#some of these might not look too good but they mostly look cute :P

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record. 

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him. 

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker. 

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant. 

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands." 

Eddie would know. He's tried. 

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.) 

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it. 

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t. 

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does. 

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric. 

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing. 

"Hey," he says. 

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask. 

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses. 

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously. 

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck." 

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins. 

"That's not good," you say succinctly. 

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic. 

"God awful," he agrees sullenly. 

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. 

"You should get a bike." 

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?" 

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone." 

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?" 

"Is there another one?" 

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand. 

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?" 

"My chain slipped." 

"So much for reliable." 

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest. 

"You can't put the chain on yourself?" 

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?" 

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want." 

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion. 

"I'll do it for nothing." 

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise. 

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want. 

Or maybe you don't know. 

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike. 

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east. 

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible. 

Kid, if I had the money…

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif. 

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection. 

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites. 

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed. 

No knife-like points. Normal teeth. 

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him. 

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing. 

His heart fucking pounds. 

"I have grape juice?" 

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome." 

Duh, you meant juice. 

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath. 

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened. 

It's everywhere. 

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie. 

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly. 

"Who?" 

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio." 

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?" 

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place. 

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it." 

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that? 

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day. 

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely. 

Learn to take a compliment, dude. 

When they aren't pity compliments, he might. 

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers. 

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands. 

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is. 

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?" 

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch. 

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie." 

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?" 

"I'm twenty-two." 

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?" 

"You didn't think so?" 

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle. 

"A boyfriend?" 

"Just me and mister Porterson." 

"That your grandpa?" 

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time. 

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time. 

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear. 

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?" 

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?" 

Don't say her fucking name. 

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand. 

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you." 

He stares. 

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that. 

"You don't believe it?" 

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it." 

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says. 

— 

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess. 

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty." 

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you. 

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?" 

"What kind?" 

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?" 

"Why?" 

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs." 

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit. 

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N." 

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it. 

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming. 

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching. 

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one. 

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate." 

"You don't say." 

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass. 

"Thanks, kid." 

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir." 

"Wayne is fine." 

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home. 

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar. 

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them. 

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes." 

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back. 

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted. 

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you." 

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct. 

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks." 

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out. 

"I feel like a pearl," you say. 

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait. 

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown. 

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur. 

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?" 

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative. 

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night." 

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next. 

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you." 

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?" 

"For your eyes." 

"There's cheese on it." 

"I'll still work," you assure him. 

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes." 

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel." 

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night." 

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth. 

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it." 

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?" 

"Yes, definitely." 

"Discrimination." 

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that." 

"She didn't budge?" 

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday." 

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too. 

"See my new one?" 

"What?" 

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver." 

"It's nice." 

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?" 

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained. 

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot. 

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?" 

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should." 

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie." 

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap. 

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave. 

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches. 

He breathes out. "Thank you." 

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm. 

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines. 

He moves away slowly. 

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?" 

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me." 

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one." 

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks. 

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling." 

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?" 

Your sad tone surprises him. 

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried. 

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-" 

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke." 

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes. 

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.  

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either." 

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening. 

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls. 

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard. 

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?" 

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV. 

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds. 

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne." 

"Why's he wanna know where you are?" 

"'Cause I got into so much trouble." 

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again. 

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?" 

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper." 

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony. 

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh. 

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown. 

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't. 

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable. 

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends. 

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face. 

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome. 

He hates how good it feels. 

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says. 

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look. 

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted. 

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks. 

"Shithead." 

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games." 

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful. 

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all. 

"Ouch, what the fuck?" 

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table. 

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed." 

"They don't work like that. They retract." 

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly. 

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced." 

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on. 

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?" 

Silence. 

"...Not really." 

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way." 

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?" 

"I have a friend," Eddie admits. 

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth. 

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe. 

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that." 

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy." 

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second. 

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting. 

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something. 

"Hey. How are you?" 

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly." 

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters. 

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?" 

"...What?" 

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works." 

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice. 

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels. 

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted. 

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?" 

"You want to?" 

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping." 

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't." 

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs." 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear." 

"Be honest with me, kid." 

"I am!" 

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that. 

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."  

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises. 

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-" 

"Jesus Christ." 

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside." 

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…" 

"Strange?" 

"Alternative." 

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky." 

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-" 

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me." 

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches. 

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper. 

For you, Eddie thinks. 

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing. 

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut. 

"Eddie?" 

"What?" 

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees." 

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet. 

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?" 

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume? 

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains." 

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?" 

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there." 

"Well, how did they get here?" 

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?" 

"They fly?" 

A twig crunches under your shoe. 

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?" 

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them." 

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?" 

"Not yet. Where'd you go?" 

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you." 

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company. 

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction. 

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers. 

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too." 

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do." 

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag. 

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with." 

"Who told you that?" 

"What?" 

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken. 

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time." 

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid." 

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud. 

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly. 

"You're not." 

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees. 

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you." 

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it. 

"Hey, I have something for you." 

"You do?" 

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift." 

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest. 

How embarrassing. 

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics. 

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?" 

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring. 

"Steve found it." 

"'The hair'?" 

"Yeah, the hair." 

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes." 

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it." 

"You're the best." 

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger. 

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?" 

His breath catches. "You want me to?" 

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta." 

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up." 

"What kind of pasta?" he asks. 

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy." 

"How do you know?" 

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet. 

"Try tightening the handle." 

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on. 

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?" 

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?" 

"No, do you?" 

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?" 

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" you ask again. 

"I'm positive." 

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are." 

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" 

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here." 

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward. 

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow. 

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything. 

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train. 

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark. 

"Shit," you mumble. 

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding. 

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid. 

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up." 

You hold your hands out. 

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright." 

He doesn't sound the same. 

"Eddie, we can't see." 

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way." 

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage. 

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise. 

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark. 

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?" 

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin. 

His second hand is in his pocket. 

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers." 

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny. 

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart. 

— 

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said. 

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained. 

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained. 

Restrained. 

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you. 

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you. 

You have a light bulb moment. 

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical." 

"You're Steve?" 

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend." 

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you. 

"Trust me, you're new." 

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure. 

He tucks it under his arm. 

You meet his suspicious gaze. 

"You want coffee?" 

"No." 

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?" 

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?" 

"What?" 

"Are you initiating me into your cult?" 

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club." 

"Club where you chew on each other?" 

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist. 

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter." 

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?" 

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately. 

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say. 

"It's really not that kind of club." 

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile. 

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice." 

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick." 

"You like him when you tell me stories." 

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him. 

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams. 

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby." 

"He's like that." 

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr." 

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?" 

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing." 

"M'gonna sneeze." 

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing. 

"I'll tickle you back," he warns. 

"Promise?" 

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear. 

"You're not a cannibal, are you?" 

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it. 

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?" 

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?" 

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one." 

He doesn't say anything. 

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came. 

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us." 

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried.  "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it." 

"Okay." 

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club." 

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?" 

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come." 

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle. 

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed. 

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Who do you like?" 

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it." 

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised. 

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer. 

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up." 

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do." 

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression. 

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody." 

His smile abruptly ends. 

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing. 

"A good secret," you amend. 

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees. 

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body. 

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?" 

"Just the one." 

"Save any princesses?" 

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?" 

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness. 

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it." 

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them. 

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin. 

Your breath mingles. 

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you." 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline. 

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead. 

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed." 

Eddie blinks. 

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?" 

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?" 

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie. 

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV." 

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend." 

"Yeah, what was that about?" 

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons. 

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends. 

"Since always, dipshit." 

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?" 

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party." 

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?" 

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you." 

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen. 

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk. 

He feels kind of great about it. 

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning. 

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating. 

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out. 

How can he want to do that to you? 

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue. 

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants. 

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says. 

"Go play with your nerd squad, please." 

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?" 

"No." 

"Where's Y/N?" 

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie. 

You will most likely choose Blondie. 

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously. 

"Everything, kind of. Why?" 

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her." 

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up. 

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?" 

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness. 

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly. 

"It could be." 

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her." 

"Why not?" 

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about. 

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry. 

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie. 

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not. 

The loss of choice is suffocating. 

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't. 

"Eddie, are you okay?" 

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him. 

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad." 

"Eddie-" 

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache. 

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare. 

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends. 

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?" 

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells. 

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile. 

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different." 

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one." 

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable. 

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it." 

"You can have it." 

You lean against the sink. "I can?" 

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this. 

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking. 

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?" 

"There's an upstairs bathroom." 

"Two bathrooms? That's-" 

"Audacious?" 

"I was gonna say overkill." 

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight. 

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion. 

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today." 

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?" 

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up. 

"C'mere," he says. 

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction." 

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee. 

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?" 

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet. 

"Like Madonna." 

"No!" he bemoans. 

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest. 

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head. 

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week. 

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly. 

"R.E.M?" 

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?" 

"The radio." 

"Tuned into the wrong station." 

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was." 

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward. 

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap. 

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him. 

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his. 

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips. 

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue. 

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away. 

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it. 

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing. 

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door. 

His gums sting. A click. 

It's a compulsion. 

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue. 

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting. 

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth. 

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth. 

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent. 

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard. 

Eddie can't feel his hands. 

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe. 

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm." 

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound. 

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop. 

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin. 

Your heart hikes again. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony. 

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face. 

"I don't think you could." 

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess. 

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?" 

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it." 

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself. 

"I know." 

-

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can. 

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around. 

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side. 

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve. 

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them. 

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home. 

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM. 

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway." 

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days. 

"I'm fine." 

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest. 

"I'm fine all the time." 

"Liar." 

"Nuisance." 

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve. 

"Mike was really nice," you say. 

"He has a bleeding heart." 

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you." 

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green. 

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure. 

"What?" 

"Wanna stay the night?" 

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea." 

"Just to sleep. It's late." 

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you." 

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do. 

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch. 

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do. 

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils. 

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up. 

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?" 

You can't hear his response. 

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly. 

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter? 

You debate your pyjama pants considerably. 

There's a lot happening. 

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it. 

He's something out of a science fiction book. 

Well, nobody's perfect. 

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised. 

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person. 

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink." 

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise. 

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours. 

"You have tattoos," you say. 

"They were better, before." 

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin. 

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky." 

"Mh-hm." 

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep. 

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form. 

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip. 

"You're making this difficult," he chides. 

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars. 

You reach for his waist. 

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises. 

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp. 

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today. 

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."  

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing." 

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you." 

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me." 

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back. 

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him. 

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures. 

"And you're okay?" 

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?" 

"Yeah. More than anything." 

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat. 

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds. 

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe." 

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak. 

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed. 

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched. 

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?" 

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire. 

His face presses further into yours in reaction. 

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh. 

"Teasing," you utter. 

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?" 

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest. 

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart." 

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt. 

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing. 

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit. 

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?" 

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold. 

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?" 

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck. 

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it." 

"I can." 

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking. 

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe." 

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets. 

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention. 

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely. 

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously. 

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands. 

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm. 

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please." 

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth. 

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s. 

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high. 

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart." 

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves. 

"For what?" 

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.  

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm. 

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking. 

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch. 

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough. 

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward. 

"You okay?" he asks, smirking. 

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed. 

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Not anymore." 

"Can I kiss it?" 

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else." 

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well. 

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear. 

"Please." 

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead. 

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders. 

"What way?" 

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want." 

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?" 

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?" 

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering. 

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck. 

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider. 

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?" 

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper. 

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust. 

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels." 

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it. 

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N." 

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising. 

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug. 

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it. 

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?" 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect." 

"Will you kiss me?" 

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful. 

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight. 

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt. 

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets. 

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom. 

"Eddie-" you start. 

He pulls away, stops every movement. 

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is. 

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?" 

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise." 

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling. 

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep. 

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat. 

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump. 

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry. 

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach. 

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble. 

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear. 

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes. 

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint. 

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?" 

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself. 

You touch your index fingertip to his lip. 

"Can I see?" you ask. 

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang. 

Blood oozes at the gums. 

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth. 

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out." 

"How often do they come out?" 

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time." 

That is a dizzying thing to learn. 

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now." 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?" 

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid. 

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers. 

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?" 

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

-

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird. 

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy. 

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last. 

You beam at him. "People have said that about me." 

His kid laughs. 

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car." 

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice." 

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?" 

You nod at him faux-seriously. 

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand. 

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago. 

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises. 

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?" 

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings. 

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave. 

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-" 

"I'm almost twenty three." 

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts. 

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more. 

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?" 

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says. 

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could. 

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch. 

You take it without thinking. 

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens. 

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up. 

"I read about a new blood-sucker." 

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?" 

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive." 

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose. 

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really." 

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth. 

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says. 

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth. 

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you. 

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face. 

"Deep breath," Wayne says. 

"Fuck, Wayne." 

"You're aces. Deep breaths." 

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey. 

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie." 

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side. 

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired." 

"You want a hug from me?" 

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby." 

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack." 

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake. 

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him. 

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles." 

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?" 

"Least it wasn't Snoopy." 

"God forbid." 

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?" 

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth. 

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.  

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you. 

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes. 

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower." 

"Maybe I can shower with you." 

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it." 

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh. 

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch." 

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?" 

"I'll lean out." 

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work." 

Wayne clears his throat. 

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this." 

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair. 

"You have to lean your head back," you chide. 

"I am." 

"More than that." 

"There's no room." 

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather. 

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear. 

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow." 

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?" 

"For shows." 

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?" 

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?" 

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant. 

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you." 

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time." 

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair. 

"You want that?" 

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world." 

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours. 

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl." 

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes." 

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream. 

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea." 

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly. 

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out." 

Your jaw drops. "For real?" 

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart." 

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile. 

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound. 

/\^._.^/\

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party

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[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You | Part IV

Welcome back! This time we have the second ghostface smut. Part V will be out later tonight, but no smut! Just some pure angst and fluff. As always, heed the tags

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+, P in V, Fingering, Oral female!receiving, Overall smut

Part I Part II Part III  Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

 Word Count: 2673

You had a good five seconds on campus before someone finally noticed. Before you even made eye contact with her for the first time that day, Tatum let out the biggest gasp she had ever made and grabbed your shoulder. “And who did you spend your night with,” she asked as you immediately blushed, covering up your hickey with your palm. “None of your business, tate,” you said as Stu laughed and put his arm around Tatum’s waist. “Maybe Randy finally got his shot, I mean with how scared you must be about the killer, maybe he offered some protection for you,” Stu joked as Billy laughed.

 “Don’t get the dork all worked up, Stu, you might put one too many ideas in that perverted brain of his,” Billy said as Randy rolled his eyes. “I can confirm it was not me, sadly, one of us actually has a job instead of living off student loan refunds,” Randy said as the group put their attention back on you. “Well, whoever mauled you better show up at the mall after class today. I wanna see who gave you that, you know, to vet them or whatever,” Tatum said as Sidney nodded. “Yeah, and then we’ll get on their case for mauling you,” she added, making you laugh.

Your day was mostly spent around nervously tiptoeing around the girls questioning you on who you spent the night with. You had talked to other people on campus that didn’t include your little friend group but had never shown interest in them, so they questioned you on any and every one they knew to see who it was. “Okay, what about the guy who almost hit you with that football last week, Kyle? Kit? Kaleb.” Tatum recalled, “Kevin, and no,” you answered simply as Sidney took a stab at it. “Nah, it has to be Oliver,” she suggested, making you pause and show a gross look. “One of my biggest bullies in high school? No thanks,” you shrugged as Billy turned his gaze to you, Stu looking back at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Bully?” Billy questioned as you nodded. Throughout most of school you had been bullied, not really by one group in particular but there were enough to only leave you with Casey as one of your only friends until senior year. It stopped when college came around, no one cared enough to bully someone they spent one hour a day with. “Yeah, he always bullied me, ever since second grade. At first everyone thought he liked me because they thought being mean to someone was how you showed a crush but after this one time he faked asking me out in high school just to stand me up, it came kinda clear he hated me,” you explained with a little bitter laugh, going silent when you noticed the awkwardness.

 Billy’s face was stone cold, but you could tell in his eyes that he was angered. “It’s fine, I’m over it now, but yeah, definitely not someone I would let sleep with me,” you said as you looked away, not noticing the glance that Stu and Billy shared. “Is he still a dick to you?” Stu asked as you laughed, “I guess? I dunno, I find it more funny that he’s still got a grudge against me for some reason, but at least he doesn’t try to pull my hair anymore,” you said jokingly.

“How about we go in there?” Tatum suggested as you and Sidney both shared a laugh, “what? You have a mystery date and you might want a cute outfit for Billy sometime,” Tate said as you and Sidney looked to each other before looking at the boys. “How about you two run off for a bit instead of being giant pervs, we’ll meet up again at the food court,” you suggested as Billy and Stu were quick to agree. Their rapid head shakes made you all rile up with laughter, smiling and heading into the store together. 

“Sooo, what’s your mystery dates favorite color?” Tate asked as you smiled, “I don’t know actually, that’s a good question,” you hummed as you looked at the different choices of lingerie that lined the store. “I think they like any color really,” you said as you spotted a red laced set, it was a bralette styled top that had strips running down the side to connect to the underwear. Sidney noticed where your eyes lingered and laughed, “they’re kinky, huh?” She joked as you laughed and nodded, “really,” you agreed. You picked through the outfit to find your size, wondering if ghostface would like it, you guessed they probably would enjoy the blood red color of it.Later that night you were in your bathroom, glad that your parents had left to have dinner at your grandparents, which they did very hesitantly given the incident a few days ago. When you reassured that with all your friends only a few blocks away and access to cars, as well as the marvelous creation of phones to dial 911, they let you be.

You found yourself looking in the mirror as you checked yourself out for the 100th time in the lingerie you had bought. You blushed and wondered if your masked killer would enjoy the outfit, running your hand slowly across the lace fabric. You heard a noise from outside, quickly throwing on a tshirt- one you didnt care about if ruined again- and pj shorts before heading out into your bedroom.

You peeked over your window to see nothing, frowning to yourself before sighing and taking a seat on your bed. But when you were met with the back of the costumed body looking over your vanity you let out a small scream, making them turn to you. “Jesus christ you scared me!” You yelled at them before relaxing, “no window climbing this time?” You asked as they shook their head, continuing to look around the room. You noticed their little glances around the room, curious as to why they were studying it. They turned towards you once more, walking over to you and looking you over. They were less aggressive than last time, using two fingers to tilt your head up to them. Their fingers were warm, which caught you off guard, just yesterday they were cold to the touch.

“There’s two of you?” You questioned, their demeanor changing quickly as they grabbed your chin. “I-I don’t know who you are, i swear. It’s just- y-your touch…” you spoke quickly, trailing off as their grip loosened. “The last one was cold, kinda felt like a corpse,” you said jokingly, “and you’re warm…plus you keep looking around like you haven’t been here before.” You said to them, their touch going back to just gently holding your chin up. They moved away from you, going back to your vanity and grabbing a small black bag, bringing it over to you. You blinked in surprise, looking up to them before they gestured to open it. You reached into the bag, pulling out a piece of paper that was torn, giggling at the words that were printed onto it. ‘Sorry about the last guy :(‘

“See? I would have figured it was two of you anyways,” you said as they shook their head. You smiled, reaching back into the bag and looking at your two new Carrie shirts. One was in the style as your previous one, the other a different one but still in the correct size. “I didn’t think I would actually be treated to a new shirt,” you admitted, hearing a chuckle from them. You didn’t say it out loud, but your heart was filled with joy knowing these two masked killers, regardless of not knowing them, were being so kind and caring towards you. You swooned, noticing how different the two seemed. The other one scared you a little, not really knowing their true intentions, but this one seemed so much more gentle and sweet with you. “I um, I also had a little surprise for you,” you said, noticing how they perked up at your words.

A blush rose to your cheeks as you looked up to them, adjusting yourself before sitting up on your knees. “but you’ll have to take my clothes off first to see it, mr. ghostface.” you whispered out, which made them grab you by the waist and lay you down on the bed. They didn’t take out the knife, instead their hands darted to the hem of your shirt and lifted it up to reveal the red lingerie underneath. A small groan left them as they quickly worked on taking off your shorts, making you giggle at the rush in their actions. You let out a little whimper as they groped you, aware now of how unintentionally strong their grip was. They squeezed your breast that was covered in the lace, their other hand roaming up and down your side. The lack of their touch made you whine out, pouting up at them before they moved to grab the final thing from the bag. A new blindfold, one dedicated just for you. They were quick to tie it, making sure you didn’t see through it by waving in front of you.

All you heard was a little thump of the mask and them struggling to take their gloves off before you heard the rest of their clothing thump to the ground. Before you could even take in a breath you felt their hand already cupping your core, their lips attacking the part of your breasts that were left uncovered from the lingerie. They roamed around before their lips were now on your neck, creating a new hickey right above the old one. You moaned softly, a shaky hand reaching to grab their arm.You could feel their muscles contract and tighten at the touch but when you made no movement to touch elsewhere, they quickly calmed down and continued their lust filled attack on you. They teased you over the lace panties you wore, their smirk growing as you let out little huffs and moans. The bed lifted, their frame no longer causing it to dip and your hand was left holding nothing, a small pout made its way to your agitated frown as their touch left you. After a moment you gasped, feeling their hands spreading your legs apart as they placed gentle kisses onto your inner thighs.

It was the first time you felt the blade, but they didn’t trail it across your skin like the other, instead they used it to make you exposed to them. Another whine left you, “you owe me a new outfit again, this was brand new,” you whined, they responded with a nip to your inner thigh, not doing anything else before diving into you.Your back arched on impact, their tongue on your clit as they spread you open with their thumbs. “fuck,” you moaned out, your thighs closing around their head to lock them in place in pure instinct. They were skilled at this, eventually finding the perfect pace that had you shaking and squirming. Every time you tried to shimmy up and get away from the pleasure, their large hands wrapped around your thighs from behind and pulled you back down onto their face. You weren’t even aware of how many minutes had passed before your thighs were shaking, only being held up by their grip. “Wait, fuck, you’re-“ the breath was knocked out of your lungs as they entered their middle finger into you, their pace matching that of their tongue as they thrusted it in and out of you.

 A loud moan left your lips as you came, whines and whimpers erupting from your chest as their ministrations didn’t stop. “Please, please, ‘s too much,” you pleaded, clawing at your bedsheets as they just hooked their arm around your thigh and pulled you down back onto their face once more. It was practically like a scene from the Exorcist as you came again, your back arching off of the bed as you nearly let out a scream from all the pleasure. This time they slowly pulled away after you came down from your high, lapping at you one last time before pulling away and hovering over you. Your chest heaved as you did your best to catch your breath, smiling softly at the gentle kiss they placed onto you. You felt them snake their hand into yours, making you giggle as they wrapped their fingers in the spaces between your own. A smile curled onto their lips when they heard your laugh, growing even wider when you let out a moan as their free hand went back to your entrance. They still held your hand as they pulled back a little, your legs spreading more as you felt them running their tip along your slit.

 At every swipe to your clit you let out a moan, gasping when they entered you. Within a second their lips were attacking your neck again, earning whines and moans from every bite, lick, and thrust that they tortured your body with. The pleasure was dizzying, you had never really gone so many rounds with someone before, the recovery time was practically nothing with how fast your climax was building up again. They were more gentle, their free hand roaming over the bralette you still had on, teasing your nipples over the fabric as they littered your skin in love bites. You were already regretting Tatum’s and Sidney’s teases about them tomorrow but for now, you accepted your fate.

Their pace was quick but managed to hit all your sweet spots, their hand that held yours was gripping you so tightly their knuckles turned white, which only brought you closer to the edge. Their free hand found its way to your clit again, rubbing it in time with their thrusts to completely overwhelm you. Your orgasm washed over you hard, the seconds felt like they lasted a lifetime as you did your best to come down from your high, but their continued sloppy thrusts didn’t help one bit. A loud whine left you as they came, biting into your neck to cover up their moan. They pulled out slowly, letting go of your hand and kissing you once again. Unlike the other ghostface, they laid down in the bed with you, pulling you against their chest. You accepted the invitation, resting against their chest and listening to their heartbeat as you recovered from your orgasm. 

“Next time…do- uh,” you spoke softly, a bit shy to get your thoughts out into words. You felt their fingertips tracing your jaw, relaxing as their thumb ran over your lips. “Do you think the both of you could come by next time? You- uh, you don’t have to but…” you trailed off as they kissed you, feeling their head move in a nod. You smiled, heart fluttering with excitement knowing both of them would be alone with you. “And don’t forget the new lingerie set, please,” you requested with a little laugh. It was an hour later, ghostface gone and you freshly showered and dressed in your pajamas again. 

Your phone rang, seeing Sidney’s caller id and answering quickly. “Hey, have you seen any of the police cars pass by?” She asked as you looked out your window, “no, how come?” You asked as Sidney sighed. “Oliver, the neighbors said they heard screaming and shit breaking and when police got there they said he was dead,” she said as you frowned. “Do they know if it was the killer?” You asked, “yeah, neighbors said they saw him running off. They tried going after them but they couldn’t catch up.” She told you, you sighing and shaking your head. “That’s so creepy…” you said, thinking back to the conversation you all were having earlier that day. You couldn’t help but wonder if ghostface was stalking you, if they already knew you and your past. 

[pandoraslxna]

Listen to me

Miles Quaritch x female recombinant reader

Words: 3.9k

Summary: The cute newbie of his squad enjoys late night activities way too much, keeping Miles up every single night since she moved into the quarters next to his room.

Warnings: explicit smut, masturbation, mutual masturbation, p in v, doggy, accidental voyeurism, secret crush, teasing, creampie, age difference, alien biology, Z-dog being a subtle wingman lol, degradation & praise kink, just quaritch being quaritch (reader calls him Sir)

Of course they had warned him about this. The heightened senses and all that. Miles knew about the Na‘vi’s keen sense of smell, their incredible eye sight and the distinctive hearing, even before he became one of them. Well, sort of.

What he didn’t expect though, was how incredibly good his senses actually were now.

It was a blessing and a curse.

A blessing mostly because it gave him an advantage, made him better than the human soldiers, a better version of his own past self. And finally he was eye level with his sworn enemy. But as soon as he was back in bridgehead city, back at the base and in his private quarters, it was curse. Miles could handle his new body and all the changes that came with it, there was no doubt in that. But out of all things, it was his distinctive hearing that quite literally made his life hell. Well, not his whole life but specifically his nights.

To his right, there was Lyle‘s room. The Corporal had always been a heavy sleeper, snoring louder than the roar of a Thanator. It was annoying, but bearable, even with his heightened senses. To his right, however, there was your room.

Miles didn’t know you when you were a human, he had only frequently met you when you had joined his team. You were a cute thing, young and eager and maybe a little too pretty to be a recom soldier. You looked more like you belonged to the nerds working in the bio labs, always walking around with that bright smile and sunshine attitude. And you definitely got on his nerves more than he would like to admit. More so, when Ardmore made you move in to the room right next to his. Now his nights were spent mostly sleepless, forced to listen to the little night owl he had as his new neighbor. All thanks to the Na‘vi and their damn distinctive hearing.

On some nights, it felt like there weren’t any walls at all. He could hear you loud and clear, like you were standing right here in his room as you did your little bedtime routine, several hours after you were supposed to go to bed.

Quaritch could hear how you turned on the shower, the water running against the tiled wall and down the drain for a good ten minutes until he heard you step under the spray. You probably loved a good, hot shower, he noticed right away in the first night. From then on, with nothing better to do than to lay there and listen to the newbie showering, Miles often found himself imagining you under the spray of water.

He just couldn’t help it. His mind almost instantly presented him with a clear picture of your naked body, imagining you all wet and soapy, with your hands running over your curves. Fuck, he could smell your damn shampoo all the way from here. Fucking vanilla, he scoffed, as his hands found the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down enough to free his now hard cock. He would make you run an extra mile around the campus tomorrow, just for that.

It’s not often that he had some alone time on this damn planet. Better use his precious time wisely if he couldn’t sleep anyway…

At least he had his private quarters, unlike most of his subordinates who either had to keep it in their pants or be stealthy about it. Or didn’t care what others might think of their nightly jerkoff session.

Miles was so hard, his cock was throbbing painfully in his palm as he begins to move his hand up and down, stroking lazily to the thought of you. Faintly, he remembers overhearing a conversation between you and Z-dog from a couple of days ago. It was after a mission, when she had asked how you always smelled so nice and what you used to keep your skin so soft. Their new bodies required more care than what they were used to when they were all still human, so you happily recommended her some oil that you frequently used. Of course you went into full detail, talking about how she had to use a generous amount and make sure to rub it into her skin and fucking great, now he was imagining you oiling yourself up like a damn snack.

Miles was gritting his teeth as he stroked over his shaft, squeezing the blue tip of his cock just right, forcing the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles. While he enjoyed fast-pace excitement every so often, it was nice to take his time and let all the pleasure course through him.

Out of all his years of living, he had never wanted to bend a woman over so bad. It was an unfamiliar feeling, something that hadn’t plagued his usually cool and composed mind in such a long time. You just looked so inviting, so good, so kissable, suckable, so fuckable. Miles wanted to bend you, eat you and fuck you in so many different ways, he wanted to make you cry. He wanted to see tears trickle down that beautiful face of yours, wanted to see those plumb lips slick with spit and his cum. And fuck, did he wanted to see that ass bounce on him. You were almost as sweet as your delicious ass looked. Quaritch wasn’t the type to stare, he barely paid you any attention at all, truth be told. But god damn, was it hard not to crane his neck to get a glimpse of that ass whenever you walked by.

On some nights, his perverted thoughts would come to an end once you mercifully decided to end your twenty minute long hot shower and went to bed. On other nights however, you didn’t went straight to bed. Well, to bed yes but… not to sleep. Those nights were the very reason Miles was cursing your name so venomently while wrapping his fist tightly around his cock.

Those nights, where you would settle down with the faint creak of your bed and where he could pinpoint the exact moment your breathing increased. He could see it clear as day in his minds eye, how you laid down and spread those pretty legs, ran your soft hands down over your stomach until they disappeared between your thighs. Oh, how he would love to bite into the soft of your inner thighs, leave his marks there, before he would taste you. Miles frequently imagined the flavor of your pussy and he could almost taste it on his tongue every time. He bets you’re so sweet– all dripping wet, smelling like that damn vanilla stuff and so fucking delicious.

The recom‘s ears twitched as they picked up the sounds of your tender fingers entering your slick cunt. God, what he would give to replace them with his cock. Miles tried to stroke his length in the same rhythm of those obscene squelching sounds coming from the room next door. But those sweet moans and heavy pants that left your lips made it very difficult for him to not fuck his fist like a madman.

There’s a tightness, a warmth that swells inside him and it gets even worse when he hears you shift around on your bed, clearly turning to your side to reach for something.

By now, he already knew the familiar sound of your nightstand drawer getting pulled open. It was a sound that would probably wake him up from the deepest slumber and instantly give him a boner. Like some sort of muscle memory or whatever. And that even though he absolutely hated when you used your toys. And you seemingly had a various amount of them. Going by the way you were moaning and whimpering on some nights, they had different sizes too. Oh you would definitely be able to take all of him, if he were ever going to stuff that needy little hole of yours.

But the worst of all was whatever toy you owned that was buzzing so fucking loud. He cursed it. Were you really that desperate that you needed a vibrator too? It was almost impossible to hear your sweet moans, thanks to that damn thing.

If you needed something to fill you up so bad, why didn’t you just ask? There were like… ten guys in his squad that would gladly bend you over the next best surface, going by the way they all looked at you and tried their absolute most to sweet talk their way into your pants. Why the fuck were you rejecting them, if you needed to get laid so bad?

Nevertheless, Miles thanked god you didn’t settle for that vibrator today. Whatever you had chosen instead though, must’ve been big enough for you to whine so loud, even a regular without distinctive hearing could’ve heard that.

Quaritch‘s imagination provides him with images of you, laying on your bed and with your legs spread wide while you thrust the toy into you. Or would you kneel? Would you hover over it and slowly sink down, forcing the silicon cock to stretch you out to the absolute most? Maybe you were the type of girl that would enjoy a little pain, maybe you would rush it because you’re so desperate. You would just sit down and take it all at once, because you love the sting that the sudden stretch brings. He imagines how you bounce on that fake cock, humping like a little bunny in heat and he groans through clenched teeth, wishing it was him instead.

Speeding up his movements, Miles hips were already bucking up to fuck into his fist, your moans and whimpers only egging him on more. Shit, he was close. It had been so long since he'd let himself have a satisfying release, but this would have to do. He would end up shooting his cum into his fist, instead of a wet little pussy that would actually satisfy his needs. Then he would clean himself and he would try to rest for at least a few more hours, until he had to get up for his squad’s morning workout. And he would look at you– if he would even look at you, no, he would most definitely ignore you just like any other day, acting like none of this has ever happened. Like he wasn’t daydreaming about fucking you stupid every second of the day.

This was how it was supposed to go. How it always went.

Just not today, though.

At first, Miles thought that his mind was playing tricks on him. That it was just his brain adding further stimulation to the imaginary scenario in his head, in favor of helping him cum. But then he heard it again.

A soft, high-pitched and keening whine of his name. His damn name.

"Miles– oh god Miles, fuck yes", you were moaning, chanting his name like a prayer. Like you were begging for him to come over and help you out.

Miles head perked at the sound, so audible even through the wall that separated your rooms. And then it was like his body moved without his brain telling him to. Pulling his boxers back up and rearranging himself, he made his way over to the room next door.

It took a whole five minutes after knocking that you finally opened. The door creaked open just a few inches, revealing your delicate frame to him. The room behind you was almost dark, the only source of light was coming from the dim hallway. Quaritch couldn’t hide the smug grin that formed on his face by the sight of you, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt that had the RDAs logo printed on it, your tail nervously swaying behind your back. And you weren’t wearing a bra, by the looks of it. What a delightful sight for his hungry eyes.

When you realize that it’s him, your eyebrows rise in surprise and you open the door just a little wider. "C-Colonel, Sir, what— it’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?"

Miles takes a step closer to you and your eyes widen. "Next time you need a hand, kid", he takes another step, "just ask me."

He steps closer and closer, until you’re left with no choice but to let him in. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks have turned into dark blush of purple, as you look at him. He then closes the door behind your back and with the way he’s standing, he’s basically towering over you.

"Heard you moaning my name like a little bitch in heat", he then tells you grinning and you swallow thickly, "was wondering when you’d finally ask for help."

With that, he spins you around, your hands flat against the cool metal door, before he positions himself behind you. You don’t resist when he kicks your legs apart and rides your shirt up, enough to expose your lower half to him.

"Hm, would you look at that", he hums, "No panties, huh?"

"I- I had to hurry to open the door, sir", you try to explain but the Colonel only chuckles. You feel his hands, caressing the back of your thighs and the curve of your bottom. He kneads the plump cheeks of you ass in his big hands, his head tilted enough to get a glimpse of your pussy when he spreads your cheeks. Your lips and inner thighs are covered in your arousal, glistening in the dim room and he can’t help but lick his lips at the sight.

"Ah right. And what were you doing before that?"

Miles pulls his boxer briefs down enough to free his hard length before he lines himself up, the head of his hard cock rubbing along your slit, coating himself in your slickness. He hears you gasp and your head hangs low between your arms, support yourself on the door. He gives you a minute to relish in the feeling of his cock sliding between your wet folds before he clicks his tongue, "Answer me when I’m talking to you."

You can’t help yourself. His words have your pussy clenching around nothing and you are so desperate to finally get what you’ve been wishing and praying for, you’re left with no choice but to respond to his teasing, "I‘m– I was… I was fingering myself." Your voice is barely above a whisper, but you know he’s heard you loud and clear.

"Just your fingers?", he scoffs, "Didn’t sound like it was just your fingers. Don’t lie to me, sweetheart."

His hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you closer so the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you hold your breath. He’s thick and warm and he pushes himself in so painfully slow, you can’t help but whimper. But then he retreats, pulling the very few inches he had granted you right back out. It was torture, all that just to make you talk.

"F-Fuck okay, okay! I was using… toys", you shamefully admit.

With those words he slams his hips forward, cock forcing itself deep inside you, the blunt head hitting your cervix in a way that has your legs quaking. And if you weren’t being pushed against the door, with his big hands supporting your weight by your hips, you would already be on the floor.  

"What kind of toys?", Miles asks you so nonchalantly, it’s beyond you how he can keep his voice so composed while he’s buried balls deep inside you. "Anything big, hm? Bigger than me?"

You can’t really see him from your current position, but you know he’s grinning– that shit eating grin, with the tip of his fangs showing.

You quickly shake your head, "N-No sir!"

"You know what? I believe you, cupcake. You’re still so fucking tight, there’s no way you were using anything bigger than me. I barely fit, jesus christ." Quaritch exhales a shaky breathe, his eyes fixed to where you were joined, how you hugged his length tightly and he knew just from the feeling of your wet walls sucking him in, that this couldn’t be a one time thing. You had him addicted already and while this wasn’t even done yet, he was already imagining all the positions he would bend you in next.

“Gonna fuck you now. Think you can take it?” He all but growls in your ear, the timbre of it making you clench around him and you nod, desperately wiggling your hips to get him to move. “Good fucking girl", he gruffs out the praise, hips starting to retract and snap back at a furious pace.

Quaritch fell into a steady pace, the swing of his hips becoming quick and rhythmic. The slap of skin on skin filled his ears, joined by the breathless panting and moans that escaped your lips, sounding more and more desperate with each passing second and every stroke of his cock.

The firm snap of his hips against yours made your eyes roll to the back of your head, while you were trembling on unsteady feet to keep yourself upright. The way he was fucking into you was everything but lovingly. Quaritch was using you, using you for his own pleasure and fucking hell– you loved every second of it.

Especially so, when one of his hands encircles your middle and drops low between your thighs to search for your clit. Once found, he lightly slaps the little bundle of nerves and you suck in a breathe between clenched teeth. He then proceeded to roll it between his rough thumb and index finger, drawing tight circles that have you moan and squirm underneath his touch.

"F-Fuck yes, right t-there oh my god", you cry out when he speeds up the movement of thrusts, combined with the flicks of skillful digits between your thighs. You both knew that neither of you would last long, not with the way you both unknowingly worked each other up.

Some sane part of your brain registers that there’s no way the rest of your squad, the recoms in the other rooms that were littered along the hallway, couldn’t hear what was going on. Strangely enough, that thought starts tightening the coil inside of you, making you clench around him harder.

"That’s it, cupcake, don’t hold back", Quaritch groans, "Let everyone here how good I’m making you feel, be as loud as you need to. Never had a problem with that anyways, am I right?"

He pounded into you then, the head of his cock rapidly hitting your g-spot in the process while he rubbed your clit in a matching pace. Your jaw dropped and your hand clenched into fists against the door, but oh, that wasn't all that was clenching. Your breathing turned needy and higher pitched, struggling to keep steady as he was driving you over the edge faster.

You feel a familiar tension crawl under your skin, a warmth spreading through your core and you can’t help but push yourself back against him. You wanted– no, you needed to cum.

"God, look at you fucking taking it", Miles groans, biting his bottom lip hard enough to keep himself from spilling just a few moments longer. He was already so close from his little jerk off session, it was on the verge of edging himself now. But he wanted to feel you fall apart, wanted to feel you come first. He wanted to use your orgasm, the pulsing rhythm of your thigh pussy clenching down on him to help him over the edge.

It's a buildup of tension that arches your back and curls your toes and just when you think you can't take it anymore, something snaps. "Oh fuck, I’m gonna come", is the only thing you manage to get out before your orgasm pulses throughout your body and you moan, loud and lewd. You should probably feel embarrassed for being so vocal in the middle of the night, but you couldn’t care less right now. It was too late to feel embarrassed now. Especially when the Colonel was fucking you through it so good.

"Shit, would you look at that. You look delicious enough to eat, so damn pretty when you cum around my cock."

You feel his pace change before you can even come down from your high. It’s not necessarily slower, but his thrusts become shorter, deeper and they knock you forward until you can barely hold yourself upright against that damn door.

Quaritch grunts, ears flat against his head, as he reaches his own limit with a hiss. He buries his cock deep inside your cunt, cursing as he pumps his release straight into you. It’s hot and sticky and feel every rope of his cum enter you, while the hands on your hips hold you firm, hard enough to bruise. You moan and quiver as you’re filled, his heat pouring into you, filling you to the absolute brim, before spilling over and bubbling onto the floor.

"Can’t deny you’re a good fuck, cupcake", Quaritch tells you panting, pulling his cock out of you a little too fast for your liking. You cringe when you feel more of his cum seep out of you and the feeling of it smearing between your thighs leaves you feeling filthy. You push yourself off the door, your face flustered as you turn around and you avoid his gaze at all cost. Nervously, you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, pulling it down enough to hide your private parts from. As if he didn’t just get a front row seat to look at your pussy in all its glory…

Shit– what were you even thinking, letting this happen? Quaritch was basically your boss! And now your secret little crush on him wasn’t so secret anymore…. All that just because you couldn’t keep it down. But how were you supposed to know that he was able to hear you all this time? Fucking thank you for that Z-dog, you curse your next door neighbor. She could’ve at least said something, assuming that she must have heard you too then.

You just can’t bring yourself to look up at the man standing in front of you, too awkward now that you realized how much of a fool you’ve made out of yourself, moaning like a slut for the whole world to hear. It’s not until you hear Quaritch scoff that you take a quick glance at him. He looks entirely too good standing there in his boxer briefs and muscle shirt, board arms crossed over his chest, right where his dog tags dangle against his sweaty skin. Oh god…

He grins with his canine showing and tilts his head in amusement, when he sees you swallow thickly and adverting your gaze from his body to his eyes in a not so subtle way.

"If you’re so needy, at least come over and let me help you out", he then tells you with a chuckle and your eyes widen at his unexpected words, "Instead of keeping me up all night and forcing me to listen to you, fucking yourself with whatever toys you’ve got in that drawer. Got it?"

"Yes sir…"

[giamee]

𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝟐 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄!

୨♡୧ pairings :: blade x reader ; sampo x reader ; gepard x reader ; dan heng x reader ; jing yuan x reader ; luocha x reader

୨♡୧ gia's notes :: writing this as a quick lil thing because i just finished school and i want to like,,, pay homage to the crushes ive had on my classmates LMAO this is so self indulgent i'm delulu... gonna miss seeing them in the hallways ,,, this one kinda mid i wrote it on my phone while half asleep AND ITS EXAM SEASON RAHHHHHH

୨♡୧ contains: modern!school!au, fem!reader sorry, most definitely ooc because these are based off of real people oops, just cute lil crushes man feel free to judge my taste in men !

𓆩♡𓆪 BLADE

-he's in your biology class, but not close enough to really get to talk to him

-you're not sure what to make of him, but you see him in the gym a few times when you're there as well

-his stony exterior, however, is shattered in your eyes when you enter the gym one day to find it empty other than just him in there, blasting his playlist out loud

-out of all of the possible genres he could he listening to, you weren't expecting a drill remix of anime osts

-you can't help the giggle that escapes your lips from what you're witnessing, and blade freezes upon hearing it before whipping his head round to face you like a deer in headlights

-he scrambles to turn it off as you set up at a squat rack, and it's almost endearing to see such a stoic classmate look so flustered

-you almost felt bad for the guy, and you hesitated before asking blade if he could spot for you

-and just like that, the ice was officially broken

-the two of you talked more frequently now, even becoming sort of friends through your shared class and the gym

-more frequent talks gave way to the more intimate aspects of blade's personality- as it turned out, he was quite touchy

-lingering touches when spotting you in the gym turned to his leg pressed against yours when you sit next to each other- leaning into your personal space a little too close to call it casual, and the bastard enjoyed the way you got flustered when his face got near to yours and the way that people looked at the pair of you and whispers, rumours, started to fly

-"if you keep sitting that close to me, people are going to think that we're dating," you huffed at him

-blade didn't even glance up from his phone that he was scrolling through with one hand, the other resting against the back of your chair

-"good." you were glad that he didn't look up to see the way that your eyes widened and you turned your head to the side to hide the giddy smile that was creeping onto your face

-and despite you enabling this, all the harmless flirting, there was some unquellable part of you that screamed to be set free and hoped for something more. that when he made you look him in the eyes with a finger under your chin, he wasn't just doing it to tease you

-there was undeniably something going on between the two of you, but there was also the unspoken mutual decision to not mention it

-and so you resigned your self to the realm of just friends. it would be easier this way, to move on without any ties before uni

-yet on the last day, you found him scrawling his phone number in your yearbook with a demand to stay in touch, and it left you looking down at the inked digits with the thing in your chest set free, telling you that your feelings might just be reciprocated

𓆩♡𓆪 SAMPO

-your deskmate in chemistry because of a stupid seating plan that didn't change the entire year

-you've never really spoken before, but he's well-known for being rowdy

-his friends sit nearby, and most of his conversations consisted of talking to them loudly while leaning across your desk, while you try to balance your chemical equations

-other than that, you keep to yourselves mostly

-it isn't until your chemistry teacher is going on a tiresome rant about the bohr effect that you shift your attention away from the board, your eyes instead focusing on sampo and the pen in his hands as he twirled it through his fingers effortlessly

-you nudged him slightly, pointing to his hand and mouthing at him "how do you do that?"

-sampo smirks, leaning in closer to you and keeping his voice at a low whisper to avoid alerting your chemistry teacher

-"so you hold the end like this..." sampo whispers to you, demonstrating with the end of his pen. you nod and try not to think about how small the pen looks compared to his fingers, fixing your grip

-"and then you hold it loose, and flick it around your thumb" sampo demonstrates it effortlessly, catching the pen in his hand and smiling at you

-you concentrate on your own, feeling his gaze against the side of your face instilling slight tremors in your hand

-you attempt the spin, watching as the pen teeters before falling and landing on your desk with a clatter

-you hear sampo snort beside you, and your teacher whips his head around and fixes the pair of you with a glare

-"am i interrupting something?" you and sampo both snapped your attention back towards your teacher as he looked at you both pointedly before continuing with his lecture

-you braved a peek at your deskmate, seeing the way his eyes were stubbornly facing forwards while a slight smirk adorned his face

-it became almost a ritual for you to attempt sampo's stupid pen trick each lesson

-it looked so simple, you didn't get how you were still struggling to do it, and your focus was pretty much anywhere except on the lesson

-sampo watched on in idle amusement at your frustration, sometimes demonstrating it to you again just to rub it in before getting elbowed by you

-besides him poking fun at you, there was also a sweeter side to sampo

-there was a day where you had forgotten to wear your contacts, and were effectively blind the entire day

-despite being nearer to the front, you couldn't even read the board when you squinted

-you ended up asking sampo to read what was on the board to you, and with an exaggerated sigh he did so, whispering the words to you in the same low voice that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up

-"you owe me, you know," he told you jokingly, pointing at your homework

-you rolled your eyes, sliding it over to him

-"i don't know why you think that the answers will be right, but sure"

-"hey, at least you did the homework"

-uhhhh idrk how to end this SORRY

-you guys got along well and then the year finished and you weren't in the same class any more

-whenever you see him in the corridors you smile at each other though

𓆩♡𓆪 GEPARD

-he sits in the seat opposite from you in your english class

-you can't help zoning out when the lesson gets boring, and more often than not that results in you inadvertedly staring at gepard until you snap back to reality and realise that you've locked eyes with him, resulting in both of you hastily looking away with pink dusting both of your cheeks

-it's hard not to look at his handsome face, and your wandering eyes often get drawn to him against your will

-the sun hits his hair just right from the window behind him, and he looks like an angel with a halo when he's concentrating with a furrowed brow and taking notes about chaucer

-he's not too bad of a person to be sat across, in short

-you see gepard from time to time in the library, and by luck's draw, one of the only free seats in a particularly busy hour ends up being next to him

-he glances up when you place your books down, shooting you a quick smile before turning back to his own work

-you're about to put on your headphones and start revising, but you catch the faint melody of an ice spice song blasting from gepard, oblivious to the world

-it takes a lot of self control to not burst out laughing in the middle of the library, but you text this information to your friend instead while biting back a smile

-she responds after a few seconds with a link to gepard's spotify account, telling you to take a look through his playlists

-risking a glance at gepard, still heavily focusing on his work, you click on the link and begin to scroll through his account

-you find yourself growing more and more blown away by his music choice

-someone who was so serious and stoic didn't seem like the type to have one of the most insane tastes in music you've ever seen, but you liked it

-it offered you a more human side to his aloof self

-when you saw him start to subconsciously mouth the words in time with ice spice, though, that's when you snorted a little

-and when gepard looked up at you in confusion, you waved him off

-maybe you would try talk to him after class more

𓆩♡𓆪 DAN HENG

-although he doesn't share a lesson with you, dan heng actually takes the same bus to get home from school

-you have a tendency to oversleep in the mornings, so you've never had the opportunity to realise this as the buses you take arrive at school minutes before the bell

-and after school, you can leave as soon as lessons finish, and your differing timetables kept you apart as well

-but after a day at the library in school, you ended up getting a bus nearer to the end of the day rather than your usual time

-because of this, you found that most of the other students at your school were getting this first bus back, and a lot less of the seats were available

-you scanned the seats, searching for an empty spot when you got on, and you saw dan heng sat on his own, looking out the window with his earphones in

-you recognised him as a guy in your year and headed to where he sat, gripping your bag tighter for emotional support

-"could i sit here?" you spoke before realising that he probably couldn't hear you over the sound of his music, and you hesitated before tapping him on the shoulder

-his attention snapped to you before he shuffled slightly, leaving you with ample space to take a seat

-you didn't talk much, feeling self conscious of your feed as you scrolled through your phone next to dan heng, waiting for the stop where you would get your second bus

-you were lucky that you were sat closer to the aisle, and didn't have to make things more awkward by asking him to get up too

-you pressed the button to stop the bus, picking up your bag and getting off

-but to your surprise, as you looked behind you to check if it was clear to cross the road, you saw that dan heng had gotten off of the bus as well

-which wasn't too weird, really. there were plenty of other buses to take from here

-yet your suspicions were confirmed as you realised that you and dan heng were headed for the same bus, stopping in the same queue with him just behind you

-normally you would keep to yourself, but you must have been feeling extra talkative that day because you decide to strike up a conversation with him

-"so you take this bus as well?"

-dan heng nodded, taking out an earphone to better hear you as you both waited for the bus

-"yeah, in the morning too"

-"i'm guessing the early one? i always miss it because i sleep in"

-dan heng smiles and shrugs

-"maybe you should go to sleep earlier, then"

-"yeah, maybe"

-the pair of you talk a bit, and despite his appearance dan heng is actually quite fun to talk to, though he moreso tends to listen to you rant and occasionally provides some input, which seems to suit you both just fine

-come next morning, you found yourself waking up a little easier than usual, getting ready and leaving your house earlier than usual

-and as a result, you managed to catch the early bus

-you spotted his cropped dark hair almost as soon as you got on, and decided to sidle up to him again

-dan heng spotted you this time, though, and even offered you a smile as he pulled put his earphones as youvsat down next to him

-"so i'm guessing that you slept earlier, huh?"

-if it meant getting to talk to him more, you'd be in bed before it even got dark

-but he didn't have to know that

𓆩♡𓆪 JING YUAN

-he's that one guy in the year who's just universally loved, by teachers and students alike

-he's warm, he's studious, he's head boy, and he's practically everyone's friend

-it's not uncommon to see plenty of the girls in your year go up to him to try and flirt, and for others to look on in jealousy at their attempts

-and despite everyone's best efforts, jing yuan remained single

-as much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help but get a crush on him, just like every other girl in the year

-your heart beats out of your chest when you walk past him in the corridor and he gives you a smile and nod

-your knees feel weak when you see him in the library studying, his handsome face scrunched in concentration

-and though you may only be observing from afar, you're completely content with that

𓆩♡𓆪 LUOCHA

-luocha is a friend of yours that you made pretty recently

-there's a quiet charm to him that leaves you feeling at ease, and you've found it incredibly comforting to be in his presence when revising for exams

-even though he's a man of few words, he's managed to keep you as grounded as you can be during the stress of your last days of school before it's over

-it all came to an emotional headway at prom night

-you had been drinking a little, and with the night coming to an end the realisation that you wouldn't be seeing most of the people here again had you feeling teary eyed

-luocha found you on the dancefloor, pulling you towards him without a word and letting you just cling onto his suit as you both swayed in time to the slower song

-you let the soothing scent of him wash over you as you started to wind down at the end of the night, and you felt one of his gentle hands resting on your back as you began to wind your arms around his neck too

-"it was nice to know you," you mumbled to him, voice muffled by the material of his suit

-you felt luocha's grip on you tighten almost imperceptibly, a sign that he had heard you regardless

-"you can still know me" he murmured, and in your hazy state of mind you relaxed into him even further

-"that would be nice"

-as prom came to an end and after you had gotten over the air of finality, the pain from wearing your heels all night was beginning to kick in

-your car was parked a while away and while you did want to just go home, the prospect of taking another step was making you wince

-luocha was quick to notice your hesitance, and before you even said anything he was crouching down in front of you, telling you to "get on" which you gratefully did

-his warm hands wrapped securely around your thighs, supporting your weight as you told luocha where to go

-he made it to your car effortlessly, letting you down carefully and even opening your own car door for you

-you giggled at him being a gentleman as you got behind the wheel, smiling up at him with a bittersweet pang in your heart

-"thanks for everything, luocha"

-the man hesitated for a second, before returning your smile

-"any time"

-he ducked down, leaning in closer to you, and you felt yourself inhale sharply as he wrapped his arms around you, encasing you in a last embrace before you would part ways for the last time

-"keep in touch, okay?"

-"okay"

୨♡୧ honkai star rail masterlist

[ramp-it-up]

Football Season

Summary: It’s Football Season. But you want to play.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2K

A/N: it’s the first day of Kinktober! Hope you enjoy! You can read this as a companion piece to Party Games

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Sportsball. Mostly pwp. Established relationship. Thigh riding,  praise/degradation kink, P in V, creampie. Not Beta’d. All errors my own. 

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

It was your first football season living with your boyfriend. You moved in with him in the spring and had wonderful weekends in bed and hanging out with friends. Steve and Sam warned you about Bucky’s obsession, joking that you would be a football widow.

You laughed at the jokes and Bucky pulled you close to him, kissed your temple and said, “Don’t listen to these punks. I would never ignore you, Doll.”.

You believed him. Bucky was so supportive of everything in your life, your job, your hobbies, your family, that you wanted to let him have the perfect supportive football girlfriend on opening weekend. Steve was away for work and Sam was in Louisiana visiting his sister and attending a Saints game. You were going to prove that Bucky wouldn’t miss out on having the guys with him to watch his team.

Bucky looked so fine sitting on the couch, in a t-shirt and basketball shorts with his team’s logo on them and that made you want to serve him the best homemade sandwiches and beer ever.

After you went to the grocery store, you slipped into the bedroom and slipped on your surprise for Bucky, a custom black jersey with red trim from his favorite team with Barnes 001 on the back. You had it made for him, so it hung down your thighs, which were covered by the tops of thigh high red socks.  The kicker was what was underneath the jersey, but that was for later.

Now was the time for some food. It was almost kickoff.

Bucky glanced up at you from his fantasy football app as you placed the tray of food down on the coffee table and did a double take at you in the jersey. Bucky beamed at you as he leaned back and spread his legs.

“What do we have here, Doll?”

His eyebrow raised as he asked the question. You tried to ignore his man spread, even though it was your weakness.

“Just a present for my favorite football fan. I thought I’d break it in for you while we watch the game.”

Bucky grinned at you.

“So thoughtful, Doll. You look great in it. I might never wear it, honestly you look so hot.”

You winked at him as Bucky reached for you. He pulled you onto his thigh and kissed your forehead, temple, nose and mouth. The jersey was tucked under your bottom so you weren’t bare thonging it on his thigh, but you could feel the power there. But now wasn’t the time.

“I love you, Doll.” 

You winked at him, kissed his cheek, stood up and padded back in the kitchen, dodging his hand as he reached for the hem of the jersey. 

“Watch your game!” you called.

“I’d rather watch you, Doll.” 

Bucky’s head followed you for a moment, but he was soon distracted again when his team got possession of the ball.

Once you got him set up, you sat up on the couch with your head on his shoulder and your legs thrown over his. 

Bucky was entranced in the game, drinking beer, pumping his fist and throwing up his hands when his team lost or gained ground, and it was so cute to watch. You man was in his happy place and it made you happy too.

You snuggled his arm and kissed his bicep, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, when during a particularly energetic show of emotion, Bucky’s hand came down with a slap on your thigh.

“Ow!”

You laughed as Bucky looked at you with concern as he rubbed your rapidly reddening limb.

“Sorry, Doll. You okay?”

“I’m good, Jamie. Just let me get my lick back.”

You reached over and pulled up Bucky’s shorts from the thigh closest to you and delivered a sound smack to the corded muscles there. You shifted as you looked at his thigh ripple slightly. He was so fucking thick and the whore in you awakened. Bucky just flexed and smirked at you as you lusted after him.

“I thought you were actually gonna lick it.”

That grin.

“Hmmmph.” 

You gave him a side eye and snuggled in again as he returned to his game, the idea of licking his thigh, and other things, taking over your brain. You shifted, the red thong you had on under the jersey now uncomfortable in your wet folds as Bucky got engrossed in the game again.

This was turning into a situation.

You didn’t know if you could be still for two more hours. It was only the first quarter. You stared at his thigh at the muscles shifting and moving as he did, and you didn’t realize it, but you were shuffling down his arm, your mouth nearing his muscular leg.

You snuck a look up at him to find him smiling down at you.

“You good, Doll? What are you doing? Why do you look like you’re about to commit a crime?”

Bucky could read you like a book. And you loved it.

“Hmmm. I just want a little… snack…”

With a mischievous smile, you fully committed and leaned down to lick a long stripe from his Bucky’s knee until your head was halfway covered by his shorts. Your mouth nose bumped his ball sack and you felt him jump.

“What the…?”

When you resurfaced, Bucky looked at you, sky blue eyes wide.

“You said you wanted me to lick it.”

You shrugged your shoulders and took a drink of water.

“I said I thought you were going to…” 

Bucky eyed you gulping down the glass and stopped trying to explain himself.

“You thirsty Doll?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and nodded, smiling back at the man who was not paying attention to his game anymore.

“Liquid is collecting places, need to replenish.”

Bucky leaned back, and hiked the leg of his shorts even higher. 

“Are you wet, Baby Doll?”

That name. Bucky had you.

You nodded, your mouth open slightly to breathe. He had you open.

“Well, you already got me wet, little Baby. Might as well finish the job.”

Bucky patted his thigh.

“.. But.. the game, Jamie…”

“I can still watch the game while you use my thigh, Baby. Climb on.”

You stood up and lifted the jersey to pull down the thong but Bucky stopped you with a whistle.

“Shit Baby Doll. Look at how you’ve ruined that pretty little red thong. Turn around.”

You did as you were told and Bucky picked up the thong from between your ass cheeks and snapped it back into place. Then he smacked your butt.

“That is one lucky piece of material. Nestled in all that ass so pretty.”

He turned you around with both hands and then stared at your crotch.

“You’re so wet that you are making this red thong even darker.”

Bucky picked up the thong from the front and ran his finger down to the wetness, then he pulled so it moved even tighter between your legs. That, coupled with him giving you that ice blue sex god stare almost made your knees buckle.

“I think you need to keep this on and use it to help you get off. Climb on.”

Bucky leaned back again and slowly sucked his finger into his mouth, slowly pulling it out for you to see. He knew that got you hot.

You did as you were told, using your hands to brace on his broad shoulders. You were down closer to his knee and he reached for you, placing his hands on your waist to drag you closer to him.

“Careful with that knee, Doll.”

The warning made you giggle, because one false move would not be so good for Bucky’s balls.

“Get comfy for me.”

You shifted, widening your legs, so that your knee simply slid along his wide open other leg as you moved, nice and slow, grinding your core into his hairy, beefy thigh.

“That feel good?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip. You surprised yourself at how close you were so quickly and you balled Bucky’s t-shirt in your hands as your hips moved faster and faster.

“There you go. Good Girl.”

He reached up under the jersey and tweaked one nipple, teasing your rapidly heating body.

“Now, stay quiet and don’t cum, because I’m watching the game. It would make too much noise. But don’t stop moving either Doll. Can you handle that? Don’t cum until I tell you.”

You nodded again, not caring that what he said didn’t make any sense. You were already lost in the feeling.

Bucky looked back up at the tv screen, as if he was really watching the game.

You moved, your slick allowing your folds to skate along his thigh, the flexing he was giving you the perfect compliment the your dripping, throbbing flesh that you owned. You felt his cock, hard now against your own thigh and you shuddered, a new need awakening.

Bucky hands slipped under the jersey and both hands teased your hard nipples.

“Mmmmmmhmmmm, Buckyyyy.”

You arched your back and went faster as you felt your clit quiver against his flesh. Your pussy reacted instinctively.

“Damn, Baby Doll,” Bucky took a drink of beer. “Your pussy is clenching on my leg like she could take it inside her. Fucking whore for my body, aren’t ya? Wanna use me any way you want, huh?”

You shuddered again, Bucky’s filthy words making you even closer to the edge.

“Look at you, arching your back like a slut.”

Bucky pulled the jersey off of your body and his eyes raked over you.

“My beautiful little slut.”

Bucky leaned over and started sucking your nipples, hard, alternating sides and sensations between sicking, licking and biting.

“Look at you, riding my thigh and holding it like a good little slut. So obedient. So good for me.”

“Ahhhhh! Bucky! Mmmmmmmm.”

“Love it when you moan for me. Being such a good girl. My best girl…ah ah ah.. Hold it.”

Bucky was feeling you quiver and shudder on his thigh, not able to move anymore because you felt like sparks were shooting from where you were connected. He reached for you and grabbed you, dragging your soaking wet slit down the insistent ridge of his thigh.

“I didn’t say you could stop moving. Do you want to come? Tell me?”

“Please…Bucky…”

Bucky grabbed your throat.

“Not. Yet.”

Bucky was staring at you as you bit your lip, trying with all of your might to control your release. He watched the tears start to fall and he licked them from your cheeks.

You were so mesmerized by his eyes that you didn’t notice that he’d pulled his cock out from his shorts. He lifted you up by your neck and you stood on shaking legs and practically impaled yourself on him.

“Come on my cock then, Baby Doll. Come all pretty for me.”

You slid down to the base of him, wider than you expected although you’d had him hundreds of times before and shuddered from the stretch. 

“Oh fuck. Take my cock, Baby Doll. Fuck.”

That shudder led you into an intense orgasm, partially because Bucky was holding you down, making you feel him stretch you out.

“Look at you. I don’t even have to move and you come all pretty all over my cock.”

You started sucking his neck as you came, vibrating all around him.

“Oh shit, give me that orgasm.” 

Bucky started moving then, the obscene sound of your wetness filling the room.

“Yeah, yeah, of fuck, yes, yes, yes…oh God yes…”

You were mewling and whining as he pounded into you, your orgasm extending, blooming and growing.

Bucky pulled pack to look at your bouncing breasts and you realized that it was you fucking him now, and he was enjoying the show.

“Yeah, Baby, fuck me. Show me who I belong to. Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop until you cum…”

You put your hands on his chest and bounced up at down a what seemed like warp speed. Bucky cupped the base of his shaft as you fucked yourself on him and fingered your ass and your cunt as you moved.

“Oooohhhhhh! Bucky!”

“Oohhhh my Good goddd!”

Bucky roared as he spurted hot come in your pussy, and you didn’t stop moving until he was soft and slipping out of you.

You collapsed on his chest listening to his heart thump. Suddenly you heard the game again. A roar came from the crowd and Bucky pumped his fist.

“Yes! Amazing Score!”

You laughed as you kissed Bucky’s cheek and moved to go put the jersey back on.

Bucky kissed the top of your head as you leaned on his arm again. He put himself back in his shorts as he put his arm around you.

“My fucking good luck charm. My best girl.”

“Love you too, Bucky.”

And you dozed until he woke up with his head between your legs at halftime.

As always, if you liked it, please reblog! ❤️

[chuuyasheaven]

If you ever write that drabble i would devour it right away 🙏🙏

“— Fyodor likes fucking you, really, but deep down he actually despises those sinful acts. So he had to come up with a solution, right?”

Tags: Fyodor Dostoevsky / fem! Reader, slightly drunk! Reader, doggy position, mixture of praise / degrading kink, pet names, rough sex, creampie, mentioned religiousness?, alcohol, slight breeding kink?, might contain grammar errors, rushed, ooc!, short?, etc.

Notes: Well, guess what?? I cooked so you can devour it, pookie !! :p

It was one of those nights, those nights where Fyodor decided to sin. Tonight, he gave you some wine mixed with vodka to intoxicate you, from that point you knew what he was doing. Even while you were getting drunk, you could tell by him starting to get touchy with you. When he decided that was enough, you lured you to your shared bedroom.

Fyodor let you fall on your back as he smirked at you, you looked so pretty like this, how couldn’t he? “Such a pretty darling..”, he whispered to you, his hand was slowly but gently caressing your thigh, moving it towards your panties.

You were getting eager now, you wanted him so fucking badly, probably from the alcohol. Then he slid your panties down to your ankles. “Getting impatient, aren’t we, myshka? Well, only good girls will be rewarded.”, Fyodor chanted, not wanting to wait any further, you looked at him with puppy eyes to beg.

“N-no, I’ll be a good girl! Please, I need you.”, how could he resist, you just looked so cute and eager like this! “Oh? Okay then, be good and get on your fours, dear. Show me how much of a good girl you be..”, just like the obedient girl you were, you got on your fours, ready to take him.

He let out a small hum of satisfaction before freeing his cock, he rubbed it a few times before entering inside your walls. It felt all so warm and wet, just how he loved it. “Also, p-please try to gentle at first..”, he’ll try.

Fyodor let his hands rest on your hips, getting ready to fuck you senseless. When you gave him the go, Fyodor started to thrust into you, gently at first, until he started to get rougher with each thrust. Now, come on. Don’t act like you haven’t taken him multiple times before, perfectly at that, too! “—Come on, darling, stop pretending like you haven’t done this before. We both know you can handle this, so just take it like my good little slut..”, as Fyodor degraded you, you felt yourself get turned on by this. His grip got slightly harsher as he fastened theJust because of that, pace, yours on the sheets did too.

All you could hear were moans and skin clapping from you both, well, the moans were mostly yours because all what left Fyodor were grunts. “Just like that, angel. Take it like the good girl you are.”, at this praise made you get closer to your long awaited release.

“—Ah! I’m g-getting close, Fyodor..”, you moaned, stating your soon-to-be arriving orgasm. Just because of that, he started to thrust into you deeper, trying to find your spot. And soon, he found it, so repeatedly hit it. It felt so amazing, your knot was going to snap faster, your body made that clear enough for Fyodor. He could feel you pussy clench around his cock, signaling your orgasm’s coming. (pun intended!!)

Fyodor bent down to your level to whisper you something in your ear. “You could hold it, right? Let’s cum together, alright, dear?”, you wanted to be good for him, so you tried to edge yourself to finish with Fyodor.

It didn’t even take so long either, about a few minutes he filled you up so nicely, just as you gushed around his dick. It was quite a lot since some it was leaking past your cunt. He really enjoyed that view, but he couldn’t just leave it all go to waste!

“—Hm, that’s quite a lot, isn’t? What a pity that it’s leaking.. How about I’ll fill you up so nicely that you won’t remember tomorrow?”

Kinda sucks, but it’s alright-y..

[nenchainzz]

𝒟𝒾𝓁𝓊𝒸'𝓈 ℒ𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒟𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈

Diluc Ragnvindr x Fem!Reader

Warnings: vaginal fingering, temperature play, missionary, masturbation, body worship, uniform kink, cunnilingus, teasing, vibrator mention, butt plug mention, exhibitionism, cock description

NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare = Diluc’s aftercare is very proper and very attentive. He will immediately check in with you and make sure you’re okay before anything else. He will grab you some tea and a small snack or bring you to a warm bath - whatever it is you need, he’ll provide.

B = Body Part = On himself, he’d say either his arms or back - both for the same reason. That reason being held on or marked up by you. For you, it’s a tough choice for him. He really loves everything about you. However, if he had to choose, he would say you’re face. He loves watching it change from excited to pleasure-filled or watching your brows knit together when you cum - he loves it all.

C = Cum = He doesn’t have any specific preference on where his cum ends up. He loves seeing it on or in you anywhere. You drenched in his cum - he just loves it. With your cum he loves it on his tongue or on his fingers - feels so intimate to him.

D = Dirty Secret = He does use his vision occasionally with some temperature play, but never enough to hurt you. He just likes when your pussy can’t get enough of his fingers when they’re hot.

E = Experience = He’s fairly experienced but nothing too crazy. He knows how to treat you and knows what places to use to his advantage.

F = Favorite Position = His favorite position is most likely missionary. He loves the feeling of control he gets to have, and being able to see your reactions is amazing, too.

G = Goofy = He’s not very joky and is more serious in the moment, but your laughter is infectious to him, so if you start to laugh, he will join in.

H = Hair = He takes good care of himself, and lemme just say the red happy trail is the sexiest thing ever known to man istg.

I = Intimacy = He’s very romantic with you, prioritizing your pleasure every time. He loves taking his sweet time with you and giving you anything you desire. He’ll kiss you all over and gush about your beauty like Shakespeare’s levels of praise from him.

J = Jack Off = He doesn’t really jerk off. You’ve never caught him or anything, so he must never really do it. He says it’s because you’re in his life, so there’s no need.

K = Kink = Body worship because he’s so devoted to you in every way. Bit of a uniform kink. And, of course, temperature play.

L = Location = He loves fucking you in his home - so there’s perfect privacy, and he takes his time with you.

M = Motivation = Something that really gets him going is seeing you all dressed up for a fancy event. He’ll become all red, and his cock will beg to fuck you.

N = No = He would never hurt you seriously - like if either of you wanted to “hurt,” it would not be that serious.

O = Oral = He does prefer slightly to attend to you, so he’s more of a giver. He uses his slick tongue and hot fingers to his advantage.

P = Pace = He goes for a medium when it comes to pace because being slow doesn’t really do much for either of you and if he goes fast, he might cum too fast and not be able to enjoy you fully.

Q = Quickie = He does really do them. However, if you tease him enough, he’ll indulge.

R = Risk = He doesn’t really take any risks or experiment that much, but if it’s something you’re very interested in, he’s willing to look into it or maybe even try it.

S = Stamina = He’s got a lot of stamina and loves fucking you through so many orgasms (something he unapologetically loves).

T = Toys = He uses them only on you, whether that be a vibrator or a cute butt plug. Everything is for you.

U = Unfair = He doesn’t really tease unless you’ve been a bit bad. You’re the one who’s the tease mostly.

V = Volume = He’s not very loud and grunts (with some moans thrown in) only to you. He finds it slightly embarrassing, actually.

W = Wild Card = One time, you convinced him to fuck you in the Favonius Library after hours, and you guys were nearly caught by Lisa (but she fr did not care, lmao).

X = X-Ray = He’s packing about 8 inches with a pale shaft and flushed tip.

Y = Yearning = His sex drive isn’t too high, but he will mostly indulge you every time you ask.

Z = Zzz = He always waits until you fall asleep because he believes it’s what a gentleman does. He’ll wait for your talking to cease and your breathing to soften until he’s ready to fall asleep beside you.

☆○o。 。o○☆ ☆○o。 。o○☆ ☆○o。 。o○☆ ☆○o。 。o○☆

© f33blesch0lar 2024, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, use for ai, copy, translate, or repost my content on any platform. comments, reblogs, and likes are loved

[blue-jisungs]

skz taking off their jacket to put on ur lap bc u look uncomfortable headcannon pls

them taking off their jacket because you’re uncomfortable ♡

a/n. i hope you enjoy it and sorry you had to wait for so long. however, don’t send multiple people the same request. it’s rude;; writers are not vending machines ;p

also while you’re here please take a look at this and vote, i’d truly appreciate if you did <3

warnings. people (mostly men) being weird :(

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

this man has spidey senses, i don’t know how to explain it any other way

you were accompanying him to one of the events and your stylist decided it’s a great idea to give you a short skirt

i mean, you looked good in it so you didn’t complain

but once the photos were over and as soon as you sat down, you felt something warm on your lap

chan took off his blazer and sent you a warm smile

“your skirt would definitely roll up, so here you go” he hummed and you just couldn’t help but grin how thoughtful he is <3

because of that you were also a bit warmer

and!! and!! this is a perfect opportunity to hold hands under his blazer because no one will see it :D

┆彡 MINHO [ 민호 ]

you had the cutest outfit for your date with minho since the weather was warm and sunny :D

cute top, little purse, mini skirt, mary janes in matching colors ofc <3

you could see there was something on lino’s mind once he saw you but he said you look very pretty and you headed off to the café

well, unfortunately it was filled with teenage boys because it was saturday.

while minho went to the bathroom you stood in the line wondering what to order, you heard some mean comments coming from the boys :(

you ordered something for you and your boyfriend, your mood a bit down

and let me tell you minho sensed that the moment he stepped into the room

before he sat down next to you, he took off his jacket and put it on your lap whilst glaring at the young boys

they actually looked frightened tbh and i’m not even surprised

you forgot about the situation because of lino, he kept cheering you up and genuinely you just had fun

and got a bit flustered because of his gesture

but when you were about to leave, minho excused you and walked to the boys saying a word or two

you’ll never know what that was because your boyfriend said - and i quote - “it was just a free lesson for them that might be helpful in the future”

whatever that was…

you kept his jacket wrapped around your waist (and his hand on it too)

┆彡 CHANGBIN [ 창빈 ]

going with bin to the gym became a normal thing in your relationship (because let’s be real, who wouldn’t want to go with him)

so everyone knew that they shouldn’t act inappropriate because 1) you’re dating 2) changbin is pretty terrifying 3) he’s their gym bro how could they act like that??

but one day there was a newbie

and you were casually looking cute with your ponytail and gym shorts

you kept glancing at binnie through the mirror when you noticed the guy was staring at you and once your bf saw him…

you could swear the whole gym went quiet

changbin walked up to you, handing you his hoodie and putting it on you

it smelled like him so you didn’t mind teehee

you continued your workout whilst looking in the mirror… changbin had a talk with the guy, his hand squeezing the man’s shoulder a little too tightly

┆彡 HYUNJIN [ 현진 ]

date in a park with hyunjin = perfection

the weather was perfect so you decided to wear shorts

and you were just sitting on a bench, head resting on your boyfriend’s shoulder and watching the dogs play in a distance when an older lady passed you by

she made some mean comments about your outfit >:(

you pretended to ignore her, however your hands instantly covered your knees

hyunjin sighed, taking off his jacket

“i will never understand those old ladies. she’s just jealous, don’t listen to her” he scoffed and you grinned upon seeing her turning around

“she heard that, hyunnie” you whined and playfully punched his shoulder

he just let out a giggle and put his jacket on your lap, wrapping his arm around you

“so what? no one is allowed to talk bad about my beautiful girlfriend” he hummed and placed a soft kiss on your forehead :(

┆彡 JISUNG [ 지성 ]

honestly he doesn’t really know what to do at first

because there’s you looking smoking’ hot in this cute skirt and he knows you felt confident at home, loving your outfit

but also there’s strong wind and even though you’re sitting down, you’re nervously holding your skirt unable to enjoy the dinner :(

“y/n, do you want my jacket? i don’t want to ruin your outfit but…” jisung stops in his track when you nod softly, warm smile on your lips

even if his jacket didn’t match the aesthetic of your clothes, at least you could hold his hand right now <3

┆彡 YONGBOK [ 용복 ]

it was supposed to be a careless day on a beach with lixie

so after having your fun in the sea you went to dry off

you laid on your back, next to felix and we’re about to doze off when you heard some girls gossiping about you

“…look at her boyfriend though! ah, i wouldn’t even think about wearing a bathing suit if i had…”

you pouted, trying your best not to burst out crying when felix suddenly leaned on his elbow reaching for something

“you’ll dry faster that way” he whispered and put his hoodie over your body, then pulled you closer into a hug

“thank you” you mumbled into his chest as he drew comforting shapes on your skin

after you two got home, felix gave you a whole ass lecture about how beautiful you are <3

(not to mention that he said a word or two to the girls when you took a nap on the beach)

┆彡 SEUNGMIN [ 승민 ]

“it’s not that warm y/n, take a jacket” was what came out of his mouth the second he saw you in shorts

well uh you didn’t take one

so minnie wanted to tease you (“i told you so🙄🙄” “now you’ll suffer i’m not giving you mine” etc etc)

he’s such a gentleman

but when you started shivering a bit, pulling your shorts down because people were staring

someone even murmured something about being an attention seeker to go out in shorts in such weather >:(

seungmin is mean but not THAT mean

he tsked and put his jacket over your lap, tucking a loose strand behind your ear

“aren’t you a little cold?” he asked, teasing smile on his lips

he placed a quick peck on your nose before pulling away

and you felt warmer (totally not due to the fact that you cheeks turned warmer after his gesture teehee) instantly

and after going on another dates where you accidentally forgot to take your jacket, seungmin started having his suspicions

but he will stay quiet just to continue flustering you <3

┆彡 JEONGIN [ 정인 ]

oh he’s pissed

not only your group had audio problems during your performance

but there was not enough blankets for everyone??

and so it happened you didn’t have one and it was freezing cold in your mini skirt :(

and whilst your leader offered you theirs, you shook your head as a no

suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder and before you could turn around, jeongin leaned down and placed his jacket on your lap

“you did amazing, angel. don’t worry about the difficulties, i’ll talk to them with our manager” i.n whispered and gave you a quick squeeze on the shoulder before leaving

he did in fact had a friendly chat with the venue manager but also complained abt on bubble

and he didn’t ask you to return his jacket, so some of your fans started getting suspicious after seeing you in it one day 🤭

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinhobi ,, @jung0ne ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @moonacholy ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddenoudepression ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan

[lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Request: Can you make the brothers and the dateables react to MC that has family issues? I had a really bad family issues and I want a little comfort

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: This is really delayed but I hope you enjoy this if you're still around, anon. Ily /p and stay strong!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warning: family issues, toxic family, very implied usage of force in belphies part, lots of comfort, possible ooc brothers, I proofread this just one time.

You never talk about your parents and/or siblings. So Lucifer doesn't think he has the right to inquire about your life before being selected as an exchange student. But that's not to say that after you and him become close, he doesn't feel curious about your childhood memories or your life in general. He might seem like he doesn't care about these things, but Lucifer would love to know more about you and what you liked as a kid, what you did, your little adventures and such.

Sometimes he imagines younger you running through the halls of your house or singing your favorite song and he smiles fondly at the image he imagined. It's just too cute. But if by chance he finds out or you tell him that you don't have a good relationship with your family and that they were toxic/controlling in some way, know that he will be welcoming you into his family with open arms.

You're a human dear to him and his brothers, so he won't tolerate anyone treating you badly. Still, unbeknownst to you, he's probably going to put a little curse on your family members. A small price for the pain they caused you.

And of course he will comfort you the way you want to be comforted, with sweet words, with tight hugs or just being there to listen to you talk about the situations you went through with your family. And as he comforts you Lucifer thinks about how he longs to ascend to the human world and confront your family, maybe he will when you sleep.

And he will understand perfectly well if you don't want to go home after the exchange program ends. And since you can't stay indefinitely in Devildom, Lucifer (and his brothers who probably snuck in after you two) insist on going with you to the human realm to help you choose a new house to live in, in another state, in another country if you want and he will pay for everything. All for you, MC, so don't hesitate to summon or call him whenever you want company.

⠀⠀⠀⠀

Mammon always asks you to tell him about your childhood, what your family members are like and things like that. He just wants to know more about you since you're someone he loves dearly (platonically or romantically, it's up to you). He might be a little slow and don't realize that you're uncomfortable with his questions or that you're showing signs of growing up in an unstable household, so forgive him for that.

But when you tell him about the bad family relationship you have? He wants to scream about how these humans don't deserve you and that they should rethink their ways and that it's not your fault, but he puts all that aside to give you a big hug and whisper encouragement and praise in your ear. If your family doesn't love you, Mammon wants you to know that he and his family will love you wholeheartedly. They'll love you so much you'll want to run away from them, Mammon can promise you that.

He'll probably work double time to help Lucifer pay for and furnish your new home, that is, if he can't talk you out of leaving Devildom. But don't worry, he's always looking for a reason to visit you in the human world, mostly sending you videos and memes while you're away again to make you laugh. And sometimes sending silly texts at dawn saying how lucky he is to have you around. You're so unique, so genuine and cool, and he loves you and he is always willing to hear you venting about what you went through with your family.

⠀⠀⠀⠀

Levi knows the first signs that something is wrong and he can see it from afar. The avatar of envy has probably already seen this in some form of media, so he doesn't ask you about what your life was like before you came to Devildom or about your family. Instead, Levi focuses on making you have good memories with him and his brothers, hoping that will be enough to give you amazing memories and that his efforts will be enough to make you happy.

Still, if you want to talk to him about your family members or something reminds you of a bad experience with them and you need to vent, Levi will be there to listen to you and will let you hide in his room until you feel better. He won't ask you anything for fear of making you feel worse, but he will definitely hold your hand while some sappy anime is on tv.

Just like Mammon, he'll love that you stay here in Devildom instead of going back to the human world, where you'll be alone. It's much better to stay with him and his brothers, but he will respect your wishes and send you multiple messages every day.

"You're strong, Mc!" Levi tells you every time you tell him about his experiences. And it's the purest of truths, even with all the past diversities you've become a strong and kind person. And he wants you to know it and be proud of it.

⠀⠀

Satan, like Levi, can see how uncomfortable you are when Mammon asks you about your life before Devildom and he deduces that maybe it wasn't a pleasant life, so he always changes the subject so you don't feel pressured to answer. And the neutral look you give him is enough for him to know that maybe his assumptions are correct and that if you familiars weren't downright terrible they weren't good. Honestly Satan tests the waters a bit before asking you questions directly, he doesn't want to trigger any bad memories in you.

A fury quickly rises inside him when you finally tell him everything that happened, but he reminds you that your feelings are valid and that nothing was your fault, leaving you to lay your head on his shoulder as one of his arms wraps around your waist and Satan hums to make you relax. You don't have a good relationship with your family and he can understand you a little, after his birth he also didn't have a good relationship with his brothers but only because of his anger. And Satan is willing to make you create good memories with him and your brothers.

Secretly he, Lucifer and Belphie are plotting something against your family members, just a lesson for them to learn to be more decent humans. And even if they learn that lesson, Satan is still hesitant to let you near them and he doesn't forgive them easily, he prefers you to stay there with him and your brothers who love you very much.

⠀⠀⠀

Contrary to what people might think, Asmo can be quite observant. And although he really wants to know what you were like as a child, see your childhood photos and listen to children's stories, he prioritizes your happiness much more. So he prefers to know the things you like, the things that make you happy so he can comfort you when his brothers go a little overboard with their questions. Asmo also likes to monopolize you a little mainly to do your skincare and paint your nails, this symbolizes that you are a member of his family, after all Asmo paints his brothers nails.

He has an intuition that things are worse than he realizes when you sit in his room after a nightmare and don't communicate with anyone. Ever so affectionate, Asmo hugs you and pulls you into his lap, whispering praise and words of encouragement as you mutters the memories that haunt you to him. Oh honey, you have a terrible family and Asmo is more than happy to welcome you into his family.

If you're not staying in Devildom, Asmo wants to be in charge of decorating your new home. He knows you well enough to know what you like and what you don't, so he's confident that together you'll do a great job. But be careful, he might end up not letting go when it's time to leave, he can't stop himself he loves you so much he could devour you here and now hehe <3

⠀⠀⠀

Beel, oh dear Beel who prioritizes family a lot, doesn't seem to be able to process that some humans are mean to their loved ones on purpose. Maybe they like to see the tears and all the sadness and misery they can create, all the conflicted feelings and mental health impacts you honestly don't know and don't want to know. And while he doesn't question why you don't talk about your family, he also feels curious about your life and relatives.

And his eyes light up at any mention of your childhood, especially if you're telling silly things you did as a kid, he loves listening to you and could listen to you for a million years.

But when do you finally tell him about the terrible relationship you have with your family? My boy here is practically adopting you into his family without consulting anyone, nuh-uh, you're not going back to the human world and keep living with people that bad. At least, not if he can stop it. And believe me, he's more than happy to give Diavolo a piece of his mind once the exchange program is over.

Beel takes you everywhere to have dinner with him and his brothers in order to create good memories that are able to replace the painful memories of your life with those people. He's also the one who suggests you see a psychologist if you feel comfortable with it, after all he loves you and wants you to take care of your mental health, even if you think the situation isn't that bad after all. Again, if you feel comfortable of course, otherwise he can lend you an ear and give you advice for your fears and concerns.

He is much more open with how important you are and he will continue to express it through words and actions if you let him. You are family now and he will treat you with as much care and affection as he treats his brothers.

⠀⠀⠀

Belphie is furious. You're the best human he's ever known, a hardworking, kindhearted human who makes him laugh with your incomparable sarcasm and bad jokes, he could cradle you in a blanket like a burrito and look at you for hours without getting tired. You are precious like that. His suspicions begin when he often notices how you dream of the same people but in different and increasingly violent contexts, and in one of these dreams you scream "Mom, Dad, stop" over and over again. So yes, he knows from the beginning how bad your family is, but he doesn't know how to broach this topic without you freezing in fear.

So he does what he does best. Every night he gives you the best dreams and removes those people from them so you can have a good night's sleep. In return, your family gets the worst dreams of their lives and no matter what doctor they visit or what medicine they take nothing seems able to make these nightmares stop. It's little compared to the pain they caused you. And every morning if the topic of your family comes up, Belphie finds a way to change the subject, usually by making up some story about Mammon.

But if you feel comfortable telling him about your family, he will comfort you as best he can, holding you in his arms and paying attention to every detail. He's not good with advice so he'll be quiet the entire time, muttering occasionally to let you know he still hears you. He can hold your hand if you get too anxious about a specific memory.

Although he wishes it's still not possible for a human to live in Devildom, so he knows you're going to have to go back to the human world at some point and he was the person who had the idea to buy you a house somewhere. The house is big enough for you to live comfortably and he and his brothers can help you with everything you need, it's the least they can do to repay everything you need.

[luffyvace]

Hello again brook! I am the one who asked for the luffy x heroic reader! Thanks for it I liked it a lot! I wanna ask for another headcanons now, a Platonic garp x young fem reader that really look up to him and that work really really hard to achieve her dream to become an admiral and work to change how the marine work (being okay with slavery, allowing some pirates to hurt ppl and do whatever they want while chasing some for doing nothing...) And she manage to become one of the strongest and the barevest marines in such a short time

HIII AGAIN ANON!! :)

yay I’m so happy you were satisfied!!! ❤️‍🩹

AWWW your concepts are the cutest!!! I think garp with young apprentice who admires him a lot is absolutely adorable!!

Idk whether to make this old or young garp really so you choose :P

ENJOY!! You have such good ideas~

😋

You look up to garp so much!!

he’s the hero of the marines who doesn’t?!

you’ve admired him for a long time now and he motivates you even more to achieve your goal!

as soon as you get as good as him, you’ll put an end to all the corrupt things the marines let slide!!

your gonna be a hero in your own way!! 🦸‍♀️

and make things right in the way the government does things!!

to make this true justice!!!

you’ve read all about garp’s past a million times

to the point where you could probably tell it backwards and upside down without reading it 😅

you subconsciously ramble and talk about him a lot

not in a creepy way

in a cute puppy like way where you just like to talk about the one you admire!

you always think “what would garp do?!” in tough situations!

and it works too

he’s the type that comes up with simple yet effective plans that mostly involve brute force

but hey I mean sometimes that works 🤷‍♀️

Garp honestly doesn’t mind one bit that you look up to him so heavily

he wouldn’t care so much if you weren’t his apprentice but you are

And while he doesn’t mind, he does want you to carve your own path, not or just limit yourself to his if you can surpass him

he stooped to one knee, put a hand on your shoulder and told you that one day as you were training

you’ve gotta admit it was the coolest day of your life and you’ll never forget it

you’ve engraved into your mind and make sure never to obsess over becoming like him, but strive to be as good as him

you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment for a solid week

garp could tell because you kept spacing out way more often than usual 😂💗

Ngl you kinda view garp as like a uncle or second father maybe, or even your grandfather (but of course you don’t dismiss that your not actually family)

garp’s training is honestly- REALLY INTENSE 😃

like he does you how he does koby, helmeppo and younger luffy

but WORSE 😆

why? Because he has high expectations for you <3

and while he might come off as too harsh at first, as you soon as you found that out you stop complaining 😂

It’s honestly a good thing your a natural hard worker cuz garp was gonna make you one anyway 😂🤷‍♀️

now he doesn’t have to worry about you slacking or being lazy

but he does warn you about overworking and that rest is just as important as working, as odd as it may seem

your dream to become an admiral seems totally in reach for you to him

your like the perfect specimen to do so in his eyes

You have a moral sense of justice, your strong and hard working

you’d be an ideal admiral!

and the first female one at that!

he honestly hopes you do become an admiral

its time for a change of pace as far as the governmental rules anyway

you’d bring that about perfectly

and give regular people a hope that there is good in the marines, specifically uncorrupted ones they could trust

And you’d teach a good lesson to those darned pirates too!

-according to garp

He’s given you all the training and has set you up to become a successful admiral—just like you wanted!

Now you’d better become one and achieve your dream! Or he’s gonna beat you!

(Fist of love 🤜💥)

literally 😋

he cares so much about you, he doesn’t want you to fail!

so he’ll force you to not to 😊

one way or the other :P

and besides, your practically his successor!!

he ain’t getting any younger (not that you like when he says that) so your gonna have to take over a lot of responsibility from his shoulders when he leaves!! >:(…. (❤️‍🩹)

And if he leaves this earth and you embarrass him by being weak he’s gonna come BACK down here and teach you a lesson!

”understood?!”

”YES SIR.” (｀_´)ゞ

He’s also straight forward about warning you of the dangers that comes with this job

number one is strong pirates and two is breaking the rules!

don’t be afraid to break the rules because you’ll loose your job, but because HE’S gonna get you >:/

That aside there’s also the grand line in general but the marines have the advantage of special travel routes and technology

So to put it short as long as you ain’t doing nothin you ain’t got no business you’ll be fine :)

the whole slavery thing is beyond garp

Not in the sense that he doesn’t know about it

but that he just can’t believe others are doing that??

like what’s the purpose

if you were gonna do illegal things anyway might as well become a pirate so he can beat you for it

but because they’re in a position of power too it makes it harder

you have to gather solid evidence and go to court and blah blah blah……*tunes out*

(bro just wants to eat his crackers)

but not to worry for the slaves!

you’ve got a plan!

what it is? don’t ask, garp wasn’t listening 🧍‍♀️

but just know you’ll be saved soon! 👋

He understands your want to save others in general

now idk what garp’s drive is

but even though your goals may be different

he totally sees where your coming from

but take some advice from a guy who gets called a hero all the time—don’t get ahead of yourself.

(he knows you won’t he just wants to make sure he tells you in case you do, then he can say he warned you)

lots of people loose they’re way on they’re path to power

but your so headstrong he knows you won’t

as far as the whole thing were some of the marines attack pirates who have barely just started calling themselves so but won’t take down the ones causing REAL chaos

is real phony and bogus to him

and to you too

(it low key makes you giddy when you and garp have the same opinions because you admire him so much 😂💖)

but yeah he personally beats any pirates he comes across, big or small

but he will prioritize the bigger ones

he’s a big shot himself, so he ain’t scared 😎

his missions is never to chase around roaches anyway

he only gets the real deal 💪

garp was so proud when you became one of the strongest and bravest marines

he had no doubt in his mind you could do it

But so soon? He’s impressed!

”guess you worked harder than I thought you did, sport.”

that was your first ever sense of praise from him and from that very second on you never forgot

you think about it every night before bed and during every battle

You let it drive you and push you further towards your goal

which is also when you may have realized his soft spot for you

At first he never really displayed it, but ever since then you knew it was already always there <3

you felt so honored and grateful in that moment

he treats you to some crackers to celebrate 🍻

koby and helmeppo love to train with you!!

they think your so strong

and that it’s cool that your basically garp’s successor

they definitely believe in you, especially since all the times you beat them in training

In fact, they look up to you

btw you, garp and Sengoku are also like a silly little family 💗

your family bond between you, garp, Sengoku, Koby and Helmeppo is adorable, goofy and inseparable all at the same time

he’s proud, you’ll never hear him say it, but he doesn’t have to. ❤️‍🩹🤝

This is my first time writing for garp and it was my pleasure! This was so heartwarming and I’m honored to have done the job <3

I hope you enjoyed these hcs as well dearest anon!

[illfoandillfie]

Late 80s Roger x Reader making love (a bit kinky if you want, anything really, just something sexy and cute) and having to keep it quiet bc of their kids.

Blurb Advent 2023: Day 7

Ahhh thanks anon this is a great prompt! Hope you like it for day 7 of the advent calendar!

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), implied p in v sex, implied unprotected sex

Neither your or Roger had ever been anniversary people. You had friends who were. They made big deals celebrating it at expensive restaurants or big parties and got each other gifts corresponding to how many years they’d been together. But neither of you had ever been like that. It wasn’t that you didn’t care or didn’t want to acknowledge the date, you just didn’t need to make a fuss. You kept things low key. Half the time Roger was away on tour anyway so there was no point making a big deal of it. It’d just lead to both of you feeling bad you couldn’t celebrate it together. When he was in town you might have dinner out or buy a bottle of champagne to accompany whatever you ate at home. Or sometimes you just counted it as celebrated if you got to have sex. Especially since the kids had come along. You used to try to make the sex different to normal in some way – a position you’d read about and wanted to try, and act normally reserved for special occasions – but you hadn’t even bothered with that recently.  

Admittedly, it was easier to have some alone time now they were all a little older, but still, three kids under the age of seven did not an especially active sex life make. Mostly it happened very late at night, right before you went to sleep. You were almost counting the days until your youngest would be at pre-school so you could manage a day at home with Roger, even if you had to take sick leave to do it. The kids were all generally sleeping through the night, but you did still have to contend with them sometimes stumbling into your room after a bad dream or a wet bed. More than once they’d managed to interrupt you at inopportune moments. So, when you realised your anniversary was coming up, you decided your present to both Roger and yourself should be a decent shag. One where you could actually finish without stopping first. Where you wouldn’t have to throw a robe on and show your daughter there was no monster in her closet and then stay with her till she fell asleep while Roger’s hardon deflated back in your room. Of course, Roger was in very strong agreement when you mentioned your idea, and during the lead up made sure you knew how much he wanted it with little squeezes and comments that made you blush muttered quietly to you while the kids were distracted. Which just made you more determined to have a good night. You considered palming the kids off their grandparents for the night but your parents weren’t free and Roger’s lived just a little far away for it to be worth the trouble. But hiring a babysitter would mean also getting a hotel room and eventually you agreed to make it work at home, you’d just make sure not to get too loud.  

The key, Roger confidently assured you, was making sure all three kids were completely worn out before you tucked them in. Bad dreams were the biggest risk but there wasn’t a whole lot you could do to prevent that. You just made sure the night light in the girls’ room was working and hoped it would be enough. But Roger took charge of exhausting the three of them – instigating tickle wars, playing whatever silly games they came up with, and then, when he wanted to sit down, coming up with objects for them to search the house for like some sort of scavenger hunt. When they were all looking sleepy you herded them off to do their teeth and get them settled. Roger read to the younger two in their shared room while you got the eldest settled with a warm milk that sent him to sleep quick. You hurried back to your room and stripped down to your knickers to save some time, settling on the bed, impatiently waiting for Rog. Almost absentmindedly you began touching yourself through your panties, but you figured things would go a lot smoother if you were even just a little bit ready by the time Roger was finished with the girls.  

He entered about 10 minutes later, pulling his fly down as he walked, pausing only to drag a chair under the doorknob just in case. If one of the kids did try to come in you’d get up but you didn't have to worry about being barged in on.   “You ready?” he asked, throwing his shirt across the room, “Because this is it, this is our shot.”  You giggled, trying to stifle the sound with your hand, “shhh Rog, we have to be quiet. If we wake them we’re screwed in the not fun way.”  “Well the girls were practically snoring before I got through the third page of Clive Eats Alligators so I think we’re good but sure,” He held his finger to his lips, somehow making the action feel sarcastic.   “Oh shut up,” you laughed settling back against the pillows and opening your legs more.   Roger took one look at your parted thighs and hastily kicked off his underwear, crawling toward you on the mattress.   You giggled again as he hovered over you for a kiss but too soon he moved away again, settling himself between your legs.   “Oh, okay really?” you asked, surprised as he kissed the front of your knickers, “Thought we were just going straight for the main event. Been touching myself to get ready.”   “I could tell and the wet spot made me want to taste you. So just stay quiet and let me.”  You squeaked a little as he licked over the wet patch, earning a little nip on your thigh before he pulled your underwear off and pressed his lips to your cunt.  

It had been a little while since you’d last managed any sort of oral but the way Roger so enthusiastically went about it made it seem like he’d been denied your pussy for years. Which made it all the more difficult to keep your pleasure to yourself. Small moans and whines escaped your throat every so often and, despite how hard you tried to keep them quiet, Roger seemed to enjoy telling you off for the smallest whimper. He’d hum in warning which would inevitably make you more inclined to moan again. He’d catch even the softest sounds, giving you little bites as punishment. You tried to deter his teasing by smothering your whines with your arm, something that clearly amused Roger and only seemed to encourage him. His attention on your clit became even more focused, until he drew another string of sounds from you.   “Do I need to stop?” He asked playfully, though it was hard for you to recognise the joke when you were so worked up.   “Please don’t. So close,” you managed to get out as Roger returned his tongue to your slit.   “Good,” he said against you, “Want to get you off like this.”   He made it hard for you to keep quiet, all his focus on your cunt until you gasped, a hand tightening in his hair as you came. That’s when it was Roger’s turn to moan, though he muffled himself easier than you managed.  

The shifting of the bed brought you back to the moment. Before you knew it, Roger was easing himself into you, biting his own lip at the feeling. After a few inches, he distracted himself by leaning forward and kissing you, stealing what little breath you had, groaning against your lips as you tightened around him at the slight change of angle. Slowly he sank deeper, filling you inch by inch. You grabbed his arse, encouraging him to go faster, and he grunted into your neck at your eagerness.   “I’m trying to be gentle, love.”  “Just fuck me, Rog.”  He chuckled at that and kissed you again and he let the last few inches of his shaft be swallowed by your cunt.   “Better,” you moaned.   “Alright, gonna start moving,” he grunted in warning.  The bed creaked as Roger moved but he didn’t find it as funny when you told him to keep it down.   “Do you want to be fucked or not?” he grumbled, giving another tentative thrust, making the bed creak again. Your laugh was cut short by a gasp at the way it felt as he moved within you. 

For a little while you both lost yourself in the sensations, ignoring the creaking as you chased your highs. And then you heard a cough from somewhere down the hallway.   Roger stilled instantly, and you bit back a whine at the abrupt end to the stimulation.   You both listened for more noise – small footsteps, a cry for one of you, the jiggling of your doorknob. There was a squeak from a different bed and you willed it to be nothing more than it’s tiny occupant rolling over.  “Swear they have some sort of sixth sense for when we’re trying to fuck,” Roger breathed out, “You think that’s it?”  You shushed him and strained to hear more but everything was quiet again, “Yeah, false alarm.”  Roger sighed against your throat, “If I didn’t love your pussy so much I’d regret spending so long going down on you.”  You batted his shoulder, “Just hurry up before one of them wakes for real. Want to feel you cum in me.”  Roger was laughing softly as he kissed you, only to eager to do as you asked.

[m-to-z-andbackto-m]

(TLDR at the bottom)

(I FORGOT TO POST THIS AND IT'S JUST BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS COLLECTING DUST 😭)

More DreamTale ramble because it's their birthday and I still don't have their gift finished 😭

DreamTale By Joku 🫶

DREAMTALE is about BALANCE correct?

>:)

>:/

>:(

Okay, yeah I'm not too excited about this one but here we go (That's a lie, I'm hella invested):

Original:

Nightmare - Died once, is a pelvis hole, pretty sure he unalived one of Killer's cats or at least attacked it, being of hate, literally no one should be happy around him (He might KILL YOUR CAT if you are smh)

Dream - Was turned to stone once, definition of a cinnamon roll, authentic Disney princess (Reference), way too kind and hopeful for his own good, literally no one should be upset around him

Okay we got this? Nightmare? Super Uncool. Dream? Super Wholesome.

Right okay so DreamTale having this Balance shtick, I think it makes Sans (Ba Dum Tsss) that in versions where Nightmare is actually likable (DadMare), Dream is... Less likable...

Like canonically that's a load of bull shart and super unlikely to be the case, like, ever

But making one likable (In this case, Nightmare), more often than not, renders the other unlikable (Dream), I've seen it, over and over (Examples):

Rehabilitation Multiverse (I 🫶 Them) (Guys go read Little Assistant on Quotev, I beg, it's so cute, they have a blog on here too <3)

BJTBS and more of Dark's content

That one multiverse where Dream is essentially the embodiment of toxic positivity (Crazed? Dream?) and Nightmare has gotta go around fixing up mishaps (Really liked this idea, it takes the whole thing I'm talking about and multiplies it by 20)

I think Shattered Dreams should count too?

Okay actually those are the only ones I've personally looked into myself (I think DreamSwap by Kai might count too but I haven't looked into DS since... 3... years ago... yeah-) but I've seen it mentioned over and over, whether someone's ranting about a fanfic they read or doodles people make

Due to these observations, I conclude:

Common DreamTale Occurrence: To have a likable Nightmare, you need a less-than-ideal Dream. To keep your pure Dream, you gotta have a hateful Nightmare.

Exceptions:

Both Are Unlikable (Rare?)

Both are likable (but don't see eye socket to eye socket if you wanna keep that conflict, or they vibe together neutrally if you don't care for the conflict)

Redemption Variations

Most Truce Multiverses

Petty/Joke/Non Or Semi Serious Versions

Etc...

Examples of each exception except the first one because I haven't seen that yet:

Both Likable: Nightmare may be DadMare, neutral, hold his own morals that from his perspective are understandable, or secretly still cares for Dream. Dream may be angsty, close to canon, naive, or also hold his side of morals that are still valid I've also seen one where he's been manipulated by the village so any toxic (behavior isn't/beliefs aren't) his fault. (I think it was called RoseVerse, found it on YT, really cool stuff!)

Redemption Variations: This mainly revolves around Nightmare redeeming himself, or the group as a whole, possible P!Nightmare.

Truce Multiverses: Self explanatory, The Stars (Or in this case, mostly Dream) and Nightmare's Group (Again, in this case, mostly Nightmare) agree on a truce

Semi To Non Serious Multiverses: Joke comics can follow the observation but also not since they're not canon anyways, like Roxy's overprotective Nightmare (StareMare!) drawings, or The Worst Smile comic (I think... That was the name...)

Summary: DreamTale's Balance shtick and the pattern of having one Apple Brother likable rendering the other unlikable is so common, I propose it as sort of a common occurring rule(?) that has some exceptions because this fandom is limitless regardless of it's patterns

[miitarashi]

Can u do tintin nsfw headcanons

Bro...not me waiting for someone to ask this so i could have an excuse to write it lol.

Thank you dear anon,i love you unknow person.

So, I'm going to use this and combine it with my idea of ​​making Tintin headcanons to "celebrate" the 30 followers (which took me so long to do and now it is 33 now,i love y'all 😭❤️)

[Name] = reader (neutral i guess?)

Warnings: like the ask says,there will have some NSFW so,if you don't like this type of content,please don't read. But if you read,keep in mind,it's MY opnion, but i would like to see yours on the comments!

SFW headcanons.

First and probably a real cute one. He's a little awkaward about the physical part.

On the begin,you'll have to warn and ask to touch him so he can prepare himself a bit. Hugs? He'll slowly hug you back. Kisses? He'll be a little taken a back,but will let you do it.

But now,after enough time (a lot,like a year probably) he'll be more open and comfortable to initiate, so much that will become automatic (sometimes he's still going to ask for permission,but less than when you two start dating)

Rough day? He'll wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder,without saying a word,just enjoying the touch.

Before going out he'll kiss your forehead or cheek saying goodbye and do the same when he came back.

✨️Cuddles✨️

Please. Cuddle up with him,after a tired day mostly.

He don't care about little or big spoon. It's literally "a win is a win" for him.

If his the little spoon,he'll hold your hand intertwining his fingers in yours pulling your hand to rest on his chest.

If his the big spoon,Tintin's gonna embrance you and like he always do,his head will fit the curve of your neck and be there breathing your scent while keeping you as close he can.

A headcanon that i really like to think is,when he blush his whole face became red.

HEAR ME OUT HERE-

Like,think of how cute it would be 🥺

Tintin's gonna make his best to save time just for you.

He know that,because of the adventures,most of the time you end up alone on his apartment. So as soon he came back,he try to make up for it.

Movie night,reading a book together,cuddling,hearing about how your day was,focusing on you all the time he have.

Love language - words of affirmation,quality time and physical touch.

NSFW headcanons

✨️Thighs✨️

I just know how much this man love your thighs with all his might but being controlled like he is,never let it show. But he does steal some little peaks every now and then.

High thighs. This. This is too much for him. He would feel blessed if you walk over wearing those,want attention? Use it.

Sit on his lap and expect a hand going straight for it.

His favorite place to touch and hold.

If he goes down on you,press his face between your thighs and watch this man becoming mad.

And going down?? Favorite thing. No one can take it out of my mind.

First,he can be in between your thighs. Second,he really like to see your squirming just by what he can do with his tongue. If he use his fingers, you done.

He's good with his hands,he need to be you know? And when i say it,i mean he knows exactly where to touch,kiss or bite.

He discovered it like a good adventure that he is. Everytime he touched you,normaly but you reacted different,he remember where and how.

But hear me out. He is all for the teasing exactly because,again,he know where to touch you without going to the main thing.

His objective is to please you as much he can.

He's probably a switch or soft dom.

Tintin's a gentleman after all,he don't want to hurt his lover. No.

But overwhelm you until you can't take it so he can whisper in a breathless tone:

"You can take it,darling"

Praise kink master. He worship you in every single moment.

"You look so pretty when you beg,darling"

"Keep being a good girl/boy for me"

"You feel incredible,i'm addicted to you"

He don't overwhelm you moving like crazy,no no no,he save stamina fucking you in a steady pace while touching you in every sensitive place he knows,and just after you start whining a bit,he really begin.

Holding your waist in a tight grip (expect some small bruises on those part where he really grip,thighs mostly).

Remember the face always on your neck?

When he really begin,he rest his forehead on your shoulder so you can hear him groaning and whimpering right next to your ear. On purpose. He's not that vocal,so he does it for you to now how much he's enjoying it.

He don't really care that much about the position,as long he can see your face and reactions is enough for him.

He's really open about those things and let you have your way on it.

If Tintin's feeling bold enough,maybe he'll try to tie you up.

He can be controlled,but in the adventures,most of the things don't go as he planned. But having you at his mercy to do whatever he please. This is really something for him.

He'll not do it too much tho,but still...

✨️A little extra:✨️

King of the aftercare.

Shut up and listen.

Feeling too weak to get up? He'll carry you.

Too sleepy after everything? He'll clean you just enough and the next day,breakfast in bed.

Will take a bath with you,wash your back giving little pecks here and there,cuddling up with you and whispering sweet nothings finishing with a "i love you" in a sleepy tone.

Still breakfast in bed,will be a little clingy,just a bit and probably saying sorry about the light (or not that light-) bruises that he did.

Random and fun fact: he was probably embarrassed about Milu hearing so he really bought one of those anti-noise headphones so Milu could sleep and not hear what you two were doing in the bedroom. Or in his office sometimes-

___________________________________________

A/N: again,unknow person. I LOVE YOU- i could finally write some of those things about him. Bro,i really loved the last part,it's the most random and funny headcanon that i have lol. And i have even more of them,maybe i make more in the future. OH YEAH AND AGAIN THANK Y'ALL FOR THE 33 FOLLOWERS I LOVE EACH ONE OF YOU😭❤️❤️

[flyin-shark]

I'm the anon who asked all the curious questions about sexuality and gender!

First off, just to answer your question about what it might mean to be "a guy in a girl way" - So this can obviously mean a lot of things for a lot of different people, and if I were to get into the nitty gritty we could be here all day :P

But actually I was trying to express my situation in "cishet" language. So I'm agender. I'm afab. I use he/him and I am most comfortable with being thought of and referred to as if I was a guy.

But for all intents and purposes people are going to assume that I'm a woman if they don't know otherwise. I'm androgynous sure, but I'm petite to a fault, and never transitioned physically in any way, so to most people who meet me casually, they will assume that I'm a slightly androgynous and gnc woman.

I am polyamorous, and one of my partners is a mostly cishet dude. I know that he most likely wouldn't be (sexually) into me if I was a cis guy. But then again, I am not a cis guy. And I don't question his love or attraction, or respect for my gender. But I do insist that him being with me makes him at least "a little bit bisexual".

It's obviously very complicated, and like. I really respect that you sat down and learned about the community and the terminology etc despite how it might not be a huge part of your life. That's very valuable, and in and of itself, it's a very refreshing and healing thing.

I think the value of allyship is too often understated. Up to and including by the notion that if you are a true ally, you must be some kind of queer in denial.

That said, I do think that to be a true ally (and I think you are in this process!) it's necessary to acknowledge (as you do) that the categories and labels are all just approximations. This includes "cis het". It's ok to have these moments of confusion and just take them for what they are, because at the end of the day human experience is messy and complicated. It doesn't have to threaten your identity as such, because the identity is just the label you currently feel comfy with.

So for example if we met and you didn't know me well (as a co-worker or whatever), you might find me attractive thinking I was a cute lady. If you then asked me out and I knew you were cishet I would probably gently explain that I'm not your type/it wouldn't work for me.

If you met me knowing beforehand that I'm a dude who looks a bit weird, you might not feel the same attraction because your brain has put me in the box of "dudes".

But then if you got to know me and we became close or something, you might start to feel attraction based on liking me as a person and me looking the way I do. And then you might feel bad for it, because you would feel that this attraction means you don't respect my gender or something.

Obviously we are likely not going to meet so that's a completely hypothetical example, but in the latter scenario I would actually take your attention way more seriously. And I think so should you (if a similar situation ever arose).

Because attraction based on knowing a person intimately transcends gender and at that point I wouldn't care so much that you wouldn't be physically attracted if I was a cis guy. I'd be like, well he knows me and I know him, we like each other, and if we get to add freaky sex to the mixture it's a win-win.

Because misgendering is more about dehumanizing. The need to reduce me to my physical body. Somehow?

Anyways I'm literally rambling and I'm being embarrassing all over your inbox, sorry ^^""

Anyways uhhh. Keep swimming, little shark. I will shut up, sorry

Honestly these discussions just make me want to abolish gender. Everyone should just be attracted to whoever and have consensual relations with whoever :3

In the meantime I’ll keep trying to be as good an ally as I can be

[pedrito-friskito]

jack-o-lantern smile - eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie invites you over for some halloween fun.

warnings: in a shocking twist, EXPOSITION, canon-deviation (eddie survives), vague mentions of the ST season 4 plot, mentions of small injuries/blood, fEeLiNgS, unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit folks), I love eddie munson

a/n: OKAY full disclosure I thought this one was gonna go in a COMPLETELY different direction (mostly without as many feelings) but here we are. enjoy!

🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂

It had started so innocent.

Really, it had. Right from the moment he asked you to come over on Saturday, that he wanted to do something he hadn’t done since he was a kid. You were ready to agree the moment he started asking, but you let Eddie explain himself.

“I dunno,” he smiled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I thought it might be fun. We could go to the pumpkin patch across town, find some really good-looking ones. I got a few ideas I wanna try and carve, and I thought maybe we could roast the seeds, too. My mom used to do ’em with salt and—” He stopped himself, blushing a brighter red than you’d ever seen rise in his face before. “I’m rambling.”

“You are,” you agreed, but reached out and curled a hand around his forearm, pulling him down slightly. You leaned up on your toes to peck his cheek, revelling in the tiny noise he made, those gorgeous brown eyes full of stars as he watched you lean back. “But it’s cute, Eds. You’re cute.”

He sank his teeth into his bottom lip, his other hand moving to cover yours on his arm. “Is that a yes?”

“Pick me up Saturday,” you replied, winking at him. “Noon, sharp. Don’t be late.” The last command was delivered with a joking finger in his face, and Eddie pretended to bite at it, teeth snapping.

“Yes ma’am,” he crooned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You felt his eyes on you as you walked away, the bell above the door of the record store announcing your departure. As you slid back into your car, you chanced a glance back through the front window. He was still standing at the register, hands curled into fists and tongue stuck between his teeth. He punched the air in celebration, and you giggled, starting your engine and pulling out of the lot.

He wasn’t late. Noon on the dot and there was a knock at your door, yanked open to reveal a giddy-looking Eddie Munson leaned against the frame. He looked shockingly out of character, his hair tied back in a loose bun at the nape of his neck, dark jeans tucked into combat boots, and a giant white sweatshirt that was littered with patches, not unlike the denim vest you so rarely saw him without.

He gave you a toothy grin when you stepped through the door and into the hallway of the apartment, yanking the door behind you before your roommate could catch up and try to interrogate you. You bit into your bottom lip as he pulled you under his arm, slinging it around your neck, hand curled around your flannel-covered shoulder.

“You look good,” he mumbled, leading you down the hall.

Grinning up at him, you leaned up on your toes and pecked his cheek, same as you had in the record store. “So do you.”

The day was perfect. Metallic blaring from his van’s speakers, the two of you shouting lyrics as you drove towards the only pumpkin patch in Hawkins. It was bustling with people, and you felt strangely proud as Eddie lead you towards the barn, paid for your pumpkins with a few crumpled bills, carried them back to the van once you’d picked the perfect ones. It was nice being around him — just him — for a change.

Your friendship had been an easy one, blossoming way back in freshman year when Jason Carver had cornered Eddie in the middle of the cafeteria and poured a carton of milk on his head, snarling at him and calling him freak! You’d decked the stupid blonde right then and there, dumping your fruit punch all over his pristine white polo shirt. 

You split your knuckles punching Jason, and Eddie took you to the nurse, holding an ice pack to your broken skin while you waited. Once your hand was dealt with, you snuck him into the girls’ bathroom and locked the door, and helped him wash the milk from his hair. It was a bit shorter back then, not the long mop you’ve grown used to, and it took ages, but you didn’t mind.

High school was a little easier once you had a spot at Eddie’s table. Dungeons and Dragons wasn’t really your thing, but you guest-starred at Eddie’s behest every once in a while. You graduated and reluctantly left Eddie and Hawkins behind, but it didn’t last long, and before you knew it, you were back, a college dropout working two jobs at the mall, living in a tiny apartment with an old friend.

And Eddie, now working at the record store that just happened to be on your way home. He was different now, after everything that had happened in your absence. He was stingy with the details, and you’d collected more than enough information to puzzle it all together, but you knew one thing for sure: Eddie Munson was a hero.

You’ve only seen the scars twice now. Once when he reached up high to get you a glass in the trailer he still shared with his uncle, and the other when he’d spent the night at your place after a few too many drinks and took a shower in the morning. He’d stripped his t-shirt off as he went, and you saw the pinked skin along his side, the claw and teeth marks under his ribs. With the cooler weather encroaching, he’s swapped his band tees for flannels and sweatshirts, and you don’t think you’ll catch another glimpse anytime soon.

Things are different now than they were in school, you know that much. Eddie’s different; you’re different. There’s a…humming that wasn’t there before, something magnetic that pulls you towards him. Once you came back to Hawkins, you felt it almost immediately, and something told you that Eddie felt it too, with the way you caught him staring when he thought you weren’t looking, the more-than-friends affection he doled out in the form of forehead kisses and linked pinkies. And when he showered at your place, maybe you let your eyes linger before he closed the door, and maybe, just maybe, you heard him moaning your name under the spray. 

The tape was switched from Metallica to Queen on the way home, Eddie tapping along on the steering wheel, you with the funky white pumpkin you’d picked out in your lap. “What are you gonna carve on yours?” you asked, leaning your head back against the headrest and looking at him. It was later in the day, the sun starting to set, and Eddie was backlit by it, the sunlight pouring through the window. He looked…magical. Handsome. Well, more handsome than usual.

“Eddie,” he laughed, a cheesy grin on his face, tongue stuck between his teeth, “like Iron Maiden’s Eddie. I’ve been doodling on my breaks at the record store; I think I could pull it off.”

“I’m sure you can,” you replied, and after a moment, let your hand loll over the armrest, hanging in the empty space between your seat and his. “I bet it’ll look awesome, babe.”

You heard his sharp inhale, saw the way his hand flexed on the steering wheel before it dropped towards yours. Another moment passed, and his fingers wove through yours, squeezing lightly.

The trailer was dark when you arrived, Wayne still carrying on his night shift tradition, and you giggled when you saw the little ghost hanging in the window. “Cute.”

“Just tryna get into the holiday spirit,” Eddie replied, sliding open the door to retrieve his larger pumpkin from the back. “You okay carrying yours in?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Once inside, you set to work immediately. Eddie wasted no time covering the kitchen counter with plastic bags, fishing all manner of knives and sharp utensils from the drawers, producing a pair of sharpies for you to sketch out your designs. You made a face when he started to scoop out the pumpkin guts, something about the combined texture and smell getting to you, and he chuckled. “Gimme yours,” he said, gesturing towards your pumpkin once his own was empty. “I’ll do it.”

He leaned over to take it from you, tongue poking endearingly between his teeth, and you saw an opening.

So you took it.

You clearly startled him, with the way his entire body flinched, knife clattering onto the counter, but his mouth reacted faster, moulding against yours as you kissed him. It was light and sweet and innocent, the soft press of lips, the gentle way your fingers brushed under his chin, feeling the faintest prick of five o’clock shadow along his jaw. You leaned back after a moment, heels sinking back into the carpet, but Eddie didn’t move, frozen in place, his lips pursed like he was still kissing you.

“What was that for?” he asked, eyes fluttering back open.

“Dunno,” you mumbled, staring down at the countertop, fiddling with your fingers. Your cheeks were on fire. “Just…wanted to, I guess.” You swallowed hard, tried to find the courage to look back up at him. When you did, butterflies exploded in your gut at the expression on his face, the giant grin and shiny eyes. “Is that okay?”

Eddie reached across, hooking his pinky (the only part of his hand not covered in pumpkin) in the front of your flannel and dragging you close. The second kiss was slightly less innocent than the first, the added touches of teeth and tongue setting your blood on fire. You had half a mind to sweep everything off the counter and climb towards him, but then he pulled back, inhaling deeply, his other hand curled in a fist banging against the countertop.

“More than okay.”

You made your way around to his side of the counter, your hip bumping his as you reached for the sharpie. Most of the pumpkin innards had been cleaned away, the bowl on the far side of the counter, far enough away that the weird scent wasn’t invading your nose anymore. Instead, it was replaced with something familiar, strong and deep, pine and vanilla and something that made your insides twist. Eddie.

You felt like you were tiptoeing through a minefield. Both of you quiet, standing there in the kitchen, drawing faces on pumpkins. You had opted for a simpler, classic jack-o-lantern smile while Eddie was intent on carving Eddie into his pumpkin. The knife in your hand made quick work of the mouth, and you’d moved onto the eyes when you saw Eddie turn his head out of the corner of his eye, felt the glance of his lips across your hair.

The thick smell of the sharpie made your brain buzz, and you leaned closer to him, pressing your chin into his bicep, feeling the muscle flex and move as he sketched. You were distracted, eyes catching on the precise movements of his hand, the way the fingers not holding the pen spanned nearly the entire curve of the pumpkin. Your mind wandered, staring at his hands, thinking about how big they were, how perfectly thick his fingers were, how they might feel on your—

“Shit!” you yelped, pain erupting from your hand. You blinked blearily, stumbling back, and your heart leapt into your throat when you saw spatters of red on your pumpkin, your knife clattering to the floor, and blood running down your knuckles and palm. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

You let out a little whimper as Eddie dropped his sharpie, kneeling to pick up the fallen knife before sidestepping to the sink and taking you with him. He turned on the faucet, the water splashing as he grabbed your hand and stuck it under the flow. You squeaked and he put his other hand on your back.

“You’re okay,” he promised, rubbing a slow circle as the water was tainted red. He pulled a paper towel off the roll and wrapped your damp hand in it. “Just a scratch. C’mon, let’s get you fixed up.”

You nearly stumbled over your own feet following him down the hall to the bathroom. He sat you down on the closed toilet, fishing a first aid kit out of the cupboard before kneeling between your thighs and taking your injured hand in his. He made quick work of it, dabbing at the slice with an alcohol wipe and making you hiss. He rubbed your knee sympathetically. “Sorry.”

You shook your head, reaching out with your free hand, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “Don’t be.”

A blush rose in his cheeks and he gave you a little half-skirt. “This isn’t how I imagined things going.”

“What,” you replied, chuckling, “our first kiss and a knife wound? Quite the combo.”

“The kiss was good,” he said, eyes dropping to you hand still wrapped in his. “I was gonna kiss you first but…” He leaned up slightly, lips just grazing over yours. It sent a chill down your spine. “This is good.”

“Good,” you mumbled into his mouth, leaning forward, chasing him. “That’s good.”

“Very good,” he laughed, giving you a light kiss, catching your bottom lip between his. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, y’know.”

“Oh?” you breathed. You felt lightheaded, drunk off his gentle kisses and soft touch, the pain in your hand nearly negligible. “Do tell.”

“It’s silly,” he muttered, shaking his head, eyes turning back to your injury. He fished gauze out of the kit, started to wrap your hand in it. “Just keep thinkin’ about high school, about how I should have asked you out years ago. Before you left, before I…” He trailed off, gaze going far away, and you put your hand under his chin, pulling his eyes back up to yours.

“It doesn’t matter what happened, Eds,” you said, your thumb swiping over his jaw. “It doesn’t.”

He smirked. “You’re the only one who calls me that, y’know.” You just shrugged, and Eddie laughed, tying off the gauze and inspecting his work. “Looks good, I don’t see anymore blood.” He turned your hand over, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” you repeated, your voice nearly cracking as he reached for your other hand, pulling your fingers up to his mouth.

“What about this one?” he asked, kissing along your knuckles. Something about it sent a shock of heat straight to your core, your thighs tensing. “This okay?” His other hand dropped to your thigh, palm skimming along your jeans.

“Uh-huh,” you spilled out, and the coil in you snapped.

It had started innocent.

It snaps. And whatever snaps in you, seems to snap in Eddie at the same time. He leans up high on his knees, hands moving to your hips as you bury yours in his hair. The third kiss is far from innocent, double what the second had been. He bites into your lip hard, enough that you whimper into his mouth. His tongue tastes like the cigarette you’d shared on the drive to the pumpkin patch, the mint gum you’d offered afterward, and something sweet that makes your senses go wild.

Eddie pulls you to your feet, keeping your arms around his neck as he reaches down, scoops his hands over the curve of your ass and down, grabbing your thighs tight enough you can feel the indents of the rings on his fingers. “I got you,” he murmurs into your mouth, and lifts you swiftly, making you squeak. Your legs lock around his narrow hips instantly, ankles hooked at the small of his back.

He carries you easily, careful not to knock you against the doorway in the quick shuffle from the bathroom to his bedroom. You’ve seen it before, there’s nothing new to see, his acoustic guitar laying on his bed, along with a few Dungeons and Dragons books. This Machine Slays Dragons. You smile.

“Shit, wait,” Eddie mumbles, setting you back on your feet. “Shit, shit, sorry.” He stumbles towards the bed, grabbing the guitar and sticking it carefully back on its stand, sweeping the books off the bed unceremoniously. You almost laugh, but he’s back on you in an instant, your face between his palms, turned up towards his. He kisses you hard, walks you back towards the bed until your knees hit the mattress. “This okay?” he asks again, and you just grin.

“Yes, Eddie.”

“Good,” he mumbles, and his mouth moves from yours, lips roving down your neck, sucking love bites into your skin. He pushes at you slightly, leaning over you until you fall back on the bed, sprawled against his pillows. His tongue rides along your collarbone, every kiss he offers making the heat between your legs surge hotter.

His hand glances down the front of your shirt, fingers catching on the buttons. “You can take it off,” you whisper. Eddie makes a noise somewhere between a choke and a gasp, and his mouth covers yours again, fingers working the buttons open until your chest and bra are exposed. Then his lips drop further, open-mouthed kisses pressed to the curve of your tits and you whine, one hand locking in the back of his hair. 

“Sit up,” he requests, leaning up again, sitting back on his knees. “I don’t wanna rip your shirt.”

“How courteous,” you laugh, shrugging out of the flannel. You toss it to the side, forgetting your bandaged hand, and the pain flares slightly, but quickly ebbs as your eyes move back to Eddie. You’re staring, blatantly, but you don’t care, too preoccupied with the way he’s wrenching his sweatshirt over his head. You can see everything. All the scars, the black-ink tattoos, the light dust of hair beneath his belly button, leading to something more. Something you’re craving.

Something you’ve been craving for a while now, if you’re being honest.

There’s something about it, the soft sheen to the scars covering his side, the way the ink that wrapped around his ribs is slightly marred on one side, half the design twisted and misshapen. He’s kicking off his jeans, and you’re staring, eyes raking over every inch of his body as you reach for the button on your own pants, lifting your hips to peel them off, letting them join the slowly growing pile of clothes on his floor. 

Now only in your underwear, you shuffle closer to him as he sits back on the mattress. There’s an obvious tent to his boxers, and your mouth pools with saliva just at the sight. Your uninjured hand lifts, and you can feel him watching you, watching the path your hand makes in the air. “Baby—” he starts, but it chokes off when your fingers land on the scars on his side, tracing out the pinked skin. “What’re you…?”

You lean your mouth into his shoulder, humming against his warm skin. He turns his head towards you, lips moving over your forehead. You drag your knuckles lightly over his scars. It makes him shiver. “Eddie the Hero,” you murmur.

His head snaps up and you flinch back, lifting your head from his shoulder. “What?”

“It’s what that kid Dustin calls you,” you chuckle, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. Something passes over his face, something almost dark that you don’t recognize, but then he blinks it away, and his eyes are shiny. “I think it’s fitting. Eddie the Hero. My hero.”

He catches your jaw with two fingers, turning your face towards him. “Come here, babe.”

Eddie gathers you into his arms, sliding you into his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. He moves slow, burying one hand in your hair, the other arm winding around your waist. You dig your hands into his bare shoulders, your nails biting into his skin. He tilts his face up to yours, kisses you sweetly, then not so sweet, his tongue pushing past your teeth. You snake one hand down between your bodies, diving right beneath the waistband of his boxers, fingers wrapping around his thick cock.

He gasps into your mouth, hips lifting to chase your touch as you stroke him. And he touches you in kind, the hand not in your hair sliding into your panties, dragged along his tongue on the way down. You moan his name when he rubs a circle around your clit, dips deeper, curls his knuckles up into your pussy, groaning back when he feels how wet you are.

“Gotta open you up, baby,” he murmurs, kisses you again, crooks his fingers deeper. “God, I’ve been fuckin’ dreaming about this, y’know?”

“I know,” you squeak out, hips lifting, rolling into his with every drag of his fingers, your hands trapped between your bodies. Your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, precum wetting your skin, and your lips part, hot breath panted between you. “I have too.”

It moves fast, for a moment. You’re both breathing the same air, kissing every scrap of skin you can reach. His fingers curl against something devastating inside you and you keen up into the feeling, your head fitting into the crook of his neck, squeezing his cock tight. “C’mere, baby,” he says again, his voice almost slurred. You whine when he drags his fingers from you, but it doesn’t last long, because then he’s dragging your panties to the side, freeing his cock from his boxers. He lines himself up, and gripping your hip, sinks you down on his cock.

Drawn-out moans fall from both pairs of lips, the noise echoing through his bedroom as you bury him in you completely. It’s overwhelming in the best way, the way he fills you to the brim. The perfect fit, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of him, both hands curled around his shoulders again.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, baby?” he croons, lifting one hand to peel the damp hair from your neck, leaning in to lick a stripe up your skin. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” you groan out, starting to roll your hips into his, gasping when he thrusts up into you. “So good.”

“That’s good,” he replies, and you both start to giggle, mouths slotting against each other, grinning broadly until the pleasure spikes again, making your breath come faster. You blink and the world goes sideways, pitched at an angle as he tips you back and to the side, laying you out on his pillow again and leaning up over you. It changes the angle, pushing him impossibly deeper as he thrusts into you, one hand curling around your thigh and hitching it over his hip. “God, you feel so good.”

You start to laugh again, but it doesn’t last, replaced with a loud moan as he drives into you hard, the ridge of his pelvis catching along your clit. “Eddie, I—”

“Cum for me, baby,” he drawls in your ear, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your throat, your collar. “Let me feel it, please?”

It’s the please? that gets you, the snap in his voice that sends you tumbling over the edge. Your back arches against the mattress, chest pressed to his, breath catching in your throat. He doesn’t last much longer, pulling himself from you abruptly, stroking his cock once and spilling across your stomach. His head hangs limp between his shoulders, eyes screwed shut as the pleasure wracks his frame, and you put a hand in his hair, brushing it away from his face.

“Holy shit,” he huffs, falling onto the mattress beside you, his cheeks flushed. “That was…holy shit.”

“Very articulate, Eds,” you laugh, turning your head towards him, giving him a cheeky smile. He crinkles his nose at you. “That was amazing.”

“Amazing is better than good,” he quips, pecking your lips, and you bark a laugh.

“You wanna do it again?”

He kisses you hard. “Damn right.”

You wake the next day in his bed, and it’s early afternoon. Eddie is sprawled at your side, fingers tapping out a tune along your spine. When he sees your eyes blink open, he leans in and kisses you awake. “Mornin’.”

After you had dinner, rest of the night was filled with more sex, the two of you exploring each other in new kinds of ways. You ordered pizza and finished the pumpkins, setting the jack-o-lanterns out on the front porch, and roasted the seeds just like Eddie had wanted.

After you fell back into his bed and stayed there, you lost count of the rounds, the orgasms, but by the time you closed your eyes, you had every inch of Eddie Munson committed to memory. He had invaded your dreams in the best way, and waking up beside him just makes everything feel that much more real.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he murmurs. “Been kinda practicing it since I woke up.”

“Oh?”

He swallows hard, enough that you can see his adam’s apple bob. You reach out a hand, brush a stray curl from his face. “Would you wanna, maybe, go out with me again sometime?”

You nearly choke on your laugher, a high-pitched giggle making your clap your hand over your mouth. “Eddie Munson, are you asking me out?”

“Again,” he clarifies, blushing bright red, pointing a finger in the air. “I’m asking you out again. Last night, that was the—”

You silence him with a kiss, rolling towards him on the bed, planting your hands on either side of his head, leaning down to drag the tip of your nose along his. “Yes, Eddie,” you murmur, kissing his bottom lip, then his top one. “It’s a yes. It’s always a yes.”

“Good,” he grins, hands roaming your body, squeezing your curves, holding you close. “That’s good.”

—————

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[asskickedbygirl]

Hello! Could I get a Steve o x fem reader friends to lovers smut where he and the reader grew up in the same town and used to be rlly close besties. Y/N rlly liked him but didn’t know how to tell him and she kinda gave up when he left the state to pursue his jackass career. They hadn’t talked in a while but Steve came back to town and they hand out in Y/Ns bedroom, get a lil drunk, eventually confess their love for each other and have passionate sex

I know this is specific I’ve thought about this a lot 💀

For the first time, again [Steve-o x F!Reader]

gif @rhetter

Desc: Your teenage years were mostly spent hanging out with (and fancying) a rowdy American kid called Steve. That is until he moved back to the US and became a big MTV star. Once he returned to London for a while, you realised you may get to relight the spark that was once there.

A/n: Ok, ok, I know you said state but I decided to make this accurate to his life because I know an absurd amount about Steve-o. Also don’t cringe at the british slang I’m irish so it’s at least a little bit accurate. Hope you still enjoy!!! Awesome request btw

Warnings: Smut (18+), Alcohol, Smoking, p in v

4.2k words

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You always imagined losing your virginity to Steve. He was your weird neighbour that went to the posh private American school down the road. You always thought he was kind of cute but never had the balls to speak to him. That was until you stumbled home drunk from a house party one night when you were sixteen and spotted him outside his house, smoking a fag. Your drunken courage urged you to ask him for a puff. You walked up his steps wordlessly, him looking at you like you had two heads. “Can I bum some of that off you?” You pointed to his cigarette and he handed it to you silently. You took a long drag and exhaled. You introduced yourself and he replied with his name too, Steve. You nodded, “American.” He laughed at the bluntness. “That’s right.” You handed the fag back to him. “How d’ya like London?” He shrugged, “I’ve lived here three years now so, it’s cool I guess.” You chewed your lip. “I don’t want to go to bed yet and my parents are asleep so they won’t notice if I’m back late.” Steve smirked, waiting to see where you were going with this. “Do you want to go for a walk or something?” It had to be 1am at this point, but Steve smiled, “Sure.”

That night you spent hours walking around the streets where you lived, talking and laughing with your estranged neighbour. He brought his skateboard with him, such an american thing, and taught you how to ride it. You were pretty shit at it, partly because of your intoxication and partly because you just had a terrible balance. He was good, showing off some tricks, no doubt trying to impress you. You found out a lot about him. His parents were uber rich, of course, and he had lived in a bunch of different countries before he moved to the UK for secondary school. He was sixteen like you and was actually really funny. Your only impression of him was the kid who smoked outside his house late at night and skated around town. You were glad to have this night of breaking the ice even if you were kind of tipsy but the cold sobered you up and you realised you might be forming a crush on this kid. You walked home at 6am, before your parents could wake up and notice your absence. You didn’t kiss or anything though there was a bit of an awkward tension that left a lot open. Alas, you said your good nights and headed inside.

After this night, you started hanging out with Steve a lot. He always came up to your bedroom and listened to your records, him playing some stupid Mötley Crue ones you made fun of him for. He bragged about some elaborate story of how he met them, making you laugh. He was a very outgoing kid you found out and eventually you started bringing him along to the house parties you were invited to. He was a hit amongst your friends, he could chug beers like no tomorrow and would start doing ridiculous stunts and tricks to make everyone laugh. Girls were lining up asking if you guys were together but through gritted teeth you told them no. He snogged your friends as you sat and watched from the corner, unable to say a word. He started bringing you to the posh american parties, his friends attempting to flirt with you in their weird american ways. You shut them down, insisting you had a boyfriend. You felt like such a loser when he was getting with all these girls and you sat by waiting for him to come around, but he never did.

Once your friends started talking about shagging boys and losing their virginities you only had one person on your mind. Of course it was Steve, he was the perfect candidate! He was cute and you really fancied him, you were already comfortable with him. He basically lived in your room, as well as you living in his. You thought about it quite a bit, even mustered up a plan to ask him. There was a party on that weekend and you decided you were going to confess to him there that you liked him. You had been best friends for over a year at that point and almost all of your friends had had sex. You knew Steve hadn’t, he told you all about the girls he got with, even though it killed you, not that he noticed. He was pretty clueless in that department and you knew the only way he’d figure out you fancied him is if you just told him straight up. So it was decided, Saturday was the night you were to tell him.

The night rolled around and you were drinking in the kitchen, taking shots for courage and shooing off any guys that tried to talk to you. It occurred to you that you hadn’t seen Steve in a while and once you decided you were tipsy enough to let it spill you went looking for him. “Has anyone seen Steve?” You asked to every person you saw, they all shook their heads except one who mentioned they saw him go upstairs. You thanked them and headed up, opening all the doors and calling out his name. You turned the final door knob, “Ste-“. Your stomach dropped when you saw what was inside. Steve had his shirt off and was on top of your friend, Hannah, under the covers. Steve spun his head around but before you could see his expression you shouted “Sorry!” and slammed the door. Your head was reeling, the alcohol hitting you like a tonne of bricks, or else it was just the pure shock. You ran to the nearest bathroom and threw up in the toilet. You felt hot tears started to form in your eyes and knew you had to get out of there. You stormed out of the house, informing the host you just felt sick and needed to go home.

Once you got home you cried on the floor of your room, feeling so unbelievably stupid. All this time Steve showed almost no signs of interest in you, always talking about other girls who were much prettier than you. Why on earth would he want to have sex with you? You took your makeup off and crawled into bed after about an hour of sobbing when you heard taps at your window. You pulled the curtains open and looked outside. Steve was stood below, a huge grin on his face. He was throwing rocks at your window, something he often did when he wanted to come up late at night. You put on a fake smile to hide your upset and gestured that you’d be one minute. You desperately tried to cover up any signs that you had been crying in your mirror before heading downstairs to let him in.

Steve sat on your bedroom floor as you remained on your bed. He was completely radiant, talking animatedly about how he’d just lost his virginity. You apologised for walking in but he brushed you off, insisting it was fine. He was so happy, completely clueless that you were absolutely crushed, despite being a few metres away from him. “Hannah’s so hot too, god this was just the best night ever.” You faked your best smile, “I’m glad you had a good time.” Steve got up and hugged you tightly, not sensing how awkward and stiff you were being. “Sorry you had to go home, I missed you tonight.” You nodded, “Yeah, just wasn’t feeling the best.” Steve left a little while later, a practical skip in his step when heading out. You decided then and there that you were going to give up. Steve didn’t like you and that was final, you were to swallow any urges you once had and get over it.

This worked out fairly well for you, another year had passed and you and Steve were still best friends. Hannah was his girlfriend now and you both got on well. Hannah had no idea about your old crush on Steve so you never held anything against her. You still spent nights listening to records and watching stupid slashers and horror b movies. Nothing much had changed though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t still have feelings for Steve. Sometimes you’d stare at him for a prolonged amount of time, or leave accidental lasting touches. He, of course, didn’t think of these gestures as anything more than friendly but you knew your heart still felt for him. Graduation was nearing and Steve started acting a little different. When you confronted him about his awkward behaviour whenever you brought up leaving school he finally confessed. Steve told you he was going to move back to the US after he graduated and go live with his sister in Florida. Your heart sank like an anchor. “You’re leaving?!” He looked at you apologetically, great sadness in his eyes. You shook your head, “You can’t leave! What about our plans? We were supposed to get a flat and, and work in the pub!” Steve stopped your rambling and hugged you tightly. You were shocked, tears falling down your cheeks silently. You gave up and hugged him back, burying your face into his neck, letting the waterworks start. “You can’t leave.” You repeated in a whisper. He shushed you and rubbed your head, tears falling down his cheeks too. “I’ll see you again.”

* * *

Almost ten years had passed since Steve left for the States and a lot had changed. You were living in a flat nearby to where you grew up and were working in a dull office job. Meanwhile, Steve was now going by Steve-o and was a famous MTV star, making a name for himself by being a total ‘jackass’. You hadn’t been in contact with Steve for years after he stopped calling. Well you hadn’t called either so I guess it was a fault on both parts. You came across him again while channel flicking on a random Sunday. Seeing the boy who used to sit on your bedroom floor every night drinking a goldfish and throwing it back up almost sent you into cardiac arrest. However it didn’t much surprise you that Steve managed to make a career out of doing the most idiotic stuff possible. You weren’t sure if you should call him or not but figured the number would no longer be his. There was no way he was still living in Florida what with this new found fame. Instead you opted to tuning in every Sunday to see your old best friend hurt himself in dumb ways.

Less than a year later you were in your local pub, having drinks with your old friends. It was your round next and so you went up to the bar to order for everyone. “Well, well, well.” You heard a familiar american voice say behind you. You spun around quickly, and there he was in all his glory. Stephen Fucking Glover. “Steve!” You shouted, lurching forward and bringing your old friend in for a tight hug. You were beaming from ear to ear, pulling away to take him in. “Or should I say Steve-o?!” he laughed. You shook your head in disbelief, “What are you doing back in London?! When did you fly in?” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Last night, I’m here filming for-“ “Jackass!” You cut him off, holding his shoulders and smiling brightly. “You watch it?” Steve asked, slightly shocked. You nodded enthusiastically, “I tune in every Sunday for you! You’re fucking famous now!” You bashed his arm playfully. “I always knew you’d be famous for doing something stupid.” He smiled knowingly, nodding his head. “Well I’m here with some of the guys from the show if you wanna say hi.” Your eyes widened and you grinned.

You pointed Steve out to your friends as you were lead through the pub to where his friends were and they all gasped, you gesturing them over. Steve introduced you to the star of the show, Johnny Knoxville who shook your hand and called you sweetheart. You blushed at his attempt to flatter you, (it worked) but you figured one of your friends would flirt with him for the night instead, your only interest being catching up with your long lost best friend. Next Chris Pontius flashed his familiar smile at you and Jeff Tremaine nodded and smiled politely in your direction. There were a couple of other members of the crew with them. Steve told you they’d be filming there for the next week but before he could give you more information, your friends welcomed Steve and brought him in for a big hug. He was the major event at all of your teen parties anyhow.

You spent the night sharing a table with Steve’s Jackass friends who were more than happy to house some pretty girls you brought along. You didn’t care much to speak to the guys that were on your TV every weekend and instead talked to Steve the whole time about everything he’d been up to since he left for Florida. He told you about big brother magazine and clown school and eventually how he ended up on international television flipping onto elephant shit. When it got to talking about your life since, it became a bit bleak. You had a good job and a decent flat and were still in touch with your old friends, but you felt so inconsequential compared to what Steve made of himself. “I’m just so proud of you.” You spoke from your heart, Steve blushing and thanking you. Time went by fast when you were reminiscing and catching up with an old friend and eventually the pub was closing. The rest of the gang were going to head back to the hotel they were staying at to prolong the party a little longer but the idea didn’t appeal to you. “Hey Steve, my parents are away right now and I know where they hide their spare key… how bout it? For old times sake?” Steve flashed you the smile you waited so long to see again and so you spilt from the group, despite being the glue that actually held the two together but they already seemed pretty acquainted. You waved them off and headed in the direction of your old houses on foot, you were at the pub you used to go to in your teen years after all.

The whole walk you reminisced on all the good memories, you pointing to the corner Steve taught you how to skate in the night you first spoke and him pointing out a bin you threw up in after a night out. You laughed and smiled, swearing you hadn’t grinned that wide since he left in the first place. Steve stood silently once you got to your house, placing his hand on the brick wall that split your gardens apart. Another family had moved in since Steve’s parents returned to the US and it all seemed pretty bittersweet, the nostalgia. You fished the spare key out of a plant pot and got to work unlocking the door. You let Steve in and followed after him. “God it all looks so different.” Steve touched your parent’s walls, admiring all the new pictures that decorated it, some childhood ones still remaining. He smiled sweetly before heading up the stairs. When you let him into your old bedroom he sighed, “Now this is exactly how I remember it.” You laughed and nodded. You didn’t touch any of your posters or records after Steve left, with you going to Uni and all. He sat on your bedroom floor and started flicking through your records again, well the ones you left behind. “Where’s all the Mötley Crue I left you?!” Steve couldn’t bring all of his records with him to Florida so handed you down all of his old ones, not that you particularly wanted them or anything. “They’re at my flat.” Sure you weren’t the biggest Mötley Crue fan, and Steve knew that, you just kept them because they reminded you of him. Steve turned around and gave you a knowing smile. “You know you don’t have to sit on my floor anymore, something tells me you’re too old for that now.” You gestured for Steve to sit with you on the bed before heading downstairs to rob some of your Dad’s beers. “Now it’s really the good old days!” He laughed when you handed him a can of lager.

The two of you drank beer after beer, still laughing and talking into the night. It was 3am now and you were drunker than earlier, feeling a bit risky. Steve was reminding you of all the stupid stunts he did to impress your crowd, confirming he had hardly changed since those days. Then he launched into stories of girls, saying it was funny to see your old friends at the pub seeing as he had snogged all of them. You bit back a laugh and shook your head. “What?” Steve asked, a little confused at your smirking. “No, no, it’s nothing.” Steve shook his head, moving closer to you on the bed. “What’s so funny?” You let your drunkenness take over. “You remember the night you lost your virginity to Hannah?” Steve narrowed his brows, trying to understand where you were going with this. “Well… yeah?” You downed the rest of your can anxiously. “That night, I was looking for you, that’s why I accidentally walked in.” Steve nodded but then shook his head, “I remember, but whats that got to do with anything?” You leaned in to whisper in Steve’s ear, “I was going to tell you I liked you that night.” You pulled away and plonked down on your bed, hiding your face in your hands and groaning in embarrassment. “What?!” Steve was bewildered, facing towards you and pushing you to tell him more. “I had this whole stupid plan, I was going to confess and then we’d head back to mine and take each other’s virginities or something. It’s humiliating I know.” Steve shook his head and pulled your hands away from your face, leaning over you and looking deep into you eyes. He spoke your name quietly, “If you had told me you liked me earlier, I would’ve dropped anyone for you.” Your cringe expression fell, your heart swelling and your cheeks turning scarlet. You sat up so Steve was still in front of you but so you weren’t in such an awkward position. “Are you serious?” Steve almost laughed, “I liked you the moment you asked to bum some of my cigarette. I just always thought you would never date someone like me.” You shook your head, “You got with every girl under the sun?” He smiled, “I only got with those girls to show you I was cool, the only girl I cared about was you.” You were in disbelief, shaking your head a little. “You wanted to lose your virginity to me?” He asked, his voice a low whisper. You nodded your head. “Well let’s do it.” You laughed, “Look Steve, I appreciate your romanticism but I have actually managed to have sex in the last decade.” He shook his head, a hint of a smile evident on his face. “No I mean let’s do it over, for the first time, again.” You looked at Steve so lovingly. It was beyond you that a guy like him could say something so profound and beautiful. But he was your Steve.

It didn’t take long for you to close the gap between the two of you, smashing your lips against his for the first time. Although you hadn’t done it before, and you hadn’t even seen him for almost ten years, it all felt natural. You moved together in sync, soft and slow, wanting to take it all in. You could taste the lager and cigarettes in his mouth but you didn’t care. You just needed him to touch you. You brought Steve’s hands to hold your waist, him then moving to lay you down to get on top of you. He held your face as you kissed, the tenderness causing you to whimper. You pulled away from the kiss to tear your shirt off and you pulled at Steve’s to do the same. For the first time, Steve revealed all his new idiotic tattoos you had only seen on screen. You would’ve laughed if the moment didn’t seem so important, instead brushing the pads of your fingers over the ink and continuing to kiss him. You could feel Steve’s hands move down to undo your jeans and yours moved down too to mess with his buckle. Once he zipped yours down, he helped you shimmy them off, leaving you in your underwear in front of your best friend. Steve moved up and kissed your breasts, fondling them gently. He came up to your face and kissed you some more while attempting to zip his jeans down. He pulled away to kick them off. He took his wallet out of his pocket and removed a condom. Your breath hitched, your teenage dream was coming true before your eyes, even if it was ten years late. “Can i take these off?” Steve whispered, hooking his fingers around the band of your panties and you nodded, helping kick them off as well. You crossed your legs in embarrassment for being so exposed but Steve kissed your knees, insisting it was okay and he could stop at any time. You bit your lip as Steve pulled his cock out of his boxers, removing them too. You had heard rumours that Steve had a big dick through word of mouth and… they weren’t half wrong. Steve kneeled up on your bed, slotting between your legs, putting the condom on. You reached around your back and unclasped your bra without him even having to ask. Steve sighed before even entering you, taking your image in. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to see you like this.” He whispers. “Me too.” You replied, unsure if that even made sense but you were too desperate for his touch to care.

Steve leaned over you and held his arm beside your head to support himself before pushing into you, slowly. You moaned at the sensation as Steve groaned, his breathing getting heavy already. After a moment of adjusting, Steve began thrusting at a steady pace. Your whimpers and whines becoming louder the faster he went. You couldn’t really believe Steve was having sex with you in your teen bedroom, a fantasy you hadn’t replayed in years. You know what they say, time makes the heart grow fonder and that rang true for you. Looking back, an awkward first time with Steve probably wouldn’t be half as enjoyable as it was now. You both knew what you were doing and the tipsiness heightened your senses. All that time apart seemed to manifest into the tenderness of the sex, like it was brewing up during those years. Your sounds were music to Steve’s ears, his heart swelling at the fact it was him making you do that. He kissed your neck softly and groaned into your ear as he came closer to the edge, your orgasm building with his. You brought Steve’s face back up and kissed him again, though it was hard now that you were moaning into his mouth. Soon enough, Steve began thrusting faster, his orgasm fast approaching as well as yours. His pants and grunts became quicker, in time with his movements, the speed causing you to grip onto his shoulders tightly. One more thrust and you were tumbling off, pleasure spreading through your whole body as you came, moaning Steve’s name as you did. You clenched around him sending Steve straight off the edge right after you. His hips stuttered and he grasped yours tightly, moaning properly as he finished.

You remained still for a moment, Steve still inside you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. Steve brushed your hair off your face and leaned in to kiss you again. “That was amazing.” He whispered, pulling away to kiss your face all over. You giggled, pushing Steve off of you. He pulled out and you both whimpered at the sensation. He dumped the condom in the bin and threw one of your old band t shirts at you along with an old pair of underwear you left behind. You muttered a thanks and put them on, Steve slipping his boxers back on to clamber into bed with you. He held you to his chest and kissed the top of your head sweetly. “So was that all you imagined it to be?” He asked, making you laugh. You turned your head and looked up at the boy you had dreamed of for years. “Better. Just a little late.” He laughed at that and planted a kiss to your temple. You drifted off in your teenage bedroom, your teenage dream holding you to his chest, all was well.

End.

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