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ilykaveh · 1 year

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ꨄ︎ . ⋆ A MILLION POLAROIDS WITH ALL THE DATES PENNED IN RED INK !

diluc ragnvindr.

ABOUT: upon returning to your ex-boyfriend’s dorm to pick up some of your belongings while he’s out, you stumble into his brother’s room to find a secret stash of his recordings of you.

WARNINGS : sub fem reader, name calling, misogyny, light marking, non-consensual filming, breeding, possessiveness, male masturbation, getting caught, degradation, praise, oral (receiving), dumbification, fingering, mating press, implied squirting, choking, cervix kissing.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

“whore.” diluc muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes at the sight of you sat on your boyfriend’s (his brother’s) lap.

the pink, uniformed pleats of your miniskirt splayed out as you straddled him, making out with kaeya as if you were alone in his room. his hands audaciously groped your breasts, lips connecting to the sweet spot on your neck. for all diluc knew, you were shamelessly riding kaeya’s cock out here in the open, slutting yourself out for anyone to see.

neither of you paid any attention to diluc grabbing a glass of water, nor how his crimson eyes remained trained on each movement of your body. women like you were the problem on this campus. always running around, eager to spread your legs for the first man that showed you a crumb of attention; you needed a smart, proper man like diluc to rein you in and eliminate your salacious behavior.

guys like kaeya were good for nothing; he would rather play hooky than attend classes, and was most likely one step away from failing out. you should be going for men like diluc instead — he cared about his lectures, had multiple internships lined up for the summer too. he could provide for you, make you his submissive little housewife rather than this promiscuous whore you were right now.

to diluc, he saw no issue of snapping a picture of you sitting in kaeya’s lap. there was nothing too lewd about it, but the same couldn’t be said for the quick audio clip he grabbed of your boyfriend sucking on the sweet and tender skin of your neck. your delicate flesh was already painted with an array of purple hickies tainting your perfect skin; diluc feeling disgusted at your willingness to be exposed like that out where you could be seen.

but that was only the beginning. diluc grew hellbent on the idea of claiming you, stealing you away from his brother. he’s snap pictures while you weren’t looking — if you were going to walk around his dorm with your ass hanging out, surely he was allowed to take a reminder of the moment. he became a master at secretly sliding his phone under your skirt, photographing your clothed cunt without your knowledge. in some of the images he could see your plump pussy lips straining against the fabric, some had little wet patches soaking lacy lingerie, and a few showed the dampness of kaeya’s own cum leaking out of you. the latter of which made diluc feral, further fuelling his possessiveness. he should be the one to breed your slutty, desperate hole — not his idiot brother. he deserved you full of his seed, dumb and pliant around his cock. you should belong to him.

he had an array of other perv shots too. a few were more simple, such as you undressing, of your cleavage (oh, how he wished to mark your chest and cover you in his cum). but his prized possession was a sex tape of you and his brother that he’d recorded, phone secretly angled through the small opening of kaeya’s ajar bedroom door to get the perfect shot of you riding him reverse cowgirl, tits bouncing as you squirmed on his brother’s cock. all diluc could think about was how much better he would treat you, never even dreaming of making you do all the work. kaeya was selfish, unable to appreciate the true beauty before him. you were perfect, compromising for a man who couldn’t treat you the way that you deserved.

he kept everything stored on a hard drive, reserved for his eyes only. or at least, that’s what he had thought.

kaeya was out as per usual, probably out partying or spending time with you. times like this were perfect for diluc to break out his personal vault of perversion, to peruse the files he had saved of you. he had dimmed his lights, ensured the curtains were drawn and that a bottle of lotion sat on his desk. blue light from his screen filled the dorm as he scrolled through pictures of you: a seemingly innocent one of creamy soft serve coating your lips; a shot of your pretty pussy clothed in sheer, flowery panties; a video of you slipping your shirt over your head…

with that, the redhead pulled his half-hard cock out from his grey sweatpants and got to work. his other hand remained on his mouse, further browsing his lewd collection. he was in a world of his own, dreaming about his fist being your soft cunt. grunts and moans of your name echoed the walls, decorated with the lewd wet noises created by how darn messy diluc’s cock already was. he didn’t hear the door unlock, nor the fumbling around in kaeya’s room.

“fuck!” he yelped, rubbing his thumb over the slit of his blunt tip as he grew close to the edge. this alerted you, thus heading towards his room to investigate.

the door was slightly opened, drawing you into the darkness of diluc’s room. “hello?” you mumbled, pushing the door open a little more. “diluc?”

and with that, his heart fell. he froze, making no move to shove his cock back down his pants nor exit what was on his screen. silence would have overtaken the room, though his computer emitted faint whines and moans.

“kaeya! shit!” “you like that, don’t you? dirty fucking whore. going to cum on my cock like a stupid little slut, hmm? scream for me, snowflake.”

the screen to inspect, praying to the gods that you were mistaken and that wasn’t a video of your boyfriend (well, your ex- boyfriend now) fucking your dumb. hell, you were hoping this was some kind of sick joke, that you were being pranked in a rather cruel way, or… or… o—

“this is not what it looks like,” diluc spoke.

“what the fuck do you mean?” you hissed, finally looking at diluc. in the faint light, he could make out tear stains corrupting your cheeks, eyes puffy and swollen — you looked so elegant, even when upset. the man pondered for a moment; he hadn’t heard you cry, plus the tears didn’t seem fresh. it was clear to him that you’d been crying for some other reason.

“diluc, why do you have a fucking sex tape of me and your brother?”

“are you okay? you’ve been crying…”

“answer my fucking question! or i swear to god, i’ll- i’ll- i-”

a fresh bout of tears began to spill, whether from sadness or frustration was beyond you. diluc stood up, his cock finally sheathed back in his sweats. he placed a hand on your back, encouraging you to cry into his shoulder. you weren’t exactly in the headspace to think, thus allowing yourself to fall into his embrace as sobs wracked your body. a moment of quiet followed, diluc caressing your back ever so tenderly. it felt foreign, a gentleness that kaeya never showed to you — like diluc truly seemed to care.

“i b-broke up with him,” you mumbled, words punctuated with pained sobs. diluc stayed silent, encouraging you to continue if you wished to. “w-we— we fought. i s-said i he was r-really mean— said he ne-never loved me,”

diluc’s arms snaked around your back, pulling you tighter into him. one hand stroked your hair whilst you cried into his shirt, being thankful for the black material that wouldn’t show your tears nor the stains left by your running mascara.

“‘s okay,” he spoke, “you have always been too good for him, darling.”

few moments of quiet followed, broken only by soft sobs and gentle coos. “i’m not letting you walk home like this. let me take care of you for a bit, okay? i promise i’m nothing like my brother.”

your nods were shy as you allowed diluc to guide you towards his bed, helping you sit on its edge. he took your bag off of your shoulder, searching through to find some make-up wipes that he hoped you had. though you were attempting to pat away any tears with the sleeve of your cardigan, you knew full well that you looked like a mess. diluc pulled your hands away from your face, replacing them with his own. one tender hand cradled your face whilst the other dabbed at your ruined make-up, restoring the perfect creature he always knew you were. once he was done, he spent a moment absorbing your beauty, for he’d never been this close to you, let alone seen you this vulnerable. deep vermillion eyes flicked towards your pretty lips as he resisted the urge not to kiss you.

the soft sparkles in diluc’s expression eradicated the perverted scene that you had stumbled in upon from memory, replaced by the amiable man before you. it was a look that you barely remember kaeya giving you, perhaps only when he wanted something from you. diluc seemed purer, well-intentioned, like he truly cared about you.

hell, you didn’t give it a second thought. perhaps it was the irrationality colluding your mind, but you made the move to place a chaste kiss to his lips.

to say that diluc was caught off guard would be an understatement. his thoughts alternated between ‘you really must be a slut to already be jumping on your ex’s brother of all people’ and ‘what a good little thing, finally having come to her senses.’ regardless, the man kissed you back with an immeasurable fervor. he grew needy, the bulge in his pants becoming more prominent with each movement of his lips. strong arms inclined you to lay back, an order you were more than ready to comply to.

“princess? as much as i want you, i must warn you that kaeya will be retur—” diluc began to warn, though you cut him off mid-sentence.

“i don’t care; ‘want you too,”

after all, would it really be that bad if kaeya came home to see you creaming around his brother’s cock? perhaps he’d regret how he treated you, feel awful for making such nasty and unprovoked comments.

diluc helped you out of your clothes, being sure to worship every inch of skin revealed to him. he kissed down your neck, lightly sucking over any spots that made you gasp. lips trailed down past your collarbone and chest, only pausing just above the lace of your bra. with a soft “please” from you, the man removed the restrictive fabric, his breath tickling slightly as he reattached his mouth to your chest. he licked a stripe down to your hardening nipple, taking it into his mouth and swirling his warm tongue around the sensitive bud. a firm palm began massaging your other breast, the stimulation enough to make you whine. diluc was taking his time with you, making you squirm in all of the ways that he knew his brother couldn’t. he’d heard the gorgeous noises that you’d made when with kaeya, but to be the one ellicitting them from you was dreamlike to him.

“‘luc,” you moaned, desperate for more, “please, need you now,”

“need what, princess?” diluc teased, though he moved away from you to pull his own shirt over his head. “why don’t you take that pretty skirt off for me, okay?”

there were two ulterior motives present here. first of all, diluc wanted to see just how submissive you were planning on being; and secondly it gave him the perfect opportunity to distract you for a brief moment. as you shimmied your way out of your skirt, diluc moved to fiddle with something on his bedside table. he managed to set up his phone’s camera, pressing record in order to capture whatever was set to happen next. old sex tapes of you and kaeya would be useless to him now, a video of you writhing on his own cock becoming his new goal.

once he returned his attention to you, he helped position you in a way he knew would work for the camera. moving you to rest against his pillows and ridding you of your panties, diluc then slipped out of his own remaining clothes, thick cock standing tall against his toned stomach, decorated with a small amount of unruly red hair at the base and glistening beads of precum dribbling down his length. your jaw grew lax at the sight — he was definitely bigger than kaeya, the overwhelming girth of his cock worrying you slightly.

“‘s okay, we’ll make it fit,” he said, as though reading your mind. “gonna make you forget about him, yeah? gonna ruin you for anyone else, mold that pretty cunt around my cock, and only my cock,”

the velocity of his words made you whimper, already feeling yourself growing dumb for the man. his grip found your thighs, pushing them backwards towards your chest. diluc kissed down your stomach and pelvic bone, only halting above your drooling slit. he lifted your legs until you were in an adequate position to allow diluc full access to your cute little pussy. he adored the way your hole fluttered around nothing, how your pearly clit twitched from the cool air kissing it. he wanted nothing more than for this sight to be etched into his mind forever, the view of your cunt from his current angle unable to come close to any picture he could have snapped himself.

diluc dipped his tongue into your folds, finding it impossible to hold back an embarrassingly loud moan from how heavenly your sweet cunt tasted. his lips sought out your swollen bud, tracing shapes around it as he kept your thighs pressed back for him. each movement was sloppy, a concoction of his own spit and the delectable juices from you coating his lower face. as one of your hands found his hair, grasping fiery locks in attempt to pull him closer to your dripping core, the other reached for his pillows, desiring stability to keep you from losing yourself already. each moan slipping past your lips encouraged diluc to continue, rewarding you for your sweet noises.

“lulululu,” you whined, coherence an afterthought. “‘m gonna c- cum,”

instead of continuing, diluc pulled his mouth away for a moment, both to cherish how fucked out you already looked and to slide a single finger into your gooey hole. whines at the lost stimulation were replaced by euphoric melodies in sync with diluc’s own movements. he brought a thumb to play with your swollen clit, urging you to relax enough for him to thrust another digit into your. watching intently as you squirmed, he located the sweet spots inside of you. your chest rose and fell at a rapid rate, body unable to remain still as diluc toyed with you, now three fingers deep inside your dripping cunt.

“please,” you slurred, “wan’ your cock,”

he chuckled, amused by your neediness. moving to caress your cheek, he praised you for asking so politely. “sweet angel, i’ll treat you so well, okay?”

you nodded enthusiastically, diluc feeling your walls tighten on his fingers as he promised you his cock. he scissored your hole few times for good measure, wishing for you to feel as little pain as possible when he inevitably stretched you out.

you sniveled at the lost of contact once again, yet diluc was quick to replace his fingers with his cock. he was careful as he lined himself up, easing his mushroomed tip into your desperate pussy. his eyes remained trained on your face, watching your jaw go slack as you relinquished all control to him. he kept your knees pressed against your chest, giving himself full access to push into you.

babbles of his name filled the air, complimenting the lewd sloshing noises from your cunt. you could feel your walls stretching to accommodate diluc’s length, hopelessly fumbling around the man’s sheets for something to grip onto. upon bottoming out inside of you, you could feel his cock kissing the puckered opening of your cervix. he leaned down to place an ardent kiss to your lips, providing a perfect opportunity for you to wrap your arms around his neck.

“‘s alright, darling, i’m not going anywhere.” he hushed, “let go for me; i want to see your pretty face,”

the pout on your face lasted but a brief interval, for diluc began moving in and out of you. he experimented with slower then harsher thrusts, attempting to decipher the perfect speed to have you scream for him. you looked bewitching underneath him, each gasp you released and each bounce of your tits making it increasingly difficult for him to resist the urge to absolutely ravage you.

“you’re perfect,” he mumbled, “gonna treat you like a princess. you’ll cream on my cock for me, won’t you, sweet baby?”

barely able to utter a “mhm!”, you squeezed your eyelids shut, seeing stars as diluc fucked you.

“about time you finally dumped my good-for-nothing brother, right? finally, you can have a man that treats you better. he never made you feel this great, did he, princess? you deserve someone like me to make you cum over and over again, to make you go dumb underneath me.”

diluc looked completely feral. his mane stood a tangled mess, crimson locks flying in every direction and some sticking to the sweat on his brow. his pace grew more erratic with each thrust, ploughing into your sloppy cunt like a depraved beast.

“‘s so good, ‘luc,” you mused, “better than kae ever-”

you were cut off by diluc’s hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing it, though the action seemed to hold threatening intent. he pulled his cock almost all of the way out of you, tip barely resting inside of you.

“don’t you fucking dare say another man’s name while i fuck you,” he spat, mere inches away from your face. “you were being such a good girl for me, was even going to breed your pretty little cunt full.” your walls fluttered at that sentence, the idea of being full of diluc’s cum blowing your pupils wide in awe. “do you think you deserve it now, princess?”

he kept his hold on your throat, staying still as he watched your pathetic attempts to form a response.

“‘m sorry! promise! never do it again! ‘lease breed me, ‘luc; wan’ you to cum in me, please, please, please…”

as you trailed off, diluc saw the perfect opportunity to snap his hips, burying the full length of his cock inside of you. he pushed himself back up, folding you into a tight mating press to best fill your insides.

“‘s it, darlin’.” he uttered as your face contorted in pleasure, “i’m gonna fill you up, claim you as mine. eyes on me, pretty thing, let me see your face when you cum,”

a couple of taps to your cervix and a deft thumb moving to circle your clit had tears brimming in your eyes once again, though this time from pure ecstasy rather than heartbreak. you wanted to speak, though words were unattainable. lucky enough, diluc was observant enough to understand what you were failing to communicate.

“go on, princess, cum for me,”

with a cry, you let the knot in your stomach snap, waves of pleasure coursing through your veins as you shook underneath diluc. he fucked you through your orgasm, close to his own though not quite there yet.

the pair of you were so caught up with one another that you repeated diluc’s mistake from earlier: neither of you heard the front door unlock. the entryway to diluc’s room remained wide open, just as you had left it earlier. it gave kaeya the perfect view of his brother spilling his load in your used hole, the sheer amount of cum dribbling down the curve of your ass and dirtying the sheets.

having already been so sensitive, the feeling of hot seed spurting against your womb was enough to tip you over the edge once again. diluc found your clit once again, heightening the sensations you were already feeling. you moaned his name so loudly that the neighbors were sure to hear, practically screaming as you gushed all over diluc’s stomach.

neither of you had noticed the presence in the doorway, not until kaeya couldn’t hold back any longer. he’d never made you cum that hard, how dare you have the audacity to fuck his brother only hours after you’d broken up with him. in all honesty, you didn’t know if his question was directed at you or diluc.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

#delilah.docs #diluc smut #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc ragnivindr smut #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x fem!reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut

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itch-125 · 1 month

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09 FEB 2009

#bernie #hooky #movement #recording

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unholyverse · 9 months

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waterparks // marvin magazine issue #10

(full transcript under the cut)

Waterparks

WORDS by HOLLY SOLEM

PHOTOGRAPHY by DANIEL PRACOPCYK

Waterparks are places you go for fun; both pools and slides and the gloriously buzzy, pop punk band featuring members Geoff Wigington (lead guitar), Otto Wood (drums), and singer/guitarist Awsten Knight, whose neon energy matches his hair. Their music leads you down sonic chutes and up rainbow ladders with four albums, countless tours, millions of listeners and a recent signing with Fueled By Ramen, the label under which they are about to drop their highly anticipated 5th studio album. MARVIN had the good fortune of catching up with Knight—who is busy prepping for a European tour, a US tour and the release of the band's new album—to talk about all that goes into creating the bubbly world of Waterparks.

The new album titled Intellectual Property features eleven legit bangers filled with anthemic choruses. psychedelic experimentation and hooky melodies all polished to a sheen. There are hints of megalithic rock bands like Muse, inspiration from The Beach Boys and the pop punk sounds we have come to expect. But as for the "pop" part, this record goes in hard with collaborations with the likes of blackbear and songwriter/producer Julian Bunetta.

I love pop music and we got an offer to write with this dude, Julian, who has credits on 95% of One Direction's discography. I fucking love One Direction. I don't want to be dramatic but let's say I've got a top 60 favorite songs, I think four or five are One Direction songs. And Julian's written on all of them. I was just like, 'I want to do what I do but with him too.' And then I made "FUNERAL GREY", "BRAINWASHED", and "FUCK ABOUT IT", with him.

For this album, the band brought in more outside alliances than on previous albums, with Knight saying. "I think I was more open to [collaborations] on this album. Other people's opinions and thoughts and stuff like that. Normally, I don't really love writing with people that I don't know very well because it can feel very sterile. You walk in and they're like, 'what do you want to write about? You're like, 'oh fuck'—because it's a personal thing." And when it comes to getting personal, Knight is also realizing that to his surprise, the more personal he gets-the more vulnerable lyrically—the more universal the message.

I feel like I used to be kind of freaked out by [vulnerability], especially earlier, on album one. I was really nervous about it and it sounds so lame in retrospect but I didn't even want to do any acoustic songs. I liked burying myself a lit- tle bit behind a big instrumental. [The song] "21 Questions" for example. I sent that along with all the other demos to Benji because I wanted his opinion and he was like, 'this is one of the best ones.' Those wind up being the favorites, which seems counterproductive because songs are supposed to be relatable. And I never feel like I'm being relatable but I try to be less selfish with the writing. I want this to be for someone else.

When Knight refers to "Benji" he is talking about Benji Madden, one half of legendary pop punk duo Good Charlotte. Benji, along with his brother and bandmate Joel, manage Waterparks after discovering them on YouTube and DM'ing them on Twitter back in 2015. Knight received the news of the Maddens' invitation to fly to LA for a meeting while working as a babysitter who gave guitar lessons.

I called the guys and we're like, 'holy shit.' So we all went and bought swimsuits because…California. And yeah, that was it. After we met them, we went back to our hotel and were just like, 'what is happening? A week ago we were still passing out flyers outside of other people's shows. And we're right here, right now. This is the weirdest shit.'

A literal dream-come-true for Knight and the band, who eventually would make the move to LA from Houston while missing its Tex-Mex and Thai food, and of course, his family. But when it comes to the weather, he's all about California. He doesn't even mind the earthquakes. He was in a rooftop hot tub during one and actually found it rather exciting. For a man who has toured the world, there's a bright-eyed innocence and almost childlike wonder to him. His seeming lack of cynicism is as refreshing as freshly fallen snow which he admits he only saw for the first time not that long ago. But now, Knight talks about having stress dreams as he and the band get ready to embark on a European leg, followed by an extensive US tour.

Here's the thing, I like to play shows and I like to meet people. The other 22 hours of the day, I like having my space. I'm pretty particular, you know what I mean? I like my zone where I can sit and just do stuff. You go from peace and quiet and doing what you want all the time to sharing a small living space and a bus with twelve people. It's basically having twelve people in your living room for two months. And you're just like, 'ah, but the shows are great' as long as the shows are fun and everyone is having a great time, that makes it worth it to me.

He's also superstitious. Around his apartment there are crystals, there are obsidian and selenite wands in front of all the mirrors. He has a healer-type person come in and energetically clear his space, insisting he throw away objects that may have "dark entities" attached. "I'm luckier than people I know. They're like, 'why is the light always turning green when you go to it? Why do you always get the front spot at the store?' I'm like, it's because I don't split the pole, you know? Can't split a pole when you're walking. There's a bunch of superstitions. But I follow them and I'm crazy lucky."

In addition to music, he recently penned a well-received book of personal essays called, You'd Be Paranoid Too (If Everyone Was Out to Get You). He plans to write a novel next and has also started a clothing line called HiiDef. that fabricates small collections that sell out fast. His enthusiasm for the line is on par with music. "If everybody made the songs that I wanted to hear, I wouldn't have to do this. The same thing applies with clothing." Passion abound, he is all smiles when discussing plans for the future of Waterparks.

How do I get to the fucking moon? I think anyone who hears this album is going to love it. Cause I think it's incredible. I'm looking at the songs right now. I'm just like, 'man, straight slappers.' Even the last song, which I know wouldn't be a single or anything-that's probably one of the best accomplishments of a song that we've ever been able to pull off. I see this album in plaques on the wall. All right, we're manifesting now.

He names his goals out loud, as one is meant to do when calling them in, mentioning things like how much he'd like to play the Redding and Leeds Festivals at sunset. Then he pulls up the Waterparks US tour schedule online while musing, "I want one of those big "Sold Out" things across all the dates. It's getting there dude. Yeah, actually, it's going crazy right now." In real time, he seems to discover that the banners that cross nearly all of the show dates do indeed read, "Sold Out". And then it's clear. Awsten Knight is lucky. But luck is really about preparation meeting opportunities and he has definitely shown up to the game prolific and prepared. Five albums in, it's clear that Knight and Waterparks have only just begun.

@waterparks

#i scanned this big ass magazine and photoshopped it back together after i found out you could buy this digitally so you better reblog #awsten knight #otto wood #geoff wigington #waterparks #i.zip #anyways story time #only reason i bought this is bc i saw this at barnes and noble at the mall and it was wayyy cheaper than if i got a physical online #$25 instore vs $30 online + $20 shipping which is INSANE but the fact that this is the size of my torso is even more insane #it's just some puff piece like the rest of the shit you'd expect from a rich people magazine that brands itself as punk #and that josh madden shilled his way into again lol

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steviewashere · 25 days

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Take Care of Me (Sodomy) 🔞Minors DNI🔞

Rating: ExplicitCW: Under-Negotiated Kinks, Slight Dub-Con (Unsure But to Be Safe), Physical Fight, Blood, InjuryTags: Enemies to Lovers, Enemies is too Harsh (But they ain't friends), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Making Up, Steve Harrington is a Mess, Eddie Munson Just Wants to Help, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Mean Eddie Munson, Mean Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Dom/Sub Undertones, Angry Sex, Rough Sex, Pain Kink, Painplay?, Anal Sex, Blood Kink, Emotional Sex, Tender Sex, Crying During Sex, Aftercare, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together

Listened to "Violent Pornography" by System of a Down. Then, I thought about those bats that deepen their bond by swapping blood like spit. And then I thought about Steddie having sex after a physical fight. So...this is me trying the thought I had, lol.

Can be read on AO3

🤜—————🤛 Steve’s been independent most of his life.

It was a tactic to survive. If he wanted to see his friends the next day, then he needed to shape up and take care of his mess. Needed to show strength, cleverness, and a level of stealth. Not a great level of stealth, but he needed to be able to brave his surroundings—mask worn, lips tight, body rigid. And he believes he’s done a pretty good.

When he’s tired at work and Robin places a concerned hand on his back, he shrugs her off. Claiming to her that he was up late watching TV, getting too involved in the plot of rerun episodes. She’ll roll her eyes and give him a monotonous task to do, and it’s lying, but he’s saved. Or when he’s tense and a little mean towards Dustin, he goes with the excuse of him getting a call from his dad—not that he’s got a raging migraine and can’t deal with the sun in his eyes through the windshield, and that every sharp corner makes him want to hurl. But he gets away with it all.

At least he thinks he does.

Until Eddie Munson enters his life.

The guy hardly knows him. Gets in his space anyway. Offers to do things. Take the overflowing food off of his plate—that kind of deal. Steve still uses his excuses, though after some time, he notices they waver. That he has to keep insisting for Eddie to believe him, can’t just say it once and get the dude out of his space. He thought he was good at playing hooky when it comes to himself, but it seems that Eddie knows lying—his big cow eyes seem to just stare right through the cracks of Steve’s mask, able to notice every hard crease between his eyebrows and the slight frowning turn of his lips, the heavy circles under his eyes.

He hates it. Hates the way Eddie can see him. Hates the way Eddie seems to know him. Is beginning to hate Eddie a bit in general, even if something lurches in his stomach like the heavy flap of wings. Even if, sometimes, Steve thinks about giving in and giving up and letting Eddie have the reigns. He plays into his excuses more, puts a bigger stretch of space between them, and begins to snap when Eddie asks even the semblance of: “Are you okay?”

——— The next time he sees Eddie, it’s at his own house. He’s been holed away, tired and nightmare-riddled, sweating through his clothes and agitated by the shadows. Has been alone and afraid and aching for somebody there with him, but too cagey to actually ask. And just as he thinks about draining a coffee pot empty to keep himself upright, there’s a knock at his front door.

He didn’t order anything. His parents certainly didn’t order anything, they most likely would’ve left a voicemail on the answering machine. And he didn’t invite anybody over, but of course, when he finally pulls the door open—Eddie’s there.

“What are you—“

“You look like shit,” Eddie bluntly states.

“Gee, thanks,” Steve says dryly. “You can leave now. I’m busy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Busy doing what, exactly? Having a zombie costume party? Maybe setting a new record for how long a human can stay up? Smells like you’re brewing a pot, so it must be the latter.” Steve bristles. Nostrils flaring at Eddie’s sour attitude. “Which is kinda crazy, considering the last time I saw you, I told you to call me if you were having trouble sleeping, didn’t I?”

And, sure, Steve remembers that. The quiet conversation in his kitchen during a movie night. Making popcorn on the stovetop and trying not to pass out, face first, into the hot pan. Eddie’s warm and soothing hand between his shoulder blades, voice soft and careful. “Call me, Stevie,” he had said, “I’ve got all kinds of magic up my sleeves. You’ll be sleeping like a lazy house cat in no time.”

But he keeps the front door wide open. Furrows his eyebrows. Spits, “I don’t need your help. Go away.” Before he can slam it in Eddie’s face, a firm and rather strong hand stops him. Shoving the door wider.

“Afraid I can’t do that, Steve,” Eddie states lowly. “People have been tryin’ to call you. Radio you, too. And we haven’t heard a fucking word from you. So, if you don’t mind—“ And he just walks right in. Shuts the door behind him. Keeps himself pressed against the wood so that Steve can’t open it and shove him out. “—I’m staying. I really don’t like seeing you so…out of it, man. You look thirty seconds away from becoming a heap on the floor.”

Steve scoffs. Steps forward and places a hand on the doorknob, but is immediately thrown off of it by Eddie’s hand on his wrist. “Dude, I don’t need you. Just leave. I’ve got my shit figured out.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. His voice is breathy by Steve’s ear. He raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Tell me, then, Mr. I’ve Got It All Under Control, when’s the last time you’ve slept? And I mean a whole night. Eight hours with your head on the pillow, eyes closed, limp to your bed, and drooling.”

“Like two days ago,” Steve grumbles. “Is that all you wanted? Because you can go now.”

Eddie hums. Surveying and observing. His eyes are like God’s words, scrutinizing, demanding, and genuine. He reaches out, suddenly, and grabs Steve’s face. Hand cupping his chin, fingers digging into his soft cheeks, twisting him this way and that. Drops the hold. Clicks his tongue against his teeth. “I have a joint in my pocket. And a good massage trick if you—“

“God damn it, Eddie!” Steve finally snaps, yelling, “What part of I don’t need you, do you not understand?! Can’t you just fuck off, for once in your life?!”

At those words, Eddie’s gaze goes from sincere to angry. Good, Steve thinks, even as his stomach churns at his own words. He has been positively waiting for the other shoe to drop with this guy. If it has to be now, then so be it. He squares his shoulders just as Eddie clenches his jaw, takes a step back as if inviting him in more, and crosses his arms over his chest. The gesture feels a little small, but he’s made his bed. May as well lay in it.

“I would,” Eddie states slowly, voice nothing but a rasp with how deep it goes. A chill trickles down Steve’s spine. “I’d go and leave you alone. But that’s not what you want, Stevie. You’re lonely. You’re miserable. And I’ve got a quick fix, if only you’d—for once in your life, to throw your words back at you—let somebody help.”

Steve startles. Drops his arms at his sides. And clenches his fists so hard, the beginnings of crescent scars deepen in his palms. “You don’t know what I want,” he mutters. Albeit weakly. Cracking. Petulant.

In front of him, Eddie takes a step forward. It’s a dangerous movement. His footfall heavy against the hardwood under it. The vest on his back making his shoulders broader than Steve remembers. His eyes darken, hardening. Nostrils flaring a bit. He’s not somebody people get intimidated by, but Steve feels as though that’s a fallacy.

He’s ready to turn tail and run. And this is his house.

Except, something zings through him. Part of him is…enjoying this.

“Oh, I don’t, do I?” Eddie asks him. And he grows a bit more unsure as Eddie moves forward. “Think I don’t notice when you relax into people’s touch? When you get that stupid smile of yours as you fall asleep during a movie? How you enjoy it when somebody tells you what to do?”

Each question hits Steve in his core. Each one a solid blow. His palms sweat and his heart rabbits and his face grows hot—with anger or arousal, Steve can’t discern.

“Fuck off, Eddie,” he manages to grind out. Fists clenching and unclenching. Flakes of blood tickling his fingertips. He meets Eddie where he’s at. Toe to toe, nose to nose, eyes on his. In one solid movement, he pushes the other backwards towards the door. Watches him stumble. Is sickly satisfied with the ache to his bicep as Eddie’s eyes land back on him, as he grows taller, leaner in the little foyer. As he looms.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes dangerously, “I don’t think I will.” He steps forward again, his dark eyes like voids when Steve tries to talk a half-step back. “I’ve got you figured out, Stevie. You wouldn’t be puttin’ up a fight like this if it wasn’t true.”

There’s little space between them. An undercurrent of heat radiating around them. A thrum. This sick and twisted hot satisfaction running through Steve. He kind of wants to see what Eddie will do next. So he’s back up to the plate, right fist tight, left arm protecting at his lower belly, and grinning with his eyes. “Fuck,” Steve sighs. “You,” he growls. Fist at his shoulder, twisting in front of his very face, and landing squarely on Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie grunts. A literal punched out, heavy noise. His lip ends up split. He reaches up with a light hand, gingerly tapping at the blood seeping down his chin, and stares down his nose at the red tip of his middle finger. He laughs something unbelievable, delirious. Stares up at Steve. “Fuck me?” He questions hysterically. “Fuck you, Harrington!” Then, he lunges right back. A solid fist to Steve’s own lips. Something that pulsates throughout his entire head, knocking him loose and falling back, making him falter. The metallic taste of his own blood something tangible and erratic and lusting on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Steve teases, breathless, “I’d like to see you fucking try.”

That spurs Eddie on. He speeds back into Steve’s space, grabs him roughly—a little jarringly—by the elbow, and swings them towards the stairs. Steve lets it happen. Lets them stumble their way up the stairs, grabbing at each other like they could knead the tension out of their bodies; lets Eddie shove him into his own room, door slammed behind them, standing a few feet from one another. Eddie’s eyes drop down from Steve’s bloodied face to his crotch.

“I can’t believe this is turning you on,” Eddie teases. Licks his bloody lips. His spit noticeably red when he speaks again. “Being a bitch turns you on.”

“M’not a bitch,” Steve meekly argues, covering up his crotch. Why now does he feel small? That’s immensely embarrassing.

Eddie grunts, assessing again. “You want this? Want me to actually fuck you senseless? Want me to put you in your place, you little fucking brat?”

Instinctively, Steve flexes his hand over his crotch. Squeezing at himself. He whimpers because this already isn’t embarrassing enough. Nods loosely. Eddie’s voice is scratchy and raw, deep and vibrating through the floor. It makes Steve a little fuzzy, the blood from his head and sluggish lip going to his intense hard-on. Though, part of what Eddie says still stings, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, at least. “Yeah,” he breathes softly, all that intense anger seeping from him, even as he still sizzles. “Fuck me, Eddie.”

“Strip,” Eddie demands lowly.

And all Steve can do is oblige. Peeling himself from his clothes. Timid and quick, shaking in the air when he’s naked and goosepimpled. He eyes Eddie coming closer, his cheeks pink in the dim light of his bedroom. Watches him undress, slower than Steve had. Raking over his lithe body; the suggestion of muscles, his endearingly flat ass, and beautifully pale skin. His puckered scars that have healed neatly, how they dance with the few tattoos he has. Eddie’s reaching out to firmly grip Steve’s left bicep, and the other cupping under his chin again. Fingers digging at his cheeks once more. Then, he’s pushing forward, meeting their lips in a mess. There’s blood on Eddie’s tongue as he plunges between Steve’s lips—metallic as his own, thick and slimy. The swipe of his tongue makes Steve’s split lip sting and burn as if it’s alcohol on a fresh wound. He suckles the blood from inside each of their mouths, swapping it back and forth quite literally. Pulling away with the thinnest string of saliva Steve’s ever seen, though it’s a deep cherry red—something he’s thought of in his wildest dreams.

Eddie shuffles them towards the mattress. Topples Steve down on top, shuffles him supine and parallel. And then climbs on top, resting his full weight between Steve’s open, wanting legs. His hands on the thickest part of Steve’s thighs, thumbs brushing over the sparse hair towards the inside of his knees, eyeballing the red and leaking tip of his needy cock. He digs the sharp edge of his fingernails into the supple flesh underneath them. Scooting forward enough to tease the head of his own cock against Steve’s puckering hole.

Without warning, one of Eddie’s hands slaps over Steve’s already sensitive dick. He cries out at the hot flash of pain working its way through him. Thick and quick like the rush of blood to his heart. He squirms, but ultimately is stopped with Eddie’s weight being pressed into his legs. Including the sudden rush of Eddie’s dick bullying its way through Steve’s hole.

All Steve can do is scream, though it ends on a keening mewl, something only Eddie needs to bear witness to. The beading pearl of pre-come enough confirmation that he enjoys it. The stretch of his asshole, a blue lick of fire shooting through him, an ache already sore. Something he’ll soothe later, whether Eddie helps him or not.

For once, though, he likes the idea of Eddie being there to help him. Of his giant hands and the dull roughness of his callouses like balms over his skin. He wriggles again, trying to get all that Eddie’s offering inside him. He’d never thought about Eddie’s cock before, not really, but if he had to guess it—he’d never expect it to be so big, let alone thick.

“Look at you,” Eddie coos, although a bit mean. “Taking it all so well. My bitch can take it all, can’t he?”

Steve sniffs. Overcome with some odd mix of emotion, instantly quelling the nauseous anger he was holding onto. There are tears prickling in the corners of his eyes as he murmurs, “No, Eds, no—M’not a bitch. Not a—“ Steve hiccups. “Not a bitch, Eds.”

Immediately Eddie’s crowding over him. His hips are stilled and he’s wrapping Steve’s legs around his waist. Both of his arms encase Steve’s head, crouched down on his elbows. “No?” He asks softly, checking in. Genuinely gentle, no more of the macho mean guy he’d been playing up to. “No, of course not, Stevie,” he whispers. Leans in a little more to peck under Steve’s left eye, trailing lips down to the already bruised skin around his mouth. He pulls back. Eyeing Steve’s half-closed eyes. Tracing a thumb over the tear track that’s made itself known. “You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” Eddie murmurs, “Just a baby boy, huh? Just need help being sweet right now.”

“I can be sweet,” Steve mumbles. His voice a little distant, soft, and quiet. “Can be good, Eds,” he whispers.

Eddie’s got a hand cupping the back of Steve’s head. The other working its way to Steve’s chest, over his heart. Petting at the gradually sweating skin. He presses a warm kiss between Steve’s eyebrows. Murmurs against the skin, “You gonna let me help you? I’ll be gentle now, I promise, baby.”

“Gentle,” Steve echoes. “Please,” he whispers, “please be gentle.” He fully opens his eyes to stare into Eddie’s own. There’s a softness to them that wasn’t there before.

The hand in his hair pets over the crest of his skull. Digging fingers into his scalp to scratch at it. “Okay, baby,” Eddie whispers, “I’m sorry for being rough. For being mean. I’ve gotcha now, okay? Let me make you feel good. Let me help you.”

Steve hums. Melting into the hold Eddie has on him. Lets his arms go completely limp at his sides. Eyes closed, creases and wrinkles receding. “Don’t pull out,” he mumbles.

“You sure, sweetheart? I can get some lube—“

“No,” Steve squeaks. Pushes further into the hand on his head. “Feels good,” he slurs, “s’good. The pain.” He reaches up blearily, a featherlight touch to Eddie’s bare arm. Fingers grazing the taut pull of his muscles. Over his chest, naked of hair. On the hanging ball chain of Eddie’s necklace. Teases the pick between his thumb and index finger. Smiles softly to himself. “Want it hard,” he confesses breathily.

Eddie keeps his hold, his line of sight completely focused on Steve’s face. The tenderness of his stare makes Steve want to weep. Makes him watch this attention all the time. He tracks his own hand down to Eddie’s waist, squeezes him gently. Mewling at the snap of Eddie’s hips. He welcomes the keening noises that fall from his lips.

It’s a mix of touch. Eddie’s hands are soft. His hips are fast and intense. He pulls out to just his tip, but quickly resituates himself to press firmly against Steve’s prostate. Kisses the tip of Steve’s nose, kitten licks over the steady stream of tears, dully scratches at his scalp with the slow stretch of his fingers.

All of it’s enough to completely soothe Steve. To melt him. To make him come undone.

Sobbing, he murmurs, “M’sorry. So sorry, Eds.”

Eddie kisses him softly on the mouth, careful to avoid the split on his lip. “Why, baby?” He whispers, “it’s alright. I was mean, too. It’s alright.”

“Forgive me,” Steve cries out with the snap of Eddie’s hips. Chants with each movement, “Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.” His voice goes reedy. Exhausted and unlike him. Something sweeter. New. “Forgive me, Eds. M’sorry. Forgive me, forgive me.”

There’s a tight ball in his belly. Glowing warm and bright with his impending orgasm. Teetering with each word, Eddie’s hips, the stretch of his hole.

Against the side of his face, Eddie nestles himself. Cheek to cheek. And into Steve’s ear, he soothes, “Shh, baby. Shhh. I forgive you. We’ll be okay. I’ve gotcha right now.”

“Got me forever?” Steve asks wetly.

“Yeah, baby boy,” Eddie murmurs, “Forever and ever. I promise.”

With that, Steve lets go. Against his mattress, he squirms, convulses with the intensity of his orgasm. He bites down on his swollen, bleeding lip as he cries out. Hands tense on Eddie’s waist, squeezing him with all the force in his grip. Spurts of come into both their happy trails. Eddie isn’t too far behind, the hot and calming fill of his come completing Steve in a way he hadn’t been anticipating. With the weight of Eddie’s own orgasm, his sweaty body atop, and the come painting him inside—Steve is whole.

He’s exhausted when he comes down from the headspace he occupied. His face buried deep into his pillow, drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth, eyes half-closed and blurry to his surroundings. His cock is sensitive as Eddie pulls himself up. Hole sore and aching. Legs tight from digging into the small of Eddie’s back. But something in him panics as Eddie moves off him, getting back and away.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, “Please don’t go.”

“I’m not leaving, Stevie baby,” Eddie assures. “Just grabbing toilet paper from your bathroom, alright? Need to clean us up. I’ll grab a cold washcloth, too.”

“You’ll come back?” For a moment, Steve is lightly embarrassed by the tone of his voice. Like he’s a little kid, watching his parents leave for a business trip for the first time. Though, it honestly feels like that. Because back then, they didn’t come home when they promised.

“I promise, Steve. I wouldn’t leave you like this. Never ever.”

“M’kay,” Steve sighs. “M’sorry.”

He hears Eddie enter the restroom, shushing the entire time. His movements almost clumsy with how he bangs the cupboards. The sink turns on and something wrings out. And then Eddie’s back in Steve’s space, just as he promised.

There’s a damp washcloth on his lips. Pressing lightly over the split. A slow wipe with toilet paper on his legs, belly, and ass. Eddie is careful. Something tender and raw. And he lays down beside Steve, still holding the washcloth up.

He hisses quietly. “God, Steve,” he whispers, “I got you good. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have…Jesus Christ. Why’d I hit you?” The washcloth leaves for a moment, replaced by the tip of Eddie’s thumb. Pulling down gently on his lip, eyes assessing the wound.

“’T’s alright,” Steve mumbles, “hit you, too. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie quickly answers. “It bled for a little bit, but ultimately stopped. Think I got you with one of my rings, though. So yours is messier.” Rag goes back to his sluggishly bleeding lip. “Shouldn’t have pushed you. What was I thinking?” He mutters.

His words are muffled by the cloth, but he still speaks. “Forgive you, Eds. We both fucked up, we’re alright.” He places his hand back on Eddie’s waist, pulls himself into the little bit of space that’s left. His forehead lands softly on Eddie’s chest. “Sleepy,” he murmurs, “wanna go to bed.”

“You can sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie matches his volume, “I’ll be right here.”

“Wake me up later? Help me get ice?”

The gentle press of lips to his hairline. “Of course, Steve. I’ll help however you want it.”

“Help me by cuddling?”

Eddie snorts. “Okay,” he whispers. Wraps his arms around Steve’s sweaty back. Pulls him in firmly. Pets down his back. So Steve closes his eyes, breathes in deep, and goes boneless in the hold. “I’ve got you, honey. I’m sorry, but I have you now.”

🤜—————🤛 Haha, I've been trying to write this for the last six hours.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #nsft #smut #read the tags #read the content warnings

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