#To bad the band split up eventually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joequiinn · 8 months ago

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You'll Just Have to Taste Me | toxic exes e.m. x reader

Summary | You knew you’d risk running into Eddie when you walked into one of his favorite music venues, but maybe that’s exactly what you were counting on.

Warnings & Notes | fem!reader, smut, established past relationship, toxic!reader, asshole!Eddie, shitty behavior all around, semipublic sex, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, ass play, name calling/mild degradation

Author's Note | I - a self-identified metal head - can’t stop listening to Sabrina Carpenter, and this is what it’s left me with. Eddie and reader are both assholes here, so if you aren't game for shitty, petty bad behavior, then this may not be the fic for you~

WC | 7.4k

!!! MINORS DNI !!!

You knew better than to pay visits to Eddie’s usual haunts. These dive bars and show venues crammed with sweaty drunks and kids carrying fake IDs were never your scene, but back when things were different, you were always happy to oblige him.

Since your break up, you’d been so good at avoiding any and all places you’d ever visited with Eddie in the past - the record store he dragged you into to buy the latest Megadeth or Iron Maiden cassette, the shitty fast food restaurant that supposedly had the “best chili in town,” the dollar theater that was always playing B-movies you’d never even heard of. You always felt that compulsion to step foot in these businesses on the chance of running into Eddie, but you had, thus far, managed to keep yourself in line.

But when your friend, Lara, mentioned that she’d be playing a show at the Viper Room this weekend, well… you simply couldn’t turn down her invitation. You had spent dozens upon dozens of nights in this little venue, either by Eddie’s side bobbing along to the loud music or watching him up on the stage, playing his guitar so damn aggressively that sometimes his fingers would bleed. You’d grown familiar with the Viper Room, with the metal music that made its walls shake and the bar top that was sticky from years upon years of spilled drinks; and you hadn’t been back since you and Eddie broke up.

So, you obliged Lara and her band, hoping that none of them would suspect that you agreed to come along because you wanted to run into Eddie. You’d had nearly everyone around you convinced that you were over the split, that you barely thought about your ex most days - but you knew the truth, and that was far from it.

You craved him desperately despite all the bullshit you put one another through, you missed him despite how ugly things ended between you two. And yet you loathed him in the same breath, hoping he was just as tormented as you following your break up;and if you took it upon yourself to make sure Eddie was dealt at least a small hand of torment, well…

So, here you were, prowling the Viper Room as you waited for Lara’s band to go on, gaze patrolling the venue for any sign of Eddie fucking Munson; it was practically unheard of for him not to pop in to see who was playing, so if he weren’t here you’d be royally pissed off. Your heart drummed nervously inside your chest, an uneasy rhythm that had you briefly second guessing this idea, wondering if you should just play it cool and not instigate something. After all, you’d always been prone to crazy shit that landed you in trouble, prone to aggressions and dramatics all simply because you could. Hell, Eddie could’ve used that as an excuse in your break up, but he was just as bad as you, confrontational and jealous and mean; needless to say, you were both a little fucked up.

And, eventually, you did spot Eddie halfway through the band’s first song, chatting up the security guy with a cigarette hanging from his lips, a beer held tight in one hand while his arm was hanging around some other chick. A nasty, envious wave of anger crashed over you at the sight of her, your eyes dark and crazy and dangerous.

And the more you looked at her, the more pissed off you got, the more red you saw washing over your vision - why the fuck did she look so much like you? From her hair to her build to her goddamn wardrobe, you felt like you were staring into some trick mirror warping your image - there was no way that this was some coincidence, Eddie wasn't that stupid.

You looked back and forth between her and Eddie, wondering if he brought this chick along on the off-chance that you’d be here to see them together. That was some shit you wouldn’t put past him, Eddie was no more above pettiness than you were. But did that mean he was hoping you’d be here, too? Your blood boiled even hotter at the thought; at least you didn’t bring some bargain bin version of Eddie along in the hopes that it would piss him off, you were just hoping to get him riled up a little.

Feeling just how rapidly your rage was escalating, you turned your back quickly and marched towards the bar in some measly attempt to compose yourself; you didn’t want to go flying off the handle, after all. The bartender that you’d grown familiar with over the years offered you a shot as if he knew exactly what was going on, and although you didn’t want anyone’s goddamn pity, you needed at least something to help you cool off.

You kept your eyes on Eddie and this chick, your stare following them as they mingled and danced and smoked. Whoever she was, it was obvious she was falling for Eddie’s charm just as quickly as you and everyone else did; Eddie, on the other hand, seemed only mildly interested, putting forth little effort to make her feel wanted. You smiled cruelly at that, though it ticked you off again because why would he bring her along otherwise?

At some point, the woman stole away to approach the bar, and like some animal just waiting to strike, you slunk over, cramming your way in beside her as she asked the bartender for a drink. She paid you no mind, clearly trying to ignore all the patrons in this place that must have been unfamiliar to her; you eyed her thoughtfully, not really sure what you planned on doing now but letting your mouth run anyway.

“First time here?” You asked in a tone that would’ve been suspiciously innocent to anyone that knew you. She looked at you with detached eyes, nodding before trying to turn her attention away, a silent indication that she wasn’t interested in conversation. You, however, weren’t done, “You here with Munson?”

Now, she looked at you more cautiously, actually taking the opportunity to look you in the eye, brow furrowed curiously, “Eddie really does know everyone, huh?”

You smirked snidely, leaning against the counter as you looked about the venue for the man in question, “Oh, everyone. I’d bet he’s been so preoccupied with everyone else that he’s barely paid any mind to you.”

You stared at her fiendishly, taking far too much pleasure in the way her expression slowly fell, the way her gaze grew concerned and wary. Just to make things worse, you continued, “Get used to being ignored, Eddie can’t help but entertain the masses while forgetting about the people standing right there.”

The woman looked at you dreadfully for a few long moments before her expression slowly morphed, twisting into a scowl as if something was dawning on her. And you simply looked back with a smug raise of your brow, taking far too much joy from antagonizing this stranger.

“My god, you’re Eddie’s ex, aren’t you?” Her tone was biting as she asked it; you smiled back brazenly, to which she rolled her eyes, “Jesus, you’re as bad as he said.”

“I like to think I’m worse.” You answered with glee as if to mock her, leaning in just a little, “But still not as bad as him.”

The woman pushed off of the bar, no longer concerned with getting a new drink, but she paused before stomping away, staring harshly at you. She looked you up and down crudely, and you could see the exact moment she realized the thing you had noticed earlier - the two of you looked damn near related. She scoffed at the realization, as if disgusted by both you and Eddie.

Cursing under her breath, she stormed off, your gaze following after her; you realized then that Eddie had seen the interaction and was already approaching you two, but before he could get a word out, the woman shoulder-checked past him.

Eddie’s glare was vicious as he met your eyes, and he looked frustrated enough that even you wanted to shrink just a little. His march towards you was hostile, eyes blazing and jaw clenched tight; shoving down your distress, you stood up tall and resilient, hoping your express was one of perfect, condescending apathy.

“She seemed really great, Eddie, shame it’s not going to work out.”

Eddie was upon you, practically trapping you between him and the bar as he glared daggers; you nearly gasped at the closeness and malice, at the familiar sensation of something ugly breaking out between you two.

“What the fuck did you do?” He growled.

You gave an innocent shrug, frowning falsely, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Eddie’s jaw flexed. His hand shot out and grabbed your elbow so aggressively that it made you choke on a yelp as he abruptly began to drag you towards the bathroom, shoving the door open without a care for whether or not someone may be in there. He pulled you into the cramped room, slamming and locking the door behind him before spinning his mean glare back around on you. You stared back just as harshly, never the type to back down when his temper was escalating; in fact, it took everything in you not to grin smugly, getting exactly the rise out of him that you were hoping for.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” His tone was biting as he took a threatening step into your space, trapping you between himself and the grimy tile wall at your back, “You show up here on the one night that I bring a date and pull some kind of stunt just to fuck with me. That’s laughable, even for you.”

Although your eyes were wild with the impulse to argue, you held in as much anger as you could, your attitude combative and condescending, “Me? You’re just as bad - coming to my friend’s gig, bringing a girl along with you that’s clearly some cheap knockoff of me. I’d bet you were fucking hoping I’d be here, just so you could rub it in that you’d ‘moved on.’”

Eddie’s laugh was blatantly unamused, sarcastic and nasty as he leaned in even closer, “You think I’d pull that? As if I’d ever want to see you again.”

You raised your brows and frowned in a false show of sympathy, “Oh, you poor thing who are you trying to convince - me or yourself?”

Eddie was so damn close that you could practically taste the booze on his breath, his body radiating so much heat that it dared to engulf you. His eyes were nearly pitch black as they burned into yours, “You’re impossible, you know that? You always were.”

“Careful, babe, I might take that as a compliment.” You grinned wickedly from ear-to-ear, pushing closer while jabbing a finger into his chest, “You’re just as bad as me, so stop pretending you’re some innocent victim to my shit.”Eddie smirked back just as cruelly, snapping his hand around yours in a vice grip, squeezing hard enough that it nearly hurt, “And don’t act like you were being harmless when we both know you’re too smart not to have an ulterior motive. So, are you here because Lara asked you to come or are you here for something else?”

Each word grew a little lower until it nearly sounded as if Eddie was whispering a threat; he inched closer, his face dangerously close to yours. Taking a deep breath to maintain your composure, you leveled him with a challenging glare, as if simply doing that could prove him wrong. You tipped your chin up defiantly, browning arching with all the attitude you could muster.

“I’ll only tell if you do.” Your tone was sickly sweet, lips but a short breath away from Eddie’s as you looked between his dark eyes.

“God, you’re a pain in my ass.” Eddie grumbled lowly, eyes flicking down to your cruel yet enticing red lips, fingers tightening around your hand that he still held trapped between you two.

Your expression was wicked in response, voice a taunting whisper, “But you miss me, don’t you?”

Eddie clenched his jaw tight, gaze flaring a little harsher as he stared as if his eyes could hurt you. A self-satisfied smile crawled across your lips, expression goading as you looked back, just waiting for the answer that you hoped would come. Eddie took a deep breath of frustration.

“You’re goddamn right.” He hissed as if the words burned his tongue, his face alight with the combined frustration and desire that you’d become familiar with after all your time together.

As your pleased grin grew larger, Eddie crashed his lips to yours with ferocity, his movements so fast that your head bounced back into the wall You moaned into the hateful kiss, arms flying up to grab at his vest, nails scratching his neck and chest in the process. Eddie crushed you back against the tile, hands grabbing and squeezing your body as if to both hurt you and memorize you all over again.

His mouth tasted like the familiar sting of whiskey, skin smelling of sweat and cologne in a combination that you’d missed desperately. You kissed him as if your life depended on it, sloppy and wet and aggressive, as Eddie’s hands snaked around your body to grab at your ass. He squeezed hard enough to make you hiss, a primal groan rumbling in his chest at the feel of you.

You reached up to grab fistfuls of his hair, yanking him back roughly just so you could hear that satisfying hiss of pain pass between his lips; you smiled sinfully as Eddie glared down his nose at you. Tauntingly, you tugged at his curls again, licking your lower lip as if the sight of his frustration whet your appetite like nothing else.

“This is the last date you ever go on with that girl?” You asked snidely, delighting in the way Eddie huffed with a glare.

“Last. One.” He answered with gritted teeth.

Your smile grew even crueler and wider, “You’ve got the real thing right here, you don’t need some other chick.”

You began to draw Eddie's lips back down to yours, but he abruptly pressed his large hand to your neck, fingers curling slightly without closing in. Surprise flashed across your expression before it was quickly replaced by excitement, Eddie’s words hot against your lips, “And if you’re going to start bossing me around again, you’re going to behave for me, got it?”

You reached your lips up to brush against his, “The best I can.”

Eddie’s fingers tightened, creating pressure on either side of your neck, “That was a yes or no question.”

A jolt ran down your spine, heat pooling in your center as your body clenched tight around nothing. Knowing exactly what he was doing to you, Eddie pressed his hot, tense body against yours insistently.

You practically gasped with anticipation, “Yes.”

A devious smirk crossed Eddie’s lips, eyes hooded and fiendish, “Good girl.”

An eager mewl sounded in your throat as Eddie’s hand tightened, lips meeting yours once more in a kiss so heated that it made your eyes cross. His other hand cupped your ass again, grip severe as his tongue forced its way past your lips, ensnaring yours dominantly.

Eddie rutted his hips clumsily against yours, his growing erection already creating a strained tent in his jeans; you moaned needily as you felt him growing harder against you. The rolling of his hips was rapacious, slow and deep as if he were already buried inside you; it made you desperate for some friction, tugging at Eddie’s hair again as you attempted to roll your hips with his.

Abruptly, Eddie stole his lips away, pressing his forehead against yours and using the weight of his body to keep your hips from moving again. A wicked smile spread across his lips as you moaned in frustration; chuckily airily, he rutted his hips one more time at a tantalizing pace, grip still firm and commanding on your neck.

“God, you’re so fucking easy,” his words were biting, and yet his tone was enthralled, “I’ve barely touched you and already you’re acting greedy.”

Using his hand to guide you, Eddie spun you around in the cramped space, directing you to the filthy sink, its faucet leaking. You braced your hands on the lip of the counter, as Eddie pressed himself flush to your back, cocked rubbing gainst your ass and mouth teasing at your ear. With a whine, you pushed your ass back against him, causing both of Eddie’s hands to tighten their grip again.

“So greedy,” He moaned in your ear, using his hand on your neck to direct your attention to the mirror - it was shattered and layered with fading stickers, but in one sliver of glass, you found his predatory eyes burning into you, “You can be patient, can’t you?”

You nodded even as you pushed back against him, the need for his body becoming too much already. In retaliation, Eddie reared his hand back and struck your ass with a practiced hit, eyes glinting as you yelped with surprise and delight.

“Patience.” He emphasized darkly, pressing his face into your hair and inhaling deeply as if he was starved and your scent could satiate him. As you shivered eagerly, Eddie’s hands dragged down your body, creating a hot trail along your back, your waist, your ass. You arched back into his touch, desperate for more. He palmed your ass once more before grabbing the waist of your tight pants, giving them one harsh tug to expose your plump ass and the itty, bitty thong you wore. Eddie curled his finger in its lacy band, snapping it against your skin as his lips tickled your ear again, “These ones were always my favorite…”

Your voice was a gasp, “I know.”

His hands squeezed your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he inhaled your scent again, “Just for me, huh?”

You hummed a yes, gaze staring wantonly into the mirror’s broken reflection, watching Eddie’s dark expression in anticipation. He leaned back just enough to ogle your body, tongue poking out between his teeth as he delighted in the sight of you longing for him.

Eddie slid one of his feet between yours, nudging you to spread your legs for him, his hands hungrily groping at your ass. You obliged as much as the pants around your knees would allow, the cold of the bathroom causing goosebumps to break out across your exposed skin as you awaited Eddie’s next move.

His hand glided along your skin, dipping down between your legs and teasing you through the thin fabric of your thong. You moaned, trying to roll your hips closer, but Eddie was having none of it - his opposite hand slapped your ass again, jaw tight as he found your gaze in the reflection once more. The corner of his mouth curled up as he stared at you through his lashes.

Again, his fingers ghosted over your pussy, the near-contact causing you to practically growl with impatience. Eddie pressed his chest to your back again so he could speak lowly into your ear.

“You’re going to stand there like a good girl and wait - you only get what you want when I decide to give it to you.” The command made you moan, head rolling back as if Eddie were already touching you just the way you liked; you could only imagine the self-satisfied smirk that must have been on his lips, but you didn’t dare look at him in the mirror’s reflection.

Eddie snaked his arm around to your front as he pressed you flush against him, the tip of his cock poking your ass even through the fabric of his jeans. His hand slowly reached back down into your thong, fingertips grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver through your entire body; you fought to hold still, hoping your patience would reward you.

Eddie’s calloused finger circled your clit, causing a moan to spill from your mouth as your grip tightened on the countertop. A huff of a laugh escaped Eddie as he applied more pressure, lips hot and close to your ear again.

“So, so easy…” He teased. You bit your lip as his finger prodded, gliding from your clit to your pussy and back, hips grinding slowly against your ass. As his fingertips moved in slow, practiced circles, he continued to taunt, “This what you wanted? To get me all riled up so I’d give you a piece of my mind?”

You nodded dumbly, throwing your head back as Eddie increased his pace just enough to make your body shudder. His opposite hand grabbed roughly at your hip, holding tight as his own impatience won out, abruptly dipping two fingers into your wet folds. You cried out in the same breath that Eddie moaned, grinding his hips while curling his fingers knuckle deep in just the way he knew you loved.

“Already so fucking wet…” He groaned into your hair as he slowly pumped his fingers inside you, cock twitching against your ass as a string of lurid sounds escaped your parted lips. God, it was pathetic just how easily you were coming undone in his hands, how easily you succumbed to Eddie’s touch - a months’ long dry spell ruined you, making you impossibly wet from the moment he laid a hand on you.

As Eddie’s fingers continued to pleasure you, he pressed his thumb to your clit, moving in tight, merciless circles that caused your back to arch, rear pressing hungrily against his cock and head thrown back onto his shoulder. Eddie’s opposite hand reached up to latch onto your neck again, his lips hot as they dragged along your cheek.

“Gonna cum already?” He teased breathily, smiling against your skin, “Gonna get off from just my fingers?”

“N-no--” You stuttered out, as if somehow that could keep you from spilling over.

Eddie hummed in disagreement, curving his fingers again, “This pussy’s still mine.”

Your breath hitched, preventing any arguments from leaving your mouth as Eddie picked up speed, fingers slick with your desire. His other hand reached from your neck to your jaw, twisting your head to face him so he could plant sloppy, wet, domineering kisses on your lips.

“Still mine…” He breathed out as you clenched around his fingers, unabashed moans escaping you as your senses became frenzied, knees already beginning to shake. You could feel Eddie’s lips curl into another wicked grin, “You better not cum yet.”

A desperate whine sounded out of you again, and so Eddie’s hand on your jaw squeezed tight, thumb cruel against your clit as he bent you forward a little over the counter. You blinked your eyes open, vision crossed as you met his stare in the mirror.

“If you cum now, I’ll stop.” Eddie taunted, curving his fingers again for good measure. You mewled pathetically, to which he pressed his hips against yours, grinding them with each repetition, “All you do is take and take and take. What did I say about behaving?”

Just to torment you further, Eddie nipped at your throat, teeth digging into the spot below your jawline; you groaned, to which he began to pump his fingers even faster. The sensation in your clit was becoming too much, your toes curling inside your boots as you leaned more of your weight over the counter; and to that, too, Eddie became even more cruel, swirling your clit so good it made you see goddamn stars behind your eyes.

You tripped over your words, all of them spilling out in succession as you began to come undone, “Fuc-- Eddie-- I can’t--!”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He growled primally against your neck, but it was too late, your orgasm crashing over you wildly as you moaned unabashedly, legs shaking and pussy throbbing as you braced yourself over the sink.

Torturously, Eddie kept swirling your clit, making you shudder near uncontrollably. He bit at your skin again as his hand squeezed your jaw.

“You never listen, always gotta misbehave…” He grumbled, pulling back from you; you had to steady yourself, body still wracking from your orgasm, “Maybe I’ll go find that girl - bet I could fuck her for hours and she'd be good.”

Your head shot up, Eddie having said just the right words to bring you back to earth. Before you could glare at him in the reflection, though, he twisted one hand in your hair while the other smacked you across the ass, causing you to yelp in both pain and pleasure. Eddie pulled you back, pressing his cheek into your hair.

Finally catching your breath, you hissed,”You won't.”

“I won't?” Eddie teased, to which you shook your head; his fingers twisted even tighter.

Fuck, you could've drooled over the growl in Eddie’s voice, the way he manhandled you; and you were certain he knew it, too. You hoped to appear defiant as you kept your chin high and collected yourself, hiding your wince as Eddie tugged at your hair.

“Wanna keep me all to yourself, isn't that right, you brat?” His words were sharp and hot against your skin as he dragged his nose along your neck.

“Yes.” You nearly whispered, willing to play a little nicer if it meant Eddie would ravage you.

He smiled before nipping at your neck, lips trailing back up to your ear, his teeth grazing over your lobe as he purred, “Want this to be the only dick you ever get? Hm, no one fucks you like I do, isn’t that right, baby?”

You moaned as an aroused chill rolled through your body, arching back into Eddie and pressing your rear against his cock, still tight and strained within his jeans, just out of reach and teasing the fuck out of you, “Yeah…”

“Good.”

Eddie gave your pants another aggressive tug all the way down to your ankles, grabbing at your hips and giving them a hungry squeeze. He yanked you back a couple steps and pressed a firm palm to the center of your back, quickly making you lean over the counter; your forehead nearly bumped against the faucet in your shared excitement.

Eddie nudged the inside of your foot with his toe, insisting that you spread yourself even wider for him, to which you obliged. He groaned with anticipation, and you were sure he was eying your ass like it was a goddamn meal; unable to resist, he clapped his hand against your cheek again, drawing another delighted yelp out of you.

Eddie shoved your soaked panties to the side, teasing your pussy with his fingers again; the stimulation made you shiver, hips jolting from just how sensitive you still were. As he continued to glide his finger along your slit, you could hear Eddie’s belt unbuckling followed by his jeans unzipping - your pussy clenched at just the thought of his cock freeing from his underwear, the telltale sound of its head dully bouncing off his stomach then making you moan.

“So easy…” Eddie repeated again through gritted teeth, barely inserting one finger inside you just to watch you squirm. A faint whine escaped you as you attempted to push your hips back, but he stopped you easily, fingers digging into your waist as if in warning, “No no, you’re gonna be good for me, gonna be a pretty little cock sleeve.”

You nodded vigorously, trying to look back at Eddie over your shoulder. He stole his hand from your pussy and wrapped it into your hair again, pulling you back just enough so you could see the inflamed, dark look in his eyes, stare practically hypnotic. You could feel his cock ghosting along your rear, and you sighed with desperate longing.

Eddie dragged his free hand slowly up your body, groping and teasing up your back and neck to your face; he reached around and pressed his first two fingers to your parted lips, his gaze watching hungrily as he slid them into your mouth, your breath hot as you sighed eagerly. You closed your lips and swirled your wet tongue around Eddie’s fingers, eyes fluttering shut when you heard him groan and give your hair a small tug. When his cock twitched against your ass, you bobbed your head, mouth sliding up and down his calloused fingers as your spit made a vulgar slurping sound around him.

Eddie muttered sinfully as you sucked his fingers, his rings metallic and warm against your lips; if you weren’t so preoccupied, you would’ve mocked him for being just as easy and horny as you. After letting you thoroughly coat him in spit, Eddie popped his digits from your mouth, snaking back down between you and to your pussy again. You pressed back into his hand, his fingertips teasing at you - he grabbed his throbbing cock, tapping its head on your ass provocatively.

As he lined himself up with your entrance, you couldn’t help but moan at the way just his tip filled you up, giving your ass a little wiggle that made Eddie tug at your hair. He grabbed hold of your hips with both hands, squeezing your skin roughly as you clenched around the head of his cock, desperate for more; a faint hiss sounded through Eddie’s teeth.

“You want it?” He taunted huskily, holding you tight as you whined in your throat.

“Yes.”

He hummed snidely, enjoying how damn desperate you were, “Work for it, brat.”

Another chill rolled up your spine at the command, your cunt flexing around him. Bracing yourself steadily against the counter, you took an eager breath before sliding back onto Eddie’s girth, ass bouncing up against his hips. The two of you moaned in unison, his cock twitching inside you as you adjusted to his size, walls clenching tightly around him; Eddie’s fingers dug into the meat of your hips, pushing up into you and making you gasp as he hit you nice and deep.

“You missed this cock?” Eddie jeered, not waiting for an answer, “Come on, prove it.”

Dutifully, you pulled your hips forward, the feel of his cock sliding inside you causing another wild moan to leap from your mouth. Hearing Eddie’s own sigh of satisfaction, you eagerly sunk back down on his dick, body bobbing in a needy rhythm as you clung even tighter to the counter.

“That’s right…” Eddie groaned, hands on your hips guiding you up and down his shaft, hips thrusting up to meet yours each time you sunk back; the snap of his hips was just rough enough to make violent moans escape you each time, “You take me so good, baby.”

Spurred by his words, you sped up a little, Eddie’s hands grabbing at your hair, your ass, zealous for your body. The sound of your ass clapping against his hips echoed off the tile, your moans mingling and overlapping with each other. Already, you could feel your thighs burning with exertion, knees growing shaky as your pleasure started to mount once more; god, how pathetic that you were already growing weak again, that you were wobbly with effort and sopping wet with lust.

Feeling a change in your rhythm, Eddie grabbed you tight, bending you over till your chest was flush with the counter; finally, he took charge, beginning to thrust deep inside you with quick, rapid strokes, hands holding you steady.

“What is it, brat, already drunk on this cock?” He teased through clenched teeth, hips slamming harshly into yours as you moaned and panted in response, “Fuck, you take me so good; already about to cum again, dirty slut?”

Just as you thought you were about to topple over the edge, Eddie slowed his violent thrusts, practically laughing at your frustrated groan and your knuckles flexing around the counter’s edge. Eddie rolled his hips cruelly, as if he wanted you to chase after the orgasm that he wasn’t ready to give you just yet.

He grabbed hold of your wrists and pulled them behind your back, shifting them securely into one hand while the other gave your ass a firm slap. As you yelped, Eddie rolled his hips deep and slow against yours.

“Greedy…” His voice was muffled as if speaking with something in his mouth; you gazed up out of the corner of your eye, watching him pop his thumb from between his lips, a thread of drool dripping down as his eyes glinted at you wickedly, “Greedy, greedy brat.”

When Eddie’s thumb teased at your asshole, a profane gasp escaped you. His hips stuttered a moment, pulling nearly all the way out of you as his thumb continued its slow, lecherous circle. You moaned desperately, missing the feel of his girth buried deep inside you, but Eddie refrained from giving you what you wanted, his thumb prodding at your ass. And then abruptly, he sunk into both holes, balls and knuckle deep in tandem, the instant stimulation making you cry out and cum without any warning like some goddamn virgin.

“No, again?” Eddie teased as his thumb massaged inside of you, cock twitching against your tightly clamped walls, “You missed this cock so bad…”

You could barely form words, tongue heavy in your mouth as you breathed out, “So bad, baby…”

“Got off twice already.” Eddie muttered as if to himself, hooking his thumb just to get another gasp out of you, your hips bucking with a shiver. He tugged at your wrists, still held tight in his large hand, and forced you to straighten up, the slowly changing angle making your pussy and ass ache with pleasure. You mewled weakly, feeling Eddie at your back again, face pressed into your messy hair as he breathed you in.

He rolled his hips again oh-so cruelly, his own moan vulgar at the change of angle, rutting his cock that extra bit deeper once he was already buried in you. His rhythm was tantalizing now, thrusting in and out of you as slowly as he could so that you’d both feel each and every little movement; his thumb pumped inside your ass in time with his cock, the sensation of both holes being filled making your eyes cross and your head spin.

“Fuck, baby…” Eddie growled against your ear, the sound making you clench tightly around is cock again, all your senses running haywire from how goddamn overstimulated you were. Your breath ragged and skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, you began to roll your hips in time with Eddie’s thrusts, practically standing on your toes just to feel his cock hit that spot you loved.

Eddie grunted hungrily as he slid through your slick folds again and again and again, speed picking up with each pump; your gasping and moaning only seemed to encourage him, your breath hitching each time he thrust extra hard into you. His hand around your wrists was so tight that it would’ve hurt were you not preoccupied, his thumb in your ass pushing in and out of you at its own pace, turning your knees to putty. Your legs shook beneath you, and if it weren’t for the way Eddie thrust you forward into the counter, you feared you might sink to the floor.

“Aw, you’re spent.” Eddie whispered devilishly into your ear, his hips slapping harder and faster into you as if it were punishment, “You know I’m not done with you yet.”

You nodded, although you knew it was unnecessary, and Eddie pushed you forward again, holding you just inches above the countertop by your wrists. Abruptly, he pulled his cock clean out of you, causing you to cry out at the loss of it, wet pussy clenching desperately around nothing as the cold bathroom air hit you.

Eddie chuckled behind you, hooking his thumb again and making you throw your head back. Cruelly, he pumped his thumb as deep inside you as it could go, eager mewls falling from your parted lips; you realized you were drooling, but you didn’t care. Eddie’s thumb sped up, making your panting more frantic, your back arched desperately as your toes curled.

“Could bury my cock right in your ass and you’d let me, huh?” Eddie taunted, and you nodded wildly in response. The head of his dick bounced against your ass cheek, goosebumps breaking out across your skin and a pathetic moan rising from your throat in desperation, “Could do whatever I want to you.”

Pushing his thumb nice and deep inside you, Eddie stopped, waiting until you impatiently jutted your ass against his hand. With another low laugh, Eddie removed his thumb and spun you around so quickly that you nearly stumbled, his hands catching you and body immediately pinning you back against the counter.

“No, I’ll save that for next time.” He growled, lips dangerously close to yours again. You could practically taste the sweat on his skin, your breath mingling as his eyes stared into yours; your hands had nearly fallen asleep while Eddie was holding them back, and they tingled as you steadied them atop the counter behind you, “That’s what you want, right? A next time?”

You hummed with an insistent whine, Eddie loving the sight of you messy and practically pleading for more. He squatted down a little so he could hook his hands beneath your quivering thighs, practically throwing you up onto the counter, the lip of the sink digging into your ass. A primal sound rose in Eddie’s throat as he tugged your pants from one of your legs and shoved it up, foot resting atop the counter as he dragged your body closer, nearly falling off the edge if it weren’t for his sturdy grip. He palmed your cunt with a vulgar smirk, leaning in close again.

“Whattaya say, lucky number three?” His hot breath washed across your lips, fingers swirling your clit lazily, his opposite hand pressing firmly against your throat once more.

Eddie’s thick cock nudged at your pussy, thrusting up into you nice and slow as you moaned together. His forehead rested against yours as his hand on your throat tightened, constricting your air just enough that your eyes crossed and your mouth hung open in ecstasy. Bottoming out, Eddie rolled his hips against yours, your pussy clenching around him as you felt another string of drool begin a trail down your lip.

Eddie pulled back enough to watch your face as his hips started slapping into your ass aggressively, his rhythm frantic and cruel and so damn delectable as you rocked atop the counter. Each gasp came out short and high in your throat, the sensation of Eddie’s cock hitting deep making your body tighten like a spring, the feel of his hand at your throat making your eyes roll back into your skull.

He groaned hoarsely, repeating roughly under his breath like a mantra, “So fucking good, so fucking good.”

His eyes were black with desire as they looked into yours, the intensity of his stare making your muscles contract wildly, hips rolling rapidly against his to create even more friction against your clit. Throwing your head back, you moaned unabashedly, and Eddie nipped along the underside of your jaw, fingers tightening even more around your throat; the lack of oxygen was becoming intoxicating, your breaths shorter and hitched as Eddie thrust up into you.

Cock buried nice and deep, Eddie began to rut up that extra bit into you, groaning at the way you clenched tight around him, inarticulate half-words of pleasure slipping past your parted lips. Your combined sounds of ecstasy reverberated off the tile walls, bodies slick with sweat against one another, the cramped room growing hotter and hotter; you gripped the counter even tighter as you curved your hips a little further, immediately mewling as Eddie hit that sweet spot inside you.

Spurred on by your new sounds of pleasure, Eddie’s thrusts grew faster and faster, deeper and deeper, driving you absolutely fucking wild. He used the hand at your throat to dip your head to one side, mouth latching tight to your neck, teeth nipping and lips sucking hard - the slight pain made you yelp eagerly, excited by the inevitable hickey that was going to form. Knowing that he was getting you close yet again, Eddie reached down to press his fingers to your clit, experting rolling them in stimulating circles; he breathed heavily against your neck, lips hot and wet with spit.

You cried out as another intense orgasm hit you like a crashing wave, your eyes rolling back as your tight body practically quivered from the overwhelming satisfaction you felt from your head down to your goddamn toes. Eddie’s pace didn’t slow even for a second, making your sensitive pussy spasm at the excess pleasure, having to brace yourself tight on the counter so you wouldn’t melt right off it.

Now, Eddie used you like the damn cock sleeve you were, pounding roughly into you as he chased his own orgasm, so, so close that even you could practically taste it. He finally dropped his hand from your throat and gripped the edge of the counter tight so he could ram his cock up into you, his pace rapid and unforgiving; you couldn’t help but smile stupidly at how frantic and desperate he became when he was close, the way you treated your body like a sex toy just so he could get the satisfaction he craved.

“So fucking good, fucking good, fu--”

Eddie’s hips stuttered as he gasped, white knuckling the counter as he shoved himself as deep as he could go, seed spilling inside you; his strained sounds of pleasure made you moan and mewl with bliss. Eddie breathed deeply as his cock twitched inside you, his body weight leaning into yours as he rested his forehead against your neck. You were both sticky and hot, the smell of your sex hanging thick in the air as you both strained to catch your breath.

When Eddie eventually slid out of your pussy, the both of you sighed at the last little bit of stimulation; he took a couple steps back, forcing you to balance yourself on the lip of the counter with limbs that felt like pudding. You looked up at Eddie through your lashes, studying his euphoric expression as you felt his cum begin to seep out of you; his chest heaved deeply as his dark eyes found yours, nearly making you gasp.

As you slowly lowered your wobbly legs until your feet were back on the ground, Eddie pulled his pants back into place, eyeing you up and down like you were a slab of meat and he was still hungry for more even after all that. For a few moments, you simply stood there to regain your balance, Eddie's seed making a slow trail down your thigh; you caught a territorial smirk flash across his face as his eyes followed it down. You began to reach for the towel dispenser, but Eddie snatched your wrist quickly.

“Oh no, you're not cleaning that up.” He sneered wickedly, closing in on you again as he spoke in a low voice, “You're gonna go back out there with my cum soaking your jeans for the rest of the night like the slut you are.”

His words may have made you weak in the knees, but you couldn't help glaring, hot and bothered by the prospect of yet another argument between the two of you, “I got what I came here for - what makes you think I'll be listening to you anymore?”

Eddie leaned in, lips hovering over yours again as he answered huskily, “Because if you listen like a good girl, I'll give you more later.”

The both of you looked at one another with wanton desire, Eddie brushing his thumb along your lower lip before righting himself, stepping back to look at you leeringly again.

“Now put your clothes on.” He growled, and you quickly followed the instruction.

As Eddie dragged you back out of the bathroom, you could feel eyes glaring at you - the bartender, other patrons, the girl that was supposed to be Eddie's date. You couldn't help but giggle at your predicament, which turned into a full on laugh when Eddie clapped one of the glaring patrons on the shoulder, winking devilishly while guiding you towards the door.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #a fics*

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yunsound · 4 months ago

Text

Pop Culture Chinese Mythology? : The Heaven Haters Boy Band

I first introduced the Heaven Haters boy band in my Erlang Shen post, but it’s a recent meme that describes Ne Zha, Sun Wukong and Erlang Shen as the 反天庭三人组, or the Anti-Heavenly Court Trio. A little like the 3 Musketeers.

I already included this art in a different post but it just goes so hard.

Artist 万葉皆秋 on Xiaohongshu and Douyin

I’m sure you can learn about Sun Wukong from more qualified people than me, but some shameless self-promo:

My Ne Zha post

My Erlang Shen post

My Investiture of the Gods post

I recommend either reading all 3 of these, or at least the first two, or doing some research into these myths before you can understand the power of the Heaven Haters boy band.

Keep in mind the Heaven Haters boy band is mostly headcanons and memes. While these three characters do all rebel against heaven, they all ultimately concede defeat to ultimate authority: Wukong gets properly humbled by the Buddha and the monk Tangsen (Read JTTW to know who Tangsen is), Erlang Shen and Ne Zha eventually become the Heavenly Court’s special ops squad.

Heaven Haters boy band is still funny though, and they genuinely do all hold resentment for heaven.

I’ll make clear how and why the various members of the Heaven Haters boy band rebel against heaven.

Sun Wukong:

This is fairly obvious. His most famous story is literally called Havoc in Heaven 大闹天宫 (or more literally, Tantrum in Heaven)

He was literally born with Rebellion as his middle name. First thing he does upon gaining power is rampaging his entire way through the East China Sea Dragon King’s entire palace for fancy weapons. (This, by the way, is Ao Guang, Ao Bing’s dad.)

Then he goes and smashes up the heavenly palace. Then he literally FIGHTS HIS WAY THROUGH HELL and erases his name off the list of the dead. Soloed 100,000 of the Heavenly Court’s soldiers and won (actually I don't remember if this was in the original JTTW or if it's a plot point from a recent movie adaptation, but either way it's a pretty well-known part of his story).

Erlang Shen:

This seems subtler since he works for the Heavenly Court, and his uncle is the Jade Emperor, the head honcho. However, he still disobeyed the direct Heavenly Mandate to trap his mom under a mountain, and he split the mountain in half to save her.

Erlang is more of the cold, calculated type- if you offend him or try to fuck him over, he’ll ruin your life, but otherwise he couldn’t be bothered. In fact, even though he helps the Heavenly Court, he only does so for big opponents like Wukong- day-to-day tasks that his position requires, he totally ignores.

His uncle struggles to control him, and has resigned himself to just letting Erlang Shen do whatever the fuck he wants.

Ne Zha:

Although Ne Zha isn’t as strong as the other two, he’s still one of the strongest in the entire Heavenly Court. He’s the type to throw hands first and talk later. He’s more obedient to the Heavenly Court than Erlang or Wukong, but he’s probably actually done the worst thing out of the three of them: try to commit patricide.

This is a HUGE no-no in Chinese culture, which prioritises filial piety over almost everything else. Erlang Shen splitting the mountain in half to save his mother (and directly disobeying Heaven) isn’t as bad as Ne Zha trying to kill his dad.

I’m not going to blame him, since Li Jing is a bit of a dick, but if Li Jing didn’t have that powerful pagoda the Buddha gave him, Ne Zha would set him on fire in a heartbeat.

In battle, Erlang is what you would call a homing missile, Wukong is a tactical nuke, and Ne Zha is a bunch of cluster bombs. Erlang is precise and deadly, Wukong is… Wukong, and Ne Zha does not discriminate in who he wants to beat up. Surprisingly, out of these three, even though Wukong is the one famous for throwing a huge tantrum, he’s probably the most reasonable and gentle one.

Let me put it this way: would you rather deal with a murderous iPad kid on (actually) flaming Hot Wheels roller skates who punches first and asks questions later, a sadistic royal warrior who can split you open from inside (NOT THAT WAY, get your heads out of the gutter),

Or a feral monkey that you can placate just by calling him a bunch of fancy nicknames?

I'll just say that neither Ne Zha nor Erlang Shen would be tricked into putting on a cursed set of clothes to control them. I'd MUCH rather deal with Wukong as an enemy. Worst case scenario I die painfully anyway, so I'd like to at least have a chance to pull out the fancy nicknames and appease him.

See, this is the reason they sent Wukong to go on the Journey to the West and not Ne Zha or Erlang. I don’t think they would’ve made it two steps on the way before the other two beat Tangsen to death just for looking at them the wrong way.

Also another thing that’s funny is their names technically line up.

Sun Wukong’s title: Qitian Dasheng 齐天大圣 Great Sage Equal to Heaven

Erlang Shen’s title: 二郎神 Godly Second Son

Ne Zha’s title: 哪吒三太子 Ne Zha the Third Prince

So… 大圣二郎三太子... Great Sage, Second Son, Third Prince.

This is funny because this is the reverse order of their ages. Ne Zha is the oldest, Erlang is the second oldest, and Wukong is the youngest.

Also funny is that Erlang and Wukong are the strongest and Ne Zha is weaker despite being younger. Not much you can do against Monkey King hacks.

It’s debatable who’s stronger between Wukong and Erlang. Technically it’s Erlang- he’s beaten Wukong before, albeit with help and while Wukong was trying to protect others.

Between the three strongest mythological characters (in popular culture, there are others stronger), their stats are:

11 eyes

10 arms

0 parents

10 billion various side characters killed

If you recall, Wukong was born out of a rock. Ne Zha’s mom is probably dead by now. He also already has “returned his flesh and bones to his parents” by cutting himself apart and committing suicide for his dad, so technically he and Li Jing aren’t father and son anymore. I actually don’t know if Erlang’s mom is still alive but his dad is definitely dead.

There’s a funny saying in Chinese: 一块石头两斤藕，三只眼睛栓条狗

One rock, two lotus roots, three eyes and a dog.

That’s all it takes to make the Heavenly Court shiver in fear LMAO. Basically the equivalent of a toddler, a monkey and a Californian dog dad.

In essence, I stan the Heaven Haters boy band more than any other K-pop group, sorry Stray Kids. I'm not going to lie though, Erlang Shen is definitely a smash. Ne Zha... IDK, not exactly my type (unless its the recent Jiaozi movie Ne Zha). Wukong is a monkey but I can definitely see the appeal for some people I guess.

Keep in mind for the Wukong simps that in most adaptations, since he is... well, a monkey, he speaks with the Chinese equivalent of a heavy Cockney accent. Do with that what you will.

#ne zha #sun wukong #journey to the west #chinese mythology #chinese literature #chinese culture #chinese history #china #mythology and folklore #ancient china #erlang shen #nezha 2019 #nezha 2025

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months ago

Note

This may be a bad faith take, but my worst fear - as someone who has only watched through parts of Book Seven and not played through the whole thing - is that the plot only halfway explores the themes of the fae’s prejudice against humans.

I know it does the first part by showing us why fae have such a vehement hatred against humans in the first place, but does it go the full way and show them as being in the wrong for directing their hatred at humans in general and not just the Land of Dawning specifically?

Because the war wasn’t just humans vs fae, it was specifically a specific kingdom from the Land of Dawning vs Briar Land. It’s not like humans from every corner of the world ganged up on them.

Them having an ugly, fat, cowardly, and cartoonishly evil king as the leader of the human army isn’t raising my hopes, I’ll tell you that.

But on a smaller level, I’m worried about Sebek specifically. I know that Baur gives Sebek a hard time, shows us where Sebek got his bad attitude from, but then eventually Baur gives Sebek a pair of the armor he wears and acknowledges him as a fae.

You’ve analyzed Sebek’s internalized hatred before and in that analysis you accurately theorized that Sebek’s behavior is a coping mechanism, by rejecting his human side he can present himself as the best fae he can be. What I’m worried about is that his development with Baur serves to justify this coping mechanism instead of break it down.

You’ve likely played through this part of book seven already, are my fears justified or will I be happily proved wrong? You can go ahead and spoil me, I’n already spoiled.

From what I can recall, the Silver Owls don’t belong to a single country; they are described as an alliance of mercenaries from various human nations and the group happens to be led by Heinrick (perhaps because he is of royal descent). They banded together in order to take Briarland’s resources for themselves. If you look at modern day Briarland on the Twisted Wonderland world map, you’ll even see that the country is divided into several sections, implying that the human nations that were victorious split it amongst themselves.

While the human-fae war in book 7 does center on Briarland and its fae population, I don’t think it necessarily has to explain the human aversion for all fae, especially not to the same amount of detail as what we get for Briarland. Fae in general are a race known to be isolated and exclusionary but not necessarily hateful; we see as much in events like Fairy Gala. They are more comfortable around their own kind and their traditions. It’s easy to guess as to why this may be: they are much longer lived, have a deeper respect for nature than humans do, and, more crucially, they are a magically inclined race. We are told that mages in the past were referred to as witches and wizards. They were discriminated against and loathed—and if a particular race is more inclined to magic, then it’s easy to connect the dots and see where fear of “the other” may have formed and snowballed into fae in general not wanting to engage with humans. You see examples of how humans hate fae during Lilia’s travels; he has things thrown at him and is chased out of human communities. A war doesn’t need to be involved to justify why fae everywhere seem to either dislike humans or want to keep to themselves. The reasoning doesn’t need to be deep. People hate other people irl for things as mundane as a fear of the unknown or looking for an easy scapegoat. There does not need to be a large-scale physical conflict in order to breed resentment. The conflict vanishes be and is implied, which I think is a much richer way of delivering world-building rather than outright stating why all fae have beef with humans.

I think Twst does attempt to show us nuance in the human-fae conflict through other characters whose lives were touched by the war. Sure, Henrick is cartoonishly evil and purposefully designed to be terrible and grotesque--but there are "good people" on both sides. The Dawn Knight clearly had reservations about fighting with the Silver Owls. He had guardian fairies who believed in his goodness and wanted to protect the Dawn Knight's child after his passing. Maleanor and her husband were lost in the fight, robbing Malleus of his family. Lilia lost his best friends and many brothers in arms. Silver has to live and cope with the guilt of being the son of the guy who killed Maleanor and brought Lilia so much anguish. Sebek carries on the legacy of hatred and has to actively learn to overcome the prejudices he learned from his grandfather and countrymen. Baur himself is still trying to overcome his own learned prejudices. How successful the depiction of this nuance is, well… that’s up to you to determine.

In regards to Sebek, thankfully his character development in book 7 doesn't just stop at Lilia's dream with Baur knighting him. As I explain in this post, he has meaningful interactions with the first years, whether it's in their dreams or through the experience of going around and waking other students up. His character arc is continuing by having the first years make good on the vow they made to Lilia at his farewell party--that they'll help Sebek on his way if he stumbles.

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Lilia Vanrouge #Dawn Knight #Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #Diasomnia #Heinrick #notes from the writing raven #question #book 7 spoilers #fairy gala spoilers #Maleanor Draconia #Baur Zigvolt #Heinrick Istvan

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steveseddie · 9 months ago

Text

From Hell to His Arms

steddie | rating: t | wc: 2,7k | cw: minor character death | tags: pre-relationship, worried steve, eddie lives, but his mother is dead, soft boys

for @steddie-spooktober day twelve, prompt “graveyard”

read on ao3 here

Eddie is missing.

Not missing missing. It hasn’t even been twelve hours since Steve last talked to him so he probably shouldn’t be making that kind of statement. Hopper wouldn’t even let him file a missing person report if he tried. But that doesn’t change the fact that Eddie is nowhere to be found.

“He’s gotta be somewhere,” Robin tells Steve on the phone after he calls her on the off chance that she knows where Eddie is. She doesn’t.

“He’s not,” Steve says, head thumping back against the wall. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Did you check the trailer?”

Steve fights the urge to roll his eyes. Did he check where Eddie lives? Well, duh. “Yeah, he wasn’t there. Wayne said he was already gone when he came home from work.”

“Huh,” Robin says, probably thinking the same thing Steve did— that it’s weird for Eddie to be out of bed, let alone out of the trailer, so early in the morning. “Did you check with the kids?”

“Yeah, I called them, no one has seen him.”

“Maybe he had band practice?” Robin suggests next.

Steve shakes his head even if she can’t see him. “Nope, I called Jeff. No practice today.” He also called Dougie and drove by Gareth’s house, hoping to see Eddie’s van parked outside or to hear their music coming from the garage, but nothing.

On the phone, Robin makes a hmph noise.

“He could be, you know—” she lowers her voice so her parents don’t hear her, “—making a drug deal.”

Steve purses his lips. “He wouldn’t go alone, Rob, not after last time.”

‘Last time’ was two weeks ago when an asshole from school used buying as an excuse to get Eddie alone so he could beat him up. Apparently, he and Jason Carver had been friends. Eddie managed to get away with only a split lip by hitting the guy in the face with his lunchbox after he threw the first punch and getting the fuck out of there while the guy recovered. He showed up at Steve’s house, angry and scared, and Steve made him promise that if he was going to keep dealing, he better bring him along, just in case, and so far, Eddie has kept his word.

“Well,” Robin says, her voice snapping Steve from his thoughts. “Unless Eddie has any secret friends we don’t know about, I don’t know who he could be with.”

“I told you he was missing,” Steve says, scowling at the wall, pretending it’s Robin. If he can hear the way she rolls her eyes at him, maybe she’ll know he’s glaring.

“He could be hanging out by himself, dingus, maybe at Lover’s Lake or the quarry or—”

Feeling his cheeks flush in embarrassment, Steve admits, “I already checked there.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere. I drove to Lover’s Lake, Skull Rock, and the quarry. I even drove to the school, but there’s no sign of him,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. He can hear the worry in his voice, and if he hears it, so does Robin.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Steve,” she reassures him. He appreciates how she doesn’t tease him for driving around town looking for Eddie like a crazy person. “If something was wrong, he would’ve called or radioed you.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Steve says, sliding down the wall. “And I know I’m probably being clingy and obsessive and dramatic but—”

“You worry about him and that’s not a bad thing,” she cuts in. “But I’m sure you don’t have to! He’ll show up eventually with a very silly, very Eddie reason for why he went missing—”

Steve jerks up with a gasp. “So you agree he’s missing!”

Robin groans. “Shut up, dingus. I’m trying to tell you your boyfriend is fine.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Steve says, biting on his lip. Yet, the hopeful part of his brain supplies.

“Yet,” Robin’s voice echoes.

It’s all still very new— this thing between Steve and Eddie. They’ve only been on a few dates, they’ve held hands and shared one single, yet quite memorable, kiss. They still haven’t put a name to it, even if Steve was ready to start calling Eddie his boyfriend before date number one. He kept that to himself. He knows how he gets— he falls hard and fast, and he tends to say and do too much too soon. The last thing he wants to do is to scare Eddie off.

Maybe you did, the mean part of his brain says, maybe Eddie got tired of you already and he’s hiding from you.

Steve shakes his head, trying to shut up that voice. He can feel a headache starting and he pinches the bridge of his nose with a tiny grunt.

“Hey,” Robin says after a short silence. Steve almost forgot he was on the phone with her. “Why don’t I come over? I’ll keep you company until Eddie shows up.”

Steve’s lips twitch. He appreciates Robin’s offer, but he knows he won’t be good company until he hears from Eddie. “No, Robs, it’s fine,” he says, playing with the phone cord, twirling it around his finger. “I might drive around for a bit, see if I can find him.”

Robin sighs, but she doesn’t try to talk him out of it. She probably knows it’s useless. “Okay, fine. Let me know when you do, okay? And flick his forehead for me, for making my best friend worry.”

Steve can’t help but laugh when he pictures the cute little scrunch Eddie would undoubtedly make if he did that. “I will,” he says. Then, “Got any other ideas of where he could be?”

Robin hums, thinking. “The arcade? The music shop?” She suggests and Steve makes a mental list of those places. “The library? Wait, no, he’s banned from the library. Hm, maybe you should check the back of Hopper’s cop car.”

Steve snorts but doesn’t rule it out. “It’s worth a shot,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “Okay, I’m going, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye, dingus. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Steve says, hanging the phone on the receiver.

He knows Robin is probably right about Eddie being okay but there’s a part of him— the part that still wakes up crying from nightmares about losing Eddie— that won’t stop tormenting Steve until he sees Eddie and makes sure he’s alright.

And if he has to drive aimlessly around town for hours to do that, then so be it.

And if Eddie asks, he’ll just say he felt like going for a ride.

Or you can tell him the truth, he’ll understand, he thinks, optimistically. Before his own brain replies with— or he’ll think you’re insane and run for the hills.

Steve huffs out a burst of air.

He picks up his car keys and zipping up his jacket, he walks to his car.

First, he goes to the arcade and then the music shop but there’s no sign of Eddie at either place. He drives around town, hoping to see the van parked somewhere, and peeks into a few other stores, looking for a familiar curly mane. But neither is nowhere to be seen.

The library is next, even if Eddie is banned from it. Then Steve considers stopping by the police station, either to check if Hopper brought Eddie in or to try to convince him to let him file a missing person report.

He doesn’t. He’s not that crazy.

Instead, Steve decides to go back to the trailer, hoping that Eddie has made his way back there from wherever he was by now.

He’s not paying a lot of attention as he takes the—by now familiar— route to Forrest Hills and he almost misses Eddie’s van, parked at the foot of the hill leading up to the graveyard. He does a double take, but there’s no way to mistake the old vehicle, not with the ’Corroded Coffin’ graffitied on its side.

Wondering what Eddie could possibly be doing at the graveyard, Steve parks the Beemer right behind the van and walks up to it. Eddie isn’t in the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat is just as empty, and when he peeks through the window, he can’t see anyone in the back either.

He considers waiting for him by the van but that lasts for about five minutes. He starts getting antsy again when thoughts of angry jocks jumping Eddie or monsters lurking, waiting to attack him, pop into his mind.

So he treks up the hill, squinting his eyes to see if he can spot Eddie somewhere in the distance but after three concussions, his eyesight isn’t the best so with a sigh, he starts making his way through the tombstones, searching for Eddie.

He walks aimlessly between headstones, reading the names and dates on them and thinking about how only a few months ago he and his friends almost ended up needing one of those, the closest being Eddie.

The thought makes Steve want to throw up. He could’ve easily ended up here for a different reason— to visit Eddie’s grave instead of looking for him. And God, losing Eddie then would’ve been bad, but losing him now? Steve doesn’t think he could survive it.

“You haven’t lost him,” Steve mutters, talking himself down from the fear rising in his throat. “He’s fine. He’s probably just— getting high on Jason Carver’s grave or something.”

Still, he sighs in relief when he finally spots him, sitting on the grass in front of a small tombstone on the far side of the graveyard, an acoustic guitar on the ground next to him, and a flower bouquet by his feet.

Steve walks up to him and Eddie, who seems deep in thought, doesn’t notice him until he speaks up. “There you are.”

Eddie jumps, shoulders tensing as his eyes snap up to him, wide and alert, before he recognizes Steve and relaxes. “Jesus, Stevie,” Eddie says, blowing out air. “Are ya trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Are you ?” Steve asks, hands on his hips. “’Cause I’ve been running around town all day looking for you. You just��” He gestures wildly, hands slicing through the air, “—disappeared. The kids didn’t know where you were, and neither did Wayne or Robin. I radioed you and you didn’t answer.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles. “I left the walkie in the van.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve huffs, “I thought you were in a ditch somewhere or like, mad at me.”

“I’m neither of those things, Stevie,” Eddie says with a tiny shake of his head.

“Then what are you—” Steve cuts himself off when his eyes zero in on the name written on the tombstone. Elizabeth Munson. Oh. “ Oh .” And of course, Steve knows Eddie’s mom is dead. He just didn’t know she was buried here or that Eddie ever visited her grave. “That’s your mom’s grave.”

“Yup,” Eddie says, the corner of his mouth ticking up in amusement. At least he’s not mad, despite Steve being an idiot.

“God, Eddie, I’m sorry,” he says, hanging a hand from his neck. “Should I go? I should go, leave you to it—”

“Hey, no,” Eddie protests, tugging on Steve’s pant leg. “Come here.”

He pats the grass next to him, looking up at Steve with those big doe eyes he could never say no to.

So Steve flops down next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees, making himself small, feeling like he’s intruding.

Eddie scoots closer with a little smile. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” Steve responds with a soft smile of his own. He glances around, and seeing no one, he dares to lean in and press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. His blush matches the pink flowers on his mother’s grave. “Did you bring those?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “They were her favorites. I bring her some every time I visit.”

“Do you visit her often?”

Eddie leans back on his palms, tilting his head to the side. “Sometimes. Wayne comes with me on her birthday and I’ll come on my own if I have stuff to tell her, or a new song to show her.”

Steve’s eyes dart to the guitar and he notices a notebook lying next to it.

“I know it’s silly,” Eddie goes on, “but she’s always the first to hear them. She’ll let me know if they’re any good or if they’re shit. Literally. Once I played her a song, and as soon as I was done, a bird crapped on me!” A chuckle tumbles from Eddie’s lips. “So I ripped the song to shreds and never played it again.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Steve says with an amused snort. He points at the guitar and the notebook. “What did she have to say about this one?”

“I haven’t shown it to her yet, I was catching her up first,” he pauses, giving him a shy smile, “telling her about you.”

“Oh, and what did you say?”

Eddie jumps to a crouch, startling Steve and getting all up in his space as he talks. Steve can’t help but laugh at the silly outburst. “Told her I met the most gorgeous boy,” he says with a playful but genuine smile. “Charming, funny, a little bitchy but with a heart of gold. Oh, and hot as all hell.”

Steve ducks his head. “Eds—”

“And how for some reason, this boy likes me. Me .” He says, placing his hands on his chest and falling back on his ass, his expression turning shy and serious. “And that I’m scared shitless to ruin everything because I like him so much.”

Steve reaches over the space between them, grabbing Eddie’s hands, and playing with his ring-clad fingers. “He likes you just as much,” he says, squeezing his hand. “And he’s scared too, that you’ll think he’s crazy or for driving around Hawkins all day looking for you.”

On the contrary, Eddie seems delighted. He grins widely. “No fucking way, sweetheart.”

And God, Steve wants to kiss him but he can’t. Not like he wants to. Not here.

So he reaches over with his free hand and flicks him on the forehead instead.

Eddie’s eyes widen in shocked indignation and then his nose scrunches up exactly like Steve pictured it. “Hey! What was that for?”

“Robin asked me to do it,” Steve shrugs, “for making me worry.”

Eddie’s lips purse. “I guess I deserve it. Sorry about that.”

Steve waves off the apology. “So, your mom. Did she say anything to you? About me?” He wrinkles his nose. “Did she make a bird crap on you?”

Eddie throws his head back with a laugh. “Nope, that’s when you found me actually, which might be her way of telling me to stop hiding from you and hiding how I feel.”

“She’s a wise woman, your mother,” Steve says.

Eddie nods, squeezing Steve’s hand. “She would’ve liked you, you know?”

Smiling, Steve says, “I’m sure I would’ve liked her too.” He jerks his chin towards the guitar. “I’ll give you two some time, so you can show her the song.”

“Actually,” Eddie starts, grabbing Steve’s wrist when he tries to get up. “It’s time I listen to Mom and stop hiding how I feel. Stay and listen to it."

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting for you in the car.”

“Please, I’m sure. This song is for you anyway,” he admits, “you should hear it.”

“Okay,” Steve says quietly, sitting back down. Eddie lets go of his hand so he can reach for his notebook, flipping through the pages until he finds the one he’s looking for and sets it down in front of him. The lyrics are written down in Eddie’s chicken scratch handwriting and some of them are crossed out so Steve can’t make out most of the words, except for the song title written in big bold letters.

From Hell to His Arms.

Eddie’s song to him.

Steve’s heart flutters wildly in his chest.

With one last shy smile, Eddie starts to play a soft melody, his voice joining in to sing about monsters, a heart rescued from darkness, and falling in love with a hero, a fallen king.

Steve loves it. Of course he does.

And as the clouds above them part and sunshine bathes Eddie in the most beautiful light, Steve thinks— Eddie’s mom must have liked it too.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddiespooktober #stranger things #stranger things fic #i started writing this days ago and guess what I'm still LATE #enjoy some soft boys x #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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starryhologram · 1 year ago

Text

CCCC Band AU Master Post

AKA I made a crack AU where Heart, Mind, and Soul become famous. But now, it’s a more serious and loved AU.

Disclaimer: Like the SCP AU, the HMS in this AU exist in the “real world” as opposed to a psyche/headspace. When the Whole splits, the three replace him. Also, warnings of canon typical v10l3nc3. These versions of Heart, Mind and Soul have been caricaturized, and are fun house mirror versions of their album/canon counterparts. Hope you like if you read!

Heart takes his g. un, the same one he missed Mind with, and he places it to the back of Soul’s head.

“Soul.” Heart bites the other’s name hard. Spits it out with disgust. Soul feels the cold metal press against his skull. They were truly going to usurp him. He didn’t think it would end like this.

“Heart. Please. Put the gu. n down.” He begs, eyes sliding over to where Mind watches from a distance. His face unreadable, Soul wishes he would help.

“Shut the fuck up.” Heart jams the barrel against Soul, knocking him slightly forward.

Should he fight? Continue to beg?

“You can threaten to kill us all but I can’t return the sentiment?!” Heart shouts.

Should he let it happen?

His blood goes cold as he hears the trigger shake in Heart’s grip.

BANG.

Soul falls to the ground.

Heart steps back, dropping the g. un.

Mind walks over to Soul and puts his hand against his neck. “He’s still alive.” He comments.

“That’s fine, I wasn’t trying to kill him, anyways.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

Heart doesn’t say anything in return.

Mind sighs, shaking his head. Best to let Soul recover, then. He wasn’t going to be the one to put him out of his misery, and he had a feeling Heart wouldn’t either.

Mind picks up Soul’s limp body gingerly, his head dripping blood onto his hands. Seeing his face, the skin had torn around where the bullet had exited. Soul’s eye was completely gone.

It was morbid, but Mind continued to carry the other to his room, laying him down on the bed. A few moments later, Heart shuffled in, shoving first aid supplies into Mind’s hands.

“Like this will help.” Mind says sarcastically. Regardless, he begins bandaging up the side of Soul’s face.

The computer in the corner of the room dings with a notification.

“Ugh. I thought we turned those off.” Heart frowned.

“We did, but I kept them on for emails. Stand with him, I’ll see if it’s important.” Mind moves to the desktop, jiggling the mouse to turn it on.

“No way this is real.” He scoffs after a few moments.

“What? What does it say?” Heart demands impatiently.

Mind reads out the contents of the email for the other.

“You’re kidding. Do some background research! Look it up!” Heart raised his voice frantically.

After a few more moments of key strokes mouse clicking, Mind turns back to Heart. “It’s real. What do we say? Should we decline? Accept? This is a very big decision.” He glances at Soul once again. “And honestly, he should decide too.”

“We could let Whole decide.” Heart offers meekly.

“You shot Soul, Whole is probably out of commission as well. We will have to wait. I will let them know to give us time to make the decision.”

Over the course of the next few days, Soul floated in and out of consciousness, the pain in his head ebbing and flowing. He wished he could have had nice dreams, but it was dark and hazy. Something haunted him about how he had gotten hurt. Mind and Heart refused to tell him, and Soul couldn’t bring himself to remember.

The bright side of his dull situation, however, was that Mind and Heart were being so nice to him. They gave him warm food in bed as he recovered, and even spared him from sarcastic quips. He wishes it could always be like this, getting along.

Eventually, Soul was able to remain conscious for a longer amount of time. And Mind and Heart finally decided to tell him once he proved cognizant enough.

“Soul.” Mind announced as he entered the other’s room, Heart trailing in his shadow.

Soul smiled at the other two. “Good morning.” He said softly, his voice had been nothing but kind to them in return these past few days.

“We have to tell you something. And we need… you to help us decide.” Heart stammers, “On what to do about it.” He walked over to stand at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” Soul asks.

“While you were… recovering. We received an email.” Mind began, sitting at the desktop once more to pull up the page.

“It reads as follows.

‘Dear Tridential Sovereignty, us at Galaxy Star Records have recently found your music and think you have just the talent we’ve been looking for.

We are pleased to offer to sign you as one of our many talented artists. We would be honored to represent you, and help you reach your full star potential.

Kindly, Galaxy Star Records. LA, California.’ “

Mind turns to look at Soul once more. His mouth is agape in shock. “We’ve been offered a record deal?” He asks in disbelief.

“It would seem so.” Mind replies.

“Of course we should go for it!” He exclaims. Mind and Heart almost seem surprised by his answer.

“Uhm.. are you sure? This is crazy.” Heart digs his toe into the carpet absentmindedly.

“I mean, this can only be good right? As long as its reputable! What could go wrong?” Soul looks like he got everything he could have ever wanted for Christmas.

~~~

A man tears himself apart in the dead of night

Grasping at lyrics that aren't quite right

But you’ve head this before

And I’ll never again

Because the spotlight is blinding

And the audience is screaming my name

Please don’t let me lose myself in the fame

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: Sign On Offer From: [email protected] To: [email protected]

Thank you so much for accepting our proposal! We can’t wait to start working with you!

First order of business we do need to get settled is the contract. You can access it here, and we will need all of your E-signatures.

Next you can also take a look at a list of preordained names that you can choose to go by as per our guidelines. Your band will still be called Tridential Sovereignty under us, but your individual names will be pseudonyms (No real popstar doesn’t have a stage name!).

You can view our list below.

Luna

Callisto

Oberon

Nova

Kepler

Aristarchus

Metius

Tycho

Voib

Pulsar

Orion

Asteroid

Comet

Thebit

Nebula

Rigel

Quasar

Antimar (antimatter)

[File attachment contract.pdf]

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: RE: Sign On Offer From: [email protected] To: [email protected]

Apologies, there was a misspelling in the list of names.

Voib is meant to be Void.

Thank you.

~~~

BREAKING NEWS! Introducing TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY! VIX NEWS keeps you updated with up and coming artists that you should be aware of!

Your favorite niche internet micro-celebrities become famous! Who would have thought their covers of cult classic Tally Hall songs would have skyrocketed their stardom?

Meet Comet, Nova, and Pulsar! The ‘Heart, Mind, and Soul’- they call themselves- of Tridential Sovereignty. Sweeping the globe with their new music to rock your socks off!

Recently signed on by Galaxy Star Records, after an interested team heard their individual covers of “The Mind Electric” by ミラクルミュージカル (also known as Miracle Musical). These young artists are rising through the charts, and concerts are selling out fast internationally!

We here at VIX NEWS are excited to see where they go from here! Follow us for more updates on Tridential Sovereignty!

~~~

A video titled ‘Late Nite Show Interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGHNTY’ is uploaded.

The video opens with a studio audience cheering as the host waves at them thankfully, smiling warmly.

“Good evening ladies, gentlemen and other lovely people! We have a special guest for you tonight- at their first television appearance- Tidential Sovereignty!”

The host gestures to curtains that three figures emerge from, the one in a red jacket is waving and smiling just as much as the host was. The two following him are much less enthused.

The crowd cheers as they walk across the stage to sit at a long couch adjacent to the seat the host had taken.

“Thank you so much for joining us this evening!” The hosts says, “Yeah! Thank you for having us!” The one in red responds.

“Now, you guys have been taking the scene by absolute storm- ahaha, pun not intended.” The hosts pauses for the audience to laugh. “But, I’d love to get to know you guys a bit more. You guys all look very similar, is that intentional? Or are you guys triplets?” He asks.

“Triplets is the closest word.” The one in blue states plainly. “Ah yeah! We’re all kind of like brothers, sure.” The one in red adds.

“What interesting responses!” The host laughs. “Now, Pulsar,” he gestures to the one in red, “You call yourself the Soul? What does that mean?”

Pulsar’s smile doesnt faze, but his eyes scan to his other two counterparts nervously. “Yeah, I’m like the Soul… its just… a way of referring to myself, like Nova is the Mind- eh the brains of it all. And Comet is the Heart, you get it? It’s just… the way we make up the Whole… band. Tridential Sovereignty.” He stammers out quickly.

Comet shoves him.

The host is laughing again. “Well that’s certainly a way of thinking about it!” He says, and it eases Pulsar’s nerves. “You guys were pretty popular on the internet at first, right? How’s the transition from the screen to the stage been?”

“It’s been fine, we still do all the main stuff behind the scenes; the music writing and stuff. But seeing fans in real life? Cheering for us on stage? I… don’t think any of us could have imagined it. We assumed we would be stuck in our mom’s basement doing this for a niche audience for our whole career, honestly.” Comet replies.

“It’s crazy how quick things can change!” The host quips, “Hey! Would you guys like to play a song for us?” He asks, the crowd cheers in enthusiasm.

The three nod in agreement, stand up and make their way over to instruments set up for them. Pulsar stands at the middle mic, holding an electric guitar. Nova stands at an electronic keyboard. A blue bass is propped up next to him. Comet sits down at a drum set.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, this is Tridential Sovereignty!” The host announces as the three begin to play.

Pictured: (left) Pulsar with no make up, wig or mask, in casual clothes. (Right) Pulsar within the first few months of rising to stardom, before his outfits became more pink.

~~~

A video titled ‘VIX NEWS: Exclusive interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY FT. Your questions!’

The video opens with Pulsar, red wig, feathered boa and pink dress in all, sitting on a stool in a white room. He smiles, introducing himself, “Hi, babes! I’m Pulsar, but you know that!” He laughs

The camera cuts to Nova, sitting in the same room, but clearly shot at a different time than Pulsar’s takes. He sits square and upright and says, “Hello. I’m Nova, of Tridential Sovereignty.”

The video cuts again to Comet, slouching on the stool. He waves meekly to the camera. “Hey, I’m Comet.” He says flatly.

A voice from behind the camera calls out, “So, we sent out a form for fans of your’s to ask! And here are the ones we thought would be best to ask you guys!”

“How exciting!” Pulsar claps his hands together. “What’s the first question?”

“Your-claimed- ‘Number one fan’, Pulsar, asks: what is your favorite song?” The voice off screen laughs aloud as she reads it.

“Oh, I have so many favorites, you know! But I think a special one in my heart will always be The Bidding.” He says.

“Nova, an unnamed fan asks ‘if you could go solo, would you?”

“Hm. I do shows on my own often enough. If you mean officially leave Tridential Sovereignty one day? That is yet to be determined.” Nova’s face shows no change in expression as he answers.

“Comet, Rio asks ‘if you could change anything about your life now, what would it be?”

Comet barks out a laugh and then frowns as he collects himself. “Right. Yeah. I mean, is anyone really happy with where they are? I messed up a lot in the past but I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. Dunno. I don’t think I care anymore anyways.”

“Pulsar, Twine- of course-?” The announcer sounds confused as she says the name. “Do you have a PR team yet?”

“What? Twine? How did… how did you get that question?” Pulsar’s brow furrows in shock and confusion, “That’s a joke… right? I think. Ah, yeah. A joke.” He laughs unconvincingly.

“Nova, what do you do when you encounter writer’s block? From Hayley.”

“I simply don’t. If I don’t feel like writing, I don’t write. Let it come to me. I know what I write is good.”

“Comet, Jedas asks ‘what is your favorite show you’ve performed at?”

“The VMAs were cool. Or the Bubble Dome. I dunno, as long as the crowds are big they’re always great.” He grins.

“Pulsar, Ciddle asks ‘care to show us what’s behind the mask?”

Pulsar puts a hand up to his mask, holding it down to his cheek. “Yeah, no. Not right now. I wear it for a reason.” He looks away.

“Nova, do you guys plan on doing another make-up collaboration? Asks Lori.”

“I think we’ve got some eyeshadow coming out soon. This is better a question for Pulsar.” Nova sighs.

“Pulsar, Faust asks, if you were a cat, what kind would you be?”

“Orange. Definitely.” Pulsar laughs.

“Nova, ‘Bold move straightening your hair, any reason?”

“It’s a wig. And it differentiates me from the other two.”

“Pulsar- or as ‘Smouul’ calls you ‘Pulss,- insert joy emote- te- tec-ah? Muciss? Teach music? Is that what this says?” The announcer struggles through the question.

“Smoul? I know him… too, like Twine. Ah Smoul! I could teach you music! All you gotta do is ask! But I also offer courses on music too! They should be linked in my Instagram bio!”

“And finally, one more for you Pulsar, from another unnamed fan, ‘Are you going to answer for your growing list of controversies?”

Pulsar frowns. “Hey, I apologized for those. And I promised to do better. That’s all I can do.” He huffs. “Are we done now?”

“Yes, I suppose we are! Thanks for joining us-.” The announcer is cut off as Pulsar gets up and walks off screen.

“Cool, thanks bye!”

The video ends.

~~~

List of things Pulsar has done

Been paid to support NFTS {a lot of other celebrities were doing it at the time! It was a cute picture of a chicken! I didnt know it was evil!}

signed a merch deal with a company that runs a sweatshop to produce the merch {Look- I’ve been over this- I even uploaded an apology video! I didnt do my research and I promise to do better!}

uploaded an apology video {Hey! My fans know that it was an honest mistake! Plus I followed the guide on how to make a good apology video! I even made one of my own guides!}

made a guide on how to make apology videos {Only 50$!}

Doesn’t have a PR Team {My PR team is my best friend, Twine, he’s a Soul like me!}

got scammed by someone in another universe than him {Alice is my friend! And he said he needed the money!}

Almost was convinced to join the Church of Scientology {I was not almost convinced it was for the celebrity gossip! But Paladin said I shouldn’t do it}

is there anything else you’ve done? {not yet- I mean, No!}

~~~

Pictured: (Fake) Tweets talking about the perceived decline of Tridential Sovereignty or #TriSov, and how their original fans dislike the way their music sounds nowadays.

~~~

Pictured: The updated outfits of Comet, Pulsar, and Nova! At this point in their career, the three dont perform together as much as they used to. Before this change, Nova would often pick up DJing Gigs around the world. But, now he performs solo songs that sound like theyre meant for Old Navy Advertisements… theres no Heart and Soul to his music, just the melody and baseline lyrics that will appeal to the widest audience.

~~~

Pictured: Nebula, the Whole. He acts as the manager and agent of Tridential Sovereignty. He isn’t seen much nowadays, some say it’s because he can’t handle what they’ve created. They took over his life. This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t what we wanted to become. But, it’s much too late now.

~~~

OOC STUFF

ive reached the ten photo limit on mobile and ive got so much written that my tumblr is lagging. Theres still some more long written posts ill add in reblogs and such. Characters mentioned such as Twine, Smoul, Alice and Paladin belong to @disruptivevoib @shxwrunner @socialc1imb @calamarispider @b0vidine

Feel free to send asks about these guys! Or even my scp au!

All art in this post is mine

#chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny jash #cccc #cj soul #cj heart #cj mind #cccc band au #cccc au #cjverse chatroom #starryart #art #drawing #writing #cj whole #band au #trisov #LONG POST

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effy-writes · 1 year ago

Note

hi!! 💖 i absolutely love your writing! i wanted to ask if you could maybe write something about fizz helping his fem s/o to get more flexible/helping her with stretches? i've been trying to get my splits right for ages and. it's just not progressing 🥲 and i feel like he'd be quite knowledgeable about all that because of his circus training? thank you so much in advance, and no worries if you're not interested in writing it!! 💖

thank you! and i’m gonna do HC’s for this bc i have huge writers block rn but later on i can do a oneshot for this! thanks for requesting <3

(also these helped me how to be more flexible/do the splits but i SUCK at explaining them 😭)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fizz Helping You Learn The Splits HC

• After meeting Fizz you really wanted to learn how to get more flexible/learning how to do the splits.

• Once you asked him he was sooo happy that he could share his interests with you! It started with basic exercises. Like touching your toes, lunges, sitting on the ground and reaching for your feet etc.

• Sadly for you, you were not flexible what’s so ever so it was going to be a longgg process. But Fizz didn’t mind that!

• He did all of the exercises with you and gave you pointers. The first one was bend over and touch your toes. He could obviously placed both hands on the floor with ease. You would joke around with him and say “You have mechanical arms that you can stretch” “You do know I had arms before, right?”

• With the lunges he wanted you to go as low to the ground as possible without losing your balance. For example, your right leg would be in front of you bent and your left would be behind you straighten out, and the goal was your back leg to touch the ground without bending it. Then you repeat the process by doing these lunges across the room.

• Another exercise was sitting on the ground with your legs spread as far apart as you can (you two kept making sex jokes about this one). “Fizz this hurts so bad!” “You do the same position when we’re fucking!” “No I don’t!” After your legs was spread apart as far as they could go you had to lean over to one leg with your chest touching your leg.

• He also made you do walking kicks. As you walk you’re kicking your leg as high it would go. You thought you looked silly doing this but Fizz cheered you on.

• Finally, he would make you do these everyday (and he always does them with you). Eventually you saw the results! It was easier to touch your toes (both standing and sitting), and you could even touch the ground with your palms! Fizz was so proud of you that he bought you resistance bands to make things more difficult. (It’s a win/lose present). The lunges you could actually touch the ground with your back leg without wobbling/falling over. With the walking kicks your leg was almost parallel to your face.

• Now all you had to do was learn the splits. Fizz told you this was be easier because you’re already flexible, you just had to take it easy so you won’t hurt yourself. He did this with you as well. He made you kneel and slowly slide your most flexible leg out (for most people it’s the leg that goes with your dominant hand. So if you’re right handed then your most flexible leg is your right). Once your leg was fully extended you extended your back leg, and thus you did your first split in front of Fizz.

• You two cheered at the same time. “You fucking did it!” “I fucking did it!” He pulled you up by your hands and swung you around. “Took forever but I did it!”

• The next couple of days you could not stop doing the splits in front of him. You could even slide into a split!

• Next your personal goal was to do a side split, and it was pretty much the same process, except you had to loosen up your inner thigh muscles by doing that exercise where you sit on the ground and spread your legs as far as possible. Fizz even helped you on this one. He sat down behind of you and used his arms/hands to pull your legs slowly. Your muscles was kinda loose already, but him doing that helped loosen it up more.

• Once your legs was a perfect horizontal line he put his hands on your hips and gently roll your hips backwards to achieve the side split. And yet again, you learned another split.

•Since Fizz has mechanical arms and legs he doesn’t really need to stretch for flexibility everyday, but he still does these daily exercises with you.

• Your other goal was to do a back bend. Now with this Fizz does actually need to stretch for it. This one was actually pretty simple. Turn your back against a wall and bend your back, then use your hands to guide you to the ground.

•Once you achieved that he taught you how to do a back walk over (now since you’re so flexible it only took you about 2 days).

• You felt satisfied with yourself. Within two years you became flexible, do two types of splits, do a back walk over, but now Fizz wants to challenge you even more.

• “Ready to learn acrobatics?” “Absolutely not.”

“We could perform together.” He sing sang.

“Absolutely.”

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #fizzarolli x reader #fizzarolli #fizzaroli helluva boss #helluva boss fizzarolli #fizz #fizz x reader #fizz helluva boss #helluva boss fizz #fizzarolli headcannon #fizz headcannon

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shortnfreaky · 3 months ago

Note

Thank you for doing requests! I loved Bed Chem with Niall! (Side note: Niall and Sabrina really should collab. They are friends and fans of each other; they have similar styles in their music; they work with several of the same writers and producers. It would be so good!) Anyway, here's my request: So basically reader can't stand frat (or, if you prefer, some other cocky version of) Niall, because he's so cocky and always getting everything he wants. So she starts a rumor that he has a little cock. And of course Niall has to confront her about this and wants to prove her wrong. At first, reader is repulsed by it, but he keeps working her over and he's so sexy and she can see his biceps and broad shoulders stretching his tight shirt, and he's just so confident and sure of himself, so he eventually somehow wins her over. And once he has her, he makes her get on her knees and suck him off, so she can see how big he is. And while she's choking and gagging on him, he makes her admit how big he is over and over again. And then he fcks her, and she goes completely dumb because it feels like he's splitting her in half, and he's SO cocky and arrogant, smirking and flexing his bicep and boasting non-stop while she's falling apart under him, patronizing her cuz she can barely take it. Sorry for how horny this request is lol

ೃ⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

a/n: would loveee if sabrina and niall did a collab, i would die. also like, your mind for coming up with this request, OH MY GODDD, hope you like it, also never apologize for being horny, that is more than welcome in my inbox

warnings: filthy smut, minors DNI, oral sex, p in v, degradation, hate fucking, language, dom! niall

masterlist ✶ requests are open!

prove you wrong

You couldn't stand Niall, just the mention of his name made you want to roll your eyes. He was cocky, arrogant, and always getting what he wanted and doing as he pleased. But, due to your friendship with the other four boys, that unfortunately meant being around Niall too. One day after his attitude had pissed you especially, you decided that you were going to retaliate back by making up a rumor. It wasn't going to be anything too bad or incriminating, just something that you knew would get his blooding boiling and hurt his ego. That's when you came up with the idea to start telling everyone that he had a small dick. You started off small and harmless, just telling mutual friends and the boys. Though, eventually it escalated so far that you started a blind item. That's when it blew up. The rumor was everywhere, spreading like wildfire. Fans of the band were going as far to discuss it on social media. You thought that it was hilarious, especially since he didn't know that it was you that started it. That was until the day you and the boys had hung out at his house for the weekly hangout. Everything was fine until it was time for everyone to leave. Just as you were about to go through the door, Niall stopped you, saying your name. You were annoyed, what could he possibly want, you just wanted to go home. You regrettably turned around to face him, "What?" you spat.

Niall glared at you, "Got anything you want to fess up to?" he asked, crossing his arms, his biceps flexing as he did.

You looked away from his bicep, settling your eyes on his face instead. "No." you spoke, shaking your head, feigning confusion.

Niall rolled his eyes, leaning against the door frame. "Oh please, y/n. I know you're the one who started that rumor about my cock."

Fuck, he knew. You silently cursed whoever told him. Your guess was on Louis, that boy couldn't keep a secret for the life of him. "It wasn't me." You lied, trying to play dumb.

"Cut the act y/n, I know it was you. I'm not stupid, and I have my sources."

You huffed, crossing your arms. "Okay, yeah I started it. So what?"

Niall stepped closer to you. "So, I'm going to prove you wrong, y/n." he smirked.

Your body perked up in surprise at his words. You leaned back, your body physically repulsing. "Absolutely not!" you exclaimed.

Niall smirked, "What, are you scared that you're little rumor is going to turn out to be a lie?"

You glared at him, if only looks could kill. "I'm not scared, but why would I ever let you fuck me?"

"Because who could resist me? You can't lie y/n, you do think I'm hot." he argued.

You rolled your eyes at his cocky demeanor, but damnit he was right. You did find him good looking, you always have, if it weren't for his arrogance, you probably would have tried to pursue him. That damn attitude of his though ruined those ideas a long time ago. Right now though, you did think he looked irresistible. The way his biceps flexed when he rolled his eyes, and the way those broad shoulders stretched his already tight shirt.

"You're just scared, all bark no bite. It's a shame, I could make you feel so good with this big dick." Niall tsked.

Oh fuck it, why not. I mean what was the worst that could happen, you didn't have hopes that he'd be very big or impressive anyways, especially with that ego. "You know what, fine! If you want to make a fool out of yourself this badly, then let's do it." you claimed.

You closed the door behind you, following Niall to his bedroom. The smell of fresh laundry and some woody scented candle engulfing you.

"Get undressed." Niall demanded, taking off his shirt.

You obliged, taking off your shirt, shimmying off your jeans, unclasping your bra, and pulling off your panties. By time the time you were done, Niall was only left in his boxers.

"What are you waiting for?" you asked, one eyebrow raised. You still weren't convinced.

"Waiting for you to look so I can watch your face when you realize that you were wrong." Niall insisted.

"Alright, go on then." You said, crossing your arms.

Niall pulled off his underwear, letting his hardened dick slap up onto his abdomen. Your eyes widened at the realization that he was indeed not small. Not only was he long, but he was girthy too. Fuck, what have you gotten yourself into.

"Why the shocked face, hm? Realized you were wrong?" Niall said smugly.

You looked back up at him. "N-no, it's not even that big." you stuttered.

"Get on your knees now, you're going to suck me off." Niall demanded.

You obliged, getting down on your knees. You gave his cock a few strokes before taking him partially in your mouth.

"All the way you bitch." he barked. Niall grabbed the back of your head, balling up some of your hair in his fist. He pulled your head forward, forcing you to take all of him in you mouth.

You gagged, his tip hitting the back of your throat. Tears welled in your eyes as Niall yanked your head back and forth on his cock. You were gagging a choking on your own saliva. You breathing was becoming strained, struggling to get a breath in. You let your hands rest on the back of his thighs go stabilize yourself, as Niall kept yanking your head at a brutal pace. Eventually, he pulled you off of him. You looked up at him with hooded eyes, saliva mixed with his arousal running down your chin, gasping for air.

"Christ, look at you. Sure are making a damn mess for someone who though my cock was small." Niall grunted.

You didn't say anything, holding onto the sliver of pride that you had left. You let your gaze fall to ground in defeat. Embarrassment was all you felt, Niall was making an absolute fool of you.

He yanked your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "Oh don't look so sorry for yourself, you did this to yourself. Tell me how big this dick is."

"I fucking hate you." You muttered.

Niall's gaze sharpened, pulling your head back onto his length, forcing you to bob back and forth at vicious speed. "Tell me how big this cock is you cunt." He yelled.

Tears streamed down your face. "Fuck, it's huge." you strangled, the constant gagging making it hard to speak. Your throat felt like it was on fire.

"Damn right it is. Let me hear how wrong you were." Niall demanded.

"Shit, I was wrong, so wrong. I'm sorry." You cried, your voice muffled due to his member still in your mouth.

He continued this cycle for what felt like forever. Making you suck his dick at a rapid pace, screaming at you to tell him how big he was, boasting about his size and how he was making you a mess. Making you forfeit into submission as he continued fucking your throat. Niall eventually pulled his dick out of your mouth, laughing at the mess he made of you. Saliva was running down your chin, tears still in your eyes, your face was all red. You finally were able to catch your breathe, wiping the spit off of your chin with your arm.

"Get on the bed, I'm not done proving you wrong yet." He growled.

You gulped, but you obliged. You crawled up onto the bed, laying down. You watched as Niall crawled over you, a smirk on his stupid face. Suddenly, he slammed his cock into you and started pumping, giving you no time to prepare or adjust. Your back arched, a scream leaving your mouth. He was so big, it felt like you were being ripped in half.

"Look there, it's so big you see a bulge." Niall remarked.

You glanced down at your stomach, where you could see the bulge of his dick pumping in and out of you. You let your head fall back. You wanted to cuss him out, scream at him, tell him how much you hated him. But you couldn't, words couldn't properly come out of your mouth, your brain was so fuzzy from everything you couldn't speak. Only silent curses and mumbles of his name.

"You can hardly handle me, any bigger and I wouldn't fit." Niall boasted, flexing his biceps.

Your body was shaking, sobs escaping your lips. It hurt, but it hurt so good, and you were ashamed to admit that.

"Pathetic, crying as if you didn't do this to yourself. Actions have consequences." Niall tsked, a sly smirk on his face.

"Tell me how big I am again." He damnded.

"F-fuck, it's h-huge Niall." You stuttered.

He kept fucking you dumb, making cocky and arrogant comments throughout it all. The tension in your stomach was growing more and more, until you finally felt like it was going to finally snap.

"I'm coming." You gasped, your orgasm hitting you.

It was the most intense orgasm of your life. Your entire body was trembling, your walls clenching around Niall as he fucked you through it, chasing his own release. Suddenly, he pulled out of you, letting the warm white ropes splatter all over your stomach. He collapsed next to you, curses coming from his lips.

After you came down from your high, the reality of the situation hit you, but you were too exhausted to worry too much. You didn't know what this meant for you and Niall, and what it would mean to your relationship with the other four lads. You didn't even want to know what would happen if the media some how got ahold of this information. You passed out shortly after your body calmed down. You were so exhausted you could hardly move anyways.

#niall horan x reader #niall horan #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fanfic #niall horan smut #niall horan oneshot #one direction #one direction x reader #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction smut

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sehtoast · 6 months ago

Text

Tender Threads Ch 11 (Homelander x OC)

chapter eleven: when you bite the hand... (18+)

chapter directory | slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

summary: absence makes the heart grow fonder, little spider.

Three days. Three days of nothing. Not a word in the halls of the tower, not a peep over text, no late night visits. Eye contact, though. That was constant. During meetings, every time they’d pass each other, from across rooms…

Ben’s not even sure what had happened that night. One minute he was blubbering his heart out to Homelander while it broke at the fact Homie thought he would ever do him dirty in such a cruel, malicious way, and then… nothing. Just a cracked rooftop and ringing ears from the sheer volume of his forceful takeoff.

He waited on that roof for an hour. Sent a couple texts. Watched from across the way as the disjointed band of mostly rejects that comprised the spider hero get-together went on. It was the first time he was actually going to go to one of those stupid things. It was supposed to remedy the miserable mood Benjamin had been drowning in all day which, of course, was only exacerbated after another chewing-out over the fact he hadn’t made up with his brother. He didn’t even bother showing up late. It was best not to spoil everyone else’s good night.

The day after, he felt like a husk. Ben barely even slept an hour that night, constantly roused over and over again by his overstimulated spider-sense going off at the smallest of things. He spent a fair amount of his time moping, occasionally venturing across the way to The Seven’s complimentary bar without any care to throw on his costume and protect his identity. No surprise that Maeve eventually caught him there for his third martini.

“Wait, it went well?” She’d asked in pure shock. Ben gave her the rundown on his week with Homelander, leaving out all the recent bits that would make him break his promise and potentially kick up some workplace rumors. Not that Maeve seemed the type. It was just better safe than sorry. “Jesus, I figured you’d drop dead by the end. You’re so soft.”

Ben just smiled and went wild with the martini shakers in each of his hands. “Pssh! Too bad I poured these already or I’d be halving your liquors. I’m not that bad!”

“I know.” She said, eyes falling to her empty glass. “He is.”

Nothing more was said on the matter, though the two shared their drinks together with casual banter on the state of affairs with the team– mostly, though, they just shit on Deep the whole time. And that? That's therapy, baby.

Later that night, Ben gave another shot at texting Homelander.

-i hope you’re doing okay -

He didn’t know what else to say, really. The bundle of texts he’d sent, all marked as read, rubbed salt in the wound as the cursor blinked at him over and over again. It barely took a minute for the new one to be marked the same.

“If you can hear me,” Ben whispered, skeptical that his voice would carry two floors up to those ultra sensitive ears of his, “I wish you’d talk to me…” He rolled over and pulled his blanket to his chin, shutting his eyes for what was ultimately going to be another night of unsatisfactory sleep. “Mm, oughta show up with more ice cream. That’ll get ya… Fuckin’ banana splits or something next time.”

Days two and three went about the same except for one teeny, fucked up detail. Swing around the city, burn out, head back, and then find out a plane dropped in the middle of the fucking ocean. It was almost strange to see Homelander on his screen. After a whole week of him, Ben feels like he should be listening to his star-spangled buddy tell the story himself. Instead, he gets to watch those eyes cry through his laptop while Homie milks the moment for the defense bill.

Gotta hand it to him, much as Ben hates the pandering to Vought's interests. Whatever Greek dude coined the term Kairos would be bowing at Homelander’s feet right now if they could see such an expert move. Ben huffed and shut the screen, sitting in silence to contemplate why their little falling out had him so worked up till his gut voiced its displeasure with his sporadic meal schedule.

He managed to run into A-Train in the elevator on the way down. The speedster gave him an odd look. To be fair Ben stuck out like a sore thumb in a tattered, hooded flannel, jeans, and scuffed up shoes.

“You new here?” A-Train had asked once the gaggle of businesspeople stepped off for their floor.

Ben, on his third day of hardly a wink of sleep, just jumped and dangled by the tips of his fingers from the ceiling. “Nah. Just not gonna dress to impress to go get food, y’know?”

“Man, I do love that party trick.”

“Thanks,” Ben hummed. “By the way, ‘grats on the race–”

Ding!

The doors slid open to reveal the absolute last person either of them wanted to see. He could practically feel A-Train’s mood sour in real time.

“Hey bros!” Chirped The Deep, sauntering in and slapping the button for his floor. Ben dropped from the ceiling and dug his nails into the palm of his hand to keep the look of sheer disdain from rooting itself on his face. “You guys goin’ down for grub?”

For fucks sake…

Which, of course, resulted in Ben’s plans to bask in the chaotic ambience of the cafeteria being stomped into a whole heap of nothing. Straight back to his room he went with extra seafood that he didn’t even technically want. But making The Deep squirm over a few fried shrimps and a crabcake? Worth it every fuckin’ time. Maeve would be proud; he knows it.

Benjamin checks his phone as he eats, pumping his fist in a mock victory of sorts. Not that every day in The Seven wasn’t damn near a vacation compared to regular non-superhero living, but tomorrow was an entire day off for everyone on the team not assigned to the Believe Expo. Ben in particular wasn’t chosen because he’d opted to make his nonprofit work pertain to uplifting queer youth and the Believe Expo was the last place that'd platform him for that move. Whoopsies…. not.

He’d rather not be there anyway.

Each buzz of his phone is like a knife to the heart, and the rare occasion it’s not Benjamin feels like a good enough reason to level the entire city. Homelander’s mind screams back and forth with ways to respond, ways to kill him, kiss him– anything and everything.

In the wee hours of the morning, he’d stopped by. Ben had finally managed to fall and stay asleep, and Homelander tried. He tried all day to float out from behind the exterior wall and into view of Ben’s window. He tried to convince himself that rapping his knuckles against it wouldn’t be the most terrifying thing he’s ever done, and he tried to remind himself over and over that Ben is kind.

Maybe that was the worst part. Kindness. All those stupid little acts. The ice cream, the banter, the attempts to know him and the way the bug held him so softly after the nightmares. By all rights, Ben should’ve taken a swing at him when Homelander had him pressed against that wall. Anyone else would've. Instead of laughing off the accusations, he fucking cried. Called him a friend… Said Homelander saved him from loneliness… Those innocent eyes carved slits into his heart with such ease.

He still hasn’t wrapped his mind around it. Homelander’s never heard such a sweet combination of words strung together just for him before. At least never in a way that didn’t reek of insincerity and opportunity. Every time he tries to make sense of it, his mind wanders back to the time he stole that featherlight kiss from Benjamin while he slept and how fucking good it felt. How warmth and electricity jolted through his body and left him floating in a blissful, excited haze. It drives him insane. His heart clenches every time. Yearning floods him, body and soul, and he becomes more lost than ever.

So he just… lurked. Observed. Took it all back to square one and stayed as close as he could while keeping as much distance as he could possibly stand. And when Ben fell asleep, he went inside. He hears it over and over again in his head as he takes in the sight of his sleepy little spider.

Johnny, wait!

Anyone else and he’d have turned around mid flight and crushed them into the fucking ground, stomped their head into a bloody fucking pulp for saying that . The fact he ever told Maeve was a fucking miracle in and of itself, and he’d thought he was fully committed to ensuring John remained a relic of the past. But his name sounds different on Ben’s lips. The product label rings with sticky, sweet endearment and all the gentle charm of the bug’s normal deep-set smiles. Even called out in frantic desperation, it still felt… good. Maybe it’s because of the nickname, but even unaltered was so…

Goosebumps erupt along his arms. That empty spot in the bed calls to him, but he knows he can’t. Ben’s out now, but the risk of waking him was so high… Homelander damn near darts when Benjamin shifts and mumbles in his sleep. He’s missed that little quality. Two nights with him was all it took to get hooked on those little ‘isms’ of his. The way he’d slide his legs together along the rough fuzz of the blankets, roll around a little– god, he liked that especially since sometimes they’d end up so close, and when he’d jolt awake…

He watches Benjamin shift once more and the blanket slips just enough to reveal a bare shoulder. His breath catches.

Oooh-la-la.

As if he hasn’t seen the bug bare from the hundreds of times he’s– okay, fine! Just one look…

With a tight gulp, he scans the length of Benjamin’s body, descending slowly from head to toe. His gloved fingers twitch, itching to shed their leather shell and slip under those blankets to touch the softness of his little spider’s flesh. He’s felt the weight of Benjamin pressed against his own body so many times. Two nights… just two fucking nights and Ben had tossed and turned into him more times than he could count. Restless little thing, but he always has been. Homelander would lay there all night yearning to let a hand slide over the bug’s abdomen and pull him closer, slip under his little shirt and–

He releases a tight exhale. His gaze falls between Ben’s legs and his tongue juts out to swipe his top lip. A pussy on a man was far from the strangest thing he’s ever encountered, but Ben made it look so fucking good. Maybe someday he could–

You could do it now if you weren’t such a baby.

But that would be… no. No, he can’t do that.

Well if you’re not gonna take from the source, you should grab a sample. A little something to keep as a souvenir.

Oh..? That was– that’s not an awful idea… Floating, he makes his way to Benjamin’s laundry basket, overflown, of course, since the bug was adamant housekeeping need not service his apartment whatsoever. Homelander slips a glove free and lets his digits fall against the mound of clothes. The first thing he snags is a t-shirt, pressing it to his nose to inhale deeply. His eyes roll back…

Bet he wore that one for a while.

The fabric was chock full of his scent, tickling that desperate little itch in Homelander’s brain. But that wasn’t quite the trophy he wanted. No, no… Neither shirts, nor shorts, nor sweatpants. His cock twitches in the confines of his suit the second his fingers graze the waistband of what he really wants.

You’ve struck gold.

He’s got them pressed to his nose in a fraction of a second, huffing slow, deep breaths. He could sustain himself entirely on the sweet aroma of Ben’s cunt– fuck, the taste. He has to know, he has to fucking know! Just one swipe of the tongue and–

He barely bites off the moan. His eyes go stark wide, terror coursing through his body in fear that Benjamin would rise at the sound. Homelander’s heart hammers at the thought and his whole body locks like a board, tongue trapped in place against the crotch of Ben’s drawers.

Nothing…

Thank fuck.

Ideally, he should bolt.

Finish your food, tiger.

But he didn’t need to be told twice. He locks the fabric between his teeth, suckling to draw out the flavor while he grows harder and harder against the cup in his suit until it's almost painful. Benjamin tastes fucking exquisite. He keeps his glazed eyes locked on the boy the whole time he indulges, scanning up and down his bare form, imagining it was that thick clit between his lips.

Credit where it’s due; he’s… tasty.

So good, so fucking– oh god…

Homelander lets a hand fall and press to his groin, rubbing firm and slow against himself. In a perfect world, it'd be Ben touching on him. Those gentle hands would unzip his pants and pull him free from his tight briefs. They’d grasp him so sweetly, stroke him softly, push him closer and closer to the edge of paradise. Oh, to come apart by Benjamin’s touch would be divine. Nothing could compare. He’d eat the boy’s pussy raw for just one measly little touch to his weeping cock. He’d do anything for it. He’d raze the world to ash for the chance to spread his legs and–

“Mmph!” He squeaks into the fabric, eyes screwing shut as he chokes off every sound, cock pulsing and spilling against his underwear. Each warm slither of come slicks his skin before inevitably soaking into his briefs. The aftershocks tingle through his limbs and haze his mind.

So good, so good, so fucking good…

And to top it all off, lady luck seems to be on his side. Benjamin doesn’t wake at his pathetic little noise. Homelander sighs and lets off, letting the silky boxer briefs slip from between his lips, trailing a string of saliva as he parts.

Now, throw them back in the basket and grab a fresh pair for later.

Fuck, that was a perfect idea. He rifles through again, smiling like the Grinch himself when his fingers find another pair. Ben won’t notice, right? It’s just one pair of underwear. Not like things didn’t get lost on occasion. Who hasn’t heard of a random sock being eaten by the dryer? Who’s to say it can’t do the same to underwear?

That’s the spirit. If you’re gonna fall into the bug’s web, we’re gonna at least make sure you’re comfortable in it. Now go clean yourself up and get to sleep. Gotta pander to all those god-fearing shit-for-brains tomorrow while they milk the plane crash.

That’s right, he’s got that expo tomorrow. Not a single part of him was particularly looking forward to it. He’d been hoping Ben would be there, but the lack of the bug’s name on the roster had left him infuriated. He went to Madelyn to demand a change, but she insisted his choice of nonprofit work was far too alienating for the demos that’d be there.

He floats to his balcony, recalling with near perfect clarity the way indignant fury filled his chest. Homelander simply scowled at her in the moment, but inside he pictured caging her head between his hands and squeezing until she was little more than pulp. She tried to soothe him. A hand on his chest, an invitation to join her on the couch, but he declined her. He'd never done that before. But he did, and it felt good.

After showering, Homelander curled up in bed. It’s not ideal anymore. The fur of his comforter and the silk of his sheets lack any of the coziness of Ben’s. Somehow, synthetic fibers and fuzzy, knitted blankets had become leagues better than the best bedding money could buy, and his last few days of sleep had been atrocious. Tonight, though, rest finds a way. Might have a little something to do with the garment he nuzzles his face into…

“Damn, you look rough.”

Ben pokes a meatball across his plate, watching it tumble aimlessly over mounds of saucy angel hair pasta. “Gee, thanks.” He hums. The little diner was loud as ever, but Jason clearly heard him anyway.

“You’re not like, killin’ yourself to do, uh… night shifts again, right?” The concern etched on his friend’s face is touching, but it does nothing to improve his mood. They’ve got, what, thirty more minutes? Fuckin’ lunch breaks…

“Nah,” Ben shakes his head, hand coming up to scritch at the scruff along his jaw. “Just— just a rough few days, y’know?”

“Felt,” Jase says, shoving a bundle of fries in his mouth. “Me and Dasia are having another fight, so I’m there with you.” Ben raises a brow for him to continue. “She’ll get over it, but she’s upset I’m still talkin’ to those dudes I met a few months ago at that club she hated.”

“You mean those–”

“Yeah, the ones I started buying from.” He says it like it’s no big deal, but Ben remembers. “They're cool though.”

It’d certainly be a case of the pot calling the kettle black if Benjamin, the vigilante, got up in arms about Jase, the enjoyer of substances, having his own not-necessarily-immoral hobbies. He gets the girlfriend’s gripe, though. Jason had a mean fight with addiction a couple years back, but today he claims to keep it all within moderation.

“Plus, they cut me a deal and she gets hers, so whatever.”

Ben skewers a heap of spaghetti and contemplates the borderline tasteless bite with its weird, chicken-y sauce while he listens to more ramblings. He wishes Jase would at least try to pry. He wants so fucking badly to be asked what’s wrong. Sure, he can’t say everything, but he just… he needs to say something. Fuck, a few weeks ago, him joining The Seven was all they talked about. Promises of an autograph from Maeve, fascination about the others and what they were like, all sorts of chances to spill the beans and talk about the occasional frustration. But now it’s all old news. No different than when they sat three rows away in their open layout office, clickety-clacking their lives away.

Even just blowing off some steam about his family situation would be a godsend, but he can’t find it in himself to interrupt anything Jason says. While he desperately wants to drop the heavy weight of his brother’s words and his mother’s insistence that he relent, Jase talks about the leaky faucet in his apartment and how his girlfriend wants to repaint the bedroom but the landlord’s an asshole and won’t approve it.

Ben wants to talk about how much he loved running around with Homelander. How it made him feel so fucking free. How, once the anxiety Homie initially caused faded, he found the American Jesus to be far less imposing and intimidating and way more enjoyable and just… just different. Homie showed him sights he never quite imagined seeing without a plane ticket and some chump taking up his armrest. He showed Ben the joys of running around the city with someone else, of sharing the setting sun and all the silly, stupid conversations he hasn’t had with anyone in so fucking long. Homelander lit up a part of Ben’s heart that hasn’t felt the beauty of unlimited companionship in so very long.

At some point, waking up to start their miniscule seven days together became the easiest thing in the world. And ending them together, falling asleep while some shitty documentary played became the best fucking part.

Someone to laugh with. Talk to.

Someone who made him feel less alone. Less isolated.

And now, someone to place a ten ton weight of sorrow on his heart. What if Homelander never talks to him again? What then? The thought alone makes Ben’s heart clench so hard it fucking hurts and it's weird that he's so affected by it. Other than regular meetings, run-ins, and the occasional pick-on-the-new-guy bullshit, that week was the most time they'd ever spent together. So, why..?

“– you gonna go or what?”

“Huh?”

“The siren,” Jason says as if it were so obvious. “Tell me Rapunzel’s not gettin’ lazy in that fancy tower.”

Ben breathes a weak laugh, shuffling out from the booth. “Nah. I’ll uh, I’ll V-Mo you for my food, yeah?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just go do what you do.”

How to apologize to a friend.

How to say sorry to someone.

He’s noodled through ten pages worth of search results and they all say the same thing. Bring a gift, pour your heart out, and hope for the best. But that doesn’t help because he already fucking knows that! Homelander could swing just about any act at any time, but this was just… daunting. Texting it was simply not good enough. He’s gotta do something, but what? What could he get for Ben? What could he say? ‘Sorry I smashed you into a wall and threatened to pick your arms and legs off.’ It’s just not enough! His frustration with the matter bleeds into everything he does.

Even his speech.

Homelander! Homelander! Homelander!

Not that it matters. They all loved it. But, when he was floating through the crowd, there was only one person whose opinion he was genuinely concerned about. When Benjamin sees it, hears it, what will his little spider think? He sold it so perfectly, swung everything just right to get the whole crowd on board with the defense bill.

So why, when he returns to the tower, does Madelyn berate him?

“You cannot be bad.”

He swallowed hard and took it. Let her give him that look and shake her head in disapproval. Even after telling her off last time, there’s still a part of him that can’t help but follow her every whim. Even when she’s beckoning him closer to join her on the couch, he follows like a dog to its master, salivating for a treat he knows deep down he’ll never get even as she undoes each button of her shirt.

Even reclined with his head in her lap, Madelyn only gives in halves, and yet she’s never gone this far before. Fingers substituting what he wants. Sweet coos to placate him. It’s more than he knows what to do with. But, even then…

“You have to be good.”

It’s still there. Disapproval. He’d done his tricks, but not to her liking. Never to her liking.

“And you have to listen to me.”

As if on queue, her words melt away the veneer she’d so carefully crafted.

“You’re my good boy.”

But he knows that’s not true. He knows it; he fucking knows it! Back and forth, up and down, every which way she can, Madelyn toys with him.

She was so harsh on you, echoes the sweet voice of his little spider. The taste of vanilla ice cream floods his mouth, overpowering the intricate flavor of Madelyn’s skin. It sings to him sweetly. You deserve better than that.

He does… He fucking knows it, too. Homelander lets his eyes flutter open, peeking up to find her staring down with a faux tenderness almost like what she saves for that spawn of hers. It’s sickening. She’ll never give him the real thing. Her eyes don’t twinkle for him. Not the way his do. They don’t light up at the mere sight of him. Even now, there’s an emptiness in there. She should smell different. Sweet and warm. He should be able to taste the love on her skin.

But he can’t.

He suckles harder, teeth pressing tighter to her knuckles bit by bit until she–

“Jesus Christ!”

He wouldn’t sever them. No, no, doing so would cost him dearly, but that? That sends the message. The warning. Even a good dog will bite once in a while.

“Get the fuck out!” She cries, eyes watering while she scrambles for the tissue box on the table. Blood drips from her digits, the crimson a strange juxtaposition to what she’d been teasing him with. It tastes of pennies on his tongue. Not at all the sweetness she’s always holding just out of reach.

He leaves, but not because she told him to. He wants to. Homelander charges through the hall with a newfound confidence. He passes door after door, dropping by the team’s bar for exactly the right touch. He knows where he wants to go now. Where he should’ve gone instead. Bottle in hand, he walks right in nice and quiet. His eyes roll at what his poor ears are subjected to.

“Looks like it’s official folks. You heard it here. This grave news, this stain on our nation’s history is here to stay.” Ben’s got that burnout’s mug on the living room TV. “The Spider-Man is truly part of our great country’s defenders. What this means for us going forward is a mystery, but, rest assured, I will be here to make sure he’s held accountable. Once a lawless vigilante, always a lawless vigilante!”

As soon as their eyes meet, all the bravado drains from his body. He can practically feel it slip from his head and out through his toes. Big, wide brown eyes stare into his. If not for that grating voice in the background, he might have thought time stopped.

“Hey…” Greets his little spider. It barely comes out as a squeak. Homelander takes in the sight of him. Scruffy cheeks, dark undereyes, the same outfit he’s worn for the last three days…

God, what a fucking mess.

Every smooth introduction fizzles away. Every slick word he’d thought up on the way over goes right down the fucking drain and he’s got nothing but raw nerves and that goddamn deer-in-the-headlights look he can never quite conceal. His fingers twitch and the glasses clink together. “Do you wanna…” Homelander tries, voice softer than he’d like it to be, trailing off. Instead of continuing, he just watches a big, bright smile start to spread across Ben’s face before the bug practically leaps from the couch. Arms wrap around his torso, pulling him in tight. Ben’s face finds its way into the crook of his neck, right where he belongs.

“–I have to wonder: what in the world was Homelander thinking bringing a miscreant on the team!?”

“Whatever you’re gonna say,” Ben mumbles against his skin. “Hell yeah.”

“Mm, well I could say anything now. Naked Twister?” Oh, how he loves the way his little spider’s cheeks burn red. It revives some of that lost confidence.

“Pffft,” Ben blows a raspberry that tapers into the most precious, perfect giggle. “Pop that bottle you might convince me to do wacky shit. Maybe.” Benjamin tugs him to the couch.

Homelander’s hands shake the slightest bit as he pours each glass. He’s not even sure what he grabbed, only that it was the biggest bottle in sight, so he just opts to show Ben the label when he inquires about the type.

“Oh, good pick. That’s like the only kind I enjoy."

“Well, wine’s about the only alcohol I don’t hate." What they'd trained his palate to tolerate. "You really don’t like it?” Homelander asks, swishing the contents of his glass that he’d be conditioned to enjoy long ago.

“Nah, not most.” Ben follows his lead and does the same. “I mean, this is great, though! That wasn’t to like– I’m not saying I don’t like you bringing it, I just…” He sputters. “You know what I mean.”

Homelander rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face paints a different picture. He sips at his glass, kicking his feet up on the little table in front of the couch to play into a sense of casualness. He practically prays Benjamin doesn’t bring up what happened between them days ago. “So, what’s the entertainment tonight? I’ve been bored these last few.” Not a total lie, but certainly not the full truth. Watching Benjamin could never be boring, but it was certainly less stimulating than actually sitting beside the bug.

With a soft hum of acknowledgement, Ben grabs the remote and starts flicking through channels. They pass by a few Vought features, but ultimately settle on Animal Planet. On the screen, a small jumping spider navigates the dense vegetation of its habitat to find a mate. There’s a touch of endearment to it. Homelander blames it on the critter’s technical association with the man beside him.

“The silken road to finding her is littered with the remains of unsuccessful suitors.”

“Little guy’s sporting your colors,” Homelander says between sips. The wee thing’s abdomen has speckles of red and blue, and its cute demeanor is all too perfectly in line with Benjamin’s. Suddenly, it begins waving its legs about in the air, shuffling from side to side. “Tell me you didn’t pick your theme off a jumping spider.”

“Now, what can he do to win her over? Dance. Dance for his very life.”

“...maybe.”

The thought of Ben sorting through pictures of arachnids to find the perfect inspiration brings a tight, amused grin to his lips. Instead of teasing, though, he opts to lean back and enjoy the poor thing’s desperate attempt to woo the mate attempting to murder him.

“He’s done his bit and satisfied her needs. But, now, her need is over. So she kills him anyway.”

“Aww, no!” Ben cries, hands on his head as he seemingly mourns the insect. “Poor dude… I feel it though, buddy. Dating and spider life ain’t for the weak.”

“Women,” Homelander mouths silently with a smack of his lips. He draws parallels to his own situation with Madelyn, chewing at his lower lip while he contemplates it. Once upon a time he’d lose himself in thought over anything and everything about her, but the presence beside him and the duty of refilling their glasses keeps him from drifting away for too terribly long.

After a few more segments, a small break to put in a Vought-A-Burger order through V-Dash, and some lighthearted commentary, the series comes to an end just as easily as their bottle. Ben grins, sitting sideways to face him, head leaned against the back of the couch. “Hey, did you get your script yet for ‘Super America’ or whatever that shit’s called?”

“Mhm.” He fibs. In truth, he hasn’t. He usually gets them a day or so before, but it made no difference. Not like there was much he’d have to learn. Baseball, America, mom and dad, whoop, whoop, whoop. Same thing every time.

“It’s so weird.” Ben gripes. “I picked mine up yesterday. They got me set up as some kid from Queens.”

“Really?” There was some interest there. Benjamin’s situation would be a touch different than the others on the team. Much like his own story, Ben’s would lack any truth. After all, the bug didn’t want to give a single inch of his real identity to the public. Maybe it was the teeny-tiny buzz from the wine, but there’s a lurching feeling in his chest knowing Benjamin’s situation was even mildly similar to his own.

“Yeah. I’m apparently a twenty-two year old who grew up right on the poverty line, played lacrosse in high school– whatever the fuck that is; I don’t speak sports– dropped out of college, and apparently I’ve got three younger sisters.” Ben snorts a laugh, snickering at the absurdity of it all with a big, wide grin. Seems like the wine settled in nicely. “How’s yours?”

“Oh, you know. Baseball. Sunshine. Suburban paradise.”

“How much of it’s legit?”

“None.” He scoffs, bitterness brewing in his gut at the thought of every goddamn lie he’s gotta tell. “Absolutely fuckin’ none of it.” He doesn’t know why he admitted it. Maybe it just feels… safe to say to Ben. Safe to admit the lies to someone else whose entire life is about to be corporate vomit, too.

“Oh,” Ben arches a brow, wine-drunk whimsy fading from his face as it's replaced by some sickening blend of curiosity and concern. He shuffles a little closer as if to express his devoted attention. “Well… what was it like then?”

He remembers when the boy asked this the first time in that cramped little dressing room. Just one week ago… It feels different this time. Less like some wannabe sniffing his ass for favor and more like a friend. Someone who cares, or has a reason to. Fuck, he hopes so, anyway. “Not…” Homelander’s gaze falls to his hands. He picks nervously at his nails and he waves his socked foot from side to side on the table. Rehashing it too much brings back the dreams… He exhales tightly. “Not good…”

What are you doing?

“So all that Leave it to Beaver type stuff..?”

“Fake,” he rasps. He’s not even sure why he’s doing this. Sympathy is the last thing he wants, and he’d probably laser Ben’s head off if he even sniffed a lick of pity from the boy. But… it feels good to say it. Somehow, some way, it’s safe.

“Huh…” Ben sighs, shifting a little closer. He crosses his legs and sits less than a foot away now. “I don’t wanna pry, but if you ever wanna like, get some of that off your chest…”

He should’ve never drank anything. He can barely get more than a weak buzz, but fuck if it didn’t have him doing stupid shit anyway. As much as he wants to grit his teeth and give Ben a strict, cruel ‘no,’ he doesn’t. Instead, almost as if it had a mind of its own, his right hand creeps off his lap and halfway between them. Bare and vulnerable. He always sheds his gloves in Ben’s home…

Soft, warm digits curl around his. They give a small squeeze and it’s like he can feel them in his chest, wrapped around his heart. “I…” He doesn’t know what to say. He dares to look over and his gaze flickers back and forth between those rosy lips and void-like eyes. He could get lost in either so easily. “I, uh…”

Those pretty lips quirk into a sweet smile and he fucking catches himself inching forward.

“Did…” Homelander utters, clearing his throat weakly. C’mon, fucking think! “Did you… did you see my speech?”

You might actually be an idiot.

“Y-Yeah!” Ben chirps, leaning back a bit.

Was he also..?

“You were awesome up there! I’m not really on the whole god-fearing patriotism train myself but like, you just have such a way with crowds. Even I was feeling it, y’know?” The bug’s smile could practically melt ice, but it builds his ego sky high instead. “I thought the same back when you showed up at my big reveal thing. Like, yeah, the crowd cheered for me, but they went bonkers for you. Kinda envy it, to be honest.”

It’s nothing he doesn’t know, but it tickles like he’s never heard it before. His gaze falls once more to Benjamin’s lips, dancing down to his neck where an oddity rests. A black cord of sorts.

“Man, Starlight though…” He half hears. Benjamin’s never worn jewelry before. “Dude, I wanna beat the brakes off Deep so bad after that.” What if there was… no, no– that can’t be right. Ben didn’t see anyone but that deadbeat friend of his and that stink bug, Webweaver. There couldn’t be someone else vying for his little spider’s attention, right?

“Mhm,” he hums absently, hand slipping from Ben’s to travel up. He hooks a finger under the cord and slides down until the pendant slips out from beneath the dark edge of Ben’s shirt collar. He rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. “Where’d this come from?” Homelander murmurs, interrupting whatever sympathies Benjamin had been expressing for Starlight.

“Oh, this? I’ve had it for years. Was a present from my great-grandma.”

Good. If there had been any competition…

“She meant a lot to me growing up, so I've kept it this whole time.” Ben continues. Homelander slips the pendant back beneath the bug’s shirt, but he doesn’t withdraw his hand. Instead, he plants his palm softly on the side of Ben’s neck, a far cry from the threatening grip with which he’d held it just days prior. His thumb slides back and forth over stubbly little hairs.

A cat food commercial is the only noise interrupting the moment, but he hardly cares. Homelander rests his thumb over Ben’s pulse, feeling the gentle thrum that’s just a little faster than a resting rate should be. A soft grip wraps around his wrist and that warm, earthy gaze meets his.

One little tug and it’d be perfect. Their lips would graze each other and Homelander could relive that bliss once more, only this time… this time Ben could too. They could both feel those sparks… Ben could kiss him back, return every glide of his lips and swipe of the tongue. God…He practically can smell the excitement radiating from Ben’s body in more ways than one. The bug wants it too. He can tell. And yet, he can’t bring himself to act.

You cannot be bad…

“What?” Ben whispers. His cheeks are a light pink, eyes twinkling like stars. “Do… Do you–”

Knock, knock, knock!

The sound from the apartment door rips them away from their moment. Who the fuck could possibly be visiting so late? He’s got half a mind to just shoot a beam of heat right through the door.

“Oh, that’s our food!” Ben scrambles, hopping over the back of the couch to scurry to the door. Behind it is some quivering kid holding the burgers they’d ordered almost a half hour ago. “Hey, thank you! Sorry about the long elevator ride…” The bug tells him. The delivery boy stutters his gratitude and goes on his way after thoroughly ruining their moment.

Coulda, woulda, shoulda, eh sport?

“Time to see if the Big Homie Burger lives up to the hype!” Ben teases as he spreads out their late night snacks. Homelander doesn’t even like any of it, but he demanded Ben give his branded burger a shot after the bug admitted he’d never eaten at Vought-A-Burger before. ‘Listen,’ he’d said. ‘I like junk food as much as the next guy, but frying stuff in lard is crazy work.’ Which Homelander couldn’t even argue with.

The wrappers are labeled with names… one for Ben C.– extra pickles, and another for Johnny H.– no pickles. And there it is again… that funny feeling deep in his chest. Like fleshy flowers blooming right between his ribs, sprouting to soak up the torrent of emotion that floods his body at the sight of such a juvenile yet affectionate take on his given name.

“Eugh,” Homelander grits as he flips the top bun off. “They gave me pickles. Fucking morons.”

“Sweeeet!” Ben chirps. He slides his sandwich wrapper over and gently taps the corner to indicate where their new home should be. “I’ve come for your pickle~”

Homelander cocks an eyebrow. “They gave me more than one, though.” Unless Ben meant–

The bug snorts a laugh. “It’s from SpongeBob! But yeah, I’ll take all of ‘em.” Homelander gets to work on removing the foul ovals from his food while Benjamin reaches for the remote. Within a few minutes, the cartoon in question is playing. Homelander’s confusion only grows with every passing minute.

“F is for friends who do stuff together!”

And yet, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Ao3 Link HERE

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #homelander x reader #the boys #spidersona x canon #the benlander agenda #oc x canon

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aita-blorbos · 6 months ago

Note

AITA for ghosting my friends for a few years unprompted?

I, Sh (at the time 12F) and my friends Sa, H, and Ic (all 12F) have known each other since we were in elementary school. Really young, we've trusted each other with deep secrets and everything. We're now 15.

Problem is, at the start of middle school, one of my friends, Sa, was sent to the hospital. She got really sick out of nowhere, chronically, and as a result, none of us could see her for a long time-- Ic visited sometimes, but the hospital was so far away that the visits couldn't be frequent.

I'm not all that proud to admit it, but I didn't visit Sa. At all. Which might be a bit of a.. rude thing to do, especially with such a close friend as her.

While Sa was away, people in my school started giving me unwanted attention. I'm not the most social person, I'll be the first to say it, and I'm not very expressive either. To be honest, I prefer being alone a lot of the time instead of hanging out with my peers. Exceptions for my childhood friends of course.

Anyway, that year I didn't know anyone in my class. All my friends had been split up-- and, to top it off, my classmates started saying I was rude and stuck-up because I kept declining their invitations to hang out. They also started saying things about my friends, as if anyone that hung out with someone so rude was also rude too. "Birds of a feather flock together" or something, and things like "she thinks she's so much better than everyone, too".

I couldn't stand these people targetting Ic and H. I don't care what people think about me, I really don't, but I know how they can get, and I didn't want them to have any more stress than necessary. Sa's situation had taken a toll on everyone.

So, I started avoiding them. One day, I just did it. I stopped talking to them, I stopped hanging out. Stopped even glancing in their direction for too long. I know it wasn't the right thing to do, probably, and it still hurts remembering the look Ic gave me when I first started doing this. It was just me for a while, and my sister Sz.

But I just wanted to protect them. If I'd have told them what was going on, they'd have just worried about me instead! And then they'd keep talking to me at school, which would keep making those people talk badly about them.. I don't know.

I've wondered if this was the right decision to make for a while now. I still kind of regret it, but.. H did the same thing too, didn't she? She quit our group too.

Luckily, I was able to get back together with them. We're all in high school now, and out of nowhere, Sa came back! She was healthy enough to, and, well.. she wanted to form a band with the four of us. Like the old days.

I didn't accept at first, but eventually, we all agreed to join. I've already told all of them why I started avoiding everyone, but I still feel a bit bad. Also, I was.. well, kind of lonely.

So AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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hxneyfarm · 2 years ago

Text

follow me between the jaws of fate

written for @steves-strapcollection's birthday | rating: e | wc: 7,893 | cws: sex pollen, semi-dubcon, first time, virgin eddie, other tags can be found on ao3

happy birthday, ger bear. i love you so much. so. much. you mean the fucking world to me and i'm so glad i got to write this for you. never dilute yourself. your intensity is one of the best and most endearing things about you. <333

beta'd by @patchworkgargoyle and @stobinesque. cheerled, enabled, and encouraged by @sidekick-hero

READ ON AO3

It’s new, this thing between Eddie and Steve. So new, in fact, that between their work schedules and band practice and Hellfire and Steve and Robin’s Soulmate Bonding Sundays, the two of them haven’t exactly had… like… the time to, like… y’know. Not that they haven’t talked about it! (and talked about it and talked about it and talked a little more about it - at length, in the car on the way home from the diner and on the phone late into the night after Steve’s dropped Eddie off at the trailer and gone home to that stupid big empty house of his.)

It’s making Eddie crazy. He’s never been this hungry for someone in his life, and every time they’re together without being together Eddie feels like he’s going to snap. They’ve kissed - they kiss so much, in fact, that Eddie’s pretty sure he knows the shape of Steve’s mouth better than he knows his own - and just the other night Steve let him cop a feel during their make out session before he sent Eddie home to take care of his hard on by himself.

He’s pretty sure Steve’s been waiting for the right moment, waiting to make it special, because Eddie’s never done this before and Steve’s been talking about taking it slow, or whatever. But Eddie doesn’t fucking want to take it slow - the craving for Steve sits deep in the pit of his stomach and eats him alive and Eddie’s got nowhere to put that hunger. He’s jerking off more now than he ever did as a teenager, thinking of the way Steve’s hands feel on his face when they’re making out, the way his tongue tastes when he licks into Eddie’s mouth, the little sounds Steve makes at the back of his throat when Eddie opens for him.

One of these days Eddie’s just gonna have to get on his knees and beg for it - undignified, sure, but Eddie’s not above making a horny fool of himself if it means finally getting split open on Steve’s cock.

The day everything comes to a head is… normal. It’s a normal fucking day. Eddie gets up and he showers and he goes to work at the diner that Hopper went and spent the summer fixing up, where Eddie and the retired cop now trade lighthearted insults across the kitchen. Steve’s up front, running plates and charming the panties off of every old woman who walks through the door. It’s not a bad gig, this thing at Hopper’s diner, but Eddie hates the hairnet almost as much as he loves Steve’s goofy little grin every time they make the briefest eye contact through the expo window.

Eddie drinks so much coffee during his shifts that by midday he’s so jittery and anxious that he needs to get something fried and greasy in his system whenever there’s a lull in customers. He’s sitting on an overturned mayo bucket outside the propped open back door, fistful of fries in one hand and a cigarette in the other when Steve finds him. He plucks the cigarette from between Eddie’s fingers and takes a long drag.

“Thought you quit,” Eddie teases, the way he does every time Steve commandeers a cigarette from him.

“I did. Don’t tell Robin,” he smiles in return, happily continuing their little in-joke with a wink. “Skull Rock later?”

“Finally gonna have your wicked way with me, King Steve?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

It hangs between them like a living thing, this tension. Eddie would like that, and Steve would too, and eventually one of them will make it happen. Maybe today, maybe not. But eventually. Some days, when work’s been busy, they’ll sneak off to Skull Rock after their shift, just the two of them, to smoke a joint and work through a twelve pack of cheap beer together.

It’s late enough into September now that the leaves are beginning to change. It’s been doing wonders for Eddie’s mood; he’s never coped well with the heat and humidity of summer.

“Better get back in there,” Steve sighs, handing the cigarette back. “It’s about time for Mrs. Johnson to show up to try to set me up with her granddaughter again.”

“Have fun, slugger.”

“You too, and try to cut back on the coffee this afternoon, yeah? Little water never killed anybody.”

Eddie waves him off and goes back to his basket of French fries, dunking them into the pile of ketchup before shoving them into his mouth. Eddie loves their little Skull Rock dates. If you can call them dates at all. They are, but they’re not. Sure, it’s just the two of them atop the rock together. And sure, they talk about anything and everything under the sun while they drink and pass the joint back and forth. But they keep a respectable distance from one another most days. Until, of course, they get back to the privacy of Steve’s car where they can put their hands all over each other under the cover of night and not have to worry.

After work, they clamber into the Beamer and head to the convenience store. Steve buys a case of cheap beer and Eddie’s got his lunchbox in tow when they make it to their little spot, and then they help one another to climb up the face of the rock to sit together at the top. Steve tears back the cardboard and tosses a can to Eddie as he breaks up the weed to pick out the seeds and stems.

“Rob with Vickie tonight?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, they’re going into the city to see some foreign film Vickie’s been wanting to see.”

“God, she and Robin are kinda perfect for each other, huh?”

Steve hums, gazing down into his beer like his thoughts are far away. Steve hasn’t said anything about it, and he probably never will but… he’s jealous. Eddie can see it in the droop of his shoulders and the line between his eyebrows whenever they start talking about Robin and Vickie. It’s hard, when your best friend is in those beginning stages of a new relationship. You feel left out, a little lonely now that they’re cultivating something so fresh and new. Eddie can imagine that, for Steve, that feeling is even bigger.

For like a year, all they really had was each other, and Eddie’s gotten to know the two of them - their dependence on one another - pretty well over the last few months. Steve would never want to come across as needy or inconvenient, but he is needy and now that he’s gotten used to Robin being around all the time, it must be so weird for her to be around less than she used to be. She’d decided to take what her parents called a gap year between high school and college, the way they’d done when they were younger, fighting the good fight against the Vietnam War at whatever protests they could find their way to.

And so Steve had been gearing up to have Robin by his side all summer and into the autumn, just like they’d been since Starcourt, but now she’s got a girlfriend.

“Y’know Jeff got a girlfriend, too,” Eddie says. “It’s been weird, he’s missed, like, the last two Hellfire campaigns and he’s always late to band practice. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for him or whatever, but man… it kinda sucks not seeing him as much.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I get it… I’m not, like, bitter or mad at Robin or anything. Y’know? I’m happy for her. Really. She’s liked Vickie a long time.”

Eddie shrugs. “Just sucks not seeing her as much,” he finishes for Steve.

“Yeah.”

Eddie lights the joint, takes a big hit into his lungs, passes it across to Steve. “Maybe you should invite me over then.”

Steve scoffs, takes a long pull from the joint and a deep swallow of his beer, his cheeks pink.

“Maybe I will this time,” he says on the exhale. He passes the joint back, and they let their fingers linger against each other for just a moment too long.

Eddie’s heart is racing. This might be it. He tries to not sound too hopeful, tries to make it a little teasing when he says, “Yeah? You gonna take me home with you?”

Steve’s eyes are locked with his own, and the anticipation is building, the words are right there, but Steve’s eyes flick to a point over Eddie’s shoulder and he squints. His posture changes, hackles up, and it makes something like fear creep up Eddie’s spine.

“What the fuck is that?”

The spell Eddie’d found himself in is broken as quickly as it started as he watches Steve scramble down off the rock and head over to where he saw… whatever it is that he saw. Eddie’s racing after him before he can stop himself. He lands bad on his ankle and has to hobble a little bit to keep up with Steve’s purposeful trek across the woods.

“Steve!” he’s calling after him. “Steve, what? What did you see?”

“Nothin’ fucking good,” Steve mumbles when Eddie finally catches up to him. “Do you have a walkie? I left mine in the car. Dustin’s gonna kill me if this is what I think it is.”

Steve stops short, beneath a big, old oak tree that’s rotting from the roots. And there, right at the base of the tree, growing out of the trunk, is the ugliest fucking flower Eddie has ever seen. It’s not even properly a flower, doesn’t look like it’s bloomed yet, but the bud is enormous, easily as long as Steve’s forearm and twice as thick at its widest point in the middle.

Eddie’s seen Will’s drawings of what the kids have called demogorgons and demodogs. The bud of this flower… it looks like that. It looks like it could open up at any moment with petals full of teeth and slimy spit to take a bite out of one of them.

Eddie loses the internal battle with his impulse control and reaches toward it, not sure if he's going to just touch it or rip it out by the roots altogether, but certain he doesn’t have control over himself either way, and Steve smacks his hand away as the petals begin to open. He gets in between Eddie and the flower. It unfurls into a deep, bloody red, two yellow stamen in the center poking out, and it seems to creak, the sound of an old abandoned house settling in the night.

The dread makes Eddie’s skin crawl with goosebumps. They’re too close to it. They need Dustin’s walkie. They’ve gotten too careless. The kids warned them that something could happen at any time, and they’ve gotten too comfortable thinking they’d be done with the Upside Down and the demo-everythings and the horror.

But now here’s this flower, very obviously from the hell dimension Eddie almost didn’t make it out of the first time, blooming deep red to remind them that they’ll never really be free. And its stamen is pointed right at Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s frozen on the spot, just staring at the fucking thing and shaking in his fucking sneakers. Steve’s got an arm out between the flower and Eddie, his stance defensive, and the flower --

Coughs on him. There’s no other way to describe it. It coughs and it spits spores in Eddie’s face and Eddie gasps when it happens and the moment is over in less than a second but it sinks into them both, the reality of it, and Steve takes Eddie firmly by the hand to drag him away from the flower.

The effect is crazy fucking fast. Whatever’s in those spores goes straight to Eddie’s head and makes him dizzy. That’s how it fucking starts. He shakes his head and tries to focus but his throat is getting a little tight and suddenly he’s sweating like a whore in church. His vision is a little bit fuzzy and distantly, he thinks Steve might be saying something to him.

“Huh?” he asks, taking just a second to lean against the nearest tall, hard surface to catch his breath.

“I asked if you’re okay,” Steve says, and he sounds a little muted, almost like they’re underwater. It makes Eddie laugh, for some reason.

When Eddie looks at him, Steve comes into sharp focus, and the woods around them melt away. Eddie wants to kiss him.

“‘M great, big guy. How are you?”

“Eddie. You’re soaked with sweat, dude, are you gonna be alright?”

“Pssh!” Eddie says, waving a hand at him. How many beers had he had before they ran off? Not nearly enough to be drunk.

Oh, man, maybe the pot was a bad batch.

“No, Eddie, it’s not the pot. It was the fucking flower that spit spores all over you.”

Did he say all that out loud?

“Yes. Fuck, we gotta get you outta here. Come on.”

Steve touches him again, and Eddie’s skin sings. It’s like an electric shock, everywhere they touch lighting up like tiny little firecrackers, and it makes Eddie laugh again. Steve is pulling him forward, to the edge of the wood where they’d parked their cars, and Eddie feels himself stumbling, his steps off kilter.

He can’t focus on anything that isn’t Steve, can’t see past him or around him or through him and his lips are itching with the need to press against him.

“Stevie, wait,” Eddie says, and Steve turns toward him. “We both feel this, right?”

“No, Eds, the spores only got you.”

“Not that, I…” He hesitates, his head swimming, that hunger for Steve clawing its way to the front of his consciousness until it’s all he can think about. He’s hard in his jeans thinking about before, when they were teasing each other on top of skull rock, flirting with the idea of going home together later. He adjusts himself in his jeans, hissing at the friction of his hand against himself. “This. We both feel that, don’t we?”

For a second, Steve looks like he’s in pain. “Yeah, but… I don’t think… maybe drugged up by an Upside Down flower isn’t the best time to talk about it.”

Fuck talking about it. Eddie doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to show Steve. He palms himself again, distantly hears himself moan as he presses his hips against his hand.

“Oh, fuck, what did that thing do to you?”

“It’s not that, it’s you. I’m so fuckin’ hot for you I can’t stand myself. Been wantin’ to go all the way for weeks now but we never do. I need you, Stevie.”

“That’s… I think that’s the spores talking, Eds.”

Something bubbles up in Eddie, something like anger, something like frustration. “It’s not. Didn’t you hear me, I’ve wanted this for weeks.”

The feeling ebbs and flows. He’s light headed. He’s dizzy. All the blood in his body is rushing to his cock. He’s throbbing in his fucking jeans, leaking, the front of his boxers wet with precome. He palms himself again, little whines escaping him very much without his permission.

Steve tries to tug him along, but yanks his hand back as soon as it makes contact with Eddie’s skin. Like he’s been burned.

Eddie’s feeling faint again, wobbly. He’s stumbling along and tripping over branches and vines and it’s like he’s back there, back in the Hawkins beneath Hawkins that Supergirl and Hop and Will swore was closed to them for good and the fear grips him again.

“Eddie!” Steve is saying, clapping his hands in front of Eddie’s face and whoa - Eddie’s on his back. He doesn’t know how he got there. He isn’t even sure he can get up at this point because everything is spinning.

Above him Steve looks like a Greek god or an angel, the sun behind him peeking through the canopy to give him a golden halo.

“I’m flattered. Can you get up?”

Eddie doesn’t know. Everything around him is bathed in color. It’s all swimming and shifting, and Steve’s face is glowing. Almost sparkling. Vaguely, Eddie thinks of the time he tried mushrooms with Grant and they laid out in Grant’s backyard to watch the shifting clouds. They’d been out there for so long the clouds gave way to stars and he and Grant had laughed and laughed and laughed at the shapes they’d made above them.

This is kinda like that.

Except mushrooms with Grant hadn’t had Eddie’s cock hard as stone and straining the zipper of his jeans.

He lets Steve help him to his feet and his skin buzzes everywhere they touch. He tumbles into Steve, off balance, and Steve catches him in those big, strong arms of his. They’re pressed against each other like this and, humiliatingly, Eddie can’t stop himself from dragging his cock up the hard line of Steve’s thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears himself moan, and Steve’s hands tighten in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt where he’s holding him up.

“We have to get you out of here,” Steve says, and Eddie thinks he’s mostly saying it to himself at this point because Eddie’s ears are full of cotton. He can hear Steve and he can understand him, but just barely. His head’s never been this foggy before, not even with the smelliest, stickiest pot Rick’s got to offer.

Everything goes fuzzy as Steve drags him through the underbrush toward the car.

He runs into the passenger side door of the car at top speed, the door panel bringing him to an abrupt stop as… something crashes over him.

“Oh, ohhhh fuck,” he hears himself whine. His eyes roll back, the orgasm ripping through him with the force of a fucking freight train, and his knees begin to tremble.

Eddie slides into the car and for a brief, miraculous moment, his head is clear enough to form actual coherent thoughts. He just came, un-fucking-touched, when he slammed full force into the car.

“Shit. Shit shit shit,” he’s muttering, the front of his jeans damp and uncomfortable. Steve’s getting in the driver’s seat, looking at him a little funny, and Eddie’s face is hot with his shame at what just happened.

His cock is still hard though, still tenting his fly, obvious and unignorable. “You alright?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay for now.. Get me… somewhere, before I cum again.”

“Again?” Steve asks, his eyes wide as he stares at Eddie’s erection.

“Yes, Steve, again. Please just… not the trailer. Can we please go to your place? I need a shower. I need…”

I need to get fucked, is what he doesn’t say, but it hangs there anyway, like a living thing between them, because it’s beginning to dawn on them both now, the reality of the situation. That flower spat some really powerful aphrodisiac on Eddie, in his face, right up his nasal cavity where it’s taken root firmly in his brain matter.

“We need to get Hopper on the line,” Steve mutters. “Maybe Owens, too.”

“We are not calling Hopper. Or Owens, or anybody until this is over. Or until it looks like I might actually cum myself to death.”

“So how do we handle it?”

Things are getting hazy again, all of Eddie’s blood rushing back down to his groin to pool there and make him even harder than he already was. He presses his hand there, unable to stop himself, his head thrown back against the headrest as he thrusts and rocks his hips up into the friction, and just as he begins to realize what he’s doing - fucking jerking off right here in Steve’s car - it hits him again, the warm splash of his release in the confines of his boxers to mix with his previous orgasm. He shakes with it, his voice coming out in these strange little whimpers with each spurt.

“Oh, Jesus.” Steve’s voice sounds choked, strangled, distracted, and Eddie lets his head loll to the side to look at him. Steve is very clearly trying not to look, trying to keep his eyes on the road where they’re supposed to be, but he takes the turn into Loch Nora a little too hard and it knocks Eddie into the door again, the window knob digging into his knee, but fuck, at least he doesn’t cum all over himself again.

There’s sweat pooling in the divots of Eddie’s collarbones, the back of his neck. His hairline is damp with it and he feels like he can’t draw a complete breath with the heat and humidity in the car.

“Can you turn on the air, man, I’m fuckin’ dyin’ here.”

“Air’s up, Eds. Windows are down, it’s like in the fifties out there.”

“Fuck, man, I’m a mess,” Eddie hears himself chuckle. There’s no humor in it. This might well be it for him. He might actually be doomed to nut himself to death, right here in Steve Harrington’s car.

But then they’re pulling into Steve’s drive and Eddie is tumbling out of the car onto the concrete beneath, hauling himself to stand, a little wobbly on his shaking knees, as he makes the trek to the front door. He’s still gotta wait for Steve, though, and he stands there at the locked door, leaning against it as Steve fumbles the keys in his hand to get it unlocked to usher Eddie inside.

When the door closes behind them it’s like a dam breaks. Eddie presses Steve to the doorframe and kisses him, hungry and desperate, like he can’t stop himself from getting Steve's skin on his own.

“Fuck,” he murmurs into Steve’s mouth, uncertain he’s even forming words. “Fuck, Stevie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this but I need you. I need this now. I think I might actually die if I don’t have you… that flower, Stevie, it did something to me.”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice is firm, certain, decisive, and it makes Eddie tremble. “Okay, what do you need?”

“You,” he says again. He’s not sure how else to convey the severity of just how badly he needs this, of the urgency curling in his gut at the idea that he might not be able to have everything the way he needs it. “Touch me.”

Steve touches him. Steve’s hand presses against his straining fly and Eddie erupts, his head damn near exploding with the force of it. He ruts against Steve’s hand as he paints the inside of his pants with a third orgasm. There’s no way he should even have anymore in there. There’s no way it’s safe for one person to produce this much spunk in such a short amount of time but as he’s coming down Eddie comes to a realization:

In the scant few moments of clarity between an orgasm and the next wave of arousal, he is able to think. He’s drained, getting more and more exhausted with each release, but he thinks he knows what the solution here is.

“We need to fuck,” he says, impressed with the evenness of his own voice around the druggy haze of whatever the flower’s done to him. “I can’t put my finger on how I know that but it’s like… I get really horny, I can’t think, I cum, and then for like two minutes I’m fine. You need to fuck me until it’s over.”

“This is going to actually kill you, Eddie. We really should call Owens.”

“Absolutely not. Let’s just try it.”

“That’s the spores talking.”

“Maybe! But, like… what else could it be? That thing spit some sort of… sex spore on me!”

“And what if it… I dunno, transfers to me or something?”

“Then we fuck until we die, baby!” Eddie’s voice comes out sounding a little hysterical, even to his own ears but he’s frantic. His fingers are tingling.

“You don’t want it like this, you already said!”

“No, but I may never get it at all if I die like this! And then how bad would you feel, huh? Sorry Wayne, Eddie died because I wouldn’t fuck him stupid when a demon flower got him all hot and bothered. Tough loss, after everything.”

Steve switches their positions, shoves Eddie back against the door and it knocks something loose in him again, any thoughts or words he’d hoped to convey just - whoosh - out the window with everything aside from his libido. He spreads his thighs and takes Steve by the belt loops to pull him into him. He’s dragging his cock over the front of Steve’s jeans, feels an answering hardness there despite Steve’s protests.

Steve, finally, is using those quick hands of his to get Eddie’s belt unbuckled, his jeans unzipped and down to pool on the floor at his feet.

“You’re a fucking mess,” he says, and Eddie whines. He doesn’t touch Eddie’s dick just yet, his fingers dipping into the sticky, cooling spend caked in his pubic hair and bringing it up into both their lines of sight. He presses his forefinger and thumb together and spreads them, a string of cum spreading between the two, and then he wipes it on Eddie’s cheek.

“Filthy,” he says, but his voice is so gentle, so affectionate that it very nearly hurts.

Eddie cums again, his cock twitching as he spills onto the floor at their feet. The sheer volume of it should be concerning - it is a little bit - but it takes a backseat to the way Steve is looking at him, hunger in his eyes now as he begins to realize, maybe, that this could be fun.

“You’re really okay with this?” Steve asks. “Us? Like this?”

“More than okay, Stevie. Been tryin’ to get you in bed for weeks.”

The white noise takes over his senses again and he pitches forward, curling in on himself because this time it hurts, his stomach twisting into knots and his cock straining and so hard he thinks it might actually fucking explode if he doesn’t get some fucking relief. His skin goes clammy and he’s having trouble staying planted on his feet, something in his head is splitting open and it’s all he can do to not pass out.

He’s clutching Steve’s forearm, the muscles there shifting and flexing beneath his grip, and it’s like the fog was so close to clearing he could almost taste it but now he’s having trouble stringing one thought into two let alone forming coherent words. He wails, can barely hear himself over the kssshhhhhh of television static in his brain, and Steve helps him out of his jeans and up the stairs.

He’s not sure how they even make it but before Eddie knows it he’s on his back atop Steve’s mattress, the sheets beneath him cool and smooth, a balm to his too-tight skin.

“Can you be good for me?” Steve asks him.

“I can be anything you need me to be,” Eddie tries to tell him, but what comes out is something closer to a long, drawn out whine of Steve’s name.

“Spread.”

Eddie does. He plants his feet on the mattress and spreads his legs as far as he can for Steve to see him, take him in, fucking pound him into the mattress already, Christ. The mattress dips as Steve crawls toward him on his knees, shedding his shirt along the way. His fucking jeans are still on but they’ll deal with those later. Right now Eddie is zeroed in on those fuckin’ paws of his, desperate to get those hands on his skin, on his cock, whole fucking fist in his ass if Steve would be so fucking kind.

Steve is up off the bed now, scrambling in the drawer beside it, rustling around in there like he’s searching for something and Eddie’s head is pounding, a headache that creeps around his eyes and into his spine and leaves him even more breathless than before. But then the bed dips again and Steve is there with a bottle of lube and a condom and he’s saying something, his words lost in the white noise between Eddie’s ears.

Steve gets a finger inside him, and everything goes utterly silent. The heat remains, the clawing arousal remains, the painful stiffness of Eddie’s neglected cock remains, but the white noise is gone. He can hear Steve now, his stream of consciousness telling Eddie exactly what he’s doing, asking him if he’s okay and Eddie feels himself nod. He's keening, whining, moaning as he fucks himself on that single finger inside him and he’s already craving more of it. He needs two fingers, needs to get his cock inside Steve’s perfect fucking mouth.

And that’s exactly what he gets. Maybe he said it out loud again, begging for more of Steve in his delirium, maybe Steve just knew, is able to read Eddie like the open book he tries so, so hard not to be. Either way, Steve’s mouth is hot and wet as it engulfs him, the stretch of two fingers shoving into his hole stinging in the most perfect way. Eddie arches, shoves himself down the back of Steve’s throat and the noise it elicits is filthy and beautiful, the feeling of his throat fluttering around the head of his cock with a gag bringing Eddie oh, so briefly back to himself to relish it, just a little, before the delirium pulls him back under.

He’s being so loud, never heard himself make these sounds before but Steve seems to be enjoying it. For just a second, as Eddie lifts his head from the pillow that smells of sleep and Steve and vanilla shampoo, Eddie can see Steve’s hand down the front of his jeans, the bulge of that cock he’s been dreaming of for weeks obvious and prominently erect.

“Fuck me,” Eddie hears himself say. “Please, pleaseplease Stevie.”

Instead, Steve bullies a third finger into his hole and takes his cock deep in his throat again. Something snaps, and Eddie cums, spilling down Steve’s throat and squeezing his fingers so hard he’s a little worried he might break them. The clarity that follows his orgasm is bright and heavy - the knowledge that Steve’s mouth and fingers have finally brought him off and he wasn’t even present enough to enjoy it… it stings a little, makes him just a little bit sad, but then Steve is shedding his jeans and his boxers and taking that big beautiful cock in his hand to stroke it.

“No condom,” Eddie says. “I think… I don’t think it would work. I think…”

I think I need you to cum inside me. He can’t say it, can’t force the words out, because his clarity is leaving him again and he shakes with a sob. It hurts - every time he gets off something in him fucking hurts so bad. There’s an understanding in him, something supernatural or magical or fucking something, that knows he needs to cum with Steve, at the same time, with one of them buried to the hilt inside the other, for this to end. And he needs it to happen now because there are knives in his body, cutting him up from the inside every time he cums without any real relief.

“I wanted this to be special,” Steve is saying, and Eddie can only just hear him past that old ringing in his ears.

He wants to respond, wants to reassure Steve that it’s okay, that this doesn’t count, really, that they can make it special next time, tomorrow morning maybe, after the spores have worn off and he can think coherent thoughts again. He can’t. He doesn’t know words anymore, thinks he might have forgotten the English language an hour ago, a day ago. How long has this been going on?

He sobs again, this time with the urgency to get Steve inside him. Please. Please. Please. He’s hot all over, burning up inside, his stomach tearing itself apart and his heart pounding so fucking hard it might actually burst through his ribs.

Eddie hauls himself over, flipping to his front to get his knees up under him, presents himself to Steve like that. Like this, like this, hard. He’s not sure the words make it out of him but god, Steve understands anyway. He shuffles closer, his hands palming the cheeks of Eddie’s ass and spreading them. He’s just looking at him, not saying anything, and Eddie’s skin is singing beneath his touch.

“Hard,” Eddie says into the pillow, his words muffled. He turns, says over his shoulder, “Fuck me hard.”

Distantly, Eddie hears the lube pop open again, feels the slippery wetness coat his hole, Steve’s fingers dipping into him just so before swiftly leaving him again, and then Steve is there - the blunt head of him pressing and stretching him and entering him. It should hurt. There should be a burn to go with the stretch but instead it’s nothing but sweet, sweet relief.

Steve bottoms out with a deep groan in the back of his throat. Something within Eddie clicks into place, and Steve sets up a punishing rhythm, his hips making these little smack smack smack noises each time he sinks home again. Eddie feels so full, the drag of Steve inside him forcing his voice out in broken little whines as he claws at the sheets under his hands. He presses back to meet each brutal thrust. He’s babbling again, unsure of what he’s saying, hears himself chanting and crying out as the heat in him builds and builds.

Steve’s hands are everywhere - they ghost over the jagged scars on his hip and ribs, grip his shoulders tightly to drag him back onto his cock with force. The long line of Steve’s chest drapes over Eddie’s back suddenly, Steve’s mouth so close to his ear that Eddie can hear now just how ragged and fucked out he is, and Steve’s hand finds its way to Eddie’s throbbing, pulsing cock.

Steve strokes him once, twice, before that hand leaves to travel even lower. He squeezes Eddie’s balls, tugging harshly at them, and Eddie lifts his head to rub his cheek against Steve’s. He turns as much as he can, seeking his mouth, seeking a kiss from him. Steve bites him, his teeth sinking into Eddie’s bottom lip before sucking it wholly into his mouth.

Eddie spills onto the sheets with a sharp cry, panic rising in him as he oh, so briefly comes to his senses enough to know this isn’t over, that he’s still hard, still needs more of this. He’s not even finished coming, each spurt landing heavily on the bed beneath him, and he takes Steve’s mouth in a kiss again.

The harsh rhythm of Steve’s hips hasn’t slowed.

That hand glides even further back now, frames the place where their bodies meet between two of his fingers to feel the way Steve is fucking him. Eddie’s senses have left him again, all narrowed down to the sensation of touch, and all he can feel is the wet of Steve’s mouth, open against his own, the thick cock impaling him and taking, taking, taking.

Steve’s voice is growing sharper, little “Ah, ah, ah”s falling from his lips the closer he gets to his own release, and he hisses out a ragged, “Fuck,” before pulling out to squeeze himself at the base of his cock. He breathes through it. Eddie doesn’t even have enough time to find his bearings before he’s being flipped to his back.

Above him is Steve. Holy fuck. He’s damp with sweat, his skin glistening a little in the golden sunset light streaming in through the slotted blinds of the window. He’s gazing down at Eddie like he’s the magical one.

“You’re beautiful like this.”

Eddie hears it, when Steve says it. He feels it in his pores. Believes it, when Steve says it.

And then there’s Steve, lowering himself to lie across Eddie’s body. He guides himself forward and sinks perfectly inside.

Everything is quiet. There’s no buzzing in Eddie’s head anymore, no ringing in his ears. There’s just this: Steve’s ragged breaths as he bottoms out again, Eddie’s audible gulp at the burn of being so full in this position, a bird outside - mourning dove, maybe, something that coos low and deep.

Steve wanted something special. This feels special.

Still the heat doesn’t subside. Steve whispers that Eddie is burning up inside, that it’s almost too much, and then he rocks slowly back before pressing forward again and Eddie feels his eyes roll back in his head. Steve guides Eddie’s legs around his waist and he hovers over him, their faces so, so close to each other that Eddie can smell the beer and the pot on Steve’s breath. Eddie kisses him, and Steve laces their fingers together, holds his hand through the first round of slow, torturous thrusts of his hips.

“More,” Eddie whispers. “Deeper. It’s working.”

“How do you know?” Steve whispers in return.

“I don’t know. I just do.”

It’s slow like that, soft and gentle in a way that Eddie never once thought sex could be, each slide home dragging little sobs from Eddie’s lips and into Steve’s waiting mouth. Eddie is overcome with it, with the simplicity of this, but after a while it’s not enough anymore and the knives in his gut are back.

“More, I need more.”

“You’re doing so well,” Steve breathes, the pace of his hips picking up speed as Eddie arches beneath him. “You feel so good. You’re so…” he moans, “oh, god, you’re so good for me.”

Eddie is coming back to himself, gradually, for real this time. He’s got the presence of mind to actively move with Steve, to rock with him, match his rhythm, bring him deeper with every thrust of his hips. Steve takes his lips in another kiss, and Eddie opens for him. It’s a real kiss, a proper one, like so many that they’ve shared before, and that’s what seems to break Steve. He holds Eddie’s face in his hands, pulling back to look at him.

“There you are,” he whispers, almost reverent. “There you are.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easy, Stevie.”

“Thank god.”

“C’mon, sweetheart, give it to me. I can take it.”

“Well I can’t,” Steve groans, laughing at himself a little. “You’re so fuckin’ hot inside, Eds. Gonna burn me up.”

But Steve sits up. He gets his knees under himself and under Eddie’s ass. Hooking his elbows under each of Eddie’s knees, he folds him in half. Eddie didn’t even know he could fuckin’ bend like that but the change in position does something, shifts something inside Eddie and he arches with it. His eyes roll back as his vision goes fuzzy, Steve driving into him with a kind of force he hadn’t expected.

The delirium washes over him again in waves. Colors swim in his vision. Steve begins to glow again, a little bit. There’s a wub wub wub in Eddie’s ears that drown out even the wet slap of their skin coming together as Steve fucks into him. Eddie’s not sure if the sounds coming out of him are euphoric giggles or fucked out whimpers but at this point either seems possible.

Vaguely, as if under water, he thinks he hears himself murmur, “I love you,” and Steve’s hips stutter a little with the declaration. Fuck. If that’s how Eddie goddamn tells Steve he loves him… Fuck. He reaches for Steve, drags him down and lets his body bend even further to kiss Steve again, will him to forget.

“More,” he pleads. “More. I love you. Fuck. Sorry.”

Against his mouth, Steve laughs. Eddie feels the shape of that laugh more than he hears it. What he does hear, though, is Steve’s response.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for months.”

“Stevie,” Eddie hears himself whine. “Close. Close, I’m close. This is gonna be it, oh god.”

The drive of Steve’s hips is wild. He’s frantic, urgent, chasing his own release. The delirium crashes into Eddie again, makes him cry out. It’s building and building to an absolute fever pitch now, very nearly fucked right out of him and when he blows this last time that’ll be it.

His cheeks are wet. Oh god, he’s fucking crying. Actually fucking sobbing as Steve fucks him hard and fast and relentless. Steve’s eyes are squeezed shut, focused on not coming too quick maybe, and thank fuck for that because there’s no way Steve wouldn’t stop if he knew Eddie was fucking crying with pleasure.

That final orgasm crashes into Eddie with the force of a meteorite. It’s a cataclysmic event. The kind of shit that could eradicate life. Maybe this is what killed the dinosaurs, Eddie thinks vaguely.

He shouts and tears at the sheets, hears them rip a little beneath his clawing fingers. There’s so much fucking cum. It’s boiling hot on his skin. He paints Steve’s chest with it somehow, and has just enough control over himself to drag his hand through it, scrape his fingernails through the mess of his chest hair and that’s what does it for Steve.

He drives deep, deeper than he has yet, his balls trapped, squeezed between their bodies. There’s a hot blooming sensation inside him as Steve fills him up with his release, and Eddie can feel Steve’s cock twitching inside him with each spurt.

“Fuck, oh fuck Eddie, holy shit.”

Slowly, Steve draws out of him, and Eddie winces. He feels empty. Empty, but satiated and relaxed. Beside him, Steve collapses onto his back.

Everything is so quiet in the aftermath. Eddie’s cock is finally going soft. He’s drifting in and out of consciousness, just a little nervous he might not wake up if he gives himself over to sleep. The poison is out. He knows it is. He’s coming down from it, the euphoria and delirium finally leaving him altogether.

He’s exhausted. His body fucking hurts.

But Steve is here. Steve is kissing him. Steve is murmuring love against his mouth, giving him praise, telling him he’s beautiful, telling him he’s good.

“Thought I was gonna lose you again. ‘M sorry.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Eddie says, breathless. “No apologies. You did…” he swallows, “you did exactly what I needed.”

“You were crying!”

“Good tears, I swear!”

Steve narrows his eyes at Eddie at that but doesn’t fight him, and Eddie feels a smile creeping across his face.

“God, it feels so good to be able to think straight again.”

“Nothin’ straight about the way you think.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “True enough. C’mere. Wanna cuddle you for a minute before I try and get up.”

“Eds, you need a shower.”

“Need you more. We can shower after.”

He pulls Steve into him. He tangles their legs together and pushes Steve’s sweaty hair back from his face and just looks at him. He wants to apologize for getting too close to that fucked up flower, for forcing a situation that Steve might not have been ready for just yet.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You didn’t want to… I just… like, I know you wanted to eventually, but… I’m sorry you had to, like… do this. Today. Because of this. Because I was stupid and tried to touch a fucking demon flower I had no reason to fuck with.”

Steve sighs. “It would have gotten one of us either way, I think. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, Eds. I’ve been… I’ve wanted to, for weeks now. Months, maybe. I just wanted to make sure we were both… that we were on the same page before we did.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve’s fingers trail lightly over Eddie’s brow, as if mapping his face, committing it to memory. “I needed to know you loved me.”

“Of course I do.”

“I just fall really hard and really fast. You know? I didn’t wanna be there before you, do this, and then find out afterwards that we… that whatever this is is just… physical to you. I can’t have another relationship that revolves around sex.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that,” Eddie sighs. “Well for what it’s worth, I’ve been struggling to not tell you how I feel for… Jesus, for months. Think I might’a fell for you that first time I saw you in the hospital, after everything was over.”

“Yeah?” Steve smiles. “Tell me about that.”

“Nah. Maybe another time. Let’s shower. This shit is starting to flake and I’m startin’ to get itchy.”

The shower is lukewarm. The shampoo is expensive, and smells of vanilla when Steve works it through Eddie’s hair. He groans at Steve’s fingers on his scalp, more relaxed than he’s been all day, maybe even in weeks. After washing his hair, Steve works out the tightness in Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie might fucking cry again.

“I didn’t expect to see you, in the hospital,” Eddie says quietly as Steve drags a washcloth over his skin. “Max had just woken up, too, and… I get it, I wasn’t upset about it at all. If I’d made it out the way everyone else did, I’d have been right there with you.”

Steve is quiet, the washcloth slowing its scrub across Eddie’s back as he listens.

“But there you were. You came in while they were changing my bandages and you… fuck, Steve, you looked like you hadn’t slept all week. You smiled. I think I was a goner right there.”

“You smiled first,” Steve tells him. “When you looked up and saw me. You smiled, even though the old bandages were sticking to you when they pulled them off. I never thought I’d see you smile again.”

“Were you a goner too Stevie?”

It’s meant to be teasing, but Steve says, “Yeah. Yeah, I was a fucking goner.”

“What took us so long, huh?”

“I don’t know. Glad we figured it out.”

When Eddie’s clean they switch positions, and Steve lets Eddie return the favor. He washes Steve’s hair and his body and he kisses him all over his face and neck, counting those perfect moles with his lips as he goes. The shower is nearly cold when they finally shut it off and step out onto the plush mat on the bathroom floor. Steve’s towels are soft.

It’s not until they get back to Steve’s bedroom that they realize what a mess they’ve made of the bed. Steve tosses a clean pair of underwear to Eddie from his own dresser and then they strip the sheets. It’s nice, doing this together. It’s soft and domestic and Eddie is entertaining the idea of someday. Someday they can maybe have this for real, the two of them and Robin and Vickie in a little place somewhere in the city.

Maybe he and Steve can have forever.

After the sheets are changed and the moon hangs heavy outside Steve’s bedroom window, they climb back into his bed and get back to kissing. There’s no rush here, no urgency, no need to take things any further than this.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve says later, startling Eddie just as he’s finally drifting off to sleep. “We forgot to call Owens.”

#steddie fic #bee's blurbs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie

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muzaktomyears · 2 years ago

Text

The man who was there the day the Beatles broke up

Mal Evans was the Fab Four’s roadie, fixer and friend. Paul McCartney confided in him when the band split, while John Lennon relied on him to guard his life. A new book tells his story

The Beatles’ lingering tensions finally caught up to them during a meeting among John, Paul and George at 3 Savile Row on September 10 1969. As Mal and Neil [Aspinall, who ran the Beatles’ company Apple Corps] observed, John took particular issue with what he perceived as Paul’s megalomania, saying that, “If you look back on the Beatles albums, good or bad or whatever you think of ’em, you’ll find that most times if anybody has got extra time it’s you! For no other reason than you worked it like that.” For Mal, the conversation must have been pure agony. He idolised Paul, who bore the brunt of the meeting’s vitriol.

In his own defence, Paul protested that he had “tried to allow space on albums for John’s songs, only to find that John hadn’t written any”.

With the idea of recording a new album seemingly off the table, John suggested that they produce a Christmas single instead. After all, he reasoned, their annual holiday fan club record would be due before long. When this idea was met with silence and indifference, John soberly concluded, “I guess that’s the end of the Beatles.”

As horrible as the experience must have been for Mal, panic hadn’t set in just yet. During the past 15 months, Ringo and George had quit the band at various times, only to be coaxed back. But ten days later it all spilled out again at a meeting at Apple. Mal and Allen Klein (their manager after the death of Brian Epstein) were there, along with Yoko, Neil and the boys. For his part, George was on speakerphone from Cheshire, where he was visiting his ailing mother. The topic at hand was a new agreement with Capitol, which Klein was understandably eager to ink.

As Mal observed, Paul began to enumerate the group’s upcoming opportunities, including a series of intimate gigs and a possible television special. In each instance, John said, “No, no, no,” before telling Paul, “Well, I think you’re daft.” Eventually, he blurted out that he wanted a “divorce”. “What do you mean?” a stunned Paul asked. “The group’s over,” John replied. “I’m leaving.”

At this point, Paul recalled, “Everyone blanched except John, who coloured a little, and said, ‘It’s rather exciting. It’s like I remember telling Cynthia I wanted a divorce.’ ”

Afterwards, Mal and Paul returned to McCartney’s home, where they retreated to the garden, still trying to process what had transpired. Paul remained hopeful that John might change his mind, that the Beatles would continue unabated. But Mal knew better. As with George, Mal had reasoned that “all of them had left the group at one time or another, starting with Ringo’’. But when “John came into the office and said, ‘The marriage is over! I want a divorce,’ that was the final thing. That’s what really got to Paul, you know, because I took Paul home and I ended up in the garden crying my eyes out.”

That night with Lennon and Phil Spector in 1973, when happiness was not a warm gun

Mal took great pleasure in spending long hours in John’s company, enjoying the Beatle’s undivided attention, as opposed to sharing him with Paul, George and Ringo. “It was fascinating,” said Mal, who by this point was living in LA and writing his own songs, “because John was talking to me like I was a songwriter, and that was incredible. For the first time, John and I really communicated, whereas, when it was the four of them, John was always the hardest to talk to. I always thought that when John stopped insulting me, we had fallen out as friends.” But, he added, referring to John’s teasing, “The more he likes you, the more he takes the mickey out of you.”

Yet, as Mal soon discovered, working with John during this period would prove to be a chore — incomparable, in fact, to their touring years together, when the Beatles were often confined to the relative safety of a hotel suite. When he was in LA, John could often be found at the Sunset Strip’s Rainbow Bar and Grill, which had emerged as his de facto headquarters [during a period of heavy drinking which Lennon ironically referred to as the Lost Weekend but actually lasted 18 months.] With musicians like John, Harry (Nilsson), Ringo, Keith Moon, Alice Cooper and Micky Dolenz adopting the Rainbow as their regular watering hole, they had taken to calling themselves the Hollywood Vampires, a nickname that evoked the night hours they spent guzzling hooch in the bar’s loft space.

On one of his most harrowing evenings in Los Angeles, Mal had accompanied John and Phil Spector to the Rainbow. At one point, John walked Phil to his car, assuring Mal that he would return shortly. “About a half hour goes by, and I start worrying and go outside looking for John — no sign,” Mal later wrote. “I’d lost track of a Beatle for a day. What had happened, I found out the following evening, was that when he’d seen Phil off, a few hippie fans of his took him in tow, and John, who had just moved into a flat, couldn’t remember the address, nor his or my phone numbers. [John] eventually turn[ed] up, but not before I’d had a few irate words from Yoko, who phoned me from New York shouting, ‘I thought you were John’s bodyguard — why don’t you guard his body?’ ”

At a loss for words, Mal admitted that “I never really thought of myself as a bodyguard to anybody, but I suppose over the years that had been part of the gig. Anyway, they were all grown up, with very strong minds of their own as to what they wanted to do, and I certainly didn’t expect them to hold themselves accountable to me.”

That December, as work on Back to Mono proceeded, John and Phil shifted their project to the Record Plant West. The change of recording studios had everything to do with John’s and Phil’s antics having gotten them evicted from their previous studio, A&M. At one point, Nilsson and Moon, in a drunken stupor, had urinated onto the recording console, leaving the electronics in an ungodly mess.

Things began innocently enough after John and Phil completed their December 11 session at the Record Plant West, where they took a pass at Chuck Berry’s You Can’t Catch Me. As Mal looked on, the two men, drunk to the gills, were horsing around the Las Vegas Room. In a nod to the early days of Beatlemania when the Beatles would climb on Mal when they heard they were at the top of the charts, John decided to hop onto Mal’s back for a piggyback ride. Unfortunately, Phil opted to get in on the act, too. Mal’s physical dexterity in late 1973 was a far cry from that of the early 1960s, and he had difficulty sustaining the weight of two men atop his aching back. As always, Mal observed, “Phil goes a little too far,” and in the ensuing ruckus, “he karate-chopped me on the nose, my spectacles went flying, and I got tears in my eyes I can tell you. I turned around with a real temper and told Phil, ‘Don’t ever lay another finger on me, man.’ ”

And that’s when Phil, “maybe to re-establish himself in his own eyes”, Mal thought, pulled out a handgun. To the roadie’s surprise, the producer “fired it off under our noses, deafening us both, the bullet ricocheting around the room and landing between my feet”.

John was understandably incensed, exclaiming to Phil, “If you’re gonna kill me, kill me, but don’t take away my hearing — it’s me living!”

Until that moment, Mal and John had believed that Spector’s handgun was a toy. At one point earlier in the evening, Phil had cocked the trigger and aimed the weapon at John’s head. As a result of the incident in the Las Vegas Room, “John’s fear of guns generally was doubled.” For his part, Mal vowed to stay clear of Phil. He would attend the recording sessions in deference to John, but that was it.

In nearly the same instant that Mal decided to banish Phil from his world forever, he and John were hustled off to [co-founder of the Record Plant] Gary Kellgren’s house for a lavish going-away party in honour of Mal, who was preparing to make his return to Sunbury. For the occasion, Phil had arranged for Mal to receive “a beautiful large cake, which must have measured four feet by three feet, so nicely decorated with a large bottle of Napoleon brandy, [and] a lot of comic figures like Superman and Batman,” Mal wrote. The sumptuous dessert was inscribed, “To Mal, my pal, love, Philip.”

As it turned out, the madcap producer’s greatest gift to Mal that night came in the form of his absence. “Phil, to show the most understanding side of his nature, did not come to the party,” said Mal. “He knew if he had, he’d be outrageous and spoil it for me. But he set it up and didn’t come — a true mark of affection from a friend.”

The party came to a sudden close, though, when John, having grown blind drunk, planted a telephone into the sticky remains of the cake.

Meet the Beatles: four days in Mal’s life with the moptops

Paul (1962) In July 1962, Mal and his family attended the celebration of the “Wavertree Mystery”, an annual event held to commemorate the anonymous donation of a local playground back in 1895. Mal later recalled that, “Lil and I were proudly pushing Gary in his pram when she turned to me and said, ‘There’s a weird guy over there — keeps staring at us. Now he looks like a real Cavernite to me.’ On turning, I was to see Paul standing there, unshaven, with a denim jacket thrown over his shoulder and chewing on a toffee apple.” After engaging in the niceties of introducing his wife to the scruffy musician, Mal took Paul for a jaunt. “We spent the rest of the day together,” Mal wrote, “Paul and I daring each other to go on things like the parachute drop and other displays that took nerve, neither of us accepting the challenge.” At one point, they stopped in front of an automobile exhibition. Paul announced to Mal that “one of these days I’m going to own one of those cars’’, pointing to one very humble saloon-type car.

George (1962) After shows at the Cavern, Mal would introduce his wife Lily to the rest of the band. “On one occasion,” Mal recalled, “Lil and I bought the fish and chips for the group and ourselves, as they could only muster enough money between them to pay for the teas.” Although she had her misgivings about Mal’s involvement in their lives, she enjoyed getting to know the bandmates. “After gigs,” she later recalled, “George would come back to our house for bacon and eggs. He sometimes came back before Mal to keep me company. I’d be washing baby clothes and nappies or ironing. I liked him the best.” Lily fondly remembered the time she pushed the bangs from Harrison’s face, saying, “Let’s see what it looks like with your hair back. I like that better.” But George wasn’t having it. He combed his hair forward, telling her, “That’s the way I have to wear it; it’s the Beatle cut.”

Ringo (1965) Driving up the M1, Mal and Ringo stopped at a roadside café for lunch. “We were sitting at the counter,” Mal recalled, “and the chap next to me had obviously been trying to make up his mind whether it really was Ringo with me. Suddenly, he turned to me and said, ‘I don’t care if it is him or not.’ Ringo nearly choked with laughter as I teased the fellow, saying, ‘No, it’s not him. But it gets terribly embarrassing taking him anywhere because everybody mistakes him for Ringo!’”

John (1964) John held no illusions about the Beatles’ behaviour, later admitting that, “We were bastards. You can’t be anything else in such a pressurised situation, and we took it out on Neil and Mal. They took a lot of shit from us because we were in such a shitty position. It was hard work and somebody had to take it. Those things are left out, about what bastards we were. F***ing big bastards, that’s what the Beatles were. You have to be a bastard to make it, and that’s a fact. And the Beatles were the biggest bastards on earth. We were the Caesars. Who’s going to knock us when there’s a million pounds to be made, all the handouts, the bribery, the police, and the hype?”

During a flight to Massachusetts for the September 12 show at the Boston Garden, Mal’s long-standing feelings of intimidation around John came to a head. Sitting at the rear of the plane, he broke down in tears, telling a reporter that “John got kind of cross with me — just said I should go f*** off. No reason, ya know. But I love the man. John is a powerful force. Sometimes he’s rough, if you know what I mean, man. But there’s no greater person that I know.” In many ways, it was as if Mal’s lack of self-confidence, a key aspect of his persona for the balance of his life, had returned with a vengeance. Later John approached Mal and embraced him.

Extracted from Living the Beatles Legend by Kenneth Womack (Mudlark £25), published on November 14.

(source)

#another article in today's times!#mal evans #kenneth womack #the beatles #john lennon #phil spector #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr

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