#he’d call eddie a cunt. and open the front door

[thestobingirlie]

i see way too many fics where eddie talks bad about steve while hosting hellfire in steve’s house, and steve overhears and gets all sad and it’s like… cool story, but steve would tell them to get the fuck out. he’s not taking that shit lmao

[atinylittlepain]

Warm

college!steve harrington x f!oc

series masterlist

Steve gets flustered in an art museum. She kind of likes it.

18+ smut, normal hairy female bodies, steve is kind of a perv in the best way, smut duh, and verrryyyyyy sweet, also robin and eddie being good roommates

note: the painting that Andy and Steve look at is called l'origine du monde by Gustave Corbet and you can check it out here. This fic is for bush (not the president) and bush only, thanks.

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Steve is a good guy, right? Right. Respectful, respectable, two percent in his cheerios in the morning, light wash denim and clean sneakers, and he flosses two times a day, clean bill at every dentist appointment and he shows it, curls half a smile when he holds the door open for girls on campus, all ease, all-American and alright. Studying business, and of course he is, though his parents don’t know about the women’s studies minor he picked up all because of a flushed little crush on a professor that never amounted to anything, coupled with Robin strong-arming him into taking a few more classes with her. But that’s okay, he likes the classes, and he likes the classmates.

“Do you need a partner?” 

“Hmm? Oh, I was just going to work alone actually.” Big scarf tucked up around her neck and a big coat wrapped up around her and she barely even glances at him down the slope of her nose, already refocusing on the painting in front of her. But he’s a good guy, right? Right. A real team player, tilting his head, and letting his hair fall into his face, a little shy, a little smile. She glances at him, unimpressed hook of her brow and her eyelashes lifting up over the rims of her glasses. Her name is Andy, he knows, though they haven’t spoken, at least not directly. She’s been known to correct him in class however, her hand raising after his, quick and cutting. He maybe, kinda, sorta likes that. 

“I think we’re supposed to, you know, discuss what we’re looking at with each other for the VHS thing.”

“VTS.”

“What?”

“It’s called VTS. Visual thinking strategies. Are you sure you want to discuss this painting with me?” 

“I’m game if you are.” She smiles, and he’s already thinking about which of her palms he’d like to write his number on. But when he finally looks at the painting, he finds himself to be a lot less concerned with his phone number. 

“So, Steve, what’s the first thing you notice about this painting?” 

“Um, well, I–” 

“Is it too much for you?” Heat is prickling in a bloom up his neck, her smile sharp as her eyes flit between him and the painting, the painting that he really should have looked at before approaching her.

“No, no, it’s not too much. It’s– appreciation of the female form, right?” He’s not sure where to look any more, a strange kaleidoscope with how quickly his eyes are darting between scraps of the painting and her face. A freckle under her eye, and then swaths of cream and pink brush strokes and then the hitch in her cheek where her smile curves and then, and then. 

“Hair.” His voice pitches and cracks somewhere in the word, turning one syllable into two like a hiccup. She laughs a clipped sound. 

“Hair?” 

“Around her– around her–”

“Around her cunt?” Something hot tightens in his chest, maybe shame, though shame doesn’t feel good like this does. He feels foolish, the quick whip of his head around like he’s worried they’re going to get caught, though for what he isn’t sure. Likewise, he has no clue what’s causing this devastating fluster, this feathering of heat. Whatever it is, it’s making it very hard to look at her, though the way his gaze has fixed on the painting doesn’t feel much better either. He’s never heard a woman use that word before. Actually, scratch that, he’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone use that word before, not in Hawkins, at least, not corn fed and halfway bible bred, at least. It sets something slick shimmering inside of him, something warm that’s making it hard to think.

“Are you blushing?” 

“I’m not, I’m just appreciating the work.”

“L’origine du monde.”

“What was that?”

“That’s the name of the painting. Origin of the world.”

“Well, that, uh, I guess that tracks.” 

“It’s a shame, don’t you think?” When he does finally look at her again, she’s smiling, all ease, all cool, and him anything but, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm into his hip. 

“What’s a shame?” She sighs, a long sound, letting her neck roll to the side so her cheek scrunches into the plush of her scarf, a wistful look.

“The current trends. Looking like prepubescent girls. No hips, bald vaginas, everything so… sterile.” She speaks with a bluntness that winds him, if he’s being honest, her expression schooled, and maybe a little disillusioned, brow pinched and mouth pulling down in a grimace. 

“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.” 

“Yeah, well, you have a cock. Makes things a little simpler, doesn’t it?” 

“Jesus Christ, do you always talk like this?” He says it just a little too loud, a little too breathless, heads turning in the gallery around them, and he thinks he might regret even trying with this girl. Should’ve stuck with the tried and true, that blonde girl that wears sticky sweet lip gloss and smiles at him from across the room during lectures. But this girl, with her arched brow and her twitching smile and the dark flicker of nail polish when she smooths the throat of her scarf. This girl has his number, and not in the way he’d like her to.

“What do you prefer, Steve? Do you like a girl with a smooth shave?” 

“Well I think that, um, a woman’s body is her own choice.” And it has to be the dumbest string of words he’s ever said, breathed out on two static exhales, a garbled parroting of what he’s learned in these classes, right? Well, sort of. 

“How progressive of you.” 

“But the painting is really, you know, it’s, um, it feels warm?” Not sure where that came from, another fresh flood of heat rising and buoying up into his cheeks. Though her expression seems to soften, her smirk falling into something lighter. Maybe, maybe, he got one right. 

“Yeah, I think I get what you mean. There’s a softness to it that’s beautiful, don’t you think?” 

“Mmhmm.”

“But also a strength, a frankness to it.”

“Yes, yeah.” That sick swirl of shame but not shame is receding, and only leaving a nice sort of haze in its place, his head lolling a little, eyes raking over the painting, the catch of light, the soft rounding of a body at rest, slumped and plush and kind of perfect, he thinks. Although he’s pretty sure Andy would correct him for perfect, perfect not being the point, because perfect is oppressive, right? Right. Fuck perfect, he thinks, this is something better than perfect. And maybe she is too. 

“Steve?” Her hand on his arm, purple nail polish and a close-lipped smile snapping him back into his body, hmm? And her smile spreads, and the warmth does too, and she’s saying something about the prof calling them back together and he’s mmhmm-ing on the heels of her brown leather boots. And she sits next to him when they get back on the bus, Robin giving him a stink eye that breezes right over the top of his head as she passes down the aisle because he’s a little busy trying to take discreet inhales through his nose of whatever perfume Andy wears, spice and strong and warm, that same warm. 

And it isn’t his number that gets jotted onto her palm, but her address that she scrawls onto the soft inside of his wrist, right over the catch and jump of his pulse, because she has invited him over for a drink tonight to continue our conversation from earlier. 

Robin doesn’t even have a chance to snit at him for leaving her stranded to the back of the bus because he’s already shuffling her along by the crooked wing of his elbow, hands tucked down deep in his jacket pockets, snow starting to flit and fall from the gray hang of sky. 

“I need your help.”

“You have a date.”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s a date. She was like, rubbing your wrist. That’s a date.”

“I need your help.”

“Yeah, you do.” 

Because Andy is not light washed denim and polo shirts and two percent milk. He’s seen her in the campus coffee shop, she takes soy, sometimes almond, for the record. So when they get back to their apartment, the smell of electric heat washing over them and curling in their lungs, they don’t go to Steve’s closet, they go to Robin’s. 

Robin’s first pull is a turtleneck. He scoffs.

“What? Turtleneck dudes are definitely that chick’s type. Are you kidding me right now?” And when he assures her that he is, in fact, not kidding her right now, Robin starts to rummage again, eventually coming back out with a t-shirt for a band that Steve only knows because he has asked Robin to turn their music down on several occasions. And before he can say anything Robin is please hold-ing him and shouting down the hall for Eddie.

“What?”

“Steve has a date with a cool girl.”

“Cool girl, what cool girl?”

“Soc major, with the boots.”A little flurry of activity, socked feet slipping down the hall and Eddie hanging off the doorframe of his room, Steve not able to get a word in edgewise between their rapid fire volley.

“No, really? Little different for you, man, isn’t it?” 

“I–”

“We need your closet, excuse us.” Robin on the warpath and Eddie grinning big, and Steve somewhere in the middle.

“How’d this happen?”

“She–”

“They were talking about art.” Robin reappearing with a long-sleeved thermal gripped in her other hand, eyebrows waggling. 

“Steven? Our Steven? Talking about art? Well, well, well.”  If he just had time he’d say something back to Eddie about how he got kicked out of the art museum last weekend for making quacking noises every time the security guard took a step, but Robin is already ushering him back down the hall, into his room this time, shoving the bundle of clothes into his chest and slamming the door shut on her way out. 

Eddie is anemic and tends to eat breakfast when the sun is going down, and Robin is Robin, so it’s a tight fit getting the thermal on, followed by the t-shirt. But looking in the mirror, he thinks he likes it, gives an experimental and not at all vain flex of his arms that makes the sleeves of the tshirt roll back up toward the round of his shoulders and yeah, he likes that. And when he steps out of his room, Robin and Eddie already hovering and humming their approval, that warmth starts to build and bloom all over again. 

And the rest is a little hazy from there. Robin offers him two refrigerator-chilled potstickers from last night’s dinner, something about fuel for your evening, Stevening, while Eddie pours himself a bowl of corn pops and prattles about something he learned in his music theory class, dissonance and skipped beats, and Steve can understand the feeling. And then they’re both kicking him out with an all too solemn godspeed, soldier. Eddie even salutes him. 

Andy lives on the opposite side of campus in a cropping of apartments in a building that looks kind of like a castle, old brownstone and wrought iron. She buzzes him up, opens the door in a thin turtleneck and jeans, her head tilting and her lip pouting, just a little.

“Where’d the polo shirt go?” 

“I changed.” Excellent, he thinks, how astute of him. She smiles.

“I can see. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Bikini Kill fan though.” He’s trying to focus on her as she leads him deeper into her apartment, though his eyes still wander. Old wood flooring that’s barely visible underneath the thick swaths of patterned rugs. A crushed velvet, lime green sofa sitting in front of a fireplace that’s packed full with books. The kitchen is tucked into a corner, a little patch of black and white linoleum, old appliances. She’s pouring wine at the counter with her foot pressed into her other calf in a sort of shortened tree pose, and she’s asking him if he likes red, and he nods, all the while thinking to himself that he hasn’t consumed enough wine that doesn’t come in boxes to really care what color it is. 

They sit down on the lime green sofa, her arm draped over the back of it, fingers tipped toward him. And he’s trying not to be such a dweeb about it, really, he’s not, but it only takes a few bashful glances to know that she very much is not wearing a bra. And he likes that, likes that a lot. Likes the soft curve and fold of her stomach with the way she’s turned toward him, the stretch of her jeans at her hips, her thighs, and his mouth goes dry around a gulp of wine when he starts to think about that painting again, and he starts to think about her, and he starts to think about her and the painting together. He starts to wonder, to wonder, to wonder what similarities he might find between the two. 

There’s conversation, quiet and meandering and murmuring, their mouths staining dark and rosy from the wine, bodies turning warm and pliant and inching closer, closer, closer. And it all starts to melt, empty glasses set aside and her hand slipping into the back of his hair and she’s going to be the one in control, isn’t she? Fine by him, lax and languid in her hands, letting her tilt his face toward her. The first kiss is surprisingly sweet, just a peck to the corner of his mouth that makes him breathe hard through his nose in a petty huff of anticipation. She grins, lets the next one take its time, a little deeper, a little more heat, open mouth against open mouth, and he groans when her tongue slips behind his teeth. 

This would be enough, he thinks. This time, at least. Her settling into his lap, little pants of breath between the wet snap of lips and spit and tongues. His hands squeeze at her thighs, coaxing a skittering sound from her throat when he reaches back and cups her ass, fingers splayed and pressing petulant. He’s going to feel her fingers in his scalp for a few days, the little hurts, little pulls. The next time she pulls away she presses her hand into his chest to keep him at bay, even as he tilts his chin up, feeling young in his eagerness as she smiles wide-eyed at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Both of them whispering, and when they both realize they don’t know why they’re whispering, both of them giggling, getting away with something when she pulls him up off the couch and into her bedroom. 

“Why is this shirt so tight?” She huffs it out with the tshirt halfway rucked up his torso, his hair falling in his face as he curls over trying to help her get it off, both of them breathing out a laugh when the fabric finally is up and over and off of him.

“Oh baby, your hair.” He likes baby, baby feels good, feels like another warm bloom in his chest, his smile turning sheepish when she reaches both hands into his hair, shaking it out at the roots before smoothing it back for him. He chases after her hand, manages to press a kiss to her palm before she’s reaching for the hem of his, Eddie’s, thermal. It comes off easier, quieter, her eyes softening as she takes in his bare chest, catching him off guard when she ducks her head down to press a kiss to the dip that connects the lines of his collar bone, there and gone, little sweetness, little warmth as she steps back and grins. 

“Do you wanna lay down for me?” Not even a thought, just ligament and muscle moving, some sort of game dancing between their eyes as he settles back on his elbows against the dark fabric of her duvet. He watches the fine flicker of her fingers make deft work of the buttons of her jeans. An absent-minded thing, the heel of his palm pressed to the ache, to the heat. He’s already hard, already smearing warm against the front of his boxers watching her step out of her jeans.

“Oh fuck, honey.” A little pained, the sweet prickle of agony, of being right. A vision somewhere between obscenity and divinity, he thinks, though that would be playing into the madonna-whore complex their professor was lecturing about last week. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care about much of anything except continuing to look at Andy, the soft divot at her waist where her white cotton thong settles against the soft curve of skin, and the dark bloom of curls along the sides of the material where her thighs touch. He was right, and now he’s doomed. 

She smiles, finger hooking in the hem of her shirt and pulling it up just a little, exposing the sweet dip and swell of her stomach, and suddenly he’s not so interested in just laying back any more. Greedy, he feels the slick, desperate curl of it in his gut. Greedy when he shuffles up onto his knees and crawls to the end of the bed. Greedy when his hands curl at the fat of her hips and he pulls her in closer so he can press the open heat of his mouth just above her navel, soft and warm and he wants more of it, of her. She sighs, a long, languid sound that he wants to hear more of, dipping his head down to mouth at the jut of her hip, dampening the fabric slung taut there. 

Limbs tangled with limbs, some of it graceless, awkward, some of it perfect motion. She lays out like a painting, like the painting, for him, her turtleneck curled up around her sternum so he can palm a handful of her breast, settling down between her thighs and wasting no time in dragging his tongue through her cunt. 

She wasn’t wrong about the trends. Hairless bodies, smooth bodies, flinchingly pristine bodies. And that’s fine, he thinks, been with plenty of bodies like that, made his body like that for a while too. But he likes this, likes her, the sense and sate of it, the scent of it, even if it makes him a pervert, lapping at her while he curls two fingers inside her. And somewhere in the simpering sear of it, his hips have started to jerk and stutter into the mattress beneath him, picking up a stilted speed when she starts to moan, clipped sounds and his name and he wants it and he wants it and he wants it so bad. She comes with a long sigh that cracks high into a whine, her thighs tensing and slackening around his face. And he feels a warmth of his own, relief of his own, though the reality of what he did turns him sheepish, pressing a bashful smile into the swell of her inner thigh. 

“Did you?” Her words crackle breathless with her grin, peering down at him from behind her forearm and he can barely look at her, turning his face back into her skin, letting his teeth graze there a little mean.

“Maybe, shut up.” Her laugh bursts and bubbles up, her head tossed back, eyes crinkled shut as he crawls up and up and up, not evening minding the uncomfortable cooling in his jeans when he presses a sloppy kiss to her mouth, turning her laugh into a satisfied hum. 

“Hmm, kinda feminist of you coming in your jeans just from eating me out.” Speechless, and he kind of likes it, huffing out a breathless laugh as he watches the cartoonish jump of her eyebrows. He presses a kiss between them, sweet and simple, warm all over when he pulls back to find her smiling at him.

“I like you, a lot.” That whispering thing again, a little shy, a little young, and a little uncertain. But there’s no need for it, not when she tilts her chin up and presses a kiss to his cheek, the round of it, the warmth of it.

“I like you too, Steve.”

[thornsnvultures]

loners and lovers

vampire!eddie munson x plus size!reader

cw: smut (18+ minors dni), biting, blood sucking, p in v sex, creampie, <1k w

a/n: for @mantorokk-writes 🖤

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Hot, breathy moans punctuated by the wet slapping of skin against skin echoes down an empty alleyway behind Eddie’s latest haunt. He’d picked this place specifically for its clientele. Transients, low lifes. Loners like himself looking for respite from their miserable lives.

Except for you. You stood out. Called to him in a way no one else had in a long time. He knew the moment he saw you that you weren’t the right pick. You looked like someone with family, with friends, if that constantly buzzing phone in your hand was anything to go by.

It was a mistake approaching you, even more so enthralling you into turning off that incessant device and following him out the back door. There was only so much his powers of persuasion could do. For the completely sober it was near impossible. It’s why he stuck to addicts, easier prey and a second hand high. You’d had maybe one drink? Eddie shouldn’t have been able to take you into an alley alone with a man you’d never met. Not someone like you. But you went like a moth to a flame. It would unsettle him if he had the heart to care.

No, part of you wanted him too. Wanted the danger and deadly seduction he offered. You arched and moaned when he pinned you to the dirty brick wall and kissed you like a man starved. And he was starved. It had been too long since the last time, but he had a willing victim in you. You, who leaned into his touch, his cold, dead fingers caressing your plump flesh.

His elongated nails dug into your hip. You only leaned into him more, craving the pain he inflicted. His dick twitched and filled at the thought of how you’d react when his fangs tore into your throat. Would you cry and scream? Would you moan and melt into his touch? He hoped you would. He may not have a heart but he knew what it was to crave and be craved. And he wanted you to want him with everything you had. Even for these few moments in the dark and dank.

Eddie spun you around, and pushed you up against the wall. With your front pressed to the bricks he nudged your feet apart with his boots. If he wasn't so starved, if he was anyone or anywhere else, he would fall to his knees and worship your cunt just like this, spread open and pushed out for for him to bury his face in and get lost for hours. But his hunger clawed at his throat, demanded it be satiated with your blood, not your juices.

He hurriedly knocked his belt out of the way and slid his pants down just enough to pull out his aching cock. It throbbed in his hand as Eddie pushed up the edge of your tight black dress. Your panties were easily torn off, like tissue paper against his claws, and in the next breath he was inside you. Eddie had to cover your shout of surprise with his hand over your mouth. He was in but you were so fucking tight, gripping his cock head like a vice. It took a few moments for you to adjust to his girth, panting around his fingers all the while.

"That's it, sweetheart. Take it. Take me in deep," he whispered in your ear. "Just wanna make you feel good. Let me in so I can make you feel good."

Your whines and the way your pussy fluttered around him let him know you were ready, you could take it. So he gave it to you, and hard. His hips slapping against your ass as he filled you over and over again.

Eddie couldn't wait any longer, the hot beat of your pulse was right there under your skin, calling to him like a beacon.

"I'm sorry, love," Eddie whispered and turned your head with his hand still on your mouth. With your neck exposed he lunged. Puncturing you at the same time he fucked into you, hitting that spot inside you with his cock that made you cry out. Only now you were crying from his fangs buried deep in your throat. Tears fell from your eyes as he drank but your moans didn't stop.

Eddie didn't stop either. His hips hammering into you at a brutal pace, the hand not on your face moved from your hip to your clit and, careful of his nails, rubbed you even further into a frenzy until you were coming around his cock, squeezing out the little bit of life he had left, until he was coming too.

Before he got greedy and took too much, Eddie pulled his fangs free. He pulled out his spent cock, admiring the way his come dribbled down your leg for a moment before righting your dress. He wanted to lick it clean, but your thrall would wear off soon and Eddie couldn't be around for that. He'd have to leave town sooner rather than later. As soon as he got you home safely. He'd make sure you forgot all about him. And hope he could do the same for you.

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🖤

[whoahoney]

For the celebration: Eddie, enemies to lovers, dialogue prompt: ‘Swallow.’ 💛💛

Honey’s 2k Fics!

CW: Minors DNI, mean!reader, fem/afab!reader, subby!eddie, a hint of jealousy, smut (oral f and m receiving, cum eating, semi public sex)

I loved writing this so much, I’ve just begun dabbling in enemies to lovers so I’m sorry if it isn’t like the others 💀🫶🏻 this was supposed to be a lil blurb but it just kept going lmao. Thank you for sending this in!!! I call this one… My Pleasure

Join the celebration

“Oh shit!” You gasp as his mouth closes around your cunt, the feeling so good you can’t even think about the wooden locker room bench biting into your back. “Fuck, c’mon—“ you grunt and roll your hips against his face.

He chuckles against you, the throaty satisfied melody humming through your core before he lifted his mouth only enough to mutter against your lips, “Someone’s eager—“ you cut him off by shoving his face back down.

“—not here to talk, Munson.” You say breathily, your building high already fleeing in the mere seconds he stopped working his oral magic against your cunt.

He nods and resumes eating, pressing his fingers into your thighs with more fervor. “Shit—yeah, just like that—“ you sigh out in relief and dig your fingers into the edge of the bench above your head.

This has been a regular thing for a couple weeks. A nice little hate fuck in the locker rooms after cheer practice ended and Eddie was done with—well, whatever it is he did.

Currently you were enjoying yourself the most you’d ever had and Eddie was well aware. He mapped your every move, every word, every sweet little noise he pulled from you with his tongue. He’d purposely tease and edge you to draw it out longer, wishing to keep his mouth on you as long as possible.

He couldn’t believe how far you’d come in only a couple of months, how comfortable you grew in front of him after making him question his skills the first time you met like this, your silence had been deafening.

The first time, he’d been locking up the drama room as you’d been shutting off lights in the gym. You hadn’t meant to engage but when he opened his mouth and let out a, “Well, who do we have here? Y’know the basketball team finished up a couple hours ago, aren’t you supposed to be cheering them on in the locker rooms?” He smirked at you as you pulled the double doors shut and scoffed.

“Jealous?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He scoffed this time as he turned to you fully and approached.

You wanted to swallow but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I mean, why are you so pressed about the basketball team for? Girlies aren’t lining up to go down on the freak?”

He tsks like it’s a challenge and steps closer. “No, actually they’re lining up for me to go down on them. How do you like them apples, cap’n?” He said so matter-of-factly you believed him.

No matter your effort, the air in your lungs was forced out by laugh of disbelief, maybe embarrassment or shock, but you clear your throat and maintain the hardness in your eyes.

Eddie looks awfully satisfied until you say, “I don’t see anybody.”

He smiles as if he wanted you to say it, “Looks like the line starts here, huh?” He looks you over with a predatory gleam and you arch an eyebrow, the intrigue peeking through.

Before you knew it you were turning on your heel and walking towards the door to the locker room. Eddie stood for a minute, glancing around and wondering if this was his rejection until you turn to him, “Well, are you coming?” You ask with a hand on your hip. “I want proof, Munson.” You say with a hidden smirk that set him on fire. A feral smile stretches across his face and he hurries after you, rubbing his hands together as if he were about to eat a fine meal.

You kept your cool the whole time, almost refusing to accept how good it felt, refusing to give yourself over to him. He was so tender with his touches, unlike anyone you’d been with. The kisses on your thighs were so foreign you jumped the first few pecks he laid down beneath your skirt.

The only thing that told Eddie you enjoyed yourself was the change in your breathing, otherwise you were quiet as a mouse. It wasn’t until you stopped breathing that he looked up at you—expecting you to be staring at him with the same disdainful look you always shot is way, but no. Your eyes were clamped shut and your jaw clenched, as if in discomfort.

He smirked and massaged your thighs to get your attention, “Tell me you like it, or I’ll stop.” He almost whispers.

Your mouth relaxes and your eyes pop open and you glance down at him as you breathe out, almost defeated, “…I do.” You say with a hint of shame in your tone. That same mischievous grin stretches on his face and he strokes your clit to make your breath shudder and your hips jerk.

“Stop teasing me.” You push at his forehead playfully, his smile widening as he leans back down.

“Stop holding back.” He says with delight and dives back in.

He savored every drop of you on his tongue that night, every squeak, squeal, and squirm he’d pulled out of you. He watched you ready yourself to leave, not bothering to wash his hands so he could savor the scent of you when he got himself off at home.

You sat there as he licked his fingers and held eye contact, “It was a pleasure.” He mumbled, stepping away.

You stare at him for a second and begrudgingly sigh and shake your head, suppressing a smile, “Indeed.”

It’s all he needed to hear before he was turning on his heel and gliding out the door.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After a week of stolen looks in the cafeteria, in the hall as you passed, or even in class— you found yourself waiting outside of the drama room as Hellfire let out. You breathe out a puff of nervous air as freshman filed out, followed by the juniors that shot you curious looks—ones that told you they didn’t know. Why hadn’t he told them?

You nod at them indifferently as they walk out of the building, the pounding in your chest almost enough to convince you to follow them and walk to your car to go home and go to sleep and pretend you never considered him as an option again.

But you stayed. You stayed until that click of the knob sounded and your breath caught in your throat as he stepped out into the hallway, halting only for a moment before he smiled and shut the door the rest of the way.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he turns to lock the door, “What can I do for you?” He turns to you with an expectant smile, stepping up to lean against the lockers you’d gotten comfortable on.

You roll your eyes and try not to smile though you fail. “Was it… really a pleasure?” You ask.

Eddie swallows and nods, “Yeah,” he whispers before looking over his shoulder to find an empty hallway and then back to you, inching closer. “Why? Can’t stop thinking about me?”

You roll your eyes and turn to the gym, Eddie waiting again in his place against the lockers. “Am I suppose to follow?” He asked in a whisper yell.

You turn to him as you lean against the doors and say, “Duh!”

He gleefully follows you again.

Again and again, he waits for you, you wait for him, and he gives you the best head you’d ever imagined possible.

At school, your shitty comments had stopped and Eddie began to worry about you. Were you pulling away? Was this your way of icing him out? He thought about asking you the next Friday, if you were still comfortable with it all.

It wasn’t until lunch rolled around and Jason tripped him on his way past that he heard you speak, “Jason! Why are you so obsessed with him?” You crooned with a smile. The jocks started laughing, some even made kissy noises at Jason, while Eddie met your gaze and righted himself, finding your smile on him—til you noticed he was staring then you bit the inside of your cheek with a blush, stabbing another limp green bean on your fork.

After that, you’d gotten brave and let his hands wander up your shirt, your whines and writhing hips making him chuckle against you every time—until you shoved his hands away and grabbed him by the hair to grind your pussy against his face.

You thought it’d piss him off but he only moaned into your pussy and shook his head till you gushed. That was the first time you’d cried out his name as you finished.

It rang in his ears til he came in his fist an hour later at home.

You were always left with lingering thoughts about him; if he thought about you, if he got himself off after, why he never asked for anything in return, and then of course— who else is he fucking around with? How does he know how to do it so good??

The thought made your stomach twist—in disgust, of course. Cause you couldn’t ever be jealous of another girl with Eddie Munson. Absolutely not.

Okay maybe a little.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you walk in the hall, you’re debating on stopping this arrangement with Eddie, or telling him how you feel. How you can’t stop thinking about his stupid face, or the way he looks at you when he kneels before you as you undress for him. The way he chuckles at your banter and always knows what to say back or when he encourages you with sweet nothings that you’d never known you wanted to hear from anyone, let alone him.

“That’s it, that’s it, atta girl,”

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Such a sweet little pussy, baby,”

“Mmm—so wet for me.”

They echoed through your head at the worst times, making your thighs clench in class and your cheeks redden at how your insides turn to liquid at the mere thought of him. Not to mention the way your stomach flipped at the sight of him.

Him and his stupid smile, and stupid hair. And his stupid fucking fingers that you wanted in your mouth, in your hair, in your hands as you played with his dumb janky rings that you found yourself staring at more lately because you know exactly what they feel like on your clit, and no idea how they feel in your hand.

And currently, they were twirling a lock of hair that didn’t belong to you.

You stop in your tracks and spot Eddie at his locker and Heather Prosser leaning next to it. She was also a cheerleader.

A very pretty one.

And a stupid fucking bitch.

You watch for a moment as she flashes a smile and bats her lashes at him, asking about meeting up soon. He tosses the strand over her shoulder and tsks before he looks up from her with a keen smile—until his gaze lands on you and the daggers you were shooting at him.

His smile fell and his shoulders slumped. As he glanced back to Heather and shut his locker, you want to turn on your heel and run away to your car and drive home.

How could you be so stupid.

Obviously he got what he wanted—the satisfaction of seeing you vulnerable and weak for him after years of the back and forth bullshit you always sorta looked forward to. It didn’t mean the same for him—any of it.

Before you know it you’re marching up to him and grabbing him by the wrist, looking her dead in the eye before you say, “Bye, Heather!” and pull him along.

Heather scoffs as you bypass her and drag him away, your heart pounding so hard in your chest you fear he might feel it in your hand.

The bell rings and you pull him into the locker room, which you know will be vacant til the end of school in two hours.

You push through first and glance around, noticing the static quiet surrounding you and turn to him as the door clicks shut.

He’s quick to find your waist, your hands resting up on his chest as his fingers stroke at your lower back beneath your shirt. “Tell me why.” He quietly demands.

You shrug your shoulders and avoid his eye, “I dunno, Eddie.”

He scoffs, “Well, do you want me, or do you just not want to see me with anyone else?” He asks quieter than before.

You scrunch your brow at him, “… both, duh.” You find your hands on his face for the first time, his cheeks soft yet prickled with stubble you were well acquainted with between your thighs.

Eddie melts into your touch and nods, “Well, luckily for you… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about…” he blushes this time and your smirk finally returns, “What?” You ask with a daring smile. “Tell me.”

His eyes meet yours and he bites his lip before answering, “Having you all to myself.”

You nod, “I think that could be arranged,” you bite your lip and his heart thunders beneath your touch. “But there’s something I have to do, first. Before we make this little thing official.” You trace along his chain and tug the guitar pick at the end of it before tugging him along by it.

His cock throbs in his pants at the sight, that hungry look in your eyes he found set on him in more places than just the locker room these days.

But now it was more than just hunger. It was true desire. Little did he know how much you paid attention before all of this, not to mention the tabs you kept on him since you found out about his… talents.

You knew the music he liked, and that it wasn’t half bad. You knew he was a total dork about a book you had to read in middle school and he’d read it so much he could quote it (against your skin, more recently).

That he was in a band and he’d played guitar since he was 8 and was supposedly really fucking good. You believe every bit of that claim due to the magic he worked on you with only his fingers.

You knew he was respectful and caring, and could take a lot of shit for no goddamn reason.

You also knew he liked it when you wound your fingers in his hair and tugged at the roots. That he liked it when you used him and that he was a fucking giver.

Not to mention how handsome he was.

And you knew there were a million other things to learn about him. Things you wouldn’t want anyone else to know, because he was yours.

And that you didn’t want to see anyone ever touch him again, ever.

You push him into a shower cubical and shut the curtain, his eyes shining and mouth gaping in awe as you strip off your shirt and drop to your knees. Your hand flattens against his chest to push him the rest of the way against the wall.

“My turn, Munson.” You curl your fingers around his belt loops and his hips involuntarily rock. He groans softly and you smile widely, as he caresses your cheek.

“Show me what you can do, baby.” He says as his thumb sweeps down your cheekbone and across your bottom lip, to which you open your mouth and stick out your tongue and chest.

“Oh, I like this.” He smiled as you wrap your lips around his digit and sucked. “Shit, baby, are you a freak?”

Your eyes open and you slide off his thumb with a small pop, your hands working at his belt. “I’ll let you decide.”

“Shit.” He smiles and slumps against the wall his hands glued to his thighs as you work his jeans open and palm his rock hard cock til he sighs in relief.

“You’re gonna use me, okay, Eddie? I want you to.” You nuzzle your face against his balls until he responds with an, “Ah, shit!” And laces his fingers at the back of your hair. “My pleasure.” He says and lets you pull his pants down past his ass, soon followed by his boxers.

His dick springs up and your mouth drops at the sight. It was long and thick, the tip an angry red and the shaft the same color his cheeks turned when he blushed.

“Oh my go—“ but you can’t finish because Eddie’s already sliding it in and groaning out, “Fuuuuck!”

He starts slow, deliberate strokes, only halfway down his shaft, his fingers winding into your hair. Your hands cover his, and your feel his fingers searching for yours and you moan around his cock.

“That’s it… so pretty—my pretty girl.” He whispered down to you. You open your eyes to find his set on you, his pace quickening and strokes getting deeper. Your eyes water but your gaze is practically desperate— and he can’t fathom that it’s for him.

He groans out another pretty sound at the contact, your unbreakable stare that soon grows smug again, at how desperate he is for you.

You start bobbing in time with his thrusts and hollowing your cheeks and it nearly makes him keel over right then and there. He lurches and leans over and his grip slides from your hair to your cheeks, his thrusts still consistent, yet you could tell he was holding back. You push him deeper til he hit the back of your throat and he whines out openly. You match it with a whine of your own and your panties dampen.

He stays hunched over you as he fucks your face and soon you feel his hands working at the clasp of your bra til it popped open. You give a surprised little yelp and shimmy it the rest of the way off for him. He leans back against the wall and pushes you off his cock gently to get a good look at you.

He fists his spit slicked dick, and watches you, bare chested and on your knees for him. “Touch yourself.” He orders you quietly. “Lemme watch you play with those gorgeous tits.”

A lupine smile tugs at your cheeks and you arch your back for him before caressing the sides of your breasts for him, pushing them together and squeezing them, “Like this?”

“Yeah…” he whispers before spitting on his hand and stroking himself harder. You pinch and roll your nipples before you start a slow rhythm on the heel of your foot, your chest softly bouncing along.

“Oh yeah, keep going, pretty girl…” he smiles down at you, his hips fucking into his fist. You hold your tits for him and hold his eye, your smile blooming again. “Where do you want me to—“

“On me?” You say without hesitation, smoothing your hands from your stomach all the way up over your breasts and neck. “…In my mouth?” You suggest and he freezes before he nods.

“Yeah, baby, get back here.” He mutters as he grips you by the hair and pushes his cock back inside to start a brutal pace that sends you gagging without much time to recover. “Aww, you’re okay, you’re okay.” He mutters to you absently as he works closer to his release.

Your hands start at his hips before one sneaks down to his balls to massage and roll in hand, and his hips stutter before he’s able to warn, “I’m gonna— awww!” He groans out and spills his load into your mouth, whimpering when he feels you continue to suck, as if demanding every drop.

You finally pull off him, your mouth obviously full as you look up at him. He leans over, a finger on your chin before he demands, “Swallow.” In a bone chilling whisper.

You gulp it down and let your tongue swipe over your lip before he’s tugging you up by the arm and pressing his mouth to yours for the first time.

“That was so good, baby.” He whispered against your lips before you chuckled and pushed away from him to pull on your bra and shirt, ignoring the dumb smile he gave you as you dressed—the same way he always looked at you.

“Oh, c’mon, Munson.” You say before pulling your shirt over your head, “—it was my pleasure.” You mock him.

A wild smile stretches across his face before he’s on you in an instant, pulling you to him to kiss again and again, “A pleasure Indeed.” He teases before kissing your nose.

-

-

[fuckmeupeds]

CW: Eddie x Female reader, slightly softdom!Eddie, PIV, idk I think that's it but I'm new at this whole fic thing lmao

Just thinking about needy Eddie. Eddie who’s been out on tour and can’t stand one more night of phone sex Eddie. And maybe after one particularly spicy phone call you say fuck it and book the next flight out and you’re waiting for him in his hotel room and he throws the door open, exhausted, but then he sees you sitting there on the bed and his eyes light up. Thinking about Eddie who has dreamt of you every night, gotten himself off to memories of the two of you entangled in your sheets, both of your moans reaching the heavens, sweaty, hot, dirty Eddie. Thinking about the way that he’d just stand there, absolutely dumbstruck, not really allowing himself to believe that you’re actually there. But then you get up and you cross the room and reach a hand up to his face, brush those curls back, your eyes locked onto his, and then he realizes this is real. You’re here. You’re here and you’re his. His lips crash into yours with an intensity that you’re not quite used to, he’s consuming you with everything in him, it’s like he can’t get enough. He’s got one hand on your waist and the other snakes its way up your body, ghosting over your curves until it’s caught in your hair. He grasps a handful and pulls, just hard enough to earn a soft whimper from you which he greedily swallows down. He uses your hair to pull your head back and expose your neck, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses from just under your ear to your collar bone, sucking bruises into your skin that you know you’ll have no way to explain but you don’t care. Thinking about needy Eddie who all but throws you onto the bed, still clumsily sucking at your skin as he divests you of your shirt. You’re left in your skirt and your lacy bra and you’re thanking the gods that you chose to wear the one that hooks in the front, he swipes a finger under the hook and it’s undone and the look on his face as your perfect tits are revealed to him is a work of art. He bows his head and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, his hand coming up to roll the other between his fingers as he’s sucking the other between his teeth, switching between sweet licks and deliciously wicked bites. It’s been a minute since you’ve been together and his mouth on your tits is almost enough to make you come undone but you know that as much as you need it, he does too. You can tell by the way that he’s grinding down into the mattress while he’s absolutely devouring your tits. You pull him up to meet you and his lips are on yours again, tongue exploring every surface of your mouth, his hands on every inch of your body they can reach, your fingers entwined in his hair as you pull him closer because even though his tongue is down your throat it’s still not enough.

“Missed you Eds. Need you” you manage to get out between heavy, labored breaths.

“Can’t believe you’re here princess. How are you real?” His knee is between your legs now, rubbing up against your clothed cunt and it’s so fucking good but it’s also not enough you need more, you need him. 

“I’m real babe. Phone wasn’t enough, needed to feel you” you whine at him breathlessly.

“Oh baby…needed to feel this?” he smirks at you as he nudges your sweet spot even harder with his knee. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, “YES oh my god Eddie please, yes.”

With that, he pulls away from you and the next thing you know he’s sliding your skirt down your legs, dragging your panties down with it. You’re naked on the bed now and maybe you should feel a little self conscious but he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He takes a moment to drink the sight of you in before he’s pulling off his own shirt, tossed aside to join the pile of your clothes. You sit up and run a hand down his chest, taking care to be extra gentle with the scars on either side of his abdomen. He’s so fucking gorgeous, all lean muscle and sinewy tendons and he gasps as you reach the patch of hair leading down into his jeans. You fumble with his belt buckle for a moment before he reaches down to help you, sliding his belt through the loops while you undo the buttons on his jeans and shove them down his thighs, his gorgeous cock bobbing in front of you. He’s already so hard and the tip is glistening with precum, you can’t help but lean forward and greedily suck it into your mouth. He throws his head back, “Shit babe, mouth feels so fucking good” he hisses as you’re working your way down his shaft, his hand pressing on the back of your head as your nose meets the small patch of curls at his body. He pumps himself in and out of your mouth for a bit, reaching so far down your throat that your eyes are watering, deep, throaty moans escaping his mouth. You reach a hand up to clasp his balls and you can feel them starting to tighten, it’s been so long you know he’s not going to last. 

His hand still in your hair, he pulls your mouth off his cock. “Feels so fuckin’ good babe, gonna cum if you don’t stop. Need to be in you…” his voice is strained as he pushes you down onto the bed and the next thing you know, he’s got his hand wrapped around both of your wrists, pinning your hands down into the mattress. His mouth is on yours again, leaving a trail of kisses down your throat and back up again, nipping at your ear as he whispers into it, “Gonna fucking ruin you, my pretty baby.” A small whine escapes your mouth and your hips buck up into him, your cunt begging for some sort of relief. It doesn’t go unnoticed, he smirks down at you in between kisses. “Hmmm, needy are we?” He’s rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your slick folds, hitting your clit on the upstroke. You can feel tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes as you meekly whimper “Yes daddy, need you please.” 

“Oh my sweet girl, I got you” he says and with that, he thrusts himself into you up to the hilt, your eyes roll back into your head as you take in the fullness. He stays there for just a moment, his head buried in the crook of your neck. This is what he’s been wanting, craving, been dreaming about and now it’s happening and he just wants to savor every moment of it. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper and it’s everything you wanted, everything you needed, and you know he needed this too. You use the leverage of your legs wrapped around him to pull your hips up into him, meeting every thrust. “Goddamn I missed this, missed feeling you on my cock” he pants between thrusts.

“Missed you too Eds, fuck, missed your dick so much…” Your voice is almost gone, breathless and panting as he hits that sensitive spot inside of you with each thrust.

“Yeah? My girl missed daddy’s dick, hmm?”

“YesFUCK daddy yes, missed your dick so much”

“Missed you too princess…tell me whose pussy this is…”

“Yours daddy, it’s all yours” you whined, your voice getting higher as he pumped into you even harder.

Without a warning, he pulled out of you. You whined as your cunt clenched around nothing but before you had time to fully mourn the loss, he had flipped you over onto your front, your elbows pushing down into the mattress as he grabbed you by the hips to raise your ass into the air. You looked over your shoulder at him, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, and he brought a heavy hand down on one of your asscheeks. “Be my good girl, yeah?”

“Yes…” you whimpered and he brought his hand down on your ass again.

“Yes WHAT” he demanded, hands running slowly over your sensitive skin.

“Yes daddy, I’m your good girl” you all but sobbed as he landed another blow on your ass, hand immediately soothing over the reddening flesh.

“That’s my girl. So good for daddy” he said as he dragged his cock up through your slick folds, gathering your wetness. He spit into his hand and slowly jerked it up and down his thick length while he was pressing his tip against your clit. You couldn’t help but thrust your hips back into his body, so fucking needy for his touch. Lucky for you he’s just as needy and he shoved his cock into you, filling you to the brim. You let out a whine as he soothed his hand up and down your spine, letting you adjust to his size before he started pumping in and out of you, slowly at first. You let out a moan, “Yesss daddy fuck, so good…”

His pace increased and with every thrust he was hitting that spongey spot inside of you, driving you further and further into oblivion. At this point Eddie knew what he was doing to you, knew he was ruining you, but it wasn’t enough. He dove his right hand into your hair, wrapped it around his wrist and used it to pull you up into him, cock still buried into you, your back now flush against his chest. “Is this what you wanted baby? This what you need?” he cooed into your ear. You’re falling apart in his arms, his thick length hitting your cervix with every thrust. He releases your hair and moves his hand down to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your vision start to speckle at the sides. He reaches around with his other hand, moving it down your body until his fingers meet your clit and the next thing you know he’s rubbing quick, tight circles around your bud.

“Fuck Eds, FUCK gonna cum baby gonna-“

“I know love, I got you. I got you. Let go” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

With that the coil inside of you snaps and before you know it you’re coming completely undone, the only thing holding you to this earth is his arm wrapped tightly around you. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, riding out his own release as his name is falling off your lips like a prayer, your cunt clenching around him and he holds you through it, now rubbing slow, gentle circles around your clit while his other hand drifts up and down your body. 

You both collapse against the bed as you’re coming back down to earth. “I still don’t quite believe you’re real, that shit was too good to be true” he laughs.

“Believe it, Munson. I’m real. And I’m here for you, any time you need” you smirk up at him. He pulls you in close and as you’re drifting off to sleep you can’t help but wonder yourself, how is he real?

That Eddie. Thinkin’ a LOT about THAT Eddie…

[the-sarcastic-trashmouth]

You won’t be young forever

Summary: Eddie went down the steps, hearing the laughter of all his friends that seemed to set his thundering heart at ease. He glanced around to see them all seated around a tv watching Bill and Bev face off against each other. He felt the burning tears flood his vision as his mother screamed how they were all a bad influence on him.

“Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie exclaims from the recliner on the other side of the room, eyes glittering with happiness at the sight of his beloved standing there. “I--What’s wrong?” He asked, taking notice of the tear tracks running down his flushed face.

“Eddie? You okay?” Bev asked, pausing the game before standing up. She was ready to console him for whatever made him feel that way, but Eddie immediately made a B-line for Richie.

The Hawaiian shirt-wearing boy froze as he went to stand up only for Eddie to crawl into his lap and bury his face into Richie’s neck. He looked to the others who held matching faces of utter disbelief when a sob broke them from their shocked stupor. Richie’s face heated up as he slowly wrapped his arms around the shaking Hypochondriac.

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Eddie slammed the front door of the house, thumping quickly down the steps with a scowl of his face. The distant echo of his mother’s voice drilled heavily against his skull only furthering the crease in between his brows. He was grinding his teeth, knowing silently he’d pay for that later but honestly, at this point he could care least.

“I can’t believe her!” He snapped to no one in particular as he continued his way down the road towards Bill’s house where the other Losers were. “She acts like I’m not gonna be fucking eighteen soon! Dammit.” He hissed before scrubbing his hand over his face rather harshly.

Finally, he made it to the Denbrough home after a good ten-minute walk that would have been two had he used his bike. Still, he was glad for the time he could just stop to think so he could cool down before he met his friends. Sadly, that resulted in tears falling down his face as he tried to brush away the salted tracks of sorrow.

Eddie slowly trailed up the steps before knocking on the door as he dug into his pocket for his inhaler only to realize it was at home. He cursed himself mentally for leaving the house so quickly and forgetting his inhaler. He was about to turn around and head home when he jerks at the sound of the front door opening to reveal Mrs. Denbrough.

“Oh! Eddie, hey sweetheart, you here to see the others?” She asked before frowning at the sight of Eddie’s face. “What happened?” She reached out to cup his face when he flinched looking to the ground.

“Um… Nothing, and I am. May I go see them, please?” He asked, avoiding her gaze as she nods before stepping to the side with a gentle expression.

“They are downstairs in the basement. I think they were talking about playing some games.” She comments softly as Eddie nods in thanks before going for the basement door.

Eddie went down the steps, hearing the laughter of all his friends that seemed to set his thundering heart at ease. He glanced around to see them all seated around a tv watching Bill and Bev face off against each other. He felt the burning tears flood his vision as his mother screamed how they were all a bad influence on him.

“Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie exclaims from the recliner on the other side of the room, eyes glittering with happiness at the sight of his beloved standing there. “I--What’s wrong?” He asked, taking notice of the tear tracks running down his flushed face.

“Eddie? You okay?” Bev asked, pausing the game before standing up. She was ready to console him for whatever made him feel that way, but Eddie immediately made a B-line for Richie.

The Hawaiian shirt-wearing boy froze as he went to stand up only for Eddie to crawl into his lap and bury his face into Richie’s neck. He looked to the others who held matching faces of utter disbelief when a sob broke them from their shocked stupor. Richie’s face heated up as he slowly wrapped his arms around the shaking Hypochondriac.

“Hey, what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours, baby?” He asked softly into his ear so the others wouldn’t hear.

“Mom.” He responded back but gave nothing more as he choked on his own breath.

“Hey, breathe for me. Where’s your inhaler?” Richie asked worriedly when Eddie couldn’t take in air from how hard he was sobbing.

“Ho--Home.” He choked out as Richie cursed softly before looking up to Bev.

“My bag! Get my bag!” He exclaims when the red-head immediately scrambled for Richie’s school bag before handing it over. “Here.” Richie dug around for a moment before pulling out a spare inhaler. “Yes, it’s clean. No, I’ve never used it. Yes, I clean it every day in case you need it.” He assured quickly before Eddie could even try to question it.

Pressing the plastic tip to Eddie’s open mouth, Richie pushed down on the metal top to force the medicine down Eddie’s gasping throat. He did it a few more times before Eddie finally calmed down enough to be able to breathe properly on his own. Richie sighed in relief as Eddie tiredly slumped against him while Richie’s long, bony fingers caressed through his sweat-soaked locks.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, slurring slightly as he switched to the other side of Richie’s neck so he wasn’t laying in his own snot and tears.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay… Jesus… You fucking scared the shit out of all of us.” He comments back as he ran a soothing hand up Eddie’s back. “You good now?” He questioned softly.

“Yeah, thanks, Rich.” He murmurs before his eyes fluttered shut as he listened to the rhymic sound of Richie’s heartbeat.

“What the fuck was that?” Stan demanded to Richie who sighed.

“That was a bad panic attack. Eddie has been getting them a lot recently.” He explains with a look of sorrow.

“He went immediately to you.” Bev pointed out when Richie’s face flushes again.

“Well, I’d fucking hope he’d come to me.” He huffs as Stan raised an eyebrow. “So things aren’t that great at home for either one of us. We usually go out to the clubhouse until dawn. Sometimes we go to my place and just shove a chair under the doorknob.” He comments.

“W--W--Why didn’t you tell us?” Bill asked, frowning gently.

“Because, one, I hate talking about my emotions. If I could die without making a peep about it… I fucking will. And two, it wasn’t my place to tell with Eddie.” He sighed, looking to Eddie’s relaxed face. He took notice of the bags that layered heavily under his eyes.

“You two seem really close.” Bev comments before a smirk spread across her face.

“Really close.” Stan points out, matching her smirk.

“Blow me.” Richie resorts before freezing as Eddie shifted but remained asleep.

“So, what’s going on at home? Richie, if this is only getting worse… We have to know what’s going on so we can help it.” Ben finally pipes up when Richie glanced down to Eddie.

“I… Fuck, okay… We all know Sonia is a complete cunt. Not that I’m not madly in love with her--” He’s cut off by Stan crossing his arms.

“Beep Beep, Richie. Fucking focus.” He huffed.

“Right, right. Um… Well, recently… she’s been really laying down the law on Eddie. She’ll belittle everyone here. Telling him how he’s going to be a washed-up nobody if he continues to hang out with us. He should find himself a girl so he can settle down. Like, he’s seventeen… Jesus.” He snapped before scrubbing at his temples.

“Why doesn’t Eddie fight back?” Mike frowns when Richie snorts.

“Are you fucking kidding me? The last time he raised his voice at her… She fucking slipped sleeping pills into his food and he slept for almost three days. After he woke up, she said if he ever did something like that again… She’d make sure he’d never leave. Besides, whenever Eddie tried to fight back… She’d use us against him. She’d threaten to never let him see us unless he did what she said. He would without question. He told me that we are his only escape.” He whispered.

Bev covered her mouth as tears threatened to form in her waterline while her clenching fists shook from anger. She glanced around to see the other Losers held matching expression of hatred and disgust for Eddie’s so-called mother. It pissed her off that she couldn’t help him since it could only result in Eddie getting hurt more.

“How long have you two been doing this?” She gestured to the two boys when Richie coughed into his fist.

“This… This is new. He’s not… He doesn’t always like being held when he breaks down like that. I mean… He’s held my hand before, but he’s never been bold enough to crawl into my lap like this.” Richie explains.

“It’s obvious that Eddie trusts you the most.” Ben smiles softly when Richie swallowed before slowly looking up to them.

“Well… Yeah, I’d hope he’d trust his boyfriend the most.” He comments as they all froze for a moment.

“Bullshit,” Stan whispered in disbelief.

“I am not actually. Uh… Yeah, that happened a little over a year ago. We’ve been keeping it on the down-low because my family is conservative and Eddie’s mom is a bitch. Also, he’s going to fucking off me when he finds out I told you guys. He wanted to wait… But the reason we didn’t tell you guys is that Eddie was scared and like… we’ve kissed one time. He got sick afterward… Don’t know if it’s because he thought kissing was gross, or kissing me was gross.” He shrugged before noticing Stan open his mouth. “Don’t answer that.” He comments sharply.

“You two have been dating for a year and none of us fucking noticed?” Bev asked in shock as Richie grins.

“That’s because Eddie threatened to break up with me if I so much as looked at him differently when we were with you guys. I’m not saying we don’t act like that when we aren’t around you guys. I just… we act like… this? When we’re alone.” He gestured to around to their hugging forms.

“I seriously can’t believe this.” She whispered in shock.

“I’m only surprised that it took them this fucking long.” Stan resorts before they all heard a small grunt coming from Eddie.

“Richie…” Eddie slurred, bleary eyes looking up to Richie who cast his gaze down to Eddie.

“Yeah?” He asked softly.

“I’m cold… My head is fucking killing me.” He grunted, holding at his pulsing head.

“I’m sure. Here.” He dug out his hoodie from his bag as Eddie sat up and slipped it on without a second thought. “As for the headache, sorry… I don’t have anything.” He murmurs when Eddie shrugs.

“Thanks.” He smiles as the sleeves swallowed his arms before he held it up to his nose. “Smells like you.” He giggles, making Richie’s heart swell.

Richie opened his mouth to remind Eddie where they were when Eddie leaned down and smacked their lips together. Richie and everyone froze before Eddie pouts when he pulls away, taking notice of his shocked expression.

Then Eddie’s brain finally clicked.

“Oh fuck… We’re at Bill’s.” He whispered as Richie smirks.

“Well Damn, Babe, had I known that you couldn’t wait until we got home to kiss I would have kissed you back.” He snorts, earning a slap to the chest by Eddie.

“Shut up! Oh my god!” He cried, turning to see his friends all smiling at him.

“You okay?” Bev asked softly as Eddie swallowed before pulling the hood over his head to hide his face.

“Come on, Eds. Don’t shut them out. They’re worried about you. Tell us what happened?” He begged, pulling the hood down to reveal Eddie’s flushed face.

“My mom won’t let me apply to any colleges. She says I should stay here… She doesn’t want me going out west with everyone else. Then we started arguing and she told me that you guys were brainwashing me and that you’re all nothing but trouble… Especially Richie.” He winced as he said it, taking note of the sad smile that spread across Richie’s face.

“That’s bullshit! You’re going to be eighteen soon. She can’t fucking control that.” Stan gritted out.

“St--St--Stan’s right. We all said we’d fucking leave th--th-this town together.” Bill nods confidently.

“I can’t just… I’m not eighteen yet. I can’t do anything. My mom would hunt us down and somehow have everyone charged with kidnapping.” He sighed, scrubbing at his hair.

“Don’t worry. This school is almost over. You’re gonna be eighteen and we’re gonna fucking get you the hell out of this damn town.” Richie assured softly.

“For once… Richie is right. We’re not leaving without you, Eddie. We aren’t the losers without all of us.” Stan offers a smile to Eddie who returned it.

“Thanks, Guys… So about Richie and I--” He’s cut off by Bev’s grin.

“Don’t worry. I think it’s adorable.” She whispered with a wink as Eddie covered his face with a whine.

“Disgustingly adorable.” Stan makes a face that makes Richie laugh.

“Yeah! You’re like perfect for each other!” Ben laughs.

“You’re all the worst… I need better friends.” Eddie huffs when Richie turned him around his lap and buried his face between Eddie’s shoulder blades.

“But seriously, you okay?” Mike asked quietly when Eddie smiles softly before glancing at Richie who looked up to him in worry.

“Yeah, I’m thankful for all of you… But I have the best boyfriend who always can take care of me.” He whispered before kissing Richie’s forehead as Richie smiles to him warmly.

“Are you two gonna be like this all the time?” Stan snorts when Richie looked up to Stan.

“Don’t worry, Stan the Man… Eddie may have my dick, but you always have my heart!” He laughs as Eddie groans pushing him away.

“I take it back! You’re the fucking worst boyfriend!” He huffs as Richie laughs while holding him around the waist.

“Too late! You’ve already said it! I have witnesses to prove it!” He cackles when Eddie finally breaks and began to laugh too.

Eddie leaned back against Richie’s vibrating chest as the others went back to their game. He laid his hands onto Richie’s while he watched Bev and Bill with Stan, Mike and Ben cheering them on.

“Thank you.” He whispered to Richie who looked at him in confusion.

“For what?” He frowns.

“For being amazing.” He smiles as Richie kissed him gently. “I don’t think I would have survived this long without you.” He whispered before taking notice of Stan watching them with a fondness in his expression.

“Remember Eddie, you won’t be young forever. She can’t control you.” He comments softly as Eddie nods.

“Yeah… You’re right.” He whispered.

For now, he would just enjoy being around his friends and being young for just a moment longer.

[littlemissvincentvega]

I promised I would eventually have a request for you and here I am, with a request lol. Any of these would be awesome with Mr. Brown bc I LOVE HIM and he DESERVES SO MUCH MORE LOVE I adore this dorky man - 80, 82, 73, and 1 I love you babe

YAYYYY THANK YOU BBY love you to pieces beautiful ♥ i’ve done this as one fic but used each number cause i wanted to include all of em!! hope thats okay sweetness :>

also this flits back and forth in time a bit so SORRY dsakcdjakljDJCAJ ALSO THIS TOOK FOREVER BUT HERE U GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I LOVE U

-

You lean back in your seat, lightly tipping your cigarette ash into the ashtray. With the exception of Brown and Pink, you & the guys are enjoying a smoke after a pretty good haul from the heist you’d managed to pull off that morning. You cock your head at Brown, whose gaze is on you. “Is there a reason you’re staring at me?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah, Miss Crimson,” he chuckles nervously. “I’ve never seen you wear a dress before. That’s all.”

A flattered smile growing on your lips (you like the attention the boys always give you), you look down at your outfit. Having acted as bait for the heist, Eddie had taken you to get an appropriate dress. You had decided on a blood-red cocktail dress that had hugged your curves in all the right places in the changing rooms. It didn’t hurt that it matched you alias, too! “That’s a strange insult,” you tease, smirking at him.

“What? No– nonono!” he gasps. “I didn’t mean it like– I just meant, y’know, that–”

Pink sniffs. “Spit it out, Brown, Jesus Christ.”

“–it just looks really cute on you, you look really nice, that’s all I meant!”

You smile at him, taking a drag from your ciggy. “I know what you meant,” you giggle, “I was just messin’ with you. Thanks, babe.” He blushes at you calling him that, even though it’s just a bit of flirty banter. You do it with all of the boys; even Pink sometimes appreciates it.

-

Panting, you stumble down the street as quickly as you can, eyes fixed on the olive-green vehicle parked on the curb. Adrenaline rushing through your veins and a breeze rushing through your hair, you yank the car door open, jump into the back seat and, before Pink can shut it behind you, the vehicle speeds off. As Brown sends the car swerving round the corner, Mr. Pink sets the briefcase full of cash at his feet. “Nice work, you,” he comments. You go in for a high-five and (surprisingly) he obliges.

“We’re goin’ to that abandoned shack down Victoria Avenue, right?”

“Christ, Brown, who’s the fuckin’ getaway driver here?” Pink frowns, shaking his head. “Yes, it is.”

“Hey, man, chill, I’m just makin’ sure! Crimson, you did great.”

“You didn’t even see me in there!” you giggle. “Thank you though, sweetie.”

He smiles at you through the rear-view mirror and concentrates on driving. Luckily, the cops hadn’t arrived when you were fleeing the scene, and hopefully they still weren’t there. There had been a fair few prank calls from the local fuckhead teenagers lately, so it wouldn’t surprise you if they assumed it was another one of those. “Do you think we’re gonna go to Joe’s bar after?”

Pink rolls his eyes. “I think there’s more important shit to be worryin’ about in this moment in time, man. Y’know, like getting to the fuckin’ rendezvous alive? That’d be fuckin’ helpful.”

“I was only asking–”

“Ladies, ladies,” you interrupt, trying to diffuse the argument before it spirals out of control like it usually does. “Pink, stop being a miserable cunt, and Brown, focus on getting us there. We’ll find out when we get there, okay?”

“Okay,” Brown mutters. Pink gives you the side-eye and rests his cheek against his hand, sulking. You’re not offended, though; sometimes he needs to be told. Sighing, Brown takes one hand off the wheel and rolls his window down, the breeze hitting you nicely. It’s a warm morning.

-

As the three of you sneak into the shack, you decide to make small-talk. Not small-talk, just not heist-talk. That usually doesn’t do anyone any good; not when those two are in the same room. “You guys have any nice plans for this week? Y’know, assuming we get out alive and well?”

Brown shrugs and looks at you, his mind seemingly elsewhere. He usually daydreams, and you can usually tell, though just not what about exactly. “I was thinking of goin’ to the arcade downtown,” he finally says, staring into space, “but I got no one to go with. So I dunno.”

“That’s probably ‘cause grownup professional men don’t do childish shit like that,” Pink scoffs, his hand stuffed into his trouser pocket, presumably trying to locate his Zippo.

“Shut up, man, arcades are fun!”

“You need to lighten the fuck up, Mr. Pussy,” you smirk, and he stops fumbling around for his lighter and places his hands on his hips, looking at you offended.

“Who asked you?” he huffs, looking you up & down like a bitchy schoolgirl. You can’t help but stifle a giggle at that. Sometimes he’s so dramatic it hurts.

Mr. Brown shares a playful smile with you then digs out a candy bar from the inside pocket of his jacket. “You wanna go halfsies?”

“Sure.”

Pink rolls his eyes at you two as you scoot over to Brown and pipes up. “I gotta take a piss, I’ll be right back.”

“What a lovely thought,” you reply, shaking your head ever-so slightly. You and Mr. Brown lean against the wall of the shack, not bothered about the mucky floor. The tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips as he unwraps the bar of chocolate and you watch him in admiration, unknowingly growing a smile.

He hands it to you for the first bite and you grin at one another as you take the first bite, the sweet chunk melting a little at the warmth of your tongue. God knows how long that bar had been in his pocket, but it still tasted good to you. Not even a minute passes and you two have demolished the snack– who could blame you? “Thanks,” you smile, looking up at him to meet his gaze and spotting a brown smudge just beside his lips. You nudge him and giggle. “You’ve got a little somethin’.”

Brown looks utterly perplexed. “What?”

Shaking your head, you lean over and wipe the chocolate off with your thumb and he watches you in complete awe. “You had chocolate on your face,” you giggle, and a grin appears on his lips as he realises.

“Oh, oops. Thanks.”

After wiping the chocolate from your thumb with a tissue (you always keep an emergency pack on you), you return your gaze onto him. His cheeks are pinker than Eddie’s when he’s laughed for ten minutes over a dumb joke. “Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?”

“Like what?” He seems to be zoned out staring at you.

“Like that,” you say, prodding him between the eyebrows.

Before he can protest, Mr. Pink comes back from his bathroom break, cigarette between his lips and zippo in his palm. “Longest piss I ever took,” he remarks, pacing slowly in front of you both and craning his neck forward to light his smoke.

“Spare us the details,” you sigh.

Brown can’t help himself but press further. “Where’s the little boys room?”

“Eh, there isn’t one, dumbass. I just pissed in a bush outside.”

“Oh, Pink,” you shake your head. “I’m gonna go see if they’re nearby, I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, you meander over to the doorway, wooden slats letting glimpses of sunlight into the shack.

-

“C’mon, let’s get you home,” you sigh, Brown’s arm slung around your shoulder. His other one is around Orange’s, but he’s pretty tipsy as it is. Sure, Mr. Brown hadn’t smoked with the rest of you (except Pink, though you’re sure he sneaked out to have one at some point) but he’d had plenty to drink. And by plenty you mean not much. He’s a lightweight. “Orange, walk in a damn straight line!”

“Oh, sorry baby,” he mumbles, throwing you a salute, eyes half-lidded. He’s probably the quietest of the group; just not when he’s had a drink.

Going to Joe’s bar may not have been the smartest idea considering everybody but you and Mr. White got absolutely hammered in the span of about two hours, but you weren’t gonna complain. You had fun. “Just a few more feet, let’s go,” you urge, and you & Orange manage to drag Brown into the backseat of the getaway car. “Alright, you get in too,” you say to Orange, then motion for Pink and Blonde to join. You figured you’d save White (and Joe for that matter) from Ed & Blonde’s drunken antics.

Blonde sits slumped in the front with you and, after lots of boozy ‘goodbye’ yells, you set off to take each of them home. Over at one of the stoplights, you peek in the rear-view mirror and smile to yourself– both Pink and Brown are resting their heads on Orange’s shoulders, eyes lightly closed. For once they actually look peaceful, it’s a breath of fresh air from all the bickering you’re used to. “I ever told you how pretty you are?” Blonde asks, nudging you.

“Yes, sweetie.”

He looks lost. “Oh.”

“Just let me drive,” you chuckle, continuing your journey to his place. Your memory is a little foggy since you haven’t visited in a while but you’ve a good idea of where abouts it is. “Close your eyes for a bit, we won’t be long. Almost home now.” He mumbles an incoherent ‘mmkay’, rolls down the window a touch and rests his chin on the door. 

It doesn’t take too long to pull over at his place, a rather luxurious-looking townhome. “Here we are,” you say, tapping Blonde’s shoulder gently. He stirs but shakes his head, his eyes stubbornly closed. With a smile, you get out of the car and walk round to his side, opening his door for him. He almost falls out of the damn thing. In fact, if he would have, he’d have smacked his face on the pavement. “Come on, it’s time for bed.”

Blonde grumbles as you help him out of the vehicle but complies nevertheless. You help him stagger up to his front door, help him unlock it and help him inside. A lot of helping involved. Anyway, you manage to get him to bed (he flopped on it and almost threw up) and return to the car having locked him safely inside, of course. Honestly, these dumbasses cause you so much grief but they’re worth it.

“Where you been at, sweet thing?” Orange coos, hoisting himself forward so his head’s sticking over the front seat.

“The grocery store.”

He gasps. “Did you get any snacks?”

“No sweetheart, I didn’t buy anything,” you smile, starting the engine and pulling off once again.

-

It’s close to an hour later when you finally arrive at Mr. Brown’s place, a messy apartment full of endless crap. Pink was easy (but grumpy) to get to bed, Orange kept trying to run back to the car when you were doing your best to get him in his apartment complex and Brown was surprisingly quiet. You had had to support him over to the elevator, him almost keeled over, and only just managed to get him to his bathroom in time for him to throw up. Delicious.

“That’s it sweetie, get it all out your system,” you encourage, patting his back as he hurls. “Lovely, that smells lovely.”

He can’t help but giggle as you say this, spitting the remains of vomit from his mouth into the toilet. His breathing is calming now, thankfully. “You feeling okay?”

“Mhm,” he nods, staring down at the mess. 

“Alright, just–” you dab at his mouth with a tissue and help him sit upright against the bathroom wall. “–just let me flush the toilet, okay?” You do so as he wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Christ, you’re sure some of that candy bar is in the toilet right now.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, tossing the bit of used tissue into the toilet. “I just don’t wanna stay here by myself tonight, I rewatched The Exorcist the other night and–”

You chuckle at his dumb antics. Typical of him to do that. “Brown, chill out. You’ll be okay. Come on, let’s get you to bed, huh?” you say soothingly.

He agrees and you give him a hand to stand up, stumbling against you to his bedroom. It’s full of movie posters, stacked up VHS tapes, peeling wallpaper and piles of clothing over the floor. “Wow, nice room,” you observe, helping him onto the bed.

“Thanks, I made it myself.”

“You made your room?” you smile, fishing a blanket from the floor and tossing it over him. “Don’t you mean you decorated it?”

Brown looks up at you, eyes narrowed in confusion. “That’s what I said!” He’s obviously still a little tipsy; it’s cute.

“Alright, alright,” you say, perching yourself on his bed. “Will you be okay if I go home now, sweetie?”

“No.”

You weren’t expecting that response. “…No?”

“Can’t you stay?” He sits up as he says this, a hint of panic in his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t been joking about being too scared to stay there alone. As you pause, trying to think of a response, Brown looks at you with the eyes of a petrified child. “Sleep over? Please?”

-

It’s the next morning (or should I say midday?). Brown is still dozing and you’re up & about, admiring his place. It’s just what you had expected– not too clean, not too dirty. Now you think about it, you and Brown are probably the closest in the group but you’d never visited his place before. 

Lost in your thoughts, you wander to his kitchen, taking in the dirty pots & pans sitting beside his sink. There’s toast crumbs on his tiny dining table (he lives alone, why bother with a normal-sized one?) and the kitchen roll slightly unravelled. It looks as though he had attempted to wind it back up and failed horribly. That’s something to ask him about once he gets up! You grin at the thought and proceed to poke around the cupboards looking for something to eat when you hear footsteps.

“Crimson?”

You spin around, hand still on a cupboard handle. “Brown! Good morning!”

“Morning,” he smiles, rubbing his eyes. He yawns and cups his hand over his mouth. “What’cha doing there?”

“Just robbing you. I was gonna take off with these–” you squint at the box in your hand. “–these outdated pop tarts. Yum.”

A grin grows on his face despite how tired he looks from last night. “Oops,” he chuckles. “Can we do breakfast though? Please? I’m starving.”

“I don’t blame you, you must have thrown up a week’s worth of food last night,” you reply, stuffing the pop tarts back in the cupboard. “What’re you wanting to eat? I’m good with anything.”

“Pancakes? Bacon? Maple syrup?!” His eyes light up more with each suggestion.

“YES! You get the ingredients, I’ll sort out the stove.”

Brown nods and does just that, and a minute later you’re standing side-by-side in front of the saucepans. He lays a few strips of bacon down, a satisfying sizzling following it, and you take care of the pancakes. Breakfast doesn’t take long to cook. Although Brown is usually chatty (too chatty that nobody can shut him up), the two of you manage to make breakfast without having to say a word. It’s just pleasant. The kitchen lit gold from the morning sun and the just-right warmth hugging you both, not to mention the smell of the food. It’s just good company in a wonderful environment.

“Voila, bon appetit,” he grins, waving his hands around to mock Pink.

You giggle and swat at his hand. “Siddown! I’m hungry. It smells too good.”

“Wait, wait,” he says, and before you can object he vanishes out of the room. You begin cutting up a pancake anyways– he’s not the type to get offended by that shit but then again neither are you. A minute later he returns with a pathetically small tealight and a gas-lighter, setting it between yours & his breakfasts and lighting it. You can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“What the fuck is that?”

“S’a candle. It makes us look fancy.”

“If you say so,” you smile, tipping some maple syrup over your pancakes. He takes a seat and tucks in, having already drowned his own breakfast in syrup. The two of you continue to chat about the events that transpired the previous day (this mostly consists of bitching about Pink being a miserable cunt) when he suddenly looks up at the candle and then to you. “Wait… are we on a date right now?”