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thecreelhouse · 1 hour

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thank you sm jojo 🥹🫶🏻 I’m hoping to eventually write one last part to this!! and fr, there’s simply not enough of him, what the fuck is up with THAT 🤧

pray, but heaven won’t let you back

Paring: vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Summary: Since the night Steve lost control, he’s been pushing away, afraid to hurt you again. You’ll do anything to convince him you still trust him, even giving into the bloodlust he’s tried to avoid. || fic inspired by this post.

WC: 3k

CW/Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, language, vampire nonsense/lore, blood play & blood sucking/feeding (nothing gory but still be cautious if you’re squeamish), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, lots of fluff and aftercare at the end

this is a modern vampire AU! can (kinda) be read as a standalone, but it’s a follow up to love’s the death of peace of mind and the bitter and the sweet.

A/N: i will never get sick of vampire!steve, so here’s another lil fic based off this post i saw earlier lmao. song title & lyrics are from worship - ari abdul. enjoy babes <3

pretty when you say my name like that / feel your lips trace down my neck / darlin', don't say nothin', just breathe pretty when you're looking up like that / pray but Heaven won't let you back / good on your knees

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It took one close call to push both you and Steve to question if you were right for one another. One slip up, where his lust for your blood called to him louder than usual; louder than your moans he earned through a skilled tongue you never grew tired of.

It took one close call for Steve to become rigid, self discipline at its height in your relationship.

It took one close call to set your desire in stone; you wanted Steve to turn you, wanted to join him in an eternity of a life you once believed wasn’t real.

Blood play wasn’t foreign before that night, but it was always controlled, always with moderation and care. Now that Steve lost control, even only for a minute, he didn’t trust himself with you. He began growing distant, physically and emotionally, and it was burrowing under your skin, deeper and deeper as time carried on.

Steve still loved you, and though you could tell because of his avoidant behavior, it hurt. It was for your sake, your safety, and he made that clear; yet you were becoming lonely and agitated without his touch.

Even beyond lust, you just wanted him to hold you, and you wanted to hold him. You missed the way he’d play pretend, acting irritated when you’d kiss him one too many times on the cheek in a day. You longed for the way either of you would roll over in your sleep, searching for the other subconsciously. You felt like a stranger to him, a ghost in the walls of the home you shared with him.

Maybe you were foolish to believe this love could last; this all started with a Halloween party hookup, after all. Just another pathetic mortal that fell prey to a vampire’s charm.

You’re getting ready to go out with some friends when something breaks Steve, just enough for him to see he’s losing you, letting you slip through his fingers that once held you tightly with possession and protection.

Sitting at the vanity, the warmth of the lights lining mirror feels good on your skin. It’s not that you avoid the daylight for Steve’s sake; the lore of vampires burning up in the sunlight was nothing more than a myth. The sun does, however, irritate the fuck out of most vampires, still too bright, but bothersome in a sensory overload sort of way more than threatening. But since the night Steve lost control, and you began losing him, you rarely left bed these days.

You deserved to feel the warmth, any warmth, after receiving a cold shoulder from Steve for awhile now. You’ve lost track of the days he began to back away, but it’s far too long despite the specifics.

While you’re fixing your makeup, wrapped in a long, silky, dusty rose robe, Steve walks in; he’s surprised to find you not only up and out of bed, but all dolled up, too.

“H- hey, love.” He goes to lean against the doorframe, but miscalculates how close he is to the frame, falling into it instead. You stifle a laugh, watching his figure fumble in your peripheral vision as you dust blush along your cheeks.

“Hi.”

He holds his breath while crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for a follow up with an expectant smile; it falls flat when you continue to ignore him.

“So… going somewhere?”

You still won’t look at him, another response multitasked as you work on your eye makeup. “Uh-huh.”

Steve’s eyes catch on the deep red, silky dress you have waiting for a night out, hung up on the door by its hanger. “Th- you’re going out in that?” He remembers gifting it to you for the holidays, joking he could never let you out of his sight if you wore it in public; he trusted you, but surely not any men around you.

Now, you’re planning on wearing it for the first time while out with your friends, and not him. Jealousy bubbles up within him.

“Your observational skills are great, Steve.” Your response is so harsh; even you feel bad for giving the frost right back to him.

“Thought you’d save it for one of our date nights,” He grumbles, like a child. You finally glance over at him, eyes narrowing as they meet his.

“What, do I need your permission to wear it?”

“No, don’t twist my words.”

“Steve, this is the most you’ve talked to me in weeks.” You leave the vanity to change into your dress. With a quick tug of the tie of your robe, it slinks to the floor. Your back is to him, missing the way his jaw slacks to the floor at the sight of your lingerie set: a red, lacy set that hugs your curves deliciously; another gift from him, one without reason. “What, are you jealous? I’m done moping around and waiting for your attention.”

Steve loved showering you in gifts, especially in his favorite color— how typical of a vampire to love the color red; though you tried insisting you needed nothing more but him, he couldn’t help himself from spoiling you.

A groan slips out of him as two things push to the front of his mind:

He’s painfully aroused, tenting in his tight pants, in need of relief.

That, and the bloodlust he’s been fighting since that close call is back, full force.

One minute, you’re reaching for the dress to change into, the next, he’s shoving you against the nearest wall. You gasp as he pins your arms above your head with one large hand easily holding both of your wrists.

“Steve—“

“Might wanna text your friends, let ‘em know you’re running late.” He rolls his hips into yours roughly, earning the first pleasing sound from you tonight; you whimper and pout as his other hand grabs you by the chin, grip hard. “Oh, princess, am I throwing your night off?”

You can’t bring yourself to answer while his hand leaves your face, wasting no time to grope your chest with a cruel touch. You arch into his grip and mewl, eyes fluttering shut as he kicks your legs apart before slotting a leg against your core. Instinctively, you grind onto his thigh, heat already sticky through the lacy fabric you wear.

“Might not make it there at all, huh?” He’s mocking you, taunting you, and you’re infuriated. You’re pissed he’s pulling this after weeks of being distant, and you’re really pissed at yourself for instantly melting under his touch.

Pushing through the haze of desire, you glare at him. “Steve, enough.”

“Oh, c’mon, since when are you not into—“

“I said enough.”

You’re trying to steady your breaths as you hold a cold stare with him; his features falter, hands releasing you before stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” Any and all confidence is thrown out the window as he shrinks under your vexed gaze. “I- I— I’ve just— fuck. I fucked up, alright?”

You’re nowhere near as strong as him, yet when you push him back with your hand on his chest, he stumbles back. You push him again, and again, and once more, until the backs of his legs hit the bed, throwing his balance off. He falls back onto the mattress, panting lightly as his stare is fixated on you above him.

“You can’t do this shit, Steve. You can’t touch me when you want then leave me alone like nothing matters. I told you I’m not afraid of you, I trust you.”

“Yeah, and I cracked any trust by losing control—“

“Steve, this is who you are!” You reach out, cradling his head in your hands on either side of his face. He can’t resist leaning into your touch, guilt playing up on his features. “I’ve accepted that from the start. I’ve accepted the risk since the first night together. What I didn’t accept or agree to was being treated like a total stranger by the one I love most.”

“I know. I know. I just wanted to keep you safe. All I want is for you to be safe, and happy. All I want is for you to feel loved, and I hurt you instead. I’m sorry.” He sounds so pained, nuzzling into your palm while he grabs your arm, pushing your hand against his face harder.

Aside from the last few weeks, there have never been moments where you felt shoved away, or less than Steve. And now, it’s only happening because he thought it would protect you. Just the honest admission alone shows you he meant well, even if he hurt you. It wasn’t intentional, just like the night he lost control. He knows he hurt you, but it was never intentional.

You can tell Steve is fighting the instinctual hunger for your blood; his eyes are dark with desire, but teetering on the edge of falling into that deep red shade that could only signal trouble. His grip on your arm shakes as he restrains himself from overpowering you again.

You try to keep him with you, asking softly, “Make it up to me?”

“H- how? I’ll do anything, anything you want, love.” His breaths run shallow as you straddle his lap, hands snaking around to the back of his head; you gently push his face towards your neck, but he leans back. “I— okay, anything but— honey, I can’t.”

“You want to.”

“Doesn’t m- mean I should.” Steve is so conflicted; he wants this, he needs you. You want him, you need him, too. But it’s a risk with the odds against him.

“I’m giving you the green light, Steve.” You kiss his forehead, then his cheek, leading to his lips. Before you kiss them, you murmur, “I trust you.”

He closes the gap with a frantic kiss, one arm slinking around your hips to your back, the other exploring your body clumsily. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, fangs scraping along the skin. You yelp, and Steve stops.

“Love, we— this is—“ His gaze sinks deeper into that shade of red you once knew as a signal for danger, but you trust him. You know him. You know he’d never take it too far, not to a level where you couldn’t handle it. “You’re not— I’m not ready to turn you yet—“

“I didn’t expect that. I wouldn’t complain, but I promise that’s not what I’m asking for right now.” You roll your hips onto his bulge, strained under the tight fabric of his pants still. “I’m just asking you to trust me. Trust me, to trust you.”

Steve searches your gaze for any doubt, any signs of faltering or second guessing; there’s only certainty and adoration. You nod softly, encouraging him once more.

In a flash, you’re thrown to the pillows at the top of the bed, landing on them with a surprised laugh. Steve crawls above you, with a warm smile of his own, despite the red in his gaze.

“You’ll stop me if—“

“Yes, yeah, just—“

He cuts you off with a rough kiss, fangs poking at your lips before he kisses along your jawline, trailing to your neck. When he reaches the crook of your neck, he sucks softly, earning airy moans from you while you grab him by his shirt. He laughs breathily into your skin, tickling you.

“Starting to think you like this more than I do,” He teases after pulling off your neck, spit with a hint of red dripping from the corner of his mouth. You nod with a dazed giggle, a sound he’s missed so, so dearly since pushing away. “I’m so sorry, love.” He ducks into your neck again, murmuring in between kisses, “You’re my everything.”

Stealing the spotlight from your answer, he tests the waters by sinking his fangs into your neck, ever so slightly. You gasp, arching up into him.

“Sensitive little thing,” He teases, kitten licking at the few drops of blood on your skin. He delves back in, sinking his fangs a little deeper. A sharp, pained gasp leaves your lips, and it’s almost enough to make him stop, but it dissolves into a satisfied moan. “What’d you think was gonna happen tonight? You’d find someone else?”

Here comes the possessive attitude you always crave.

“N- no, don’t want anyone else but you.”

He’s lapping at the blood now, sucking intermittently as it flows out. He’s in such a heady daze, beginning to whimper into your skin.

“S’what I thought, princess.” He sucks stronger this time, groaning into you as he feeds. “Fuck, y’taste so goddamn good, love.”

You’re reaching the dizzy, intoxicating thrill achieved only when Steve takes you like this. The only sensation that has ever come close is when he chokes you, plays with your air and blood flows, but it’s never the same as when he feeds off your blood.

Giggly and growing lightheaded, the pain has become full pleasure to you at this point. “You ever cum from sucking blood?” The question is silly, to you, but not to Steve. He lets out a guttural moan, mouth still on your skin. The teamwork of his fangs in your neck, his lips sucking blood out, and his tongue soothing over the wounds make you whine and writhe underneath him.

“Every time y’let me drink yours— f- fuck—“

You didn’t even notice his pants were finally down, halfway, at least; he’s fisting his cock, precum spilling onto you from his rosy, swollen tip while he continues to work at your neck. The noises he makes are pornographic at this point. You reach around to hold him, hand to the back of his head, cradling him close.

“Touch yourself, love.”

Obeying, your other hand slides down between the two of you, fingers finally meeting your clit. You lazily rub in circles, eyes fluttering shut with a blissed out smile. “Steve…”

“This turns you on just as much as it does for me, huh?” You always gonna be fucked out every time I drink from you?”

You nod, head in the clouds; the two of your hands continue to bump against one another every so often, setting off little grunts and whimpers. “Uh-huh…”

“Imagine h- how wrecked you’ll be when I…” His hips stutter as he continues jerking off. “… when I turn you. Might like sucking blood more than y’like sucking my cock.”

You gasp at his words, nodding wildly as he pulls back, looking down at you with devotion and desire.

“You doin’ okay, love?” Steve asks, shuddering, close to his high. “Can I- I- m’so close…”

You hum with a dopey smile, “Here,” is all you can manage to say as you pull your bra down, exposing your chest. Steve only lasts a second longer before he finally reaches his high, spilling onto your tits as he moans lowly, echoing against the walls. The sight of him coming undone above you, the feeling of his spend against your skin, the intoxication of losing blood, it’s all more than enough to follow him with your own climax.

Moaning for only a moment, Steve pushes forward, crashing his lips into yours, melding together with the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue. When he pulls back, you’re left panting sleepily, fucked out despite only getting off from your own touch and his fangs in your neck.

“Love, you know it’ll be hard to turn you knowing I’d have to give this up, right?” You reach up to him, gently touching his face. He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of your knuckles softly.

“S’okay, we can wait a lil’ longer.” You watch the shade of red in his eyes settle into the calm, muted red they usually are. Before you can praise him for being successful in holding himself under control, he kisses you quickly.

“Stay here, gonna get some stuff to clean up,” He does exactly that, returning with towels to clean off with and a first aid kit. He hands over a water bottle to you, careful not to make you spill it as he runs his tongue softly along the wounds, healing them with ease as he’s done plenty of times before. The first aid kit is kind of useless by now, but he still properly cleans around the newly healed wounds.

When Steve finishes, he gently lifts your head up toward his, searching for any signs of distress. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

He nods, “No tingling or weird feelings like last time, right?”

“Right,” You smile, curling up next to him with a content sigh. “Can we take a bubble bath?”

“You’re half asleep,” Shaking his head, he chuckles, “I don’t want you to drown.”

“Says the guy who just stabbed my neck with his teeth.”

“Yeah, you’re fine. The sass is back.” Then he remembers, you had plans. “Hey, did you get to tell your friends you weren’t coming? Sorry for stealing your night, love.”

“I didn’t have plans, just was hoping that’d get your attention finally,” You snuggle even closer, resting your head on his chest. Meanwhile, he scoffs out a laugh as he finds out you tricked him. He couldn’t even be mad, though, because it worked. Breaking his thoughts, you mutter, “You did it, y’know.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “What’d I do?” He’s lost, assuming you’re babbling sleepily.

“Your eyes changed back. You didn’t lose control.” You’re falling into slumber fast. “I meant it when I said I trust you, Steve.”

He kisses the top of your head, arms holding you close. “I trust you, love. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

You’re down for the count, only able to murmur back, “Love you, Steve.” He watches as your breaths fall low and steady, finding safety and comfort while the two of you are back where you belong— in each other’s arms.

Steve’s nowhere near ready to turn you, but when the time comes, he’s certain it’s part of both of your futures, intertwined into one. He knows now the two of you are meant to spend eternity together.

Until then, he’ll cherish this complicated love between human and vampire; he’ll cherish you as you are now, before that becomes a mere memory once he brings you over to his side of life.

Eyes growing heavy, Steve whispers to you, now fast asleep, “I love you, too. ‘Til the end of time.”

#i love those lil stick figure doodles they make my day jgdjfkghdjkg #comment rb #srb

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thecreelhouse · 1 hour

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Jazz!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT is this gif i am cryingkfkfj

(also glad u liked it pal ☺️🫶🏻)

pray, but heaven won’t let you back

Paring: vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

WC: 3k

this is a modern vampire AU! can (kinda) be read as a standalone, but it’s a follow up to love’s the death of peace of mind and the bitter and the sweet.

A/N: i will never get sick of vampire!steve, so here’s another lil fic based off this post i saw earlier lmao. song title & lyrics are from worship - ari abdul. enjoy babes <3

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It took one close call for Steve to become rigid, self discipline at its height in your relationship.

It took one close call to set your desire in stone; you wanted Steve to turn you, wanted to join him in an eternity of a life you once believed wasn’t real.

Maybe you were foolish to believe this love could last; this all started with a Halloween party hookup, after all. Just another pathetic mortal that fell prey to a vampire’s charm.

While you’re fixing your makeup, wrapped in a long, silky, dusty rose robe, Steve walks in; he’s surprised to find you not only up and out of bed, but all dolled up, too.

“Hi.”

He holds his breath while crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for a follow up with an expectant smile; it falls flat when you continue to ignore him.

“So… going somewhere?”

You still won’t look at him, another response multitasked as you work on your eye makeup. “Uh-huh.”

Now, you’re planning on wearing it for the first time while out with your friends, and not him. Jealousy bubbles up within him.

“Your observational skills are great, Steve.” Your response is so harsh; even you feel bad for giving the frost right back to him.

“Thought you’d save it for one of our date nights,” He grumbles, like a child. You finally glance over at him, eyes narrowing as they meet his.

“What, do I need your permission to wear it?”

“No, don’t twist my words.”

A groan slips out of him as two things push to the front of his mind:

He’s painfully aroused, tenting in his tight pants, in need of relief.

That, and the bloodlust he’s been fighting since that close call is back, full force.

“Steve—“

Pushing through the haze of desire, you glare at him. “Steve, enough.”

“Oh, c’mon, since when are you not into—“

“I said enough.”

You’re trying to steady your breaths as you hold a cold stare with him; his features falter, hands releasing you before stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” Any and all confidence is thrown out the window as he shrinks under your vexed gaze. “I- I— I’ve just— fuck. I fucked up, alright?”

“You can’t do this shit, Steve. You can’t touch me when you want then leave me alone like nothing matters. I told you I’m not afraid of you, I trust you.”

“Yeah, and I cracked any trust by losing control—“

You try to keep him with you, asking softly, “Make it up to me?”

“You want to.”

“Doesn’t m- mean I should.” Steve is so conflicted; he wants this, he needs you. You want him, you need him, too. But it’s a risk with the odds against him.

“I’m giving you the green light, Steve.” You kiss his forehead, then his cheek, leading to his lips. Before you kiss them, you murmur, “I trust you.”

Steve searches your gaze for any doubt, any signs of faltering or second guessing; there’s only certainty and adoration. You nod softly, encouraging him once more.

In a flash, you’re thrown to the pillows at the top of the bed, landing on them with a surprised laugh. Steve crawls above you, with a warm smile of his own, despite the red in his gaze.

“You’ll stop me if—“

“Yes, yeah, just—“

Stealing the spotlight from your answer, he tests the waters by sinking his fangs into your neck, ever so slightly. You gasp, arching up into him.

Here comes the possessive attitude you always crave.

“N- no, don’t want anyone else but you.”

He’s lapping at the blood now, sucking intermittently as it flows out. He’s in such a heady daze, beginning to whimper into your skin.

“S’what I thought, princess.” He sucks stronger this time, groaning into you as he feeds. “Fuck, y’taste so goddamn good, love.”

“Every time y’let me drink yours— f- fuck—“

“Touch yourself, love.”

Obeying, your other hand slides down between the two of you, fingers finally meeting your clit. You lazily rub in circles, eyes fluttering shut with a blissed out smile. “Steve…”

“This turns you on just as much as it does for me, huh?” You always gonna be fucked out every time I drink from you?”

You nod, head in the clouds; the two of your hands continue to bump against one another every so often, setting off little grunts and whimpers. “Uh-huh…”

“Imagine h- how wrecked you’ll be when I…” His hips stutter as he continues jerking off. “… when I turn you. Might like sucking blood more than y’like sucking my cock.”

You gasp at his words, nodding wildly as he pulls back, looking down at you with devotion and desire.

“You doin’ okay, love?” Steve asks, shuddering, close to his high. “Can I- I- m’so close…”

When Steve finishes, he gently lifts your head up toward his, searching for any signs of distress. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

He nods, “No tingling or weird feelings like last time, right?”

“Right,” You smile, curling up next to him with a content sigh. “Can we take a bubble bath?”

“You’re half asleep,” Shaking his head, he chuckles, “I don’t want you to drown.”

“Says the guy who just stabbed my neck with his teeth.”

“Yeah, you’re fine. The sass is back.” Then he remembers, you had plans. “Hey, did you get to tell your friends you weren’t coming? Sorry for stealing your night, love.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “What’d I do?” He’s lost, assuming you’re babbling sleepily.

“Your eyes changed back. You didn’t lose control.” You’re falling into slumber fast. “I meant it when I said I trust you, Steve.”

He kisses the top of your head, arms holding you close. “I trust you, love. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Until then, he’ll cherish this complicated love between human and vampire; he’ll cherish you as you are now, before that becomes a mere memory once he brings you over to his side of life.

Eyes growing heavy, Steve whispers to you, now fast asleep, “I love you, too. ‘Til the end of time.”

#KJGDKGDKJGND #srb #comment rb

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thecreelhouse · 1 hour

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it’s okay to look back and realize you were in the wrong. it’s more than okay to realize you could’ve been more honest, more courageous, more empathetic. we can’t change the past or fix everything with a single apology towards ourselves or other people, but we can learn to make new choices that better suit our beliefs & values, choices that reflect our growth. keep moving forward, keep working on you. in case no one has told you today: i’m proud of your progress, proud of the person you are becoming.

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thecreelhouse · 2 hours

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meet cute: it's raining and I see your battered bleeding body lying in the mud and I kick it slightly to see if you're dead

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thecreelhouse · 3 hours

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me: feels like Death™️

also me: what if I did a fun lil project like refashioning an old dress into a romper just for funsies just a lil quick project why not

#like. that’s not a quick and easy project what am I thinking #am I gonna do it anyway? yup! why not! I’ll cry later it’s fine #house.txt

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thecreelhouse · 4 hours

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this one goes out to all you sickos on tumblr at 10 am on a monday

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thecreelhouse · 4 hours

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I've always liked analog horror but think that the subgenre's gotten boring. So to liven things up, here's tuesday_tapes, a sorta-anthological series taking place between 1996 and 2001 that's inspired as much by 90s Oliver Stone as it is by Local 58. Part found footage, part analog horror, all-American.

(the playlist so far)

#tuesday_tapes #analog horror #watchlist #q

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thecreelhouse · 4 hours

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pissing each other off as foreplay

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thecreelhouse · 4 hours

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hatefucking gator i’m. so totally calm about this.

obsessed with this part fjhdhdhshfbdjf

i am frothing i am foaming at the mouth i am losing my marbles good GOD

this entire thing has me sweating jesus christ

cold dry stone

gator tillman x fem!reader ┃ 18+, MDNI 3.5k

Revenge is a dish best served immediately and relentlessly.

cw: hate-fucking/revenge sex, references to infidelity. pretty much just blatant bullying of Gator ‘cos it’s actually sooo fun to be mean to him?? hand job, bareback piv sex, finishing inside (consensually, despite the dialogue)

What’s the opposite of a breeding kink?

Gator’s party was too fucking loud.

You weren’t even inside yet and you already regretted coming here. A veritable horde of trucks and cars and more than a few cruisers littered the gravel drive and lawn, parked haphazardly over the dying grass with no rhyme or reason.

The walls of the house practically shook from the bass of the music playing inside and the drunken revelry could be heard clear across the fields.

The elder Tillman was away for the week—off taking care of some vague and surely nefarious business—and now his pissant son was throwing a kegger while daddy was away, carrying on with his dumbass friends like a fucking adolescent despite his ripe age of nearly 30.

You wouldn’t have shown up in a million years if not under such extenuating circumstances.

The back of your neck still burned at the memory of catching your so-called fiancée naked in bed with someone who was very much not you.

The ensuing fight left you in a kind of fugue state— speeding recklessly along deserted highways, knuckles throbbing as you gripped the steering wheel with one thing on your mind: revenge.

There was no shortage of people Drew hated in this shitty little town you had both grown up in. And any one of them would have sufficed for your purposes. But you didn’t just want to get back at him. You had to destroy him. You had to humiliate him the same way he had humiliated you.

And no one said “humiliation” quite like Gator.

You spotted him as soon as you walked in the door—all 5’11 of his stupid frame leaning against the stone mantle; sunglasses sitting on the back of his head; arms bulging in that same black polo he loved to wear under his Sherrif’s vest; the tips of his fingers brushing those two slits shaved into his hairline he thought made him look so tough; sucking down a hit from that lime green excuse for a phallic symbol he never put down.

He was talking to some girl. A pretty little thing in a pretty little dress looking up at him all demure and coy with fluttering lashes and puckered lips. She was the exact type he always went for—all pliant and willing, taken in by the veneer of status and power afforded to him both by his badge and being the son of the most powerful man in town.

Tough break, hon. Maybe some other time.

Thumb and middle finger pinched together, you pushed them between your lips and blew.

Your shrill whistle rang out over the din, silencing the party save Gator’s godawful choice of music. Every pair of eyes in the room was on you now, including the round hazel ones you were after.

Good. The more people Drew heard this story from, the better.

“Let’s go, Tillman,” you barked.

With two fingers motioning in a succinct come here, you beckoned him forward and jerked your head in the direction of the staircase, heading up them before he’d even started to follow.

You made your way down the narrow hall, cracking open doors as you went in search of Gator’s room, shocked you couldn’t smell your way to whatever dirty hamster cage he slept in. Behind you, the clomp of his boots alerted you to his presence as he reached the top of the stairs.

“You can’t just whistle at me like a dog. I’m a fuckin’ deputy—”

The family pictures in their gaudy frames rattled as you pushed him against the wall, your forearm planted in the center of his broad chest. Your face assaulted his, neck stretching to kiss him, tongue pushing past his teeth into his mouth—the sting of bourbon tempered by the sickly-sweet taste of his Mountain Dew mixer and…something with a synthetic smokey flavor.

Was he just eating jerky? Seriously?

His hand came up to try and grip the back of your neck, but you slapped it away with your free arm as your other drove a bit harder into his pecks.

He whined into your mouth, a choked-up simpering sound that made your heartbeat pulse between your legs. You pulled back to look at him, eyes flickering over his face, his lips spit-slick and swollen, his chin bobbing like a chicken’s head as he tried to chase your mouth, eyes round and pleading. Desperate and messy. Perfect.

He flinched as you ruffled his over-gelled hair, snatching his sunglasses off the back of his head and tossing them away, letting them clatter on the wooden floor as they fell.

“It’s the middle of the night, you idiot,” you sniped. “Now where’s your room?”

Jaw clenched, mouth forming into a hard, thin line as he bit back what he wished he could say, he made a loud sucking sound with his tongue behind his teeth. He pushed open the door to his room and you yanked him inside, closing it back by shoving him up against it on the other side.

It was a sty, no surprise there.

Dirty clothes scattered across the floor, mixing with (clean?) ones spilling out of hampers. Empty pop and beer cans dotted every available surface, alongside bottles of e-juice that sat in sticky rings made by their own drippings.

Half-dressed girls cut out of skin mags were pasted up on the walls along with some wrinkled posters of movies and bands you liked a little less just because he enjoyed them. He really was just a teenager frozen in time, wasn’t he?

You tsked at him as you looked around, your voice ripe with judgment. “Think you oughta move out of daddy’s house one of these days?”

Gator’s eyes hardened. “He likes having me close by when we’ve got business to attend to.”

He’s clearly irked, getting that look in his eyes like when you would mock and goad and tease during recess in grade school, and challenge him to races he never, ever won.

Most everyone knew there was no love lost between you and Gator. You had always been a little extra mean to him growing up, probably as a retaliation for all the knowing glances and nudges and so-called “jokes” people liked to make about you two getting married someday.

If he hadn’t turned into such an insufferable ass along the way, maybe you would have.

The old Gator, the soft and gentle boy who was so desperate for kindness and love and approval and encouragement he’d never gotten enough of, was nothing more than an ever-fading memory now—snuffed out by Roy’s influence and all his hyper-masculine, abusive, racist, cultish bullshit.

You might even miss him if you thought there was a chance that side of him still existed. But every day that possibility seemed less and less likely.

He jammed a hand into his cargo pants pocket to retrieve his vape, probably trying to recover some vestige of his dignity; or to pretend like he hadn’t been totally at your mercy since your whistle.

Mid-pull, you snatched the lime green machine out of his hand and stuffed it down the front of your dress so it rested between your cleavage.

He started to whinge in protest, only for you to cut him off with a harsh kiss, punctuated with a punishing bite to his bottom lip.

“You’ll get it back if you make me come,” you burred, fingers now making fast work of his belt.

Once it had been pulled through the loops and tossed to the side, your fingers curled around the waistband of his pants and you hauled him over to the bed. The ancient metal frame creaked in protest as he landed on it with a bounce, his legs spreading wide and eyes flashing with need.

He would never admit to this, but he loved how strong you were—the way your arms rippled when you threw him around, the latent strength built up by a lifetime of farm chores. If he had it in him to struggle or fight back a little, it might not be so easy for you. But he never did.

“Get undressed,” you said as you stepped out of your shoes, gaze as bored as your tone.

Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, he clumsily started stripping off his polo, toeing off his boots, and tugging down his pants and the briefs he wore underneath.

They pooled around his ankles and he leaned back on his elbows to kick them away, smugness now polluting his face. He smirked up at you, eyes flitting between yours and his substantial length that flopped across his thigh, as though waiting for your awed reaction.

He was an impressive specimen, as much as it pained you to admit. But you sure as shit weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of confirming it.

You tilted your head, studying it quietly.

“I remembered it being bigger.” You shrugged as Gator’s face fell. “I guess it’ll do.”

His cocky smirk disappeared, now looking all sour and deflated as he went to pull his white singlet over his head. You placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back to lay flat.

“Leave it,” you told him, tugging the hem back down. You much preferred the way his muscles bulged out of the too-small tank more than you liked the sight of his bare chest.

He licked his lips and nodded, jaw going slack as he watched you drop to your knees, the spread of his legs widening to accommodate you as you knelt on the floor between them. A shudder ran through him as your hand wrapped tight around his length and you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, the pool of saliva you’d collected there dribbling out all over his cock.

The tip of your tongue just barely grazed his slit that was already leaking and he moaned deeply at the feeling, knowing it was as close as he’d ever get to you sucking him off.

Your hand curled around him and began to move in a slow, even stroke. It was perfunctory. Totally emotionless. Gator couldn’t stay hard unless he got jerked off a little first—probably some kind of performance anxiety holdover from puberty.

Truth be told, you didn’t mind it so much.

You sort of liked watching him fall apart from nothing but your fist and spit. Making his brow scrunch and his mouth slacken, seeing him throw his head back and the muscles in his thick neck strain as he huffed and gasped out his labored breaths, cheeks puffing as he panted.

“Wh-where’s your ring?” he asked, his voice already weak and pitiful as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better view of the work your hand was doing.

“Bottom of the lake,” you said shortly, giving him a steady glare over your pumping fist.

“That why you’re here, then?” he grunted. “Cos you two had a fight?”

“Not a fight,” you corrected, hacking another glob of spit on his cock. “We’re done. Found him in bed with some floozy from the Family Fare.”

Gator scoffed. “S’that it?”

“Yes, that’s it,” you snapped back. “That not a good enough reason for you?”

“Just seems kinda harsh s’all. It’s not like you and I haven’t been—ah-ah-ahhh!”

Your stroking ceased abruptly, a mean glint in your eye as you closed both fists around him and started to twist—not unlike the burns you used to give his arm on the playground.

“That’s different,” you seethed through gritted teeth. “We didn’t get caught.”

Gator whimpered at the harshness of your touch, his abdomen flexing under thin white cotton as he squirmed. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he stammered. “You’re right, you’re right.”

“Damn fucking right I’m right,” you grumbled, releasing your hold on him.

With a couple of strained gasps, Gator struggled to regain his breath as you got to your feet and began to drag your panties down your legs.

He was hard as a rock now—no surprise there.

He pushed himself up to lay on the bed, his toes already curling over as you climbed on top of him. You straddled him at the waist, knees bracketing his hips as you lifted your dress.

His eyes strained in the dark for just a glimpse of you, watching hungrily as you bunched your skirt in one hand and made a few cursory swipes across your clit with your other.

“Suck,” you instructed as you brought your fingers to his lips, request redundant as he was already eagerly taking all three into his mouth.

He mewled around them, licking sloppily at the wetness there, the tang of your arousal covering his tongue. Bullying him always got you riled up in a way you never fully understood.

Fingers now thoroughly coated in a mix of your slick and his spit, you reached down to align him with your entrance. His cock twitched excitedly in your hand as you rubbed his head through your folds, and he made a sniveling sort of noise as you began to lower down onto him.

His hands came up and he reached for your chest only to be slapped away as you sank further, your body stretching to take him in until he was seated fully in your heat. The slow and deliberate grind of your hips had him squirming under you already, whimpering at the sensation as your walls squeezed around his shaft.

Letting your head tip back and your eyes flutter until they closed, you lost yourself in the rhythm you set rocking back and forth on his cock.

Tentatively he reached out again, this time aiming for your hips, and you surprised the both of you when you let his hands settle there to hold you.

He was nearly silent, emitting only a few soft grunts and quiet huffs of pleasure as you rode him at this punishingly slow pace. He could be such a fucking jackrabbit sometimes, it was like pulling teeth getting him to bend to your will and go at your preferred speed.

But he was behaving surprisingly well this time.

For a moment, it didn’t even feel like you were fucking someone you hated. It was as if Gator wasn’t the one under you at all. At least not the Gator you’d despised for most of your life, but a good Gator. A Gator who listened to you and cared about you and did whatever he could to—

“That’s right, you love that dick, don’t ya?”

The sound of his voice effectively shattered the illusion you’d built in your mind, and you felt your eyes narrow as they snapped open, reality rushing back in. Below you, Gator was totally unphased, lips still quirked and his brow raised as if expecting praise. Idiot.

“Feel’s good, eh?” he asked.

“It did,” you hissed at him. “Until you opened that stupid mouth.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged with a knowing smile as his fingers tightened briefly on your hips. “I think you like my stupid mouth sometimes.”

Well…he’s got you there.

And the thought, unfortunately, has a wave of arousal crashing through your body that Gator can now feel gushing around his cock.

You slid forward roughly in retaliation, rolling your whole body against his as you started to fuck him harder. The motion and shift change made Gator suddenly buck up from underneath you, sending a jolt through your core. You glanced down at his face, all scrunched up like he was in pain, biting down on his bottom lip to hold himself together, even though you knew it was taking everything he had not to blow now.

“Don’t you dare come in me, Gator,” you warned, the grind of your hips still speeding up. “You keep your dirty fucking seed to yourself, you hear me?”

His long fingers squeezed harder at your waist, digging into your flesh like he was trying to bruise you through the thin material of your dress.

He started pushing you down to meet his thrusts as he in turn fucked up into you. Sweat beaded on the ridge of his strong brow, his rosy lips parting in a gasping moan. He threw his head back, the muscles in his neck flexing under freckled skin.

If he wasn’t such a tool, he might be handsome.

The lewd sound of slapping flesh filled the room as you worked up to a bounce to meet his thrusts. You leaned forward to brace yourself on his chest, a low moan escaping as you gripped the material of his white tank in your fists. He smirked at you, that insufferable smugness returning when he heard the sound you tried to hide and failed.

“Don’t you fucking smirk at me,” you sneered. “You think I want your melon-headed spawn? Think this town actually needs more of your godforsaken DNA in it?”

With a mean sneer of his own to match yours, he planted his feet on the bed and gave himself the leverage he needed to slam upwards inside you. The unforgiving punch and drag of his cock along your walls made you keen and grasp more desperately at his shirt, threatening to rip it apart.

“Whas the matter, hon?” he asked, his smile all teeth. “S’not me making you feel so good, is it? Can’t be—cos I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing? Right?”

He punctuates each word with an especially deep thrust and you hate how close he’s got you now.

You push back against him, returning each thrust with a squeeze of your walls. Everything else falls away as he strokes that spot inside you hate him for reaching. Especially now, as you’re going to come and you know he can tell.

With a guttural groan and making the ugliest face he’s pulled yet, Gator’s spend spilled out of him. The warmth of it flooded your whole body—never more grateful for the IUD you made that special trip out of state to get placed. Your body was still radiating from your own orgasm, all that tension and rigidness in you loosening at last like spaghetti finally starting to cook.

“Fuck, Gate…”

A languid sigh tumbled past your lips and your body slumped forward, limp and exhausted. You were closer to him now, hands still on his chest to keep yourself up, not quite laying against him, but close enough so he could slide his large hands up and down your back in a soothing rub.

“Oh, c’mon now, tough stuff,” he teased from beneath you. “Don’ tell me yer goin’ soft on me?”

“Only one goin’ soft is you,” you snapped, arms trembling as you pushed yourself up so his dick could slip out and flop over, slick and spent.

His hand came up and caught your face as you started to move off him, stilling you as he cradled your jaw in his wide grasp and a calloused thumb brushed across your soft cheek. And even though you knew he couldn’t, it almost felt as though he could see the faint remnants of tears that spilled there—the ones you despised yourself for letting fall; the ones you’d scrubbed from your face until your skin was raw and dry; the ones that made you feel so weak.

You withdrew from him, swatting his hand away as you climbed off him and the bed, ignoring the way his head had started to lift to kiss you.

Silently, he watched you gather yourself to leave.

The straps of your dress hung loose around your shoulders and you made no attempt to straighten the crooked bust or to fix your smeared mascara.

You picked up your shoes, but you let them dangle at your side, planning to stop at the front door downstairs to put them on—smiling out at the party, letting everyone get a good, long look. A big you-sized middle finger to Drew.

“Wait a minute—” Gator said suddenly, his voice hoarse and strained.

You paused at the words and glanced back at him over your shoulder. He sat up further, the heaving in his chest having started to slow, his eyes shiny in the harsh blue light of his computer monitor.

He gulped, inhaling a shaky breath as you arched your brow at him.

“Vape?” he asked, his gaze flitting to your chest.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you sauntered back over towards the bed. You leaned forward on your fists, his lumpy mattress sinking under them as he scooted closer and you kissed him. Sweet and soft this time.

Far nicer than he deserved.

He breathed into it, sucking you down as desperately as he did those strawberry-kiwi flavored hits, his hand coming up to finally, finally palm the breast you’d refused to let him touch.

So distracted by the kiss, he didn’t notice you slipping the lime green device from the front of your dress. You pulled back from his face, grinning at him now all sly and catlike.

And flung it straight out his open window.

#also the ending in cackling like gator’s vape hate club nation RISE #god damn this was so fucking good #fave fics

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thecreelhouse · 4 hours

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👀👀 not gonna name names but SOME of u are sweet and kind and deserve the world and i am rooting for u

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thecreelhouse · 4 hours

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thank you so much!!!! 😭 ik this isn’t the most popular concept in this fandom, so your comment means so so much 🥺🫶🏻 thank you sm for reading, i’m so glad you enjoyed it pal 💜

pray, but heaven won’t let you back

Paring: vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

WC: 3k

this is a modern vampire AU! can (kinda) be read as a standalone, but it’s a follow up to love’s the death of peace of mind and the bitter and the sweet.

A/N: i will never get sick of vampire!steve, so here’s another lil fic based off this post i saw earlier lmao. song title & lyrics are from worship - ari abdul. enjoy babes <3

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It took one close call for Steve to become rigid, self discipline at its height in your relationship.

It took one close call to set your desire in stone; you wanted Steve to turn you, wanted to join him in an eternity of a life you once believed wasn’t real.

Maybe you were foolish to believe this love could last; this all started with a Halloween party hookup, after all. Just another pathetic mortal that fell prey to a vampire’s charm.

While you’re fixing your makeup, wrapped in a long, silky, dusty rose robe, Steve walks in; he’s surprised to find you not only up and out of bed, but all dolled up, too.

“Hi.”

He holds his breath while crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for a follow up with an expectant smile; it falls flat when you continue to ignore him.

“So… going somewhere?”

You still won’t look at him, another response multitasked as you work on your eye makeup. “Uh-huh.”

Now, you’re planning on wearing it for the first time while out with your friends, and not him. Jealousy bubbles up within him.

“Your observational skills are great, Steve.” Your response is so harsh; even you feel bad for giving the frost right back to him.

“Thought you’d save it for one of our date nights,” He grumbles, like a child. You finally glance over at him, eyes narrowing as they meet his.

“What, do I need your permission to wear it?”

“No, don’t twist my words.”

A groan slips out of him as two things push to the front of his mind:

He’s painfully aroused, tenting in his tight pants, in need of relief.

That, and the bloodlust he’s been fighting since that close call is back, full force.

“Steve—“

Pushing through the haze of desire, you glare at him. “Steve, enough.”

“Oh, c’mon, since when are you not into—“

“I said enough.”

You’re trying to steady your breaths as you hold a cold stare with him; his features falter, hands releasing you before stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” Any and all confidence is thrown out the window as he shrinks under your vexed gaze. “I- I— I’ve just— fuck. I fucked up, alright?”

“You can’t do this shit, Steve. You can’t touch me when you want then leave me alone like nothing matters. I told you I’m not afraid of you, I trust you.”

“Yeah, and I cracked any trust by losing control—“

You try to keep him with you, asking softly, “Make it up to me?”

“You want to.”

“Doesn’t m- mean I should.” Steve is so conflicted; he wants this, he needs you. You want him, you need him, too. But it’s a risk with the odds against him.

“I’m giving you the green light, Steve.” You kiss his forehead, then his cheek, leading to his lips. Before you kiss them, you murmur, “I trust you.”

Steve searches your gaze for any doubt, any signs of faltering or second guessing; there’s only certainty and adoration. You nod softly, encouraging him once more.

In a flash, you’re thrown to the pillows at the top of the bed, landing on them with a surprised laugh. Steve crawls above you, with a warm smile of his own, despite the red in his gaze.

“You’ll stop me if—“

“Yes, yeah, just—“

Stealing the spotlight from your answer, he tests the waters by sinking his fangs into your neck, ever so slightly. You gasp, arching up into him.

Here comes the possessive attitude you always crave.

“N- no, don’t want anyone else but you.”

He’s lapping at the blood now, sucking intermittently as it flows out. He’s in such a heady daze, beginning to whimper into your skin.

“S’what I thought, princess.” He sucks stronger this time, groaning into you as he feeds. “Fuck, y’taste so goddamn good, love.”

“Every time y’let me drink yours— f- fuck—“

“Touch yourself, love.”

Obeying, your other hand slides down between the two of you, fingers finally meeting your clit. You lazily rub in circles, eyes fluttering shut with a blissed out smile. “Steve…”

“This turns you on just as much as it does for me, huh?” You always gonna be fucked out every time I drink from you?”

You nod, head in the clouds; the two of your hands continue to bump against one another every so often, setting off little grunts and whimpers. “Uh-huh…”

“Imagine h- how wrecked you’ll be when I…” His hips stutter as he continues jerking off. “… when I turn you. Might like sucking blood more than y’like sucking my cock.”

You gasp at his words, nodding wildly as he pulls back, looking down at you with devotion and desire.

“You doin’ okay, love?” Steve asks, shuddering, close to his high. “Can I- I- m’so close…”

When Steve finishes, he gently lifts your head up toward his, searching for any signs of distress. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

He nods, “No tingling or weird feelings like last time, right?”

“Right,” You smile, curling up next to him with a content sigh. “Can we take a bubble bath?”

“You’re half asleep,” Shaking his head, he chuckles, “I don’t want you to drown.”

“Says the guy who just stabbed my neck with his teeth.”

“Yeah, you’re fine. The sass is back.” Then he remembers, you had plans. “Hey, did you get to tell your friends you weren’t coming? Sorry for stealing your night, love.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “What’d I do?” He’s lost, assuming you’re babbling sleepily.

“Your eyes changed back. You didn’t lose control.” You’re falling into slumber fast. “I meant it when I said I trust you, Steve.”

He kisses the top of your head, arms holding you close. “I trust you, love. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Until then, he’ll cherish this complicated love between human and vampire; he’ll cherish you as you are now, before that becomes a mere memory once he brings you over to his side of life.

Eyes growing heavy, Steve whispers to you, now fast asleep, “I love you, too. ‘Til the end of time.”

#fr your comments have always made my day you’re so sweet 😭#i’m hoping to maybe write one more part eventually 🫣☺️#srb #comment rb

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