined the girl he knew - the girl that so badly wanted to be an astronaut - to make it. he didn’t really care, though - figuring it was her choice, until he realized - nay, remembered - just how sad she seemed all the time.
he remembered the genuine smile she’d beamed when he’d given her a small saturn keychain to her on her 13th birthday. he wished he’d see it again.
care to meet an old friend? you’ll find me at the forest clearing behind the football field, 3:30.
the note’s eccentric, and the handwriting’s a little erratic. she could tell this wasn’t one of her regulars, as they always tended to be more direct with their messages, and almost always made sure to include a down payment. this note had neither, and it ended up infiltrating her thoughts constantly through the rest of the day.
finally, when the clock had struck 3:00, she found a little bit of a bounce in her step as she made her way to her locker. she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about the note screamed fun, exciting. she hadn’t had that in ages. and - to be quite frank - there was something childish about it all. she knew it was a little odd to think, considering what the she figured the note-writer would want from her, but she clung on to that innocence as she slung her bag over her shoulder.
without too much attention to her surroundings, she slowly - discreetly - made her way to the football field, around its fence, and to the small trail that led into the woods behind it. she listened to the soft crunch of leaves behind her feet, listening to the small melodies of birds in the distance.
finally, she finds the spot - a secluded, as described in the note, forest clearing with a bench at the center of it. she looks around and, seeing no one, places her bag down, sitting at the edge of the bench. she glances down at her nails, picking nervously at a hangnail. she cringes a little at the splotchy daisy design that she had attempted to make on them. when she’d finally finished it over the weekend, she’d been real proud of it, but as the days continued, she found herself hating it.
she’d spaced out, so she doesn’t have much time for a reaction between hearing footsteps behind her and whipping around. so, instead, her mystery guest places a light hand on her shoulder to guide her look at them.
she gasps in shock at the sudden touch, but she wished she’d saved it for when she’d actually seen them, as her jaw hung open at the face staring back at her.
his black, curly hair was the same as how it had been in middle school, and the smile lines around his smirk was something she still remembered. though, since then, he had grown quite a few inches, and he had just the slightest fuzz of facial hair on his obviously-not-shaved face.
“eddie?” it escapes her in a whisper, but it cuts like a foghorn through the silence.
she gulps, realizing that the job had finally caught up to her. as she looked into his big, doe eyes - the same eyes that she looked into whenever she needed guidance, help, or consolation - and she knew she couldn’t treat him like everyone else.
she couldn’t casually give him a blowjob, or have sex with him. it would hurt her heart too much.
“yeah, hi! how’re you doing?” oh, god, he was talking as if they were good friends, like they’d remained speaking for the past 3 years, like he wasn’t here simply to fulfill his needs. she felt her jaw clench just slightly, in the hopes of not letting a tear escape her.
“i’m fine. my rates are -” as she’s ready to list her regular prices, he stops her by a sudden gesture of reaching and digging into the front pocket of his jeans. he procures a very crumpled note that he’s then pressing into her hand. she looks down in shock, seeing a crinkly 50 dollar bill in her palm.
“uh, i hope that’s enough - i didn’t really know, uh-” she shakes her head, clearing her mind as she pulled her hair into a shallow bun as she reached to unclasp the buttons of her blouse.
“it’s enough, you’re fine.” she knows she’s being far too forward and - honestly - a little pushy, but she wants to just get it over with so that she doesn’t cry in front of him.
“wait - wait, stop.” he lightly grabs at her hands, that were making their way down to her skirt, and he’s got a look of shock on his face when he looks back up at her. his eyes are trained harshly on her hands, as if he’s trying very hard not to let his gaze wander to her chest, “you don’t have to do that.” her mouth falls open a bit in confusion.
“it’s - it’s what you paid for, munson.” he cringes at the use of his last name, the formality of her sentence making the air around them just a little bit more frigid.
“no, i don’t want to do that.” he finally lets go of her hands, gesturing that she can re-button her blouse, as he looks away, threading his fingers through his hair, “i’m paying you that money for your time.”
“my - my what?”
“your time. i just wanna spend some time with you.” the last part’s a little fumbled, and she knows why: this was far out of the realm of what she usually offered.
“spend some time with me? munson, i don’t know-”
“eddie, and you’re fine. i just need ya for a night.” she looked down at the bill in her hand, before shaking her head.
“i - uh, i can’t take this, please just-” she pressed it back into his hand but he didn’t grip it.
“how much will it be? because i really can’t afford over 70-”
“no, no - i can’t charge you for spending time with you! i’m not even giving you anything.”
“you don’t need to-”
“eddie-” he smiled at the switch of moniker, “you’re not paying for anything.” she tried to reason with him, not wanting to look at his face for fear of that soft, understanding expression being on it.
“i am.” she closed her eyes, sucking in a sharp breath.
“look, i’ll spend the evening with you. but you are not paying me.” she curled his fingers around the bill, moving back before he had a chance to give it back to her, “alright?” he looked at her with a small smile, before nodding.
“deal.”
he’d driven them out of the school lot after that, as she fiddled with her sleeves. they weren’t talking much - well, he was trying to start conversation: about his hobbies, about things to do together, about how she was doing. her answers were curt, as a bubble was growing in her throat, and she really didn’t want to cry in front of him.
but how could she stop it? she’d had the biggest crush on the senior since they’d met all those years ago, thinking that he was the kindest, funniest, most talented person in their school. he’d let her ramble and ramble about her various interests, he’d introduced her to good music, he’d entertained her as she, transfixedly, watched him play guitar. he’d been there when she’d been hurting - and even at the very beginning of her parent’s split, letting her stay at his place, or do things with him during those first few months of arguing.
but it was too much. when the arguments had happened once or twice a month, she wasn’t too guilty about sharing the burden with her close friend. but, when they started becoming a weekly (and then a daily) occurrence, she couldn’t continue exploiting his kindness. she couldn’t bear exploiting anyone, owing to her sudden seclusion.
the tape he’d given her - made by yours truly, as he put it - was what she’d listen to all the time, finding the music on the player give her a sense of soothing in her otherwise tumultuous life. it wasn’t as good as the sense of soothing he gave her but, once again, it felt like she was imposing on him.
and did it become so damn hard to see him in the school hallways, pretending she hadn’t seen him and, even if she had, that she didn’t care? it was the worst thing in the world, especially as she saw that the small greetings and waves he through her way fading until his only acknowledgement of her was the occasional glance in her direction. and she couldn’t even complain, as it was all her own fault.
“how’s your mom?” the question takes her out of her thoughts, as it rings out over the soft melody on the radio. when eddie had heard of her father’s initial actions, he’d tried to help her out, which included become acquainted enough with her mother in order to convince the older woman that he wanted to help her daughter. it had worked - which is why her mother had entertained the friendship for that long - and he was always asking to make sure both women were alright. of course, he didn’t know who her mother had become.
“i - uh, i don’t know.” her voice is quiet, and her words are mumbled. out of her peripheral, she can see a look of confusion wash over his face and, out of his peripheral, he can see that she’d become significantly more uncomfortable and upset, and he dropped the subject immediately. instead, he stopped his van in front of the middle of town, a little establishment she’d been previously familiar with in front of her.
“what movies you like? you still a fan of e.t.?” even after her astronaut phase, e.t. had been a comforting classic that he’d been kind enough to go watch with her in theaters. he doesn’t miss the fraction of a smile that graces her lips, nor does he miss the way her eyes light up. he’s quick to get out of his seat, walking over to her side and helping her out in his common, gentlemanly manner. he leads her into the building, ducking his head as he walks in.
immediately, he greets the two clerks, both of whom had been obviously goofing off just a few seconds earlier. there’s no one in there except the four of them, and he’s already striking up a conversation with them. for a moment, she zones out, looking around at the lined shelves of movie rentals.
“- and this is my friend-” he gestured to her, and then individually pointed out the two clerks, introducing them to her. they both smile widely at her, and she’s a little confused. she wasn’t used to positive reactions to her - and she knew that at least the blonde, robin, knew about her, as they shared a history class together.
nonetheless, the girl didn’t say anything, didn’t give any backhanded compliments, didn’t have any look of judgement that was present in her eyes.
“anything you guys’re looking for in particular?” eddie nods, placing his fists lightly on the counter as he tapped it along to the song playing over the speakers in the ceiling.
“yeah, can we rent e.t.? and, oh, do you guys have any suggestions for space or sci-fi movies?” as steve rung up his first request, robin began listing off movies like she was an encyclopedia. as she wrapped up, eddie looked back at her.
“whad’ya wanna watch? i’m personally leaning towards star wars, you watched it before?” she doesn’t say anything, shaking her head. the first movie had always been on her list, but she’d been just a little too young to watch it when it’d come out, “alright, we’ll take a new hope too.” robin nods happily, grabbing a copy.
soon, the two of them were back comfortably in the two front seats of his van, with her holding the two rentals and his hands on the wheel. at least she’s smiling now, even though she’s not saying much, and eddie feels like it’s been a success so far.
he takes her back to his place, knowing wayne won’t be coming back until the afternoon on the next day. he, once again, opens the door for her and helps her out of his car, and similarly helps her into his house.
not much has changed since the last time she was there, nearly 4 years ago. there’s still very basic - yet homey - decorations on the walls, and the kitchen and living room look the same. eddie’s room’s door is slightly ajar, and the multitude of rock band posters were still on his walls, though they were slightly more dusty now, and they were peeling at the corners.
he offered her a drink, which she declined, before lowering down to his haunches in front of the chunky t.v. box in front of the couch. she stands, rather awkwardly, at the front entrance, while he sets up the movie. finally, noticing her lack of movement, he’s quick to usher her in, offering her a drink on her way to the couch.
“no, i’m - uh, that’s alright.” shrugging, he nods, letting her find a semi-comfortable seat on the end of the couch and, realizing her hesitation, he sits down a small distance from her, propping his feet on the table in front of them and his elbow on the arm rest. he presses the on switch for the remote, and, in just a few moments, the opening scenes of e.t. start playing. he looks at her out of the corner of his eyes.
she’s got a bright smile on her face and, in that moment, she looked just like his old friend.
it hadn’t been too late when they’d finally finished the movie and, for the first half of it, they’d both been eerily quiet - her enjoying the movie and him being too worried about saying something to take her out of that joy. then, midway through, she’d let an off-handed comment slip about one of the events and, soon, they were maintaining a semi-frequent dialogue about their opinions on the actions, characters or special effects - the both of them occasionally gasping at or scolding character’s actions in unison. it made her chuckle, and that made him laugh along with her.
now, though, she felt her eyes prickle lightly from a new - yet lesser - wave of tears that overtook her as she remembered the ending they’d just watched. sure, she’d watched the movie tens of times before, but that didn’t stop her from choking up as the extraterrestrial said goodbye.
a thin white object appeared in front of her and, through he blurry eyes, she couldn’t exactly tell what it was. she took it off eddie - who was trying to hand it to her - anyways, and realized that it was a tissue.
“oh my god,” she grins, but the act of her closing her eyes makes her tear slip, and she can hear eddie chuckle slightly as she used the tissue to dab at the corners of her eyes.
“hey, at least you’re better than last time.” by last time, he was referring to when she’d bawled her eyes out in the middle of the theater, clutching his shoulder tightly to find some grounding in her misery. she didn’t know why she was so keen to watch movies that made her cry, but - then again - a lot of movies made her cry.
eddie didn’t think about it like that - he also knew that many movies made her laugh, made her excited, content, scared, or anxious. movies made her feel, and he was happy that he was bearing witness to that once more, as it reminded him of her all that time ago.
she went to reach for the next movie - as a silence had grown between them, and eddie also got up, offering her something to eat. she snorted at that, and he whipped his head around, confused by her reaction.
“i know we haven’t talked much, but i can guarantee you’re still a shit cook.” he scoffed in a playful indignance, waving his hand at her.
“hey, hey, hey! i make a mean tinned macaroni, i’ll have you know.”
“that’s not cooking! that’s just as bad as you saying you can fry an egg and call it a meal.” it’d been something he said when she’d come to him, looking for support from her parents, and he had decided to make her some comfort food. it seemed like a fantastic idea until, of course, he realized he couldn’t cook. so, instead, he’d fried her an egg, plated it, and had sprinkled some pepper on and hoped for the best.
she had loved it. of course, she teased him to hell and back for the lack of a meal in his meal, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t appreciated the effort.
she’s rolling her eyes at the memory as she’s coming down from her giggle, and she looks to see eddie smiling fondly at her. she couldn’t hold his gaze - knowing exactly why he had a look of familiarity in his eyes, and she didn’t want to address it. luckily - or maybe unluckily for her, he did.
“we don’t talk much anymore, huh?” he said it like it was a recent revelation. it was not, “why don’t we?” she didn’t look at him, finding herself more invested in the threads of her skirt.
“i - um, i don’t know why, ed.” that was a nickname she hadn’t used in a while, and it made him want to turn back time - to get back those years that he’d spent without her. after a moment, he moved closer to her: close enough to take her hand in his; close enough to pull her chin to look at him. her eyes were so pretty - so bright, so hopeful and so playful - but the deep sadness in them caused an overcast on his heart.
“i - i liked talking to you.” he sighed, unsure of a poetic way to say it, “i wish i could just do it more.” sure - it was direct, but it got his point across. she gulped, suddenly breaking away from him.
“no - no you don’t.” he looked at her retraction in shock.
“why not?” she looked ready to pack up and leave, but he found himself unable to understand if he’d done anything to provoke it.
“i - i’m not the kind of person you wanna be friends with. i’m - i’m too fucked up.” the last sentence is a whisper and, for a moment he can’t process it.
“you - what’re you talking about?” she crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly wildly self-conscious of the attire she’d chosen for her job.
“i’m - god, eddie - i can’t do this. i need to go home, i’m sorry.” she’d started taking her things, and he restrains himself from trying to stop her. before she reached the door, though, he spoke again.
“will you at least tell me why?” she looked at him with a pained gaze. she looked at the mess of hair in his head that she wanted to pet, she looked at the big doe eyes she could sink into, she looked at the full lips that she wanted to kiss so badly.
“i - i can’t be your friend.” her voice cracked, and she looked away, the bubble from earlier bursting and a tear falling down her cheek. he sprang up, careful not to come to close to her, but heartbroken to see her cry.
“oh, god - please don’t cry. look, i don’t - fuck, how do i say this - i don’t want to be your friend.” it sounded harsh, and he realizes it through her look of incredulity, “i - i mean, i don’t want to be just friends.” she blinks up at him, the saline in her eyes being slowly replaced by confusion.
“ed? i don’t-”
“fuck, look. just, you’re so pretty, and you’re funny, and hard-working - you have great taste in music and movies and you can be a little stubborn sometimes but - but goddamn. i like you.” the confession leaves her mouth ajar, as his face drops, hair covering his concerned eyes as he shook his head at his own stupidity, “fuck, i shouldn’t have said that, i’m sorry, i -”
“’re you serious, ed?” she looks at him with earnest - and he interprets - hope.
“as a heart attack.” it’s a whisper, as he’s anticipating her response.
“i - i don’t think you’re being serious.” she can’t believe him.
“why not?”
“because i don’t deserve that, i don’t deserve you.” it’s rushed, like it’s a sudden revelation, but the incredulity of the statement makes eddie tentatively approach her. He held out a hand slowly, and he threads his fingers through hers, until he finds a comfortable hold on her palm. he brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, before smiling a wide, genuine smile at her.
“can i kiss you?” she looked at his eyes, and at his lips, and she nods - and he leans down to find her lips with his. hers are a little chapped, a byproduct of the cold weather, and she’s got a distinct cherry lip gloss on, the red on it smearing on his own lips and skin. she breaks away from his face, but not his body, her other hand clutching tightly at his forearm, as if it would be detrimental for her to let go.
“you can’t kiss me like that.” it’s almost playful, her sentence, but there’s a serious undertone to it. he looks at her in worry, scared he’d taken it too far, before she clarifies, “i’m the whore of hawkins high, nobody should kiss me like that.” he felt a deep sadness at her diminishing words.
“you - god, you are not a whore.” she laughs at the attempt to cheer her up, but he doesn’t let that falter him, “do you want to keep doing this?” he gestures to her outfit. she thinks about it for a moment.
“no. but, ed - i can’t pay the bills-”
“we’ll figure it out.”
“ed, you can’t just say-”
“i’m being serious. we’ll work something out. we’ll find jobs - i’ll find a job, and then we’ll get out of this hellhole. you and me.”
“just like old times?”
“just like ‘em.” she goes silent for a moment, pondering the idea. finally, she nods lightly, and he sighs in content.
“can you kiss me like that again?” she whispers it, and he obliges, kissing her with the fervor of passion.
it made her feel beautiful, feel elated, feel loved. it made her feel like she was wandering the moon and the stars.
could you do an imagine where peter finds out the reader has an only fans and gets all red and the reader shows him all her content and it ends in smut 😁
i’m obsessed with this only fans trope may i just say. peter is aged up in this. anyways i hope you like this x sorry for any mistakes or bad writing (tbh i didn’t had the motivation to edit) ://
fbi agent
word count: 1,570
warnings: smut (eighteen+), mention of sex work, biting/marking, oral (sixty-nine). probably more tbh??
“Dude, look at this. Supposedly she is from our school.” Flash exclaimed, shoving his phone in Peter’s face. He took a quick glance, expecting someone’s instagram post. His eyes nearly dropped out of their sockets when he saw what illuminated the screen.
“Dude. What the fuck!” Peter groaned, shoving Flash’s hand away. “Why are you showing me that?” The question made Flash laugh. “Because, she’s hot.”
I mean Peter couldn’t argue with that statement. It was an enticing photo. Her skin looked soft. Her curves were stunning. The photo was of her ass, the shape mouth watering. The image burned into his mind, unable to think of anything else. Clouded by his arousal for the mystery girl. As he reminisced every detail, something stuck out. A beauty mark, near the end of her spine. It felt familiar.
“Pete c’mon. We will miss the train if we don’t leave now.” You panicked leaning against the locker, removing him from his thoughts. “Yes. I’m coming, I’m coming.” He chirped, shoving books into his bad before flinging it over his shoulder, trotting behind you towards the exit.
It was a short journey back to your place, Peter and you had a study date. “Ugh.” You sighed, throwing your bag on the ground before collapsing on the bed.
Peter laughed, closing the door before staring at your tired figure that sunk into the mattress. His eyes snapped open and jaw dropped when he saw your shirt had lifted, exposing your lower back. More specifically, that infamous beauty spot. The same one Falsh had shown him earlier. His eyes trailed to your ass, trying to compute if there could be any truth behind it. Could you have an OnlyFans?
“Peter. Why are you staring at my ass. You perv!” You gasped playfully, causing him to turn a deep red. “I- I um, I- sorry.” He stuttered completely frustrated.
Piecing everything together, the picture, you, his blood started pumping around his body heading towards his growing member. He was in the room with the mysterious girl- the very hot mysterious girl. Peter had liked you for a long time. You were sweet, funny, and caring. He couldn’t hide his attraction any longer knowing what you looked like under your clothes.
Standing up, you walked over to the distraught looking brunette boy. “Pete is everything okay? I was joking. I didn’t mean to upset you.” You assured, placing a gentle hand on his forearm.
Peter gulped at your touch, his body becoming stiff. He knew he had to confront you. “Um, this is going to sound weird.” He mumbled, palms becoming sweaty. “Do you have an OnlyFans?”
The question had surprised you, never thinking anyone would find out. Dropping your head, you clamped your hand together, finger fiddling with one another. Peter knew. You felt your heart drop when you realised any chance you had with the boy diminished. All those years of mutual pinning had gone astray. “Yeah.” You chocked, not daring to look him in the eyes. “How did you, um, find out.”
“Flash. He showed me a picture and I recognised your beauty spot.” He admitted.
“Make a good FBI agent.” You grumbled, trying to lighten up the mood.
“I liked it y’know.”
That statement caused you to snap your head up, sending Peter a confused look, asking for further clarification. “I like the picture. You looked really pretty.” He confessed, his cheeks burning as the words slipped from his lips.
Stunned you dropped your hand, processing what the innocent brunette boy said. Gazes locked searching each others eyes trying to find an answer. Is this what you both wanted? Was this right? Fuck it.
Lips clashed, tongues merging trying to explore one another's mouths. Moaning at the taste. His arms wrapped around you, fingering grazing your lower back. Lips moved in sync, body aching for more. “Jump.” Peter mumbled against you. Following orders, his arms hooked under your thighs carrying you to the bed.
Laying you down gently on the mattress his lips trailed down your neck, hands eagerly pushing up your shirt, needing to see your skin. Arching your back, allowing him to take off the piece of material. Lips attached to the mounds on your chest. Your fingers latched to his curly locks, tugging at his scalp encouraging to continue.
His mouth ventured further south, kissing down your abdomen. A trail of open mouth kisses and small hickeys left behind. “Is this okay?” He queried hoovering his face over your clothed heat. Using the grip around his locks, you guided him to your lips. The kiss was passionate. Both of you wanting nothing more than to feel one another.
Your confidence rose, pushing him onto his back you jumped off the bed. A smirk placed on your face. Peter propped up on his elbows, eyebrows furrowed. Letting your hands traced your curves, your hands pulled at your leggings. Peters jaw dropped, enjoying the show. In a teasing manner, you pulled the material down your legs exposing your underwear. Peter left out a wolf whistle causing you to giggle at his nerdiness.
Turning around, his eyes burned into your ass. The view even better in person. He watched as your nimble fingers played with the lace thong, bending over to pull it down your legs. Peter growled, prowling towards you. His hands dug into your hips causing you to shriek at the sudden contact. “You are so sexy.” He affirmed hands kneading at the flesh.
“No Peter, you think my ass is sexy.” You sassed. His teeth scrapped the skin as he lightly bit the tissue. You gasped at the action. “Pete.” You exclaimed. He smirked, flipping you around, eyes looking up at you. Innocent but full of lust.
He picked you up like a doll, placing you on the bed, Peter still on his knees. He opened your thighs, kissing the inner side of your knees. “No. I think you are sexy. Your ass is just a bonus.” He assured.
Thighs quaked watching his lips travel higher and higher, grazing over your thumping core. Placing a soft kiss on your clit, your breath hitched. “Sit on my face? Please.”
You nearly chocked on your breath, his words vulgar but oh so enticing. “You sure?”
Peter hopped onto the bed, removing his shirt in the process. Lips looked inviting, waiting your arrival. Climbing to the top of the bed, you hiked a leg over his face positioning yourself so you faced his crotch.
Peter too eager, pulled your core to his lips. Not wasting a second. He devoured you, falling immediately in love with your taste. Moaning as his tongue explored your wet folds. His tongue dipped into your entrance, stretching your walls delightfully. His hands wrapped around your thighs, edging you closer. Your moans filled the room, letting him know he was doing a good job.
Leaning forward, your hands began to palm him through his trousers, an evident budge outlining the fabric. You quickly undid his fly, his hips thrusted up helping you draw down the pants along with his boxers. His cock was throbbed, veins prominent with his glistening tip. You brought your lips to his cock, tongue licking the slit, tasting the salty precum.
He groaned, shoving his tongue in deeper. You slacked your jaw, accommodating his size. His cock slid in, your cheeks hollowed. He went further and further until he was fully emerged. You struggled to keep the position, his grunts motivated you. He involuntarily thrusted upwards, hitting the back of your throat. Gagging, you pulled away getting a break. “Shit sorry, I didn’t mean to do- fuck shit.” Lips molded around him once again, effectively shutting him up.
His tongue dove back in, lapping up your dripping core. His hands travelled to your ass, grabbing the curves causing you to grind against his face. His chin stimulating your clit. You were on the edge. Your head relentless bobbed up and down, taking him deeper as you wanted him to cum with you.
You felt his heavy shaft twitch against your tongue, his own release nearing. Letting a hand cup his balls, he began to work harder against your seeping heat. His thick muscle constantly flicking against your g-spot. Your walls clenched around him as you reached your peak.
Thighs shook as the knot in your stomach erupted, your juices creaming his tongue. The sweet taste pushed him to his climax. His seed shooting down your throat, coaxing your abused walls. You swallowed every last drop, moaning at the taste as you pulled away.
His lips finally detached as he cleaned up the wetness. You collapsed, breath heavy and grin plastered across your face. He quickly pulled you close, wrapping his large arms around you.
“You know, I was nervous you wouldn’t like me. Because you knew I had an OnlyFans.” You whispered, body still on cloud nine.
He kissed your temple. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of baby. As long as we make this official right now, I’ll be happy. I want you to be mine.” He confessed, playing with a few loose strands.
“I want to be yours too Parker.” You smiled, placing a peck on his wet lips.
“So, uh maybe I could inspect my girlfriends work now? Y’know?”
“Pete! You just had a front row view? Is that not enough?”
His lips attached to your neck, sucking at the skin, “I could never get enough of you.”
