YALL.
SO, HERES A LITTLE "i'm sorry chapter" BECAUSE I HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO IK.
so this book is filled with 50+ DRAFTS THAT ID SLOWLY AND OCCASIONALLY WORK ON EVERY DAY FOR THE PAST YEAR THAT IVE BEEN GONE. so i was still trying to push content out of my ass.
my writing style has changed a LOT! btw. id love to say that it's definitely better and more detailed, and i'd also love to say that this is the start of my grand return to the IT fandom bc ik you mfs missed me.
basically, id only write smut when i had an idea or scenario that i thought would be hot, but then eventually it wouldn't come out the way i wanted it to, or i just didn't like it, so here i am now, writing 2,300 words in a few hours when i could barely write 500 for a year after testing positive for covid yesterday and thinking "maybe i should just write, and go from there?" AND IT WORKED!
anyways, i'm done rambling, please enjoy!!
BOTTOM! RICHIE, sub! richie, top! eddie, dom! eddie, richie has an embarrassment kink, richie's really touch sensitive, they're in college, help
Richie woke up suddenly, confused and dazed with only two things on his mind.
what the hell?
and
holy shit.
As a junior in college, you'd expect Richie to be unfazed by wet dreams, especially someone as inappropriate as himself, and he typically wasn't. That is, until Eddie moved into his apartment a week ago, and now he just can't get Eddie out of his mind at all. Eddie walking around his apartment in nothing but a shirt and some boxers, Eddie pressing his dick against Richie's ass trying to grab a cup while Richie washed the dishes, Eddie sleeping on his sofa bed, Eddie this, Eddie that. Eddie never left his mind.
Even in his dreams, Eddie was there.
When he gained full consciousness, he realized his boxers and sheets were sticky, and there was drool everywhere, and—
"Jesus Christ, Tozier, can you get any fucking louder?!" Eddie pounded on his door.
Richie, absolutely flushed, got up to change his boxers and get at least half dressed to go wash his sheets. He put on his ankle-high socks, the only clean pair he had, and a shirt from his closet, angrily shoving his bedding and pillowcase into a laundry basket. He opened his door, looking extremely pissed off and tired, and walked into his tiny laundry room. He set up the washing machine, still half hard, pressed the start button, walked into his kitchen to get a drink and waited for the washing machine to get done.
Eddie watched him the whole time, and looked like he was about to say something when Richie sat next to him, but was immediately cut short when Richie, who didn't even look in his direction, groaned.
"Don't even open your fucking mouth 'Mr. Psychology Major'. Don't even look at me."
"I sense there's some.. anger.. here."
"GAH! I hate your stupid voice just shut your mouth and watch your Dr. Phil, you prick."
"Rich—"
"Don't touch me!"
"I'm not trying to—"
"No! I know that voice and I know it means you're about to put your hand on my shoulder or reach out and touch me somehow. That doesn't always work!"
Eddie laughed, "Okay! Okay! I won't touch you. What's upsetting you?"
"YOU ARE!" Richie gestured wildly, "You just being in my apartment is pissing me off to an annoying degree."
