#and i thought maybe Steve could relate

[oatmilk-vampire]

Birthday Blues

Read part 2 here.

Steve hates his birthday.

He knows he may not be the only one who gets "birthday blues" but he feels like it's a lot deeper than just the blues.

When he got closer with Eddie and learned of his own shitty upbringing, he thought it'd be a bonding moment for them. Eddie has to hate his birthday too, right?

Wrong.

Despite Eddie’s mom dying when he was only six, and Eddie’s dad being a deadbeat, leaving Eddie on his own before Uncle Wayne took him in, Eddie loved his birthday.

The Munsons may not have been rich but Wayne always did his best to provide Eddie with new(er) clothes, or dice, or guitar picks. A new album or poster for his bedroom walls. Maybe even his favorite food at the diner--something they didn't do often as they usually survived on box cereal and spaghetti-Os.

And when Al Munson finally rolled into town conveniently around his only child's birthday, well he'd give the sort of shitty, low-commitment gift only a father could give.

And Eddie looked forward to it all the same. One or two shitty presents in six years is better than none when it comes to his father. He'd take what he could get.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes and goes and Steve gets invited to his and Wayne's get together with the kids, and then a later party with the members of Corroded Coffin--well of course Steve goes. And he showers Eddie with love and meaningful but still kinda pricey presents, because he can. And he wants to. Despite the merciless teasing he endures. The look on Eddie's face makes Steve feel like he's the one that got the greatest gift of all.

This, of course, all falls apart when Eddie points out Steve's own birthday must be coming up, and he's right. And because he has no tact he announces in front of everyone who realizes in horror that they've gone years of knowing Steve and celebrating his birthday exactly zero times.

Steve's equally horrified now because now everyone is tripping over their feet desperately trying to make it up to him with cakes and ice cream and movies and handmade cards and weird action figures Eddie probably would have liked better.

It's only after Steve gracelessly accepts all of their gift-giving, and fends off at least three panic attacks and two migraines that he has to put on his bitch voice and scream that the only thing he wants for his birthday is to be left alone.

And like usual, the kids do not listen.

Until Eddie steps in. He makes them go, Robin too, even if she is pissed about it. But they go when Eddie assures them that Steve probably just feels a little overwhelmed right now and needs some space.

He's close to leaving too, knowing he may have made a mistake and should probably get out of his hair... But then Steve starts crying and Eddie has to stay.

It's not loud or ugly, just these little, tiny pitiful things like Steve is trying his damnest to not cry. Like the act of tears falling would kill him.

Eddie cautiously slides next to his shaking form on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much.

He bites his lip as he experiments with placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve tenses under his touch until Eddie speaks,

"Stevie, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. None of us did."

His parents were hardly around. Never gave him practical toys he wanted, just whatever they thought a boy should have to shape him into a "proper young man", if they thought he needed toys at all. No parties. Ever. He briefly wanted to throw ragers when he realized he was old enough and his parents wouldn't be home, they never were, but those made him feel even worse so he got used to spending the day like any other. All alone in a big, empty house. Not a home.

Eddie continues to rub soothing circles into Steve's back as he lets it all out, explaining his woes as best he can through a sore throat and runny nose. Eventually he pulls Steve into a proper hug-turned-cuddle until his breathing steadies and he isn't shaking anymore.

"I'm sorry." Eddie holds his breath, hoping it doesn’t trigger another panic attack.

"No--don’t be. Thank you."

"For what? Making you cry?"

"For caring enough to bring it up, even if it was a lot. But mostly for being here, after. Just..."

Steve didn't have to finish his sentence. Eddie knew what he was trying to say.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for loving me.

"Always, Stevie. I'll always be here for you."

Steve squeezes him, and Eddie squeezes back once, twice.

He doesn't say it, but Steve understands.

Happy Birthday... I love you.

[libraryofgage]

so i wrote this yesterday and now it's become a whole thing

basically: Steve is actually smart but nobody realized it until he just fixes their various STEM related problems

anyway this is Eddie's very first experience with how smart Steve Harrington actually is

also please don't call me out if my physics explanations are wrong. just suspend your disbelief, i'm begging you lmao

also also, if you see any typos, no you didn't

---

"You're going to fail my class, Munson."

"Gee, no need to sugarcoat it," Eddie mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets and avoiding Miss Chester's gaze. His eyes land on one of the posters behind her desk, a cat hanging off a tree branch. Maybe it would like to trade places.

Miss Chester sighs, looking pointedly at the desk closest to hers. She waits until Eddie sits on it, legs hanging over the edge. "I'm serious," she says. "You're going to fail, Eddie. I don't want you to, but there's just some...disconnect happening here."

He appreciates that she's not totally blaming him. Most of Eddie's other teachers would've been berating him for his laziness by now. This, among other things, is why Eddie likes her class even if he can't wrap his head around physics at all. "I don't know, Miss. It just doesn't make sense."

"So I'm noticing." Miss Chester leans back in her chair, her finger tapping against her desk. Eddie immediately recognizes it as the drum beat from a KISS song. "You know you'll probably be held back if you fail, right?"

"Not the first time."

Miss Chester waves off his words, looking deep in thought. "What do you think about tutoring? I think you'll do better in a one-on-one setting. If you understand the concepts better, I can start grading you based on the work you do with the tutor."

"It wouldn't be you?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly. He's not sure he wants some random geek tutoring him. Not that he has anything against geeks, of course, but he's never known one to talk in a way he can understand. They get all...technical and Eddie's eyes glaze over whenever he overhears their conversations.

"No, I don't have the time. But don't worry," Miss Chester says, smiling reassuringly before pulling her roster close and looking down the list. "The student I have in mind probably knows more than me, if I'm being honest. He should be able to answer any question you have."

"What student?"

"His name is Steve."

Of course, Eddie immediately thinks of that Steve. King Steve. Steve "The Hair" Harrington with his blinding smile that's always looked a little strained in Eddie's opinion.

He then dismisses Steve Harrington as a possibility and reviews the other kids named Steve at Hawkins High. There's Steve Paulson, Steve Meyers, and Steve Barns. Maybe it's Barns? He's the only one that Eddie could imagine being somewhat good at physics.

"Are you open to tutoring?" Miss Chester asks. "For one session, at least?"

"Yeah, sure, one session. Won't help, though."

Miss Chester smiles like she knows something Eddie doesn't. Which, to be fair, she does. She knows a lot more than Eddie in terms of physics, at least. "I'll set it up. Just come by tomorrow after school."

--------

On his first day at Hawkins High, Steve realized two things.

One, his parents weren't kidding when they'd said public school would be vastly different from the private group tutoring he'd received up to that point.

Two, if he wanted to have a good high school experience, he needed to be cool. And being cool, it seemed, meant not being smart. He didn't need to be dumb, but he couldn't breeze through his classes, either.

He's done a good job of it so far. He's bored beyond reason in most of his classes, sure, but he's also popular. Nobody bothers him or tries to copy off of him, and it's great. He can even swallow down the weird surge of frustration and annoyance and guilt whenever his classmates assume he's too dumb to be a good project partner, or when his parents ask why he isn't enrolled in AP classes, or when his teachers give him confused looks after he aces tests for a unit he seemingly didn't pay attention to.

Anyway, he almost rejected Miss Chester's request to tutor a student from a different class period. He was just about to say he didn't have the time when she leveled him with a look so profoundly hopeful that he just couldn't. So, Steve said yes and now he's hesitating outside the physics classroom.

What if the student inside uses this against him? Steve thinks he could play it off, maybe convince his friends that the kid is lying, but he's not sure. Nothing dire would happen, but Steve would have to reorient himself to a new place on the social ladder, and that sounds exhausting.

"Just get it over with," he mumbles. Then, before he can chicken out and just leave the other student hanging, he opens the door and steps into the classroom.

Miss Chester isn't there. Steve knew she wouldn't be. She'd said something about a department meeting that would take her time but leave them with the classroom to themselves.

The only other person in the room is Eddie Munson, bent over a notebook and furiously scribbling on the page. He looks up when the door opens and freezes at the sight of Steve. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Eddie breaks the silence by asking, "What, get lost on your way to the locker room, Harrington?"

Steve blinks, frowns slightly, and takes a deep breath. Okay. Fine. Eddie Munson it is. "Nope. Miss Chester asked me to tutor you," he says, because that's the only reason another student would be in this room after school has let out.

Eddie laughs. He nearly falls out of his chair with how hard he laughs. He's wheezing and clutching the edges of the desk by the time Steve moves another desk to face him and sits down across from him. "Are you done, Munson?" he asks.

"Holy shit, you're serious," Eddie says, his voice slightly strained and his face red from laughing. "No fucking way Steve Harrington is here to tutor me in physics. You probably don't even know what two plus two is!"

"It's four. Do you know what 12 times 40 is?" Steve asks, watching as Eddie blinks.

"I'm not a fucking calculator, man."

"No, you're not. It's 480, by the way."

"You could've just memorized that."

Steve sighs and reaches into his bag, digging around some before pulling a calculator out. He places it on Eddie's desk and says, "Ask me something."

Eddie looks at him like he's grown a second head but still pulls the calculator closer. "1,239 plus 378."

"1,617."

He watches Eddie use the calculator, feeling smug when his face twists into confused disbelief. He then puts the calculator down and frowns at Steve. "So you can add, big whoop. Doesn't mean you can teach me shit about physics."

"Won't know until we try," Steve says, resting his elbow on the desk and propping his chin in his palm. "So, what don't you get?"

"...All of it. Just assume I don't know shit."

"You don't know Newton's laws?"

Eddie snorts, looking back down at his notebook. "There's that motion one and the reaction one," he says.

"Right. Newton's first law and his third. What about the second?"

"It's just...some equation or some shit."

Okay, Steve is starting to get an idea of where things stand. He thinks for a moment before asking, "What kind of stuff do you like?"

"What?"

"What do you like?"

Eddie looks so shocked by the question that he doesn't really think before answering, "Heavy metal. And, uh, D&D, too."

Steve knows heavy metal is music, and he could work with that but the D&D Eddie mentioned might be better. "What does it involve? The D&D?"

"It's a fantasy role playing game. Like, using your imagination to go on adventures with friends and stuff. Needs dice to work."

Oh. Perfect. "Do you have dice with you?" Steve asks. After another brief pause, Eddie nods and pulls one out of his pocket. He passes it over and watches as Steve turns it between his fingers. "Oh, an icosahedron. Cool."

"A what?"

"Icosahedron," Steve says, looking at Eddie. "It just means a twenty-sided polyhedron."

Eddie still looks confused, and Steve is about to explain it again when Eddie says, "Just call it a D20, dude."

"Oh. Sure. Anyway, let's use this," Steve says, rolling it between his fingers before letting it clatter to the desk. It bounces a few times before settling, a 17 facing up. "Do you know what made it stop moving?"

"The desk. I'm not an idiot, Harrington."

"I didn't say you were, Munson," Steve replies, leaning back slightly. "Just...yes, the desk stopped it. This is Newton's first law. If the desk wasn't there, it would have kept falling until it hit the floor. It stopped bouncing because it lost power each time it hit the desk. An object, the D20, will stay in motion, falling, unless acted upon by another force, the desk."

"That...kinda made sense," Eddie says, blinking a few times.

"Great!" Steve says, unable to help the bright smile at knowing Eddie understood him. "Okay, for the second law, the equation is mass times acceleration equals force. Basically, the movement of an object depends on how much it weighs and how much force you apply."

"Aaaand ya lost me," Eddie says.

"Okay, uh, you fight things in that game, right?"

"Yeah, kind of the whole point."

"Right, yeah, and the stuff you fight comes in different sizes, right?"

"Well, an orc isn't gonna be as big as a dragon, is it?"

Steve isn't really sure what an orc is, but he nods anyway. "Right. So if you want to move a dragon, you need to land a stronger hit than you would need for an orc."

"Duh. You're not gonna fell a dragon with a basic cantrip."

"Not sure what that is, but yeah. For this example, moving, or defeating, an object, or a dragon that weighs more than an orc, relies on how much force you apply, which is the strength you use."

"Oh. So, because an orc weighs less, I don't need as much force to defeat it," Eddie says, grinning as he fidgets with his pencil. "This doesn't really sound like math, though."

Steve shrugs. "We'll get to the math part later. Right now is basics. You need to understand those to do more complicated stuff. So, the third law, this is the action-reaction law. Music might be better for it. What happens when you strum a guitar?"

"It...makes a sound. Because it's an instrument."

"Well, yeah, but do you understand how the sound is being made."

"By...strumming it?"

"Yeah, that's part of it. Sounds are vibrations in the air that we can understand. If you touch your throat while talking, you'll feel your voice box, your larynx, vibrate to make the sound of you talking."

He waits as Eddie does exactly that. While holding his fingers to his throat, Eddie says, "Didn't know it was called a larynx. Oh, fuck, yeah, there are vibrations."

Steve nods, waiting patiently as Eddie hums for a few minutes before looking back at him. "So, vibrations. Instruments make sound because playing them causes vibrations. When you strum a guitar, the strings rapidly move back and forth, and that movement is translated into notes."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah, I'm following you."

"So, the action of strumming a guitar creates the reaction of the strings vibrating. That action of the strings vibrating creates the reaction of air rippling, and those ripples create the reaction of audible noise. Did that make sense?"

"Yeah. It did," Eddie says, his voice soft as he stares at Steve like he's really seeing him for the first time.

Steve shifts uncomfortably, unused to this aspect of himself being known so well by someone at school. He's almost tempted to end things now and apologize to Miss Chester for walking out halfway through a tutoring session. Steve is practicing the apology in his head when Eddie says, "Hey, by the way, sorry for earlier."

"What?" Steve asks, trying to blink away his confusion and failing.

"You know, earlier, when I laughed at you? Pretty shitty of me to do. So, yeah, I'm sorry."

"Oh." Steve stares at Eddie for a few seconds before his shoulders relax. "It's fine. I'm not exactly known for being smart."

"Why not?"

"It's just...easier to let people think I'm dumb. Most of our classmates look at me and think I'm just, you know, a typical jock. They don't expect more from me than that, and I don't expect them to look any deeper."

"Does anyone else know, though?"

"My parents and the teachers. And you."

"Well, don't worry, big boy. Your secret's safe with me."

"Big boy?"

"Don't like it? Would you prefer Stevie?" Eddie asks, grinning as he leans in and exaggeratedly waggles his eyebrows at Steve.

Steve can't help snorting at the sight. "Whatever. Just call me what you want, Eddie," he says.

He tries to ignore the weird swooping in his stomach when Eddie's smile gets wider and he says, "You better not regret it, Stevie."

[buckysgrace]

Chemistry

Steve x Stepsister!reader

Kinktober 2024

You're home when Steve comes back after stumbling into something odd.

CW: Pseudocest, dubcon, sex pollen, unprotected sex

The movie had started to bore you some time ago, slowly turning into background noise as you flipped through your book. But even that couldn’t hold your interest. 

The house was too big for one person, especially on this specific night. You were creeped out, or maybe that had been because of the scary movie you’d watched earlier. You had thought about snooping through the house again, but the last time you had found things of Steve’s that you hadn’t wanted to see.

Living with him was awkward, worse than you thought it would be. You’d known him your whole life, just as a stranger. And he still continued to treat you like one. Like you were somehow to blame for his father cheating and marrying your mother. People might’ve said he had changed but you knew the truth, he was still a dick. You had no control of it, but he still pointed the blame at you. And he had the audacity to say that you were the spoiled one. 

You had hoped things would be different, as you were both in the same boat. No siblings, no cousins or anything. It had always just been you and your mom and you had hoped that Steve would relate, that maybe you could bond over it. Having a big brother seemed fun, but he wasn’t interested. He didn’t even want you as a friend. 

You almost ignored him when he pushed the door open, easily telling by his body language that he didn’t want to be messed with anyways. But the sight of him made your book fall from your fingers, banging onto the floor as you quickly stood. 

“What happened to you?” You gasped in horror, eyes widening as you walked around the couch, “Steve, you look terrible.” You told him seriously, just briefly taking in the Band-aids that decorated his face. 

“Nothing.” He scoffed as he shook his head, his hair flopping around as he gripped the railing and began to head up the stairs. You walked behind him, deciding that you shouldn’t ignore him. Not when he looked like this. 

“That doesn’t look like nothing,” You protested as you followed him, watching as he took two steps at a time, “Who did that?” You asked seriously, wondering if you should call the cops. Maybe he got mugged, but you had no idea by who. You had thought he was going to be with Nancy. 

“No one.” He spoke in irritation, flicking on the switch to his bedroom as he tried to shut the door behind him. But you were faster. You pushed it open with little to no protest from him as he stumbled back, looking exasperated. 

“Jesus,” You gasped as the light gave you a good look of his bruises and cuts, “Oh my God. Let me help.” You replied seriously, staring at the dried blood that lingered above his lips and below his nose. He had a nasty cut on his right forehead, along with his left cheek. His lips were swollen and cut up too. 

“I don’t need your help.” He replied as he turned his gaze away from you, brown eyes twinkling underneath his bedroom lights. You frowned. 

“You’re hurt,” You pointed out, “Just let me clean it up. It looks painful.” You added, gently moving your hand up to move his hair from his forehead. Looking at it closer did nothing to ease your worries. It looked worse close up. 

“I’m fine.” He snapped in response, tilting his head back as you dropped your head to your side. You decided that he didn’t get to be stubborn, not right now. He could hate you later, but you weren’t going to leave him like this. 

“Please,” You told him softly, “I’d feel bad if I left you alone like this.” You told him gently, heart hammering as he turned his attention back towards you. He observed you for a long moment, like he was debating his choices. Or just too tired to argue.

“Fine.” He grumbled as he sat on the edge of his bed, his jeans dirty along his knees and thighs. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what the hell he got himself into. But you didn’t press too much. 

You gathered up the little things that were available, then worked diligently. You were surprised he was true to his word, sitting still as you dabbed the wash cloth along his face. It still looked bad, but not as terrible as what you had originally thought. Once the blood was cleared, it didn’t look as gnarly. 

Your band-aids weren’t as colorful as the previous ones he had, but you hoped that they worked. A million questions raced through your mind, but you kept resting on one. Wondering if he was with Nancy. But you knew it was none of your business and it shouldn’t matter. 

“Are you alright?” You asked him as you pulled your hand away, feeling like he looked a lot better than before. But his eyes were dilated, dark and intense as he observed you. Part of you wondered if you had accidentally hurt him. 

“I think something’s wrong.” He replied roughly, flicking his tongue out to lick his bottom lip before he gulped roughly. You resisted the urge to touch him again, wondering if he was sick. Maybe he had a fever. 

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” You questioned him softly, “Steve?” You pried again, tilting your head patiently. He continued to stare, his chest rising and falling slowly before his gaze fell to your lips. 

Something in the air shifted, the atmosphere between the two of you growing so tense and quiet you could hear the grandfather clock ticking downstairs. You wondered if he could feel your heart beating, if he could see how your pulse was hitting against your skin. 

He leaned forward then, his long fingers falling against your neck as he tugged you closer. Your eyes widened, your lungs stalled as his lips fell against yours. Everything felt like it was falling in slow motion, the world around you stopping.

You expected him to be in pain, to be hurt from how sore and scratched his lips had been. But he didn’t act like that. His groans weren’t from pain, rather from want and need. You could feel it in the way he dragged his lips against yours, how the desperation and lust leaked from his touch. 

You felt like putty in his hands as he pulled you closer, sealing the gap between your bodies as his lips moved against yours more frantically. You could feel his teeth gliding against yours, his tongue dipping against the curve of your mouth. It was desperate, carnal. 

“Tell me to stop,” He said quickly as he pulled away, brown eyes filled with desperation, “Please.” He begged you as you still felt hazy, your mind mingling from the leftover feeling of his mouth against yours.

You stared at the look in his eyes, how wide and crazed his pupils looked. You wondered if you just had that effect on him, or if it was something else. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. 

“I don’t want you to hurt.” You whispered softly, meaning your words fully. If this made him feel better, you’d willingly give yourself to him. He wasn’t related to you, nor were you really siblings. Your parents just happened to be married.

He inhaled deeply, his thumbs brushing across your cheeks as his eyes scanned your features again. He licked his bottom lip, groaning softly as he tilted his face towards yours again. You parted your lips, craving the feeling of him again.  

You had seen him kiss before, when Nancy was over or they were sneaking off at school. But he never kissed her like this. He was always gentle with her, soft touches and tender movements. 

The way he was holding you was rough, almost animalistic as he tugged you over his lap. His lips were harsh as he kissed you deeply again, his lips moving against yours tenderly but intensely. He held you like he was afraid you’d pull apart or disappear. You weren’t sure. But you didn’t want it to end.

His tongue fell against your teeth, licking away your spit as soft moans fell off of your tongue. His hands fell to your sides, then across your abdomen as he moved towards the buttons on your pajama shirt.

Your heart was beating so harshly in your chest that it hurt, but you ignored it as he pushed your shirt off of your shoulders. Your insides burned with desire as your hands fell to his chest, rolling your palms over his shirt before he pushed you back again.

You huffed as you fell onto your back, just barely getting yourself balanced on your elbows before he was ripping your pajama bottoms off your legs. You had never seen him in this manner before, so focused and intense.

“You’re so pretty,” He breathed out, expression filled with lust as his eyes scanned your body. You bit your bottom lip, feeling shy underneath his gaze, “God, honey. You look incredible.” He praised you, palms falling to your hips as he pulled you closer.

“Steve,” You started softly, feeling like you were in a trance. Or a dream, “Are you sure you want this?” You asked him seriously, feeling like there would be no going back after this. You weren’t sure you could stop after just having a taste of him. 

“Never wanted something so badly before,” He groaned as he began to grind his hips down against your thighs, “Please. Just wanna feel you. Just a bit.” He looked far too pretty as he rolled his head back, his lips parting as little moans fell from his tongue. 

“Okay,” You nodded your head in agreement, “S’fine.” You agreed with him, figuring it wouldn’t be too bad if you just touched a little bit. There was nothing wrong with that. 

His moans sounded heavenly as he pulled back briefly, just enough to shove his jeans and briefs down to his knees. Your eyes fell to the way his cock plopped out against your leg. His size was a bit intimidating, long and hard. His tip was a soft pink, precum leaking onto your skin as he shifted even closer. 

“Hurts,” He groaned as he wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving himself a little stroke, “Feels better now.” He panted as he nodded his head, reassuring himself as he thrust his hips forward. You felt like you were in awe, your mind fuzzy and warm. 

“You seem like you’re enjoying yourself.” You teased as you leaned forward, gliding your fingers over his slick cock. You gaped at the feeling, rolling your hands up and down the length of his cock. You liked how warm and soft his skin felt, how hard he felt against your fingers. 

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” He replied as he snapped his hips forward in bliss. He grunted as you felt a small smile forming on your lips, liking how desperate he was for your touch. 

“Am I?” You teased as you licked your bottom lip, enjoying the way he was grinding roughly against your hand. Pleasure was etched across his expression, telling you that he was enjoying it all too much. 

“Yeah,” He sighed as he gripped your knees, digging his fingertips into your flesh, “Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He apologized, voice breaking up as you wrapped your other hand around the base of his cock. You moved both of your hands together, spreading his slick from his tip to his base. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked him seriously, your clit throbbing as he continued to thrust his hips forward. You almost feared the answer, not wanting him to really say no. You wanted to feel him, to make him feel good.

“No,” He said quickly, desperation forming between his eyebrows, “Please don’t stop. You feel so good around my cock. Please, please.” He cried out, whining as he continued to thrust his hips forward. You licked your bottom lip, admiring the way his cock moved against your fists. 

“Do you like that?” You asked him softly, fluttering your eyelashes as he reached his hands forward and gripped your tits. You moaned at the sensation, gasping as he brought his fingers down against your hardened nipples.

He pinched them softly, earning a little moan from you as they hardened in the air. He reached forward, hovering over you before he spit onto your skin. You widened your eyes, feeling like you should be disgusted as he smeared it across your boobs. You weren’t. The sensation traveled down your body, traveling straight to your neglected clit. 

He groaned as he rutted his hips forward rougher, his balls slapping against your hand from how roughly he was moving. You felt warm inside as you watched him, wondering what he would feel like inside of you. 

“Let me fuck you,” He begged a second later, groaning as he rolled your nipples around between his thumb and fingertip. You continued to stroke him, ignoring the way your wrists were beginning to ache, “Please. I’ll treat you so well, little sister.”

Fuck.

“Okay,” You whispered, not really needing to think about it. You wanted him just as badly. You wondered if you bore the same crazed look in your eye, if lust was written across your expression in the same way, “I want you, Stevie.” You breathed out, glad that your parents would be gone for the next few days. It gave you less to worry about.

Your heart thumped roughly in your chest as he pushed your knees apart and dragged the tip of his cock across your slick folds. You whimpered softly as his leaking tip pressed against your swollen clit, leaving you rolling your hips forward slowly.

“Should we-,” You gulped, trying to collect your thoughts, “Should you get a condom?” You asked him seriously, thinking that it would be best if you were safe.

“I wanna feel you,” He exhaled, eyes dark and pupils shot, “Please. I want to feel you so badly. I’ll be careful. I promise. I wanna feel your cunt so badly.” He begged as he continued to grind against your slick pussy.

“Oh God,” You moaned at the feeling of his heavy dick against you, nodding your head urgently as you bit down on your bottom lip, “Okay. I wanna feel you too.” You admitted, gasping as he slid his tip against your leaking hole.

He moaned at the feeling, pink lips parting in bliss as he bullied his thick cock inside of your thick walls. You whimpered at the sensation of him stretching you out, his cock pressing deeper inside of you as you took a deep breath.

Steve’s hands fell to your fleshy hips, gripping you tightly as he moaned wantonly. His sounds filled the room, desperate and loud as he bottomed out inside of you. His balls were pressed against your slick skin, the tip of his dick nestled against the deepest parts of you. You had never felt so filled before, so stretched and stuffed.

“Steve,” You exhaled roughly, whimpering as you reached down to grip his wrists. This was wrong. So wrong, “Feels good.” You moaned instead, eyes drifting up towards his.

His cock was heavy inside of your cunt, buried snugly inside of you. He fit inside of you so perfectly, like he was a missing puzzle piece. You fought the urge to reach down and touch your clit, feeling how harshly it was buzzing. 

He flicked his tongue out across his bottom lip, his smugness hidden behind the lustful expression as he leaned over you. Your knees were pushed to your chest, squishing you as his lips found yours again.

He licked your lips before he kissed you, his lips pressing roughly against yours as he began to slowly rut his hips into you. Your mouth vibrated from his groans, his nose brushing against your skin as he pressed his weight on top of yours. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He apologized as his lips continued to glide against yours, whining as he began to rock himself into you. His thrusts were rough, rapid as his fingers dug harder into your flesh. He was gripping you so tightly that you were sure he was going to leave your skin sore, “Just feels so good.” 

Your body slid against the floor as he dragged you along the curve of his cock, your cunt leaking around his girth as he buried himself deeply with each movement. Your moans mingled with his as your nails dug into his wrist, clawing at him blissfully.

“S’okay, s’okay,” You promised, eyes rolling in the back of your head as his tip pressed against your bundle of nerves with each thrust, “Oh my God!” You whined this time, tone turning pitchy as your knees burned from the feeling of his weight over yours. 

Steve’s groans grew louder, whinier as he continued to rapidly thrust his hips forward. You could tell by the desperate look on his features that he was trying to hold himself back, trying not to lose control. But you wanted him to. It all felt so good. 

“I bet you did that on purpose,” He groaned as he buried himself deeper into you, “You wanted this, didn’t you?” He accused, moans rolling off of his tongue as his balls smacked against your skin.

“Feels good, so good,” You confirmed as you stuck your nails deeper into his skin, pleasure shooting up your spine at the way he was throbbing inside of your slick walls, “Don’t stop.” You demanded, not wanting the pleasure to stop. 

He pressed his lips together, a trail of blood falling from where his scratch had ripped open again. You leaned forward, sticking your tongue out to lick it away. He groaned as he held onto you tighter, his cock heavy against your walls as he stuck his tongue out to meet yours.

Drool fell from his mouth and onto yours as your tongues brushed against his. You curled your tongue around his, moaning at the sensation. You felt your clit throbbing, your walls aching as your climax grew near. 

“Let me cum inside you,” He whined as he rutted himself harder against you, like he was trying to get closer, “Please. I’ll make you feel so good.” He nodded his head, eyes meeting yours in desperation. 

“Wanna feel you cum inside,” You nodded your head, moaning in agreement at the thought of his spunk spilling from your walls, “Please, please.” You moved your hands up his arms, gripping at his clothes to tug him even closer.

His thrusts became uneven, deeper and sporadic as he rutted his hips against yours in desperation. He was whimpering, his sounds filling the room like a pretty melody as you knitted your fingers through his shirt. 

“Fuck, fuck!” He cursed, burying his cock deep inside of you. He gripped you tightly, crying out as his dick twitched inside of you, “Oh my God.” He huffed, whimpering as he continued to grind himself into you.

You moaned at the feeling, blinking your eyes slowly as a hazy feeling settled over you. You gasped as you rolled your hands across his shoulders, admiring the pretty look that filled his expression. He looked so handsome, so ethereal. 

You still felt like you were floating as he pulled his weight off of you, letting your legs relax for a moment as he slid his softening dick from your slick hole. You gulped, heart hammering as you feared he’d leave you like this. Pressed to the floor with his cum sliding from your cunt.

He dipped down instead, pressing your legs far apart as he buried his face between your legs. You cried out from the sensation as he kissed at your pussy, sucking on your folds and wrapping his lips around your clit. It was rough and soft at the same time, the sensation spreading up your spine. 

His tongue was hot against your clit, lapping at the sensitive bud. You cried out as you dug your fingers through his hair, whining as your hips moved on their own. Your body felt like you were burning, on fire as he spread your legs further apart.

He buried his face deeper between your thighs, his tongue drifting down your folds and to your leaking hole. He curled his tongue inside of your cunt, lapping at your walls and cleaning away his spunk. Everything inside of you was pulsing, twisting and churning in pleasure. 

“Steve, Steve -,” You chanted, whimpering as your head fell back against the floor. Your hips rutted up against his face, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue lapped at your spongy walls, “Fuck!” You cursed, shaking as you came with a cry.

You felt like you were floating, your body trembling as your pussy clamped down around his tongue. He kept a tight grip on your hips, keeping you from pulling away as you spasmed from underneath him. 

“Oh God,” You cried out, fingers knitting tightly through his hair as your clit throbbed from the overstimulation, “Feels so good.” You breathed out deeply, toes curling as he took one last long lap across your cunt.

“Tastes so good,” He groaned, wet lips sliding against your inner thighs, “You’ve got such a good cunt, baby sister.” He sighed as he dipped back down, taking another broad lick across your clit.

“Can’t,” You squeaked out, feeling like you might melt into the floorboards if he continued, “Too much.” You breathed out, gasping as you tugged his hair away from your sensitive bud.

He looked up at you, his eyes still filled with lust but his pupils were no longer as big. You pressed your fingers tightly together, looking at the mess of cum across his lips and chin. You crooned, wondering what he tasted like. 

He collapsed next to you a second later, his chest rising and falling in the same rhythm as your own. You didn’t touch him, didn’t turn your head to look at him as the shame settled over you. You didn’t quite regret it, but you knew it had been wrong. And you were fearful over his thoughts on this. You didn’t want to know what he was thinking. 

You both laid there on the floor, the room filled with the sound of the grandfather clock from below as you simmered in your shared mistake. There was no going back. 

[taintedcigs]

i slept with someone from corroded coffin and all i got was this stupid song written about me.

ROCKSTAR!FBOY!EDDIE X READER

summary: fooling around with a famous rockstar who's a notorious playboy sounds perfect on paper, until you catch feelings for him. that's why you decide to end things, to not get your feelings get hurt, and its all going perfectly, until eddie releases a song, written all about you.

warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising?, lovey dovey, kinda angst and arguments, drgs & alcohol mention, swearing? idk this is kinda cheesy n cute with a mix of fluff sprinkled honestly!

author's note: the indented parts are texts between steve and reader and thenn reader and eddie. they look confusing as fuck im sorry i just wanted to make them look unique but they look stupid. also yes. i patted myself in the back after i found this title (thank you fob). and yes the lyrics are inspired by i don't care im on a fob kick sue me! and ofc fboy!eddie isn't actually that much of a fboy bc if i can't write lovesick eddie ill die. this is super cheesy so i still struggled a lot but UGH. not proof-read ignore all mistakes

also credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts! (i changed them but still!) and @saradika for the dividers! pls like + rb + interact w me in anyway to support my writings!! ty!!

DINGUS sent you a spotify link. did you listen to this? yeah. its kinda romantic. no. the lyrics are insane. n all about u okay? are u at the party rn? yeah. u comin? soon he’s there too u already knew that, didn’t u?  false accusations r rude, steve.

You click your phone off with a groan, but he was right. You couldn’t stay away from him, and maybe, just maybe, this was your way of running into him, accidentally. 

Because ever since he released the song, the tabloids had gone crazy with it, half of the lyrics screamed you and all of the old headlines pointed at you, the mystery girl Eddie used to be seen with, and you really were growing tired of seeing your name next to “Munson’s new girl.” 

Because you weren’t his new girl, you weren’t his anything. He was a cocky asshole who was good with a guitar and was even better at fucking. And that was something both of you could relate to, the only thing you had in common with him. Or, so you thought. 

But of course, as with everything else, the things between you changed, you started staying over, he started staying over, and the two of you even went on fucking dates, disguising them under ‘we were just hungry, is all.’ 

You tried to keep up the cool girl act, like you could fuck someone and not catch feelings. Every inch of you itched not to care, to act like it was all fine, but it was all fucking bullshit, you cared, so fucking much that your chest ached. The more you got to know him, the more you fell for him, and the more you fell for him, the more you realized there was no fucking way this would work. 

Cocky rockstar who spent more time doing drugs than sleeping, with girls all over him? The imaginary red flag bells rang in your ear, even now. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and you knew that. That’s why you ended it two months ago. Or at least, you started ignoring him two months ago. 

Yet, he had been calling and texting you, wanting to meet up, drunken slurs of nonsense, gibberish voicemails, and yet you never answered, because if you did, you knew you’d be back to pathetically swooning over him.

Until today, just because of that stupid song, like it meant anything. That douchebag probably wrote songs about every girl he fucked. 

You weren’t special. 

Another ding sound from your phone almost startled you, the contact name made you groan even louder. “don’t FUCKING answer.” That didn’t mean shit. It was just something stupid to make you feel better that you couldn’t stay away from him, because you knew, deep down that if you really didn’t want him to contact you, you would’ve deleted his number, and blocked him. You were too chicken shit to do that, and still desperately wanted to hear from him. 

So you settled on that contact name. Like it made a difference, like it changed anything. 

DONT FUCKING ANSWER did you listen to the song?

Don’t fucking answer. The contact name should be enough to convince yourself that.

Too late.

                                                                   no. don’t lie to me, sweetheart.                                                                            why would i lie?

You sink into the couch, a much quieter corner of the party, not even bothering to socialize. Your brows furrow, index finger flying to your lips anxiously, as you chew on it to patiently wait for an answer.

You sip on your drink with a nervous gaze on your screen, barely noticing the way the couch sink further when someone else took a seat next to you. 

“Hi.” The gravelly voice pulls your attention away from the screen, making you set your drink aside as you look up, finding yourself face-to-face with him. 

Shaggy bangs cascade onto his forehead, and with your exaggeration, it looks longer than the last time you saw him. Black jeans cladded with chains. A graphic tee messily thrown over his heavily tatted chest, that you could still imagine right about now—pathetic. He looked just about the same, the deep dimple adorning his soft cheeks had seemed to disappear, wearing a scowl instead, that tiny voice in your head told you that was your doing, that maybe he was just as miserable as you. Maybe your feelings weren’t fully one-sided.  

Shit. 

“Eddie?” Squeaky, and annoying, you were sure that’s how your tone sounded, yet he didn’t seem to comment on it.

“‘m glad you remember my name, sweetheart,” he scoffs sarcastically, leaning further into the plush couch, elbow propped at the side, eyeing you with frustration. 

“W—what the hell are you doing here?” You stutter as if you weren’t expecting to run into him. Full of bullshit. 

“Did ya really think you could ignore me forever, huh?” He tilts his head slightly, almost expectedly, earning an eye roll from you. 

“I wasn’t ignoring yo—”

Eddie tuts quickly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cuts through the ambient noise of the party, “I thought we said no more lies, huh?” 

With a huff, “Why are you here, Eddie?” you mumble.

“Am I not allowed to party?” He banters, brows slightly raised, making you huff out an exasperated breath, your eyes bore into him, almost to signal him ‘Take this seriously.’

“I wanted to know what you thought.” He shrugs like it was normal to just come running after everything just to know what you thought of the song. 

“The song?” He nods in confirmation.

“Didn’t like it,” you confess, avoiding his gaze, but your brows betray you, lifting ever so slightly.

He tsks, shutting you off quickly, “You see that little quirk your brow did? That only happens when you lie, you can’t help it. You do that when I ask you if you ate the last pizza slice, or when I ask if you watched the next episode of the show we were supposed to watch together, or when you—” 

“Fine, fine! I liked it,” you groan, interrupting him and suddenly standing up from the comfort of the couch, being so face-to-face with him immediately making your nerves bubble.

“Just liked?” He tilts his head slightly, a smirk curving on his lips. 

A deep sigh of breath, “what do you want, Munson?”

He stands up with you, making you back away from him with a heavy footstep, the entire party was too loud and crowded, yet, in this stupid corner, it was just the two of you. “For you to admit that you loooved the song, and how much you missed me,” he sing-songs, taking a step closer to you, musky smell invading your senses, making you take a deep breath.

Both of you stand near the wall, and it should be awkward, it should be enough to make you leave, but all it does is draw you closer to him.

“You’re annoying.” 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t avoiding—” He tuts, with his stupid index finger up, rejecting your lie.

“I—I don’t know what you expected.” You shrug, so nonchalantly that his gaze narrows, chest aching with the implications of your words.

“We both knew this wouldn’t last forever, didn’t we?” You chew the inside of your lip to stop those tears that had been begging to flow ever since you listened to the song, wiping off that smirk on Eddie’s lips. 

“Would’ve been nice if I got a reminder, and not have been just fully ghosted, huh?” The brunette grumbles with a downturn of his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty, isn’t that what you do all the fucking time?” you snap, gaze narrowed, and arms crossed against your chest. 

“Fuck girls and then leave them? Did it crush your ego this fucking much that I did before you could?” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” He retaliates. 

“It means I was smart enough to pull myself away from your bullshit,” you rasp, disdain written all over your face.The room seems to shrink as the distance between you decreases. 

Another step closer to you, and you didn’t realize your back had hit the wall now. “My bullshit? God, that’s fucking rich, if I seem to recall correctly sweetheart, you were in this as much as I fucking was!”

“Oh, was I?” You bark out a chuckle, cruel, mocking, “I don’t remember being okay with you fucking half the city.” Realization of how bitter and jealous that sounds, dawns on you much later than the words leave your lips, and thankfully, Eddie’s too fucking immersed to realize the double meaning of your words. 

“Are you fucking kidding? No strings attached! Non-exclusive! That’s what you fuckin’ signed up for!” His voice echoes, mirroring his frustration, and you open your mouth.

But he doesn’t let you speak further, cutting you off sharply. “Is this all because of that new guy you’re seein’?” 

“What? What guy?” 

“The one who was all over you earlier,” he bites out, jaw clenched, and you can almost taste his bitterness in the air.  

“The same one you fucked at Jeff’s party.”

“Are you stalking me, Munson?” 

“Did you just want an excuse to end things? Are the two of you serious or somethin’?” His voice wavered between anger and desperation, gaze pathetically searching for yours, to gauge your reaction.

You scoff. Did he really think you’d end things because of a stupid fling you had which in the first place occurred just so you could forget him? He was so goddamn clueless it drove you insane. 

But what you didn’t realize was that you were just as clueless, if not more, because why would he write a song all about you, if this was just about sex? Because who would get so jealous of someone they didn’t care about? 

Say my name and his in the same breath.

I dare you to say they taste the same. 

The lyrics from his stupid song swirled your thoughts, yet you were still too stupid to see it, weren’t you?

Another step closer to you, a dangerous game the two of you liked to play. He smelled alluring, a fucked up mix of nicotine, his musky cologne, and that damn leather jacket. “Do you really think, he could compare to me, sweetheart?” 

Say my name and his in the same breath.

“Tell me he’s fucking better, and he’s actually what you want, and I’ll fucking leave, I’ll bury all the other songs I wrote, tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

I dare you to say they taste the same. 

And just like that, all the defenses you put up, all the times you ignored him, they are cracked, disappearing into thin air. You hate it, you hate that he has this effect on you, you can feel your mind getting hazier, eyes blinking rapidly to process what the fuck is going on, and his face is mere inches away from yours. You knew their names didn’t taste the same. And you knew he could never ever compare to Eddie.

“Tell me,” he encourages, dares you to. You fail to notice how much emotion his gaze carries, how the corners of his lips twitch, just at the thought of you finally admitting you don’t want him. His stomach turns at the thought, this is his last chance, he knows that, and he can’t fucking lose you. He can’t. 

And you don’t know any of that, but you knew, know that no one else could compare to him. And you hate yourself for thinking that, you hate yourself for falling for him, the world stops rotating on its axis when he’s in your peripheral vision, and it’s fucking disgusting. Pathetic. Stupid. Because you know the two of you have no chance. But here you are. 

“H—he is b—” Of course, your brow quirks up almost immediately, betraying you quicker than you can even attempt to lie. 

That dawning smirk appears on his lips again, it’s mocking, and just as much smug. You want to wipe it off of his stupidly pretty face. “Tell me,” he dares you, again. This time much cockier and confident, and you suddenly realize how small you feel under him.

“He isn’t,” your meek voice is barely audible.

And you don’t register the shaky breath he draws when the words leave your lips, giving him the confirmation he needs. You wanted him, he had no fucking clue why you ghosted him, yet you still wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you. 

Both of his hands were placed on the wall now, towering over you, making your breath get caught up in your throat. “Speak up.”

“No, fuck! You know he’s not, you know he could never fucking compare to you, you fucking know tha—” He shuts you up with a rough kiss, lips pressed against yours messily, letting the petty comments die down your throat. Because this is all he wanted, needed to hear anyway. 

“Up,” he grunts into the kiss, tapping your thighs, hoisting you up from your waist to help you wrap your legs around him, tight, he wants you at his mercy, locked to him. 

You wrap your legs around him, barely, the melty sensation in your knees making you so shaky that he barks out a laugh into your lips, holding you close, firm, the butterflies in your stomach traveling all across your body.

He lifts you up as if you are weightless, arms wrapped around you strongly as he carries you to the nearest empty bedroom, impressively without hitting your back anywhere, so roughly that your core throbs at the feeling of his arms around you.

“Baby,” he mutters as he lowers you down on the bed swiftly, smooth, gaze darkened and pupils blown wide, all the pent up desire waiting to explode. 

“Eddie,” you beg, shaky voice sounding purely angelic to his ears once he got rid of his shirt, shrugging it off with a huff, his fingertips grazing against your top, feeling your hardened nipples, causing gasps out of you, he’s quick to pull it over your head while you run your fingers up the grooves of his stomach, the tip of your fingertips almost burns everywhere you touch. 

He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, “missed thi-you,” he corrects himself, because that’s all he wanted anyways, you. 

He nips at your nipples, tongue good at giving attention to both of them, all wet and warm, making you squirm under his touch, you’re quick to get rid of everything else, leaving you in your panties, making him grunt. 

The pad of his thumb rubs against your left nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake, while his other hand travels down your chest, then your stomach, finally drawing circles when it stops between your thighs, ghosting over your panties before he tugs them down your legs, spreading them apart with a slight hum, pupils blown so wide that you can’t admire those chocolate hues anymore. 

He visually drinks in that sight of you, laid down on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re completely at his mercy and his chest aches with need. “So pretty like this f’me,” he coos into your chest, pushing his middle finger inside of you. Making you feel so good that you can’t stop the gasps coming out of your lips.   

Pleasure shivers through everywhere he sucks and touches, his finger eases into you when he adds another one, a moan escaping you quickly. “Need to be in here, sweetheart, d’ya have any idea how much I missed this?” 

You don’t. You don’t know about the sleepless nights, the drunken ones, the drug-induced ones in an attempt to recreate the high you gave him. It’s fucked up, it’s insanely toxic. Yet, he can’t get enough of you. 

His gaze upon you is dangerous, maybe it’s because he had missed you so goddamn much, or maybe because he didn’t know where this would lead, but it felt fucking sentimental, different somehow, and he could feel you, everywhere on his skin.

Your hips start rocking up against him when the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit, making you arch your back, whines, mumbles leaving your lips. And all he can muster is, “so goddamn beautiful, look at you whining for me.”

You can feel his bulge rub against your thigh every now and then, it’s distracting, almost agonizing. You desperately need it inside of you, you had missed him, missed his touch, missed the feeling of him filling you to the brim, you missed seeing his face contort in pleasure when he was inside of you, you wanted him to never forget you again. 

That’s why you feel so numb, can barely speak, and of course, Eddie notices, how unusually quiet you are, and he wants to make this unforgettable, just so you have another reason to come back to him. Just so you don’t leave him, just so you stay forever. 

“Gone too quiet on me, honey, tell me what you need,” he coos down at you, thumb still caressing your pussy, and all you can fucking do is chew down on your bottom lips, eyeing his bulge that was begging to get out. And he barks out a goddamn chuckle, “P—please, Eddie.” Pathetically leaves your lips. 

And normally he would make you beg, tease further, but he reaches to tug down his pants quickly, because fuck, he had missed you. And he can’t bear the thought of not being inside of you any longer. 

Thinking is not your strongest suit right now either, your brain is mushy, all the nights and days spent thinking about him, about this explodes into your body. Your pussy aches when you finally see his cock again, a sound of need leaving your lips as you eye his length, so big that pleasure ripples through you, especially when you see his gushy tip, glistening with pre-cum. 

You want every fucking inch inside of you, and Eddie’s more than ready to oblige, “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“Need you, Eddie,” you moan, all fucked out, his fingers slip in and out of you still, but it isn’t enough for him. He needs more, he craves your validation like he never has before. 

“God, you’re soakin’ my fingers, princess,” he grunts, wedging himself between your thighs, weeping cock drips onto your inner thighs, making you moan breathlessly. “Tell me exactly what you fuckin’ want, honey.”

“Eddie.” His name sounds like silk, even when it’s so lewd, Eddie decides, and it makes him let out an impatient huff. “P—please. Need you to fuck me.” It’s so goddamn desperate that you can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but it’s everything to him.

“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart,” he grunts, lining his cock through your entrance, coating himself in your slick, enjoying your mewls before he doesn’t hesitate to push his cock inside of you, inch by inch, relishing the way you cry out for him. 

Greedily, you rock your hips into him, making him let out a frustrated groan. “Have no fuckin’ idea how much I missed this greedy cunt, sweetheart, shit.” He thrusts in a few more inches, and breathless moans and babbles of his name fill the air.

“Suckin’ me right in, baby, fuck, you’re so pretty like this, mhmm.” His cock moves inside of you, and your hands are wrapped around his back, desperately clawing at it, the fullness making you want more, “you like that, baby, like bein’ full of me?” A heavy sound leaves his lips, pathetic and you pulse around him. 

“S’so good Eddie, and s’big,” you barely manage to let out, and he watches you with that burning amber gaze, thrusting all the way in without hesitation. Those plushy lips that hang open, that filthy mouth, the prettiest fucking features—you, were going to be the death of him. 

Maybe it’s because you had missed him, or maybe because you hadn’t experienced this in a long time, or fuck, maybe, just maybe that the song had created a new type of need between the two of you. Using sex as a sort of connection that the both of you desperately needed. But, shit, was it this different this time. 

He felt different—his lips, touch, skin as it slapped against yours, it was different. 

Full. You feel so fucking full that your back involuntarily arches against him, fingers clenching desperately, your screams and cries filling the room the more he plunges inside of you, deeper, hungry, and just as greedy as you. 

“Yeah, better than that asshole?” It rolls off his lips so bitter and jealous that you can barely register it. Not being used to this possessive side of him, and it’s glorious, especially when he’s pounding his frustrations and insecurities into you. 

“Mhmm, so much better.” You clawed at his back, every thrust of his hip making you feel higher and higher, mind filled with nothing but him. 

“So pretty like this when you say my name, sweetheart… so goddamn beautiful, and all mine, yea?” He wants a confirmation, and wants to hear you say it, his head ducking between your breasts again to kiss, taste, suckle them. Make sure he never forgets it. 

“Wanna hear you say it.” He hums, the vibrations reverberating through your chest straight into your core, cock plowed so deep inside of you that you can barely speak through your cries, hitting that sweet spot that every other asshole misses. 

You’re too scared to give him what he wants. But you feel him, everywhere, and you still want more, of course, you’re his. That’s all you fucking wanted anyway. Plushy lips shake as you gaze up at him, his amber hues are so sticky-sweet that you still struggle to process it, words come out in a ramble “All yours, Eddie.”

His mouth crashes onto yours roughly, desire coursing through both of your bodies, almost interconnected. “Shit, fuckin’ hell sweetheart, ‘m not gonna last long.” His thrusts are getting sloppier, yet you feel the ravaging desire coursing through your veins. 

“So perfect,” he murmurs, the kiss he lays on your lips just as relentless, not letting you breathe or think for a goddamn second, you’re so goddamn close.

And you wonder, how the fuck did you even go two months without this? Without him?

“Eddie!” You cry out once you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing against your clit, eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pure bliss overtakes you while you claw at his back, his body tenses, and cock flexes as he cums inside of you, groans and curses left in your hair. 

Minutes pass of you lying next to each other, breathless, processing everything that just transpired. And you should feel guilty, embarrassed, and should run to the hills for doing this with him again. 

But you’re obsessed, addicted. He’s like an excitement that you’re sure you’ve never felt before, running through your veins, like a fucking drug. 

Both of you get dressed in silence, the party booming outside is quick to bring the two of you back to reality, and out of the trance that he pulled you in. 

He breaks your bewilderment with a slight “Fuck.” Standing on the opposite side of the bed before he fully turns to you. “This wasn’t—I was supposed to talk to you.” He mutters, fingertips anxiously running through his tousled hair.

Caught off guard and awfully curious, you mumble, “About what?”

“The song…”

“I told you I liked it.”

His brow furrows deeper, and he shakes his head in frustration. “No, that’s not it—uh, did you not listen to the lyrics?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Your face searches his for some clarity, you take a step closer to him, the distance between the two of you was still awfully much according to him. “What are you asking of me, Eddie? Did you really think one song would just solve everything?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“W—what am I supposed to get Eddie? You wanna have your cake and eat it too! And I just can’t fucking do that, not anymore.”

“That’s—that’s not it!” His voice wavers, with urgency, and desperation in his tone. He takes a step forward, attempting to bridge the emotional gap, feeling so fucking frustrated that he wants to rip his hair out.

“Then fucking explain it to me!” You plead. 

“You want an explanation, fine! Fucking fine!” His frustration echoed through the room, pacing back and forth, making you take a deep breath. 

Was he… actually gonna do this? 

“You wanna know what the fuck I’ve been doing ever since you ghosted me?” He ran a hand through his hair, scared, gaze all mellow and vulnerable in a way you have never seen before. It makes your shoulders slump when you nod. 

“I go to those stupid Hollywood parties, meet asshole rockstars—the most interesting shit, yet somehow someway the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, might I add, and then I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about you the whole fucking day.” Your eyes widen, trying to absorb his revelation, yet he won’t stop rambling and you feel your chest tighten with each word, fuck, he’s finally doing it.

“I—I never—shit! I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but fuck, you came along, with that goddamn smile, throwing a manicured middle finger right in my face, a—and just put up with my bullshit.” His voice softened, and he couldn’t help but trace the contours of your face, to desperately know if you were on the same boat, and you look at him with such glistened eyes that his heart leaps to his stomach. 

“My world flipped upside down, and you have proven me, so goddamn wrong that I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore!” The tears almost welled in your eyes, because, fuck, there was no way this was real.  

You reached out instinctively, the corner of your mouth twitching uncontrollably. “E—Eddie, please… please stop saying things you don’t fucking mean.” 

“Things I don’t mean?” He gives you a breathy chuckle, ironic, and nowhere near funny. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching. “Do you think I like feeling whatever the hell this is? I fucking don’t, you have me acting like someone I’m so unfamiliar with, to the point where it scares me. All I can think about is you, you, you, because you occupy every single space of my mind.” Your eyes soften, the room seemingly pulsing with his emotions, making you feel hot everywhere on your body. 

He felt the same way.

Eddie felt the same way. 

“B—but fuck I’m scared, honey, I’m so goddamn scared,” He admits, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension before he’s at your side, calloused hands grabbing you by the shoulder, so softly that you melt into him.

“Because what if—what if all of this comes crashing down one day?” His voice trembles, gaze avoiding yours, he was scared, so goddamn scared of losing you. Forever. He doesn’t want that, he couldn’t afford that. 

“Just two months away from you fucking sucked. I didn’t—I don’t wanna feel these things, but you make it so hard not to.”  His forehead rests against yours, making you suck in a deep breath, it’s all so fucking sentimental, and all you wanna do this kiss him, tell him you feel the exact same way. Tell him about your fears. 

“And now I can’t fucking stop, fuck,” He confesses, admission punctuated by a frustrated sigh. 

“I wrote you a song,” he gently caresses your cheek, and you’re so scared to look up at him, to meet his tender gaze, because you know you can’t hold yourself back. 

“I came over to this party in a frenzy when I found out you’d be here,” he continued, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. “I—I just I haven’t even been able to touch another girl.” Your eyes snap open, you’re sure they’re almost heart-shaped now, with the adoration you look at him.

“And, do you actually fucking think I'd write songs for just anyone—” His question lingers in the air before you shut him up with a kiss, rough, sweet, and making Eddie feel dizzy all over, his head struggles to comprehend it all, breathless but he manages to react just in time.

The booming music becoming a mere background noise when he had you, mind swirling with all the possibilities and mouth begging to never stop tasting you. He wants to let you completely engulf him, feel you everywhere.

Everything he wanted and more.

He fucking hates himself for doing this, but he pulls away, mesmerized, eyes so wide that you can’t believe this is Eddie, he’s all flustered, salmon pink. And it makes a wider grin sit on your lips. “So… you—uh, what does this mean?”

You smile at him, lips widely stretching into a grin, as you shrug. “It means I feel the same, Eddie.” you admit, tone a tender reassurance. “That’s why I tried to shut you out… to try to move on, because I was scared—fuck, but I feel the same way.”

“So, does that mean we're dating now?”

“We can take things slow, figure everything out?” you mutter with a shy gaze, lips itching to twitch into a smile, again. “But I—uh—I like you, I really, really like you.”

“Gone soft on me already, sweetheart?” he mumbles with a stupid grin, making you elbow him softly, with an exaggerated playful huff. 

He’s quick to flinch, rubbing his arm as if you even delivered a powerful blow. “Ow—what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You think I’m going soft? You’re the one who wrote his feelings as an exaggerated love song!” 

He leans further slightly, his grin widening when you gave him those adorable eyes, finding you both equally amusing and endearing. “Oh… just you wait.”

You arched a brow, curiosity piqued, “What the hell does that mean?”

“The album is coming out soon, sweetheart. If you think this was an exaggeration, you should hear the whole fucking thing.”

That glint re-appears in your eyes just as quickly, gaze softening as you melt into his embrace.

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” You tease, scrunching your nose at him, so adorably that he leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto your hair.

He's an idiot, a total complete fucking idiot, but he's all yours.

[munsster]

Hi I just read fixer user and I loved it! I was wondering if you could do a part 2 💖💖

an act of true love

A/N: (your pfp made me scream and curl my toes) an unexpected amount of ppl rlly enjoyed this dynamic. i suppose i have found my people 🤭 (gif creds: @kingofscoops)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: In the dead of winter, there’s absolutely nothing that could keep you warm. After all, only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), mention of toxic ex boyfriend, cursing, gross flirting

Steve can hear you shivering through the receiver and your stuttered breaths crackling through the cord. You’re begging him to come over and fix your radiator in the middle of a snow storm. The roads aren’t closed yet, but a thin white powder blankets his front lawn and the top of his beemer and he can see the flakes whipping through the stream of light pouring from the streetlamp. So, he piles every blanket he has into his passenger seat and braves the drive to your house.

Does he know how to repair a busted radiator? No.

Is he determined to do anything you require of him? Every single day for the rest of his life.

He’s crouched by the window of your living room, looking for any telltale signs of wear or leaking. You’re standing just behind him, bundled in two blankets and holding a spare flashlight. He’s quiet as he tinkers, but your mind is racing watching his soft toned arms through his cream thermal and his back muscles working when he turns over his shoulder to glance at you with a dashing smile. You nod quickly when he says something, though you’re not exactly sure what.

“Sweetheart?” he coos, raising his brows when you recoil under his gaze.

“Sorry, I didn’t… I wasn’t listening,” you say with a chuckle. He grins, dropping his head in understanding.

“Sorry, I know it’s boring,” he says, “but has it been making noises or anything?”

“Oh, yeah! It kinda groans when I first turn it on and it sounds like it might explode for the first couple minutes. I guess I’ve tuned it out by now.”

“That’s probably not a good sound then,” he teases, turning back to the radiator with a puzzled look.

“No, probably not.” You shuffle off to the kitchen, setting a kettle on the stove and humming softly.

After half an hour of tinkering and a roll of tape, Steve stands and wipes his hands on his jeans.

“That should do it! It’ll probably take a sec to heat up again,” he sighs, and you emerge from the kitchen, balancing two hefty mugs brimming with whipped cream. “Ooh, what’s this?”

“Hot cocoa. Secret family recipe,” you tease. In actuality, it’s just the standard package of chocolate powder and sugar. The secret lies in the healthy dash of cinnamon you mix into it.

“Secret, eh? Guess that gives me a reason to come see you more often,” he hums, following you to the couch and taking one of the mugs from your hands. It warms him up nicely, and he knows you gave him the bigger mug on purpose when you smile triumphantly. He takes a sip, moaning at the sweetness. You giggle at the whipped cream kissing his top lip.

“I hope I’m reason enough,” you say with a faux pout. He sits close enough to share the pile of blankets with you, your thighs pressed against one another in the captured heat.

“Duh, you’re the main attraction,” he huffs, “Your hot chocolate is like the flashy side show. It’s pretty neat but not quite as cool as the reason you bought the ticket.”

You giggle into your mug, face hot in the bellowing steam. Or because of his dimpled cheeks. Or the way his eyes swoop over your face. Or maybe the way he came rushing to your rescue in a storm without a second thought.

“Any new Brad-related developments? Or is he still giving you shit?” he says, swallowing a warm gulp of liquid chocolate.

You groan, head lulling back against the couch. “He keeps calling to say I’m a cold hearted bitch and then immediately hang up. I think he forgot that he’s the one who broke up with me.”

“Right, right. Why’s that again?”

“Something about his family’s values. And how he hates my friends,” you say, “I just remember getting mad because he seemed so jealous and mistrusting. Honestly, in hindsight, he was really childish about the whole thing.”

You shrug it off, but it snaps his heart in two all over again. He doesn’t even want to know the gorey details because he knows it’ll boil his blood. Just knowing that asshole said something like that to you makes his fists ball up in frustration. But he thinks of what you said. What did Brad have to be jealous about; he had the entire world and Steve never bat an eye. Not to you, at least.

“Jealous?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, he’d give me all these ultimatums where I’d have to choose between you and him. So random,” you huff. Though, maybe he was justified in some way. You and Steve have been this close since the day you met. Any love interest would feel threatened by his charm and that smile.

“Oh… weird”—He watches you take a cautious sip from your mug like maybe you regret saying anything at all—“Yeah. That’s random. Had no idea I posed such a threat to that guy. He seemed so… self-assured.”

You stare blankly, shrugging when you mutter, “you can call him a narcissistic prick, i don't care. And yeah, I was kinda surprised the first time he brought it up, because a big part of why I was attracted to him was for his confidence” you chuckle, “No idea what went wrong!

Steve absentmindedly squares his shoulders, sitting up straught on the plush cushions trying to make himself look strong and reliable and confident. You sip your hot chocolate and look at him funny.

“Are you okay?” you say, holding in a laugh.

He nods. “Oh, yeah. I’m just super confident ‘s all.”

You snort, choking on the sip you’d sucked down, pinching your eyes closed when he lurches forward with a worried look slapped across his face.

“Shit, here, let me help,” he huffs, setting his mug aside and wiping the drips from your chin with his sleeve, “Oh, god, are you hurt???”

You cackle with tears pricking in your eyes when he carefully takes your mug and places it next to his. You pat dry your neck, and he watches you softly.

“Stevie, you’re so sweet.”

His heart flutters in his warm chest when you smile at him.

“Well, I dunno about that.”

“No, seriously. You’re so caring and thoughtful, I’ve never met anyone like you,” you whisper.

He takes a shaky breath in.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You nod heartily and grin wide, and you notice he’s staring at you. So you kick his calf under the blanket.

“Hey, ouch!”

You giggle, but he’s quick to grab the crook of your knee and tug you close so you’re laying flat on the couch. Your hands cover your face when he tickles your sides and leans over you playfully. He’s almost glad you can’t see him blushing or feel his heart racing or hear his head booming with thoughts of you. He gasps when you plant your socked foot on his thigh, but he holds your elbow gently to keep you close to him while he leans over you.

You’re laughing, and he can confidently say it’s his favorite sound. You palm his chest, and he takes a deep breath in. Your eyes flick open because you’ve never felt someones heart beat so fast and so warm just beneath your fingertips. He’s flushed and pink but he looks like a prince in the orange lamplight. And he’s so close to you.

Your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, barely grasping, and you crane your neck towards him. You watch his honey eyes draw over your lips just before he leans in and kisses you.

His hand molds into your side, melting over the exposed skin like hot syrup. You press into his hold and smile with your fingers drawing up and across the back of his neck.

But the kiss short lived when he pulls away, shoving a hand through his ruffled hair.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Steve huffs, standing and backing away, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should go!”

He crosses the floor in a daze, forcing his feet back into his shoes before you even can sit up and call after him.

“Steve, wait!”

But he’s shaking his head and reaching for the ice cold door handle with his jacket barely slung over his shoulders. He whips the door open, and you can see the pure white snow floating down in sheets outside.

“Keep the blankets! Just call me if the radiator breaks again, and I’ll see you!”

The door slams shut.

You tut, hand coming to your lips as you look around at the scene before you. The abandoned mugs on the coffee table, his blankets folded over the back of the couch, your repaired radiator whirring softly in the corner. The absence of Steve. What would the kids say. You know they’d lose it, but would they be upset if you ended up together. Would they realize they changed their minds and you’d jeopardized not only your friendship with Steve but with the entire party.

What if everything changes?

Oh, but what if nothing changes: you and Steve tip toeing around each other, the kids scheming and giggling at your misfortune, but now changed by the fact that you’ve kissed Steve. And he kissed you back. And you like him so much.

"Oh, god.”

more like this

masterlist

[anika-ann]

Sweet and Ours, Tonight - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, domestic... filth

Pairing: Steve Rogers x wife!reader   Word Count: 5,8k

Summary:  You and Steve had a long, long week.

You both deserve a reward. Perhaps an evening with undivided attention to each other... and maybe to end the endless week with a bang.

The thing is, Steve has no idea about what’s awaiting him at home. Yet, you have a feeling he will like it - and he'll be happy to show you.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, praise kink, slight authority kink, soft dom/sub elements (with a tad dominant Steve), a sprinkle of possessiveness, potential blasphemy, lingerie kink, marriage kink (if that's a thing), mention of (tender) hair pulling, mention of semi-public sex if you squint really hard, language, FLOOF

A/N: At the time of Cum Together: Community Revival Extravaganza  hosted by @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420, there were two potential stories on my mind – the soulmate AU one, which I ended up writing, and this one, which fulfils multiple prompts from the list (see the end). The extravaganza is long over – but hopefully, you’ll enjoy 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @saradika; enjoy, but it's smut y'all - read at your own risk and responsibility

Setting the half-full glass of water on the counter, you smiled to yourself as you heard the keys rattle in the lock. The sound meant one of your favourite things in the world: Steve was home.

‘Home’ was your spacious shared apartment near the new upstate Avengers facility, one you and Steve had chosen not because the large complex hadn’t included living quarters, but because you had wanted a place that was truly your own.

On days like this, you were more grateful for that decision than ever. Here, the work and the weight you carried from it could be left at the doorstep, and you could enter a truly safe space, shielded by your love from the outside world. World which could be loud, overwhelming, and at times, evil.

Today, it meant that Steve would try to leave behind the exhaustion and frustration of a week-long conference of the United Nations and adjoined organisations. You, you had left behind the very same sentiments lacing the endless week of extra shifts. Sometimes it felt like the work was never done; be it patching up international relations or patching up the dumbass of the day. Be it dealing with diplomats who barely even listened, let alone acted on their empty promises; or be it repairing damage to human body made by another supposedly human being, battling to keep alive agents who not so rarely held zero regard for their own safety in the process of saving the very world for whose safety Steve was advocating in DC. You wondered where the agents could have possibly got the inspiration for their reckless behaviour – but that was not the kind of thoughts you wanted to entertain tonight, especially since you knew the answer all too well.

Tonight, you wanted to cherish your husband’s company.

You had missed Steve; even when swamped with work, you both took care to stay in contact, confiding one another on as much of your longing for each other’s company as on feeling drained.

You were glad for having had enough wits to plan ahead and be able to come home before him.

It had been no surprise to you that Steve had called you that he was about to arrive home as scheduled, but crankier than planned despite finally leaving the self-contained self-important jerks behind. The relief in his voice had been palpable; and his voice had only grown warmer when he learned you were to already wait for him at home. Your lips had twitched at the guttural sigh he released upon learning, whispering he was really happy to hear that; as were you to hear that he was coming home in one piece, which was unfortunately not a rule.

He loved you, he had said too. So damn much.

You had told him the same, wondering if that was what would leave his lips when he’d see you. Especially since he had no idea what coming his way, should he want it.

The lock barely clicked open and you were already on your way. A rapid carpet-muted staccato of your heels welcomed Steve as he entered, his curiosity clearly piqued in an instant.

He had but a second to take in your appearance – the bloody red pumps, the peek of nude nylons, the beige trench coat reaching just above your knees, your simple but effective hairdo and make-up, dominated by berry-red lipstick – or get his suitcase through the doors and close them. Before he could say as much as hi, you were already cupping his face and kissing him softly, for once not having to stand on your tiptoes too high.

There was a significant part of you which was dangerously close to jumping on him with enough force to slam him against the door and pour all your enthusiasm at seeing him into the kiss. It had taken all your willpower not to do so since your body throbbed with the need – but you didn’t want him to feel ambushed, unsure about his mood. So you revelled in the precious opportunity to touch him, in the feel of the figurative and literal warmth he was radiating, in the taste of his lips you had missed so viscerally; and with the minute mental capacity left, you tried your best to read his reaction.

It would be a shame for your plan and efforts to go to waste; but the last thing you’d want was to push thoroughly exhausted Steve who’d just want some peace into something he’d… be willing but not excited to do.

Your worries were fruitless, however. Steve’s hands came to life immediately, one reaching for your waist, the other to cradle your cheek. His lips responded in kind, even as his smile tasted of surprise. The tension you had got a brief glimpse of melted away from his shoulders, fingertips caressing your skin, nose gently nudging yours as your lips parted, forehead to forehead.

“Hi,” you breathed out contentedly, feeling the tension leaving you as well, warmth spreading through every vein and nerve in your body at Steve’s gentle chuckle instead.

“Hi, love.”

“Welcome home.”

His smile was as nothing short of blinding when he retreated just a bit to look at you and grace you with a shining gaze roaming your face, as if taking in every feature, every line, every arch, every last eyelash for the first time. Your heart thump-thumped in your chest happily as your hands slid to his neck, unable to tear your gaze away from the beautiful image he made.

A man with love.

Your man.

Your husband.

Your extremely handsome husband; every suit, be it a formal wear or his tactical one, accentuated his wide shoulders and sharply cut jaw you couldn’t but run your fingertips over, marvelling at the pure delight in his face.

“I feel very much welcomed, sweetheart,” he assured you, squeezing your waist. Despite being clearly exhausted, his smile was radiant; until it fell a fraction. “Are you going out?”

Your heart hummed with a soft ache; it was impossible to miss his effort not to look disappointed as not to make you feel guilty for having a social life outside your marriage, even if rather inconveniently timed. Bless his good, good heart.

You shook your head with your smile lingering, barely hiding a smirk. “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Rogers.”

His expression perked up again, his arm sneaking further around your waist as he observed you with playful curiosity. “Oh? Are we going out? Did you plan something, Mrs. Rogers?”

To highlight his indulgence in calling you that – and god knew hearing him say that still sent butterflies to your stomach even after months of that being a reality – his hand moved from your cheek to take you left hand, fingers interlacing; your wedding bands made a soft clinking noise as they met, Steve’s gaze flickering to their combined light with such undiluted joy in that little action you couldn’t but brush your lips over his again, something deep inside you trembling and preening at once.

Your husband.

“Would it be a bad thing? If I did plan something?” you asked, part coy, part genuine. “It’s okay if you’re not in mood for that.”

Steve only smiled wider, dropping a kiss to your knuckles and then your lips, before pulling back just a fraction. He observed you silently and almost absently, yet seemingly with mission-level intent. 

The silence stretched as you awaited his answer, encouraging him – and yourself, because the silence was growing louder with every beat of your heart – with a suddenly unsure smile.

“Steve? Love?”

He blinked, shaking his head lightly. Before you could feel your stomach drop in disappointment at this being his answer, he spoke up.

“Sorry, you… you look beautiful. Got a little distracted here.”

Your belly did a funny flip-flop that had no right to be so deep within; but this gorgeous man had no right to be so perfect either. And you loved him for it.

“I don’t mind going out or staying,” he said softly. “I’m honestly just glad to be home. With you. That’s my favourite thing in the world. Being with you… here, in the home we made together.”

Tremble. Something within you trembled and it was almost comical how those words shook and soothed your soul, a sharp contrast to how very non-poetic your intention to seduce his body was. But that was how you seduced each other the first time and did so over and over again; body, mind and soul alike, tipping the scales in favour of one and then the other and back as the situation allowed.

It was your turn to blink now, fighting the burn of tears in your eyes, threatening to spill at the profound sincerity in Steve’s voice and the adoration in his beautiful blues; they turned all the prettier as a spark of mischief lit them up and he stepped back, releasing you from his warm embrace.

“But, since you got all dolled-up and clearly made plans, it would be a waste. Want to tell me what my orders are, ma’am?”

Excitement lighting up your nerves anew, you stepped back with a hum.

“Well… actually, I made plans to stay in…” Steve’s eyebrow arched a bit, but something beautifully dark flashed in his eyes – a mute understanding that whatever you had planned, you had dolled up for him. For him and him only. “And since you said those people there were all talk, no listening, no action… I thought that maybe you’d a like a change of scenery.”

As you took another step back further into the apartment, Steve discarded his shoes in a lightning speed, his gaze never leaving your face, hanging on your lips for every syllable. 

You bit back a satisfied smile, something hot stirring in your belly. “That maybe, you’d like someone who can listen very well, and is willing to… act? Would you like to tell me my orders, Captain?”

His gaze went to roam – from the top to bottom, drinking in your attire, a perfect trap you had set for both of you to tangle in. The tall red heels. The coat for him to untie. The nylons – which Steve at this point must have understood were, in fact, thigh-highs, perhaps strapped to a garter belt. The hair. That lipstick. That damn lipstick that turned his eyes a shade darker and hungrier, his voice dropping two octaves.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?”

You raised a challenging brow, a coy smile adorning your red red lips as you toyed with the hem of your coat; Steve knew you well-enough by now to know that you wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble if you hadn’t wanted that. You wanted.

You wanted him, with every fibre of your being, lit alive and reborn divine under his searing hot gaze. You longed to be his, however he pleased. To please him however you could.

At last, he got the message. He seemed to very much revel in that message, in fact.

“Let’s go to the bedroom then.”

He led you by the hand, even though you both knew the way and had walked it many times before, even when blinded by desire, with lips never parting, frantic stumbles and wandering impatient hands. Tonight, there was no rush; steps deliberately slow, you followed his lead, standing still by the doorway when he let go of your hand in favour of stripping his suit jacket as soon as you entered.

Your eyes followed his every move, indulging in the sight of his muscles rippling under the smooth fabric of his white shirt; indulging in the shudder of realization running down his body, coming after his brief confusion of finding you obediently exactly where he had left you.

You barely bit back a smirk at the way his breath hitched.

“Alrighte,” he breathed out as he walked to the foot of the bed, turning his back to it to look at you.

You had never had a man to look at you like that before; his gaze was like the most delicious shockwave igniting every cell in your body with desire and pride.

His. You were your own woman, but goddamn, were you his.

“Alright. Come here, sweetheart.”

You did. Hooked on his burning gaze as he seemed hypnotized by your every step, by every inch erased between you, you walked to him, only stopping when he settled his wide palm over your hip, his other hand soon joining on the other side.

For a moment, he simply observed you, your parted lips, your eyes blown wide, just as aroused by the dynamics as he was. Then, a warm yet mischievous smile lifted the corners of his lips, hands squeezing your hips.

You weren’t sure what you had expected – a kiss, a toss on the bed, his hands ripping the fabric, all things you had encountered and more – but of all options, he chose the one your mind had not offered at the moment. His hands slid lower, inch by inch as he kneeled in front of you, sitting back on his heels, the heat of his skin seeping into yours the second his palms slipped past the edge of the fabric of your coat.

Sensual. Steve was most definitely in mood for sensual tonight and you were not going to complain if for nothing else than for having trouble breathing as his fingertips traced the thin ankle strap of your shoe, warm fingers delicately circling your ankle, cupping your calf, sneaking past your knee to spread over the back of your thigh, inching your legs apart so he could move the coat out of the way and press a lingering kiss to your where the lace of your thigh-high met bare skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat when his free hand reached for the loose knot on your coat, dextrous fingers undoing it with ease and tugging, all while his lips brushed over your sensitive skin higher and higher towards the apex of your thigh.

“Take it off, love,” he whispered into your heat, tugging at the hem of your coat, the index finger of his other hand slipping under the strap of your garter belt, nosing along your inner thigh and inhaling deeply.

A shudder ran down your spine at the huskiness of his voice, leaving you with no space to even consider embarrassment at your husband’s need to drown himself in the scent of your arousal; you busied yourself with stripping the coat in five seconds flat and dropping it on the floor, rewarded by his warm breathy chuckle.

“So good for me…” He looked up from his spot, caressing along the line of your panties, feasting his eyes on the delicate lace hugging your breasts, at the elaborate but feather-light pattern on your garter belt, at the barely-there panties covering your sex. The smoulder in his pupils as his gaze zeroed on his price was almost too much to bear. Whether you were shy or impatient, you couldn’t tell, but your chest was heaving with every breath, your back arching just a bit at the praise that stroked something deep within you. “My beautiful, irresistible wife…”

“Steve-“

He returned his attention to your thigh, sucking a lovebite just above the hem of your stocking, soothing the offended spot with a butterfly-soft kiss you couldn’t help but sigh his name at again.

He hooked his fingers at the front straps of your garter, urging you forward, closer, as he sat on the floor, back leaning against the foot of the bed, tilting his head back and resting in on the mattress; a content smile played on his lips as if it was the most comfortable spot in the apartment, his hands roaming appreciatively. Over the curve of your hip. Following the pattern of the lace. Along the straps, along the hem. But never, never where your need for him burned, soaking the excuse of underwear over your sex.

“Didn’t have such pretty view in D.C.,” he mused, gaze trailing over the thin fabric already shining with your arousal, trailing all over your body to your face, to your red lips painted just as you knew he loved them. “Never ceases to amaze me. Like a piece of art. So damn perfect… mine to touch.”

You didn’t have timefor body insecurities with Steve. Any imperfection you saw, it didn’t bother him; he’d kiss you everywhere, claiming and loving every piece of your body and soul and mind, as he hadn’t forgotten to mention when he proposed; and then followed up with proving the first part of his claim with intense but the softest damn loving.

The memory of him getting on one knee with a glimmer of tears in his eyes quickly dispersed when his maddeningly delicate touch finally brushed over your slit, your hips instinctively bucking forward; Steve instantly used the opportunity to spread his palms under your bottom, urging you closer and closer until the front of your thighs met the mattress, effectively caging him in, mouth not more than an inch from your mound. He smiled up at you wickedly, forefinger drawing nonsensical patterns over your clothed sex.

“Steve, love-“

You lost your voice when he guided your knee to prop on the mattress next to his head, a violent tug of desire gripping at your core at the implication of what he wanted – stirring as much want as insecurity and hesitance.

You voice was shaky as your gaze found his, the question on your lips so quiet he might miss it hadn’t it been for his enhanced hearing.

“Steve, are you… sure?”

One glance into his eyes told you was more than that.

And the mere thought of him doing what he was leading you towards felt like molten lava poured into your veins, nothing but smouldering heat left behind.

You had never done that. Not with him, not with anyone else.

It was true that Steve could get rather intense when it came to love making – or shameless fucking – but he always drew significant amount of his pleasure from your own. Your husband was but a giver, even as he always coaxed you to give it to him. He had sure been far from shy or prudish in the privacy of your quarters – or in certain cases no one must ever learn about, elsewhere – and he enjoyed all kinds of things, his mouth on you among them. You had explored together, dived into depths of pleasure you hadn’t thought were possible. But you hadn’t---not like this.

Not with you basically on top of his goddamn face.

“Are you?” he asked, pressing a brief kiss to the juncture of your thighs, looking at you from under his eyelashes with a challenge and a plea.

In your exploration, he had pushed your limits; but never you. He’d never do anything that seemed even tad too uncomfortable for you. As of consequence, there was virtually nothing you wouldn’t let him do, because you trusted him to stop at the first sign of your protest.

Okay. Okay. The utter wanton in his eyes shining through the sincerity was melting your brain. No choice to make.

You nodded, rewarded by a satisfied smirk that would have earned anyone else a smack to their face. But with Steve, there was something dangerously alluring about that instead; that smirk meant paradise aligning with hell awaiting you, whispered of you soon begging him – to stop or to continue, you’d never quite know yourself.

“Well then, remember you promised to listen… and do.”

Little shit, was as far as you got in your thoughts.

Because then he was wrapping a firm arm around your leg on the bed and pushing your panties aside and after a few teasingly careful licks, he began his feast like a starved man seated at the royal table.

Your hands found purchase on his hair and the bed, knees nearly buckling under the assault of pleasure, burning through your body like a wildfire. The way his wicked tongue played with you had you gasping his name in need bordering on desperation, chest tight as you were forgetting to breathe, core clenching so soon you couldn’t quite believe it as the tidal wave of bliss washed over you, hips rocking in aftershocks, knees eventually giving out.

It was only for a split second that you worried you might smother Steve or splatter ungracefully on the floor; because Steve had you. He always had you. His supersoldier part undeniable, he caught you, manipulating your body so he could cradle you protectively as you came from your high and literal height, holding you against his chest as you straddled him with seemingly boneless legs.

You were hyperaware of every bit of praise spilling from your lips, whispered to your skin warmly, but you couldn’t form words.

Not until his lips found yours, meeting in a soft kiss spiced with the tang of your essence, the most intimate kiss between lovers. He pushed the hair from your face tenderly, eyes both hungry and soft as if you weren’t soaking his dress pants where your core met his evident arousal and you weren’t both panting as if you had just run a marathon. His hand caressed up and down your spine, over and over, as if to ground you in reality.

A peck to your cheek. To your mouth. Your lips coming back to life at least, pressing to his jaw, to his smile.

“Could stay like this forever,” he whispered, nose trailing along your cheek, leaving a kiss under your ear, drawing a breathless chuckle from you. “With you in my arms, your taste on my lips, head swimming from your sweet perfume and everything that’s you… my wonderful wife… “

Blinking owlishly, you met his gaze as he cradled your cheek, hair a beautiful messy hallo from where you had tried to hold on when he was devouring you. His lips found yours again, a gentle murmur.

“You’re my everything, you know that?”

You did. By god you did. It was impossible not to, even as that fact was but a pure stroke of a miracle. He was your everything too. Your alfa and your omega. Your weakness and your strength. Your love, unshakable foundation even on days when everything including his own hands did shake. Your home, whenever you’d go.

You ran your fingers through his golden locks, expression nothing short of tender, touch nothing short of reverent – as one should be when in face of a miracle.

“And you’re my home,” you whispered back.

Seconds ticked by in soft silence, pleasure still tingling all over your body, but it was the overwhelming love and need in Steve’s gaze that consumed you completely.  

You didn’t dare to blink. You didn’t dare to breathe. You simply watched him living through a moment as precious to him as he was to you, electric tension rising and almost audibly crackling in the air.

And then he was gripping your nape, mouth claiming and devouring, one hand sliding under your bottom to lift you in a display of strength that never failed to make you dizzy and blinded you with desire unmatched despite having just come down from your high. You returned his kiss with the same fervour, hands grasping at his shirt, frantically searching for buttons to undo and then simply tugging hard until the thread gave out and sent the buttons flying, a nip of teeth to your lips accompanied with Steve’s dark chuckle like the sweetest song of victory.

He sat down at the bed with you still straddling him, helping you strip the shirt without your lips ever parting, his hands leaving you but for the fraction of second necessary to get rid of the fabric in your way and then you were both sighing in relief when your palms met the burning skin of his sculptured chest, his wide shoulders, his clenching abs.

“Need you,” you confessed as soon as you got to breathe in, back at his lips the very next second, Steve’s large palm kneading your bottom, hips thrusting into yours and eliciting a wanton moan from you both. “And I want you in my mouth-“

A delicious growl rumbled in is chest, fingers tangled in your hair pulling just a little, tipping your head back to give him access to leave a string of kisses down the column of your throat, the deliberately slow bucks of his hips into yours never ceasing.

“You’re a wicked little thing.”

You chuckled, a cheeky remark on your painfully free lips, the delightful friction between your bodies not nearly enough to sooth your thirst.

“You do say I’m wicked smart. Why this time?”

The nip of teeth on your collarbone and the way his fingers dug into your flesh had you barely stifle a gasp, but his answer was a reward for a work well-done.

“Goddamn you, woman, you know what you do to me, especially that lipstick-”

“I know what it does to you to see it smeared in certain places,” you breathed out, silenced by a bruising kiss to your lips and a light sting on the back of your thigh as Steve pulled at one of the strings of your garter and let it snap against your skin. Your wandering hands reached for his belt, almost tasting the salty tang of him already as you’d get on your knees for him.

“Wicked,” he grunted against your mouth, lifting his hips – with you still on top – to help you strip his pants, “I thought I was giving the orders tonight.”

“Oh you do, Captain,” you assured him, revelling a little too much at the twitch against your core as you blatantly used his title against him. “Just informing you I’m willing.”

“Driving me crazy. Want you to want me just as much, to need me-“

“I do. Need to taste you-”

“Jesus Christ-“ he choked out, releasing you so you could press one last thorough kiss to his mouth and then slide down to your knees, grateful for the soft carpet.

Ridding Steve of the last piece of clothing, you took great care to maintain eye-contact as you stroked him, feather-light, and licked at the tip. The breathy sound resembling your name that left his lips when you wrapped your lips around the head sent a jolt of heat down your spine, hot satisfaction pooling in your belly and making your heart thunder in your chest.

Nothing had ever made you feel more powerful and treasured than Steve looking at you with half-lidded eyes, groaning as you took him deeper and bobbed your head, closing your lips tight around him as you pulled back to smear as much of the sinful red colour down his cock, his hands gripping the sheets so hard the fabric might tear.

God, he was gorgeous; a wrecked angel-like figure made for worship and sin, they only deity you needed, sculpted to divine perfection.

His fingers tangled gently at your hair, only to twitch repeatedly as he was holding back the strength he wanted to use keep you right there, always making you want to swallow around him harder to make him lose that control; the curses, the deliciously prolonged fuuuck tasting like a victory, the fuck-- sweetheart, you feel like heaven a blessing that stirred pure lust deep within your core.

He was done for almost too soon; a little work, a hint of a sinful smile in the corner of your lips as you watched him lose layer after layer of control to reveal the primal drive that made him just as human as any. Once your hands joining your efforts, he was spilling down your throat, eyes squeezed shut in an image of absolute heavenly ruin.

You waited for him to flutter his eyes open; not having even gone soft in your mouth, you dragged your lips down his length to leave the last red and glossy mark, the string of blasphemy leaving his mouth telling you he didn’t give a damn thing about your tear-smeared mascara but cared a whole lot about the prettily ruined lipstick. When you licked your lips as if he had just given you your favourite treat, he practically dragged you back to his lap, seemingly torn between proposing all over again and lamenting you were going to be his death.

Yet, he kissed you tenderly like a precious porcelain doll and reached for the wet wipe in the nightstand drawer to gently clean the black smears down your cheek. The smudged lipstick he indulgently wiped with his thumb before his mouth slanted over yours again, the thrumming passion between you growing louder again; you were dripping down your thighs from the appreciative gaze and the taste of him alone and Steve was rarely ever sated with climaxing just once. Especially after a week apart.

With his most acute hunger sated, however, he took time to admire the view again, even with your shoes finally discarded, indulging in the delicate lace instead, in the warmth of your body, in your perfume and the scent of your skin. His voice dropped low in volume, intimate whispers of how he wanted to see you take him deep and make you his, fingers gently stretching you to accommodate his impressive size before he led you to sink down on his length at last, filling you up so deliciously and completely.

With bodies stilled, the time seemed to slow down too. Eyes blown wide and dark, but with a sweet curl to your lips as you tasted each other over and over again, you both revelled in the sensation of being connected; brushes of fingertips, kisses to your lips, to your neck, to your sternum and breasts; to his chest, to his shoulders, to his kiss-swollen lips, wherever you could reach.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he confessed between encounters of lips, the softest voice with a husky aftertaste. “Missed this. Never going to another conference again.”

You almost chuckled at the unrealistic prospect, touched all the same.

“Missed you more… might go to a conference every once in a while. For science.”

Steve grunted in protest, palms framing your face as he observed with a slightly amused pout to his kiss-swollen lips.

“Hm. Sounds like your argument contradicts your hypothesis there, Doc.”

This time, you did chuckle a bit, raising an eyebrow even as you caressed his cheek, index finger tapping the pouty lower lip. “Well sue me, I’m a little dazed. I’m allowed. I finally have you for myself after a week, Steve.”

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to the pad of your finger, something devilish flashing in his eyes.

“That you do. I’m all yours. My smart, beautiful wife…” he coaxed with a kiss, hand landing lightly on your waist, hips thrusting up to encourage you to roll yours. There was no need to do so twice. You rocked your pelvis, jaw falling slack at the delightful sensation. A single movement and pleasure was spreading to every nerve ending, coil in your belly forming; Steve responded in kind, urging you on to keep going and set a pace.

“So good to me, sweetheart… so precious.”

“That’s it. So damn gorgeous like that--- look at me, love.”

“Making me feel so good… love having you like this. Never gonna get enough of this, of you…”

Golden. You felt so damn golden under his touch, from inside out, caressed with every single appreciative word spilling from his lips so naturally.

God, you had needed that. You needed that more than you had realized, having pushed down all the unpleasant interactions that had piled up during the week, interactions that made you feel everything but good, precious, brilliant or gorgeous. With every word, Steve poured his faith and love into the cracks in your being and healed them, silencing every doubt, grounding you so profoundly in the pleasure you shared that every single cell in your body ignited with something divine. The coil in your belly was strung so tight you almost felt yourself falling, if you’d only--- if he’d-

“Steve, please, I need-“

“I know what you need, love. I’ve got you.”

Your climax erupted through your body with Steve’s mouth wrapped around your nipple, his dextrous fingers digging into your ass and playing with your clit.

He found his release as he kneeled behind you and caged you to his front, one hand around your throat to angle your head for a sloppy kiss, the other spread wide over your lower belly, sneaky fingertips having coaxed another Earth-shattering orgasm from you.

Somewhere along the way, your lacy attire had ended up in shreds where Steve pulled a little too hard; the remnants of garter belt and stockings were carefully stripped by Steve’s tender fingers as he cleaned you up with a warm cloth before covering you with several kisses and only then with the comforter.

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his side and simply holding you as close as humanly possible, living and revelling in the moment just until his stomach growled.

After a semi-serious joke about taking you as a dessert for the second time, you lazily ordered take-out for three since you had worked up an appetite, moving to the couch. A movie in the background, Steve shared some of the highlights and escapades of the past few days from the conference and DC – as much as he could anyway. In return, you shared your own – as much as you could anyway. When in each other’s embrace, the trouble seemed far away; and what had felt like a path to the next Armageddon suddenly appeared considerably more manageable.

You were practically asleep, half-sprawled over Steve’s chest, when he pressed another kiss to your scalp, this time lingering.

“I love you… and thank you. That truly was a nice welcome home,” he said, bringing a ghost of a tired smile to your lips.

“It’s our home, Steve… You should always feel welcome. Loved.”

“And I do. Coming home to you is the most precious thing,” he mused, caressing your hair when you snuggled impossibly closer to him, inhaling the comforting scent of all that was him. “But you walking the extra mile… that truly makes me the luckiest guy in the universe.”

You hummed, his words warming you more thoroughly than his body and the blanket combined. You pressed a kiss to his sternum over his sleepshirt.

“And I’m the luckiest woman. I love you, Steeeve… I’m sorry-”

His chest shook under your cheek softly as your confession turned into a yawn, but he took it as a sign. He half-carried you to the bathroom and carried you entirely by the time you were done with your nighttime routine.

You murmured another love you, sleep well as you laid your head on the pillow, cradled in Steve’s protective embrace, his words reaching your ears from a terrible, terrible distance, but tasted just as sweet as ever.

“I will, love. I most definitely will.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Aren't they just sweet? 🥺 Happy belated birthday, Stevie 💕 I hope you enjoyed - feedback is always welcomed💕

Prompts, as promised:

Pouncing on your partner as soon as they arrive home from a trip away

“My favourite thing in the world is being here with you.”

Kinks: praise, soft!dom, oral

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go bath in holy water and pray to my muse that she'll let me write longfic too 🤭

[felassan]

David Gaider on Alistair, under a cut for length:

"Ah, Alistair. Depending on who you ask, he's the adorable woobie with the biggest heart or the irritating, over-used man-child. Yes, he is indeed all of those things. Good characters have flaws to go with their virtues. Ugly spots. That is literally their humanity. He was a bit of a bear to write, at the outset. James (Ohlen, the first creative director on DAO) had this idea he needed to be a grizzled Warden veteran - older, distrusting. Everyone hated him instantly. I call this the Carth Onasi Problem, and suggested to James that maybe I try something else. My observation says that the characters who are generally liked the most are the supportive ones. Enthusiastic. Funny? Sometimes, sure, but that's *not* required. I need to digress. See, at the time James had this (regrettable) period where he believed everything could be derived from a formula. He even sold this idea to the founders, Ray and Greg. Google 'BioWare formula'. Anyway, how this relates is because James thought the DAO cast needed a Minsc: a comedy character who would become super popular and, ideally, the icon of DA. "Isn't that Alistair?" you ask. "Arguable," I say, "but no." James had me to up a huge list of 'comedic archetypes' and I wrote some possible dialogue for each one. Then he had the team vote. The winning archetype? The Buffoon - like Homer Simpson or Peter Griffin. James was pleased. I was not. "The problem," I said, "is I don't find the Buffoon funny." 😅"

""But you're a professional." "Sure, I *can* write him... but comedy isn't science. I need to find him funny. If I write him, the only comedy I'll mine is where he makes fun of himself." James took that on board and then passed the character onto someone else. The result? Oghren. I rest my case. So back to the supportive character: that was my thought for a new Alistair. It was a special case, after all - the DAO PC was thrust into a terrible situation. They needed someone who had their back. A bud. A *likeable* bud. I was watching Buffy at the time, and my thoughts drifted towards Xander. Now, I know Joss Whedon is persona non grata these days, but this was 2006, OK? I was watching Buffy and thought, "man, Xander is such a wasted character" and considered how to fix him. Then I realized this might work for Alistair. Plus, I wanted to see if I could replicate the Whedon vocal patter. That was the new Alistair: a more useful and likeable yet equally dorky version of Xander. We had very strict rules in DA about language: no modern speech styles, colloquialisms, any words that came into use in our world after 1900 got severe side eye... but Alistair? Alistair got a blanket pass. Was it great that the lead writer's leading man got to break the rules? I guess not, but it's my opinion that you can break those kinds of rules - selectively, in small doses. Too much and you break the illusion. And it worked. Alistair was an instant hit. Not just with the team, but with the fans."

"Confession time? Yes, I knew Goldanna wasn't meant to be Alistair's mother. But neither was Fiona, originally. I think fans caught wind of some revisionism at work, and OK it's true. I had a more Arthurian idea for his birth but I stopped liking it... yet not soon enough to go back and make edits. Should I have just left it be, left Goldanna as his mother? Maybe. It was one of those writer things I just couldn't let go of and I probably could have used someone to sit me down and go "Gaider, please. Just stop." I still like Fiona, and where I took it. But I probably shouldn't have gone there. Casting Alistair was SUCH a chore. He required a weird mix of devilish charm, but with enough sincerity and adorkableness it didn't come off as smarmy. Every audition went full smarm... until Steve Valentine up and appeared out of nowhere. In the midst of a batch of audition files, there he was. We brought Steve in "just to try out", and he pulled it off. Even the "frog time" line, which (seriously) nobody else could. And when he got to the romantic lines, Steve's voice turned into pure butter without, again, sliding into "oh, he's slightly creepy". Both Caroline and I were sold. And he was so gloriously easy to write. It's a well I'd probably return to... a bit too often, maybe? Maric, then Anders in Awakening, and then Alistair kept popping up in future games and the comics because, yes, he was pretty much the breakout comedy character of DA. Which still makes me happy. 😁 CORRECTION: Goldanna was someone Alistair thought was his *sister*, and her mother his mother. Look, it was almost twenty years ago, OK? 😅 --- I actually had a whole scene written in DAI where Fiona tells him, but the requirements were so specific for them both to be in Skyhold and it seemed like it'd be relevant only to a small small sub-section of fans (and confusing to everyone else) so it was dropped. Rightfully so, I guess."

[source thread]

User: "The Buffy vibes were strong in DAO and I was very happy with that at the time. What I loved about DAO was the mix of dark themes entwined with bits of levity. That's how I like my angst. Dark, broody with a side of ha-has and y'all delivered in DAO for sure." David Gaider: "That's a me thing. I like going dark - really dark - and then pairing it with light, comedic moments. It provides peaks and valleys in the tone, and prevents either from becoming overwhelming. Hey if it worked for Shakespeare (alas, poor Yorrick), it can work for DA, right? 😉" [source]

[probablyreadinsmut]

Javier Peña X Afab!Reader one shot

Maneater

What if it were the other way around? You were the insatiable menace who fucked her way through Colombia and Javier Peña was the one who pined after you, but you never gave him the time of day, until now.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Onlyyyy. Alcohol consumption, language, Public groping, fingering, Oral (F receiving), PIV Sex (Unprotected, birth control discussed, wrap it before you tap it ppl). Couple of dick taps. Liiiiiitle bit 'o fluff and angst. Spanish nicknames. Overuse of 'Cariño and hermosa'. Bi reader. Time period relevant sexism and homophobia mentioned. Big 'ol praise kink. There was going to be more but I chickened out since it was my first time writing a full on sex scene.

A/N: This is purely self indulgent, Reader is Javiers DEA partner of several years. She's a little emotionally unavailable and knows how much Javi thirsts after her. Writing this bc it's that time of the month where I get the urge to howl at the moon like a bitch in heat so I have to channel it somehow.

Word Count: 4.3k

The vibes for this fic⬇️ I love imagining Javi to 80s music <3

Blog masterlist here

Bogata, Colombia. 1991.

The cigarette smoke hangs like a thick fog under the dim light above your booth. The jukebox is playing a song with a slow and sensual beat.

Everyone else had gone home for the evening, Steve had said Olivia was teething and he didn't want to leave Connie to deal with that alone. The rest of the guys had various excuses themselves but honestly you didn't give a shit, too busy scanning the bar over the rim of your glass for your next conquest. All the while Javier sits opposite, taking long, slow drags of his cigarette, just watching you. Like it was his favourite thing to do.

It was clear he had a thing for you, he wasn't exactly secretive about it. But you never gave him the time of day. Sure he was handsome and you'd bet your bottom dollar that he was a good fuck. However, you'd made it a rule to not shit where you eat.

So like a puppy waiting for scraps, he sits silently as your eyes flit from one man to another. He didn't blame you, the job you were both doing was stressful. Everyone has to have their outlets otherwise you'd go insane. Sometimes he wondered though, if there was more to it. If you needed a different body in your bed every night because it was a distraction from more than just the job. If only he knew.

"Slim pickins' tonight" It came as a mumble into the glass, finishing off the last of your vodka cranberry. "Maybe I'll go pay Helena a visit instead." You'd smirked as you said it. Helena was one of your informants, who much to your initial surprise and then sheer delight, had one day said to you that she'd always wanted to try being with a woman. You were more than happy to oblige.

And so your agreement was born, she gives you information in exchange for orgasm better than any of her clients could ever give her and you were working on getting her visa paperwork expidited.

You  hadn't expected that when you came down to Colombia, but fuck if you didn't love the way she sounded when she came apart on your tongue. 

Colombia wasn't exactly progressive when it came to same sex relations, so you didn't tell many people about it, for fear it could hurt her somehow. Her job. Her reputation and perhaps yours. Not that the states was much better either.

The thought of you being with anyone else always sparked this possessive jealousy in his chest, Javier knew he had no right. You'd made it clear long ago that it wasn't going to happen, but even so. He was conflicted, the idea of you being with another woman made his cock twitch in his jeans, of course it did, he was a simple man. But he was also a man who wanted you all to himself.

Exhaling a large plume of smoke above his head as he stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray, Javier decides enough is enough. It's now or never, feeling emboldened by the three glasses of Whiskey under his belt tonight.

"Cariño..." He starts as he gets up from his side to come sit beside you, blocking your view of anyone else in the bar, forcing you to just see him. "What do I have to do for you to see what's right in front of you? What do I have to do to get you to see me?" His voice is low and seductive but the way he's looking at you... Big soft brown eyes that portray the vulnerability he's been trying to hide. It's not just about sex for him, this runs deeper.

A small sigh leaves you, seeing the way he's gazing at you, like he wants to give you the whole world when you can't even give him a tiny fraction of space in your hesrt.

You had thought about it, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't. He's probably one of the most handsome men you've ever seen, a jawline that would make most women weep, eyes that under any other circumstances you would picture yourself getting lost in and those jeans. He knew what he was doing wearing jeans as tight as that.

But it's unethical. Against protocol. If Ambassador Noonan found out she'd reassign you for sure. Not him though, he's the guy, he'd just get a slap on the wrist and told to keep it in his pants in future. That's the way this environment worked. That's the way the world worked, women suffer the harsher consequences, while men get let off.

And then there was the part of you that didn't want to lead him on, to drop breadcrumbs for him leading him along a path he was hoping would bring him to a hot out of the oven loaf of bread, only to be greeted with something stale and inedible.

But right now, as his large hand has found its way to your knee under the table, alcohol clouding your judgement, your horny mind is saying 'One night won't hurt, right?'.

"Javi.. You know I can't give you what you want, right?" His fingers, trailing further up the inside of your thigh are distracting and that's what he's aiming for, to seduce you and deep down, he hopes it would change your mind.

"Hermosa, I don't know what you think I'm 'looking for' here. I just think..." He scooches closer, bringing his lips to your ear, fingers gently kneading at the fleshy part of your thigh "... That we both need some stress relief tonight, let me help you, hm?" He finishes his whispered offer by pressing a barely there kiss just below your ear, hips plush lips barely grazing your skin, sending heat flooding south in your body.

"Javi" The way you breathe his name has his dick getting hard already.

"Yes Cariño? C'mon use your words.." He purrs in your ear as his hand moves to cup your pussy over your jeans, applying enough pressure against your clit to make you bite down on your lip, stopping the moan that's threatening to spill from your mouth.

You're not stopping him, infact you're parting your legs for him wider under the table. You do want this. You do want him.

Turing your head to nuzzle your lips against his jaw, nipping lightly at the shaved skin there, your words a breathless plea "Javi please... I-I-I need... Just tonight. That's it..."

He pulls back enough to look into your eyes, seeing them heavily lidded with desire, he's barely touched you and you're falling apart for him already. It's everything he's dreamed of.

"Just tonight" He echoes before he goes for it, slanting his lips over yours, keeping himself restrained for now being in a public place, definitely not looking to be arrested for indecent exposure and thrown into a Colombian jail, at least the blood hadn't completely rushed to his cock just yet.

The kiss is electrifying, his hand leaving the space between your legs to cup your face, deepening the kiss as you melt into him, one hand slipping into his hair at the nape of his neck, the other finding its way  to his thigh, sliding up, up, up.

With his body shielding you and the bar being as busy as it is, no one is taking any notice of the two of you, heavy petting getting more risque for being in public, the little gasp against his lips when you find him rock hard and straining against the thick denim, has his head spinning, pulling back to take a breather.

"We should-"

"Get out of here and go back to your place?" You're keen. It has him grinning like the cat that got the cream.

"It's like you read my fucking mind baby"

///

The moment you both step into his apartment, it's game over. A clash of teeth and tongues, slamming you into the wall without tearing his lips away from yours, his hands running all over your curves as your own hands grasp at his broad shoulders, pushing his leather jacket off him until it falls to the floor.

"I need you naked, right this fucking second" The growl in his tone has your pussy clenching around nothing, nodding eagerly as he starts to undress you. First it's your shirt, ripping it open, sending buttons flying, scattering in the entryway, leaving it hanging off you, a useless scrap of material. He'd feel bad but the thought of you having to wear one of his shirts to go home in, is too good of an opportunity to pass up on.

"Look at these... Perfect tits. Fuck me" He groans as he leans down, sucking on the swell of your breast, thumb rubbing over the lace, coaxing your nipple to harden. Your back arches off the wall, pushing your chest into his face, a hand tangled in his raven hair, holding him in place, a silent plea to keep going. God those fucking moans of yours are beautiful, all rational thought going straight to his dick.

"Javiii"  It's a whiney little beg, as you're kicking your shoes off, feeling the dampness between your legs spreading by the second. "I- need-"

"I know... I've got you hermosa"  Slowly, achingly so, he sinks to his knees in front of you, dragging his lips downwards, his breath hot against your skin, sucking and nibbling as he goes. Your head is tipped back agaisnt the wall, you don't dare look down at him, not yet. You can feel that fucker grinning against your stomach, knowing he's about to get the prize he covets most in this world.

"Look at me hermosa, I want you to watch everything I'm about to do you you. I want you to see what you've been missing this whole time."

He's quick to rid you of your jeans, Javier likes to tease and prolong the experience with women most of the time, but right now, when the object of all his desires is standing right in front of him, he can't do that. Not now he has you where he wants you, where he's wanted you since the first day you met.

And against your better judgement, you do as he says, looking down at him, his eyes are practically black with desire now, staring up at you through his lashes, looking sinful as fuck as he sits on his knees. All for you. Ready to worship at his altar. His religion? Pussy. His goddess? You.

"Fuuuck. You always wear skimpy little panties like this in the office? Dirty girl." He hooks his fingers into the elastic of your thong, tugging them down your thighs, all the while keeping steady eye contact with you, the smug satisfied smirk on his face has him so sure of himself, so sure that after tonight you'll be coming back for more.

Once they're off, he tucks them into the pocket of his jeans as a memento of this night and he wastes no time, hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder, diving in mouth first. Not rushing, but not taking his time either. There's a hint of desperation behind everything he's done so far tonight, a testament to how much he wants this.

You gasp and arch your back off the wall as the flat of his tongue slides between your soaked lips, one hand braced on the wall above your head while the other curls into his hair, gripping and tugging at it, urging him on. The low muffled groan that leaves him vibrates through you, he's getting drunk off the taste of you, the way you're gasping and moaning for him. All for him.

Skillfully working your clit with his tongue, you feel his free hand snaking up the inside of your thigh until he reaches his destination. Wet and slippery with the combination of his saliva and your juices, he teases your entrance with one thick finger, circling it slowly before he pushes inside. "Oh fuck" he hisses against your pussy "So fucking tight, knew you would be" And then without warning, a second finger breeches you, making you cry out his name.

"I know baby... I know, I've got you. You gonna cum for me hermosa, hmm? Gonna cum all over my fingers for me?" it's taunting, it's blinding pleasure, it's ecstasy.  He finds that spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyes, pumping his fingers in a deep slow rhythm as you writhe above him already teetering on the brink when he suctions his lips against your clit and sucks. It's like an out of body experience. Like you're floating above yourself watching this all happen. Trembling as he holds you steady, working you through your orgasm with his fingers, but he's detached his lips from your clit, looking up at you from his knees, just admiring the way you shatter for him. Like a work of art. Jaw slack in a silent scream, breasts heaving beneath your lacy bra.

Right now, as your cum drips down his knuckles, he can't believe his fucking luck honestly. 

Once you're lucid and you're no longer trembling, he removes his fingers, you whine at the loss of him. Gently setting your leg down, he rises in front of you and brings the sticky fingers to his lips, sucking them clean, moaning in approval as you watch on with renewed arousal. 

"It's really not fair you know." 

His lip curls into a mocking grin as he drops the now clean fingers from his lips, placing his hand beside your head against the wall, leaning in close enough for you to catch the heady scent of your arousal on his moustache. "What's not fair princesa? Was that not enough for you?" Smug bastard. Smug, proud bastard. 

The way you suck your teeth and narrow your eyes at him, tells him he's winning. Slowly wearing you down just like he wanted. You're charmed by this. Not just because he eats pussy like it was his day job but by him. 

"What's not fair... Is that I'm practically naked and you're still fully dressed."

"So I am. Maybe we should do something about that hm?"

Before you can even answer his hands are on your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist, lips finding yours in a heated kiss, tongue pushing past your teeth to entangle with yours, ensuring you taste yourself on him. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding on tightly as he starts to walk you into the main living space towards his leather couch. 

"You taste how fucking sweet you are? I could eat that pretty little pussy all day." Filthy. Absolute filth is coming out of his mouth right now and you feel yourself dripping onto him I return. You'd had a hunch he'd be like this but honestly? It's surpassing every expectation you did have. 

You squeel as he tosses you down onto the couch and he admires the way it makes your tits bounce even in the confines of your bra, but he needs to see more, just like you do. 

"Take it off. Or I will." Hottest fucking threat you've ever heard. 

Sitting up slightly, you remove the remains of your shirt and bring your hands to your back to undo the clasp, all the while he's standing over you, watching you like a hawk. 

"I'm not taking this off until you start getting undressed too Javier. It's a two way street." Now it's your turn to smirk, two can play that game, you both know what's about to happen so why the fuck is he not naked right now? 

"Hm... Fairs fair I s'pose." With deft fingers, he starts to unbutton his shirt revealing a new patch of golden skin as he goes, toned chest that you've only ever caught slivers of when he decides he's going to get a little slutty with it in the office and doesn't quite button his shirt up all the way that day. You'd always wondered if it was for you. 

The subtle lick of your lips and the way your pupils blow when his shirt falls open is something he'll be playing on repeat in his mind for years to come, on nights when it's just him and his hand, abusing his cock as he thinks about you and this moment right now. 

Once that's off and on the floor, he's toeing off his shoes and unbuttoning those deliciously tight jeans. God bless this man and his inability wear anything that doesn't show off what he's got. Rightfully so. 

Your eyes start at the dark happy trail of hair leading downwards, following his fingers as one button is undone, then the second and it then becomes ubundantly clear, he's not wearing boxers today. Seems you're not the only one who likes to push the boundaries of what you wear to the office. Or don't wear, in his case. 

Now he does tease, now he has you wanting more, he's taking his sweet time, tugging the zipper unhurriedly, with a shit eating grin as he sees you clenching your thighs together, no doubt making a mess on his couch under you. 

"What's the matter princesa? Impatient for something?" He knows what he's doing. You're not rising to it, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how much you just want to yank those goddamn jeans down and jump his bones. Instead you play your ace card, undoing your bra just as slowly, the clasp pinging open, but you hold it against you, not letting it fall away just yet. Like a horny exchange of hostages. A challenge, waiting to see who will give in first. 

It was him. Unable to hold himself back anymore, he shoves his jeans down his thighs, freeing his cock. 

Your mouth waters at the sight, thick, around 8 inches and slightly curved. A little darker than the rest of him, veins protuding that you could practically feel on your tongue right now. Dark curls trimmed neatly around the base and balls. Beautiful. You wondered where the hell he was hiding that thjng in those jeans of his. 

"Fairs fair, I s'pose" You parrot his words from earlier and pull away your bra, tossing it over the back of his couch with abandon. Exposing every inch of yourself to him now. 

Before you can even process it, he's on you, pinning you into the couch cushions as he roughly palms your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers making you whimper and gasp under him, his lips attach to your neck, panting heavily against your skin as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and settles between them. 

By some miracle he remembers that birth control is a thing, removing his lips from your neck, looming over you, taut as a bow string, ready to snap any second. 

"Do I need to go run and grab a condom or-?" Thank god he'd asked because you were so lost in the moment it wouldn't have occurred to you. 

"I'm on the pill. We're good." With anyone else, random encounters, you'd been insisting on using condoms, but you trusted Javier and he trusted you. 

"Thank fuck for that" the little giggle you let out is fucking adorable but he's not about to delay things further by telling you that, or god forbid, ruin the moment altogether. 

Pushing your thighs apart with one hand, he strokes himself with the other, spreading the glossy pre-cum from tip to base. 

"Ready for me hermosa?" 

With an eager nod of consent, he notches himself at your entrance and slowly started to feed himself inside. Inch by inch. The delicious sting and stretch of him making you both groan in unison. 

"Fuuuuuuck she's so tight" 

And then all at once you're full of him, legs wrapping around his waist as he gives you a second to adjust, Stroking your cheek almost tenderly as he checks if you're okay before he starts to move. 

The leather creaks under you as he saws in and out of your tight heat, almost all the way before he's plunging back in again, setting a deliberate slow, unchanging rhythm as he listens to your moans and sighs as cues of what you like. Steadily picking up his pace as he fucks you into the cushions, holding one of your legs in place around his waist as his other hand shoots out to grip the arm of the couch, tipping his head back as he's getting lost in his own pleasure. Your nails raking down his back is sending him for a loop, theres no way he's going to let himself cum yet, not this soon and not before you cum again. 

Slipping his hands under your back for support, he sits up right, pulling you up with him, pulling a gasp from you.

Quickly you catch on, slipping your arms around his neck as you start to bounce on his dick, aided by him guiding your hip movements.

"Good girl, riding my fat cock so well. Look at you, bet you could make yourself cum like this huh?"

The praise alone has you circling the drain, desperate to hold off until you've ridden him a little longer.

"Javi!" You sob, crushing your lips against his as he thrusts up to meet your hips over and over again, swallowing your moans. Then he goes and slips his hand between the both of you, inching back slightly to give himself space to work, circling the pad of his thumb against your aching clit with just enough pressure to send you hurtling over the edge, kissing him desperately as you meet your climax again, your moans drowned out by the sound of blood rushing to your ears. 

It's like music to his fucking ears.

Quicker than you can register, he pulls out and flips you over onto your knees, a hand splayed out on the middle of your back gently pushing you down until you arch your ass into the air.

He slaps his dick against your ass cheek a few times before teasing it through your sopping folds, making you whine and wiggle your hips back begging him to sink back into you.

A low chuckle leaves him before he speaks, feeding his girth back into you at the same time. "You thought.. oh fuck... I was done with you? Not even close."

Sliding his hand up your spine until he's at the base of your neck, holding you down as the other hand tightly grips your hip for leverage, not giving you any time to come down from your release before he starts to fuck you again at a punishing pace. Your cheek is pressed against the leather, jaw slack, mouth hanging open dumbly, all you can do is grip at the couch cushions and get out garbled noises of pleasure.

He's ruining you in the best way possible.

"Jaaaaviiiiii!"

He's panting and groaning behind you, watching his cock disappearing into you over and over again, feeling his balls tightening, getting closer to his own release.

"Cum for me hermosa... I.. Oh fuck yes... Know you have another one in you. Cum. For. Me." He punctuates his words with hard, deep thrusts, hitting  that spot deep inside you that has you screaming, pussy clenching around him. Seconds later he follows after you, spilling thick ropes of hot cum inside your abused cunt, lowering himself to lean over your back, groaning into your ear. That sound alone has your pussy pulsing, milking him for every last drop.

///

Javier was actually very attentive afterwards, checking you were okay, you felt completely boneless, slumped flat against the couch, sweaty chest sticking to the leather, completely fucked out but you were fine.

He'd gone to the bathroom to grab a warm wash cloth, cleaning you up between your thighs as you just lay there letting him take care of you.

He'd handed you his shirt, pulling back on his jeans before wandering into the kitchen to get you some water, somehow you managed to sit yourself up and pull it on, buttoning it up most of the way. Your hair was an absolute mess and the throbbing between your legs would be a reminder of him for hours to come. 

"Here you go Cariño" His voice is soft now, a stark contrast from how he was when he was fucking you stupid.

You take the glass from him as he sits back on the couch, reaching for his cigarette, leaning back as he lights up and takes his first drag. Of course he's a 'cigarette after sex' kind of guy.

Your throat is so dry from how your long mouth had been hanging open for, he can still hear your screams of pleasure ringing in his ears even now.

Dropping your gaze to the glass in your hands, feeling like a piece of shit with what you're about to say to him. You didn't regret giving into him, but you regretted that you were now going to have to break his heart. You couldn't be the person he wanted you to be for him.

"Javi, I-"

He knows. He always knew. And that's what hurts the most. That he let himself think that this would change your mind. Not that he thought he could fuck you into it, but that you'd suddenly realise that he was what you were missing. "Don't. Don't say it. I already know." He sets the cigarette down in the ashtray on the coffee table before he turns to face you, reaching out to cup his hands over yours, with the saddest of smiles on his handsome face.

"I'm sorry Javi."

"Don't be. It's my fault for letting myself dream. You are my fucking dream Cariño. I'd wait as long as it takes for you to want me back, years If I had to."

He'd wait for you. He doesn't need to explain how he feels about you because his words and the way he's looking at you right now says it all and it's just too much.

"I know you would Javier and that's what scares me."

///

Tqglist for my mutuals, tysm if you take time to read this, lmk your thoughts <3

@almostempty @cheekychaos28 @itwasntimethatdidit40 @lovely-vamp-princess @morallyinept

[gremlin-girly]

Late Night

Pairing: Bucky x gn!reader (with one use of "doll")

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, mutual pining, Bucky crushing on you HARD, sleepy reader (again), friends to lovers, pet names (doll and sweetheart), a hint of angst bc of past trauma, mentions of past trauma (winter soldier), cuddling

Summary: After another late night at work, you refuse to let Bucky down and insist on still coming over to watch the movie you've both been trying to arrange a viewing of for the last few weeks. However, five minutes in you find yourself falling asleep...

Word count: 689

Not beta'd. Written this morning. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted or fed into an AI machine.

A/N: I thought of this a while ago. Am I procrastinating the final installment? Yes. 🫠 I spent two hours editing it yesterday and have found something I don't like and want changed 🙃 oh well.... it should be out by the end of this week sorry Mel

And in typical Friday the 13th fashion i have slept 4hrs, forgot to book my taxi and there's a spider currently scuttling the floor and harassing me. Please send assistance 🥲- Love, Grem x

Masterlist | Busy Morning w/ Steve | The Bucky Barnes Collection

It's said that when animals feel safe around you, they fall asleep near you. Although Bucky wasn't surprised you'd fallen asleep (you'd been working so late recently it was understandable), he was surprised when your head hit his shoulder and even more surprised when you nuzzled against him.

His heart jackhammered painfully in his chest as he tried to control his breathing. He glanced down to where you'd taken residence against him, your soft cheeks pillowing you from the hard muscles in his shoulder. God, you looked perfect even when you slept.

Bucky's heart strings seized as he smiled down at your sleeping form. You felt safe around him. The Winter Soldier had killed so many people and had been a danger to everyone. Everyone was, at least in Bucky's mind, rightfully fearful of him or at least worried about him "snapping".

Everyone but you, it seemed.

When he'd first met you, you'd greeted him with a warm smile and a quick handshake. You didn't even bat an eyelid when you'd grabbed his left hand (the metal hand, the killing hand) and continued blabbering about welcoming him to S.H.I.E.L.D officially. He knew you'd be different from that moment but he didn't realise just how different.

Your sleepiness and lack of sleep was relatable to Bucky; nightmares, nightterrors and nighttime anxiety attacks had plagued him for months. You'd shared tips with him and whilst they weren't entirely helpful at times, there was a comfort there. You were someone he could speak to freely. In fact, he hadn't even told you about the nightmare nor had you asked. One morning at the compound, making coffee in the kitchen you'd only said, "trouble sleeping? I get the feeling. Apparently cherry juice helps."

He'd playfully joked back asking if he looked that bad and you'd grinned at him saying that he was still pretty to you.

It was the first time anyone had called him pretty.

How and when he fell for you he couldn't pin point. Maybe it was that first encounter, maybe it was when you called him pretty or maybe it was ten seconds ago when you fell asleep next to him, blissfully unaware at how you somehow managed to always turn his brain to mush.

"Doll?" Bucky murmurs, nudging your pudgy cheek with his shoulder and biting back a smile when you frown at him with your eyes closed. "The opening credits have barely started and you're falling asleep."

"Hmm? Hmm." You may have been willfully ignoring Bucky in favour of sleep but the facts remained that he was warm, cosy and smelled ridiculously good. Any excuse to stay asleep like this was an excuse worth using.

Bucky sighs and flicks the TV off, scooping you gently into his arms. You make one weak sound of protest but otherwise limply fall against him.

"I'm putting you to bed." He tells you, carrying you into his room and gently setting you onto the bed.

"'M not tired." You mumble curling into his covers as he tucks you in. Your surrounded by the smell of Bucky and the all too familiar fuzzy feeling warms your chest.

"Yeah, you are." Bucky chuckles softly. "Get some sleep. We can watch the movie tomorrow."

As he moves to leave, he hears your whispered request and he pauses.

"Stay with me?"

"Uh...." Bucky swallows. What he wouldn't give to stay next to you but you're sleep-addled brain is the one making the request.

"Please?" You mumble into the covers. "You're so warm. I feel so safe with you near me."

The bed dips as Bucky concedes to your request instantly but he doesn't dare touch you, no, not until you turn until him and snuggle against his chest and grumble a sleepy goodnight does he drape his arm around you and hold you close.

It takes a while for him to fall asleep, his mind racing with thoughts of you and what it meant that you felt safe enough to sleep in his bed with him in it. But when he does finally drift, it's the best night's sleep he's had in a long while.

[thefreakandthehair]

a little fluff for @starrystevie's birthday! hope it's the absolute best day! ✨

Eddie misses Steve.

It's equal parts cute, and maybe a little pitiful because it's only three days in Chicago for his friend's Bachelor Party, but it's already been two days and he misses Steve. Bandit digs his claws into Eddie's thigh as he makes biscuits and begs for pets, curling up comfortably next to Eddie's lap and leaving Steve's side of the couch overwhelmingly cold and empty.

"I know, kid. I know," Eddie coos, scratching their cat behind the left ear as he purrs.

He's glad that Steve had been able to get the time off from work to go, and he's glad that Steve's made friends on his recreational basketball league, and he's not jealous. At all. Not even a little bit.

... Okay, maybe he is a little bit jealous that Brandon gets to see him sweaty and gross in the June heat, running around doing whatever jock-activity they've planned in the backyard of their rented house all weekend, but who can blame him? Steve never gives him a reason to feel insecure so he knows this isn't about Steve. It's not rooted in anything even remotely related to him or their relationship— it's all about Eddie and the nasty voice in the back of his head that pulls out a bullhorn and screams not good enough on a loop.

Condensation from the beer in his free hand drips down his wrist as he rests his elbow on the arm of the couch. It's not the first time he's felt this way, and Steve himself has admitted to feeling the same way from time to time, so he knows that it'll pass. He just needs to focus on something else: DND campaign planning, sketching, writing, cracking out the ol' guitar. He could rewatch Howard the Duck for the hundredth time, or maybe even Labyrinth—

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Eddie's phone buzzes on the coffee table and he fully expects it to be Gareth or Jeff, or maybe Robin. They have plans later that night, both of them missing Steve and all. What he doesn't expect is a series of text messages and 19 photos from Steve.

How funny. It's been five years since they'd become EddieandSteve but seeing Steve's name and smiling photo on his phone sets his little hummingbird heart aflutter even still.

steve 👑: it's so goddamn hot here steve 👑: we're playing cornhole now and just threw a football around steve 👑: sweating all the beer and vodka out as a I go, that's healthy, right? don't worry, I'm drinking a shit ton of water.

Steve includes a selfie of himself, smiling closed-lipped with a baseball cap on backwards and the neck of his tee-shirt drenched in sweat. Eddie wants to lick him dry and that's a thought he'll never tell a living soul, probably not even Steve. No, no definitely not Steve. He'll never live that one down.

steve 👑: oh, and fishing was good! we made some bets on who could catch the most and then who could catch the biggest. I tied for first place for the biggest and I caught 17. brandon got 20 so he won that bet. I'm only letting it go because it's his bachelor party lmao

Eddie swipes to the next photo, one of Steve and Brandon holding their two biggest catches. Steve's sunglasses are sliding down his nose, no doubt from the sun warming his glistening skin, and he's smiling wide against the railing of a boat. As much as he misses him, Eddie can't help but mirror his smile. Call him lovesick or 'down bad', as Robin says, but seeing Steve happy makes him happy.

He continues swiping and reading the little blurb attached to each photo, some of which don't even include Steve but Eddie appreciates them all the same. They don't include Steve, but it feels a lot like Steve trying include Eddie in the weekend. The last picture is one of the entire group, all dozen or so guys lined up on the ship. Brandon stands in the center surrounded by the rest of the group with Steve shuffled in no meaningful spot but to Eddie, Steve is the center of every photo, every moment, everything.

Eddie starts to type a response when his phone dings again. This time, Steve sends a voice message and Eddie presses play so quickly, he nearly knocks poor Bandit off his lap.

Hey, takin' a break from cornhole. I won, by the way, had to make up for losing to Brandon in the fishing bet.

Steve laughs and Eddie's stomach flips. Robin's right. He's down very, very bad for this man.

But I just uh, I miss you, and I know maybe that's sorta lame but I do. The party's great and all, but I can't wait to get back home tomorrow. Tell the kid I said hi. I love you, Ed.

He replays it a few times and shamelessly taps Keep so it doesn't disappear before sending his own voice message.

It's no more lame than me sitting here with Bandit sharing how much we miss you, so you get a pass. I mean, you get a pass on everything all the time, but don't let that go to your pretty head, okay? I'm so fucking glad you're having fun and sowing your jocky oats, but selfishly, I can't wait for you to get home. I'll make it worth your while.

He huffs air through his nose and laughs low in his throat.

Oh, and Robin's coming by in a little bit so I'm gonna grab a bottle of wine. Don't be surprised if you get a FaceTime call later. I love you too, Stevie. So goddamn much.

Eddie sure does miss Steve, but it stings a little less knowing that Steve misses him, too.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)

*NOT Mature, SFW — incorrectly flagged

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.

Summary: . . . After almost losing you in a scare related to your preterm labor, Eddie is reluctant to meet his newborn son, whose life still remains on the line, until some convincing from you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.

a/n: congrats on making it to part two! we still have quite a bit of angst to get through but we're almost through the storm! this part (even though i wrote Wayne's World as a whole) was my favorite to write, and i'm sure you'll be able to guess why. word count is 6k. good luck and happy reading! and for the people mad about the long post, sorry, had the 'keep reading' tab on but it kept fucking with the format and eating chunks of it. you're gonna have to scroll. let me know what you think? ◡̈

Hours passed by, Penny had fallen asleep in his lap again and so had most of his friends with the exceptions of Jonathan who looked like he could really use the sleep, Eden and Wayne. Steve would snap awake every once and a while, careful not to jostle his sleeping girlfriend. Nancy was asleep on Jonathan’s shoulder while Argyle used Eden’s lap for a pillow. Barb and Robin were hanging off chairs in the most uncomfortable looking positions, Robin’s snores almost painful sounding. The ‘kids’ (teenagers) had been picked up by their parents, only agreeing to go home if they could come back to wait with him first thing in the morning. 

  Eddie didn’t rest for a single second, mind torturing him with horrible, horrible thoughts. One played in his mind on loop; he was holding Penny as he walked out of the hospital. They were on their own.

  It held him captive, he hadn’t even noticed your doctor approaching him until she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Mr. Munson?”

  Wayne and Eddie traded quick glances and he handed Penny over, trying not to disturb her too much in his rush but she just curled up to Wayne.

  Eddie stood up, already feeling lightheaded. That voice in his head that had been torturing him whispered something cruel to him, enough to make him want to cease existing: maybe you, somewhere in this hospital, already gone and he didn’t know it. Was she about to confirm his worst fears?

  “I apologize for the fright we gave you. Your wife started hemorrhaging and she lost a lot of blood.”

  Yeah. Eddie’s world was ending. It was over.

  “But we were able to stop the bleeding and get her a transfusion. She’s stable and she’s going to be just fine.”

  The relief was almost crippling, the heaviest weight he’d ever felt on him was lifted. Eddie wanted to cry, he squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to compose himself before he broke down in front of another doctor.

  “We have her in a room, probably hold her for a couple of nights, depending on her recovery. Would you like to go see her?”

  “Yeah, yes, please.” He nodded rapidly, wiping furiously at his eyes. 

  Dr. Eisenberg nodded and began walking down the hall, “If you’ll follow me.”

  Eddie turned, ready to ask Wayne to look after Penny when Wayne cut him off, “Go. I'll let ‘em all know she’s okay and send ‘em home. They probably won’t be able to see her tonight or in the mornin’, but I’ll stick around. Let me know when I can come on up.”

  Eddie wanted to hug him, but he really needed to see you. 

  “Thank you, Wayne. For everything.” Then he was scrambling after Dr. Eisenberg, who had stopped to wait for him.

  The walk to your hospital room had Eddie ready to tear his hair out, he’d wanted to just ask your doctor for your room number so he could sprint the rest of the way because her pace was much too slow. He was desperate to get to you, to make sure you were really still alive.

  “Here we are,” she stated, pushing your room door open. “Hello, again, Mrs. Munson. I brought someone who’s been waiting for you.”

  Eddie’s breath hitched as Dr. Eisenberg stepped to the side and he finally saw you, eyelids heavy from whatever sedation you were still trying to pull yourself from, and a smile on your face that only widened when you locked eyes. 

  “Hi, baby,” you slurred, sleepy little smile not going anywhere. And neither were you. 

  The rush of emotions he was experiencing was too much, he burst into tears where he stood as Dr. Eisenberg closed the door behind her on her way out. 

  “Eddie…” you mumbled out, reaching the hand lacking an IV out to him. 

  Of course you were trying to comfort him, you were the one confined to a hospital bed, having just barely survived a traumatic birth and you were still trying to comfort him because you were perfect. 

  He slowly approached your bed, hot tears—he was surprised his body could even still produce more tears given how much he’d cried in the last few hours alone—streaming down his cheek. Eddie really did collapse when he reached you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

  You wrapped your arms around him, holding him to your chest as best as you could, though you had no idea why he was crying, brain too hazy.

  Eddie didn’t sob, just silently shook as he wet your neck, inhaled your scent, felt your warm skin and pulse beating beneath his lips. He hadn’t lost you, you were still here.

  Ideally, he’d be holding you and squeezing you hard enough to ensure you’d never leave his arms again, but even in his emotional hysteria, he was mindful of your condition.

  Eddie pulled away, large hands framing your face as he pressed desperate kisses all over your face, making sure every inch was caressed with his love before he focused on your lips, mouth meshing messily against yours.

  You could taste the salt of his tears, feel a couple of stray ones catching where your lips met. While he may have been feeling a mixture of emotions, all you could feel right then was content and still a bit sleepy from the anesthesia.

  When Eddie felt he’d conveyed his love for you sufficiently, he pulled away, a wet and hoarse chuckle escaping him when he realized you could barely keep your eyes open.

  “You sleepy, baby?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Get some rest, sweetheart,” Eddie’s thumb stroked over your bottom lip before resting over the center of it, “just, please wake up.”

  “Okay,” you mumbled, eyes already shut. Still, you managed to press a kiss to his thumb before you slipped into a blissful slumber.

  While you slept, Eddie had one of the nurses phone up the waiting room and sent Wayne. The poor man looked exhausted, but the relief on his face was evident when he saw you sleeping peacefully. 

   He looked like he wanted to cry, too. Instead, he just cleared his throat, blinked to keep the tears away and spoke low so as to not disturb you or the sleeping toddler in his arms.

  “Everythin’ alright?”

  “With her?” Eddie’s red rimmed gaze drifted back to you, focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still breathing, “Yeah.”

  Wayne nodded once and they both stood there in silence for a few minutes as the world began to turn again. Something still wasn’t right, felt wrong. He could tell by the tension his boy still had, arms crossed as he crouched in the seat next to your bed. 

  “And the baby?”

  Eddie flinched as if Wayne had shot a gun off in the air rather than mention his son.

  “I don’t know.”

  Wayne watched him with a careful eye, Eddie looked almost like he was vibrating from the force at which his leg was shaking, even your hospital bed appeared to be affected by it, though not nearly enough to disturb you.

  As much as he wanted to comfort him, for once, Wayne didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say and he had an inkling that anything that came out of his mouth wouldn’t be heard by Eddie. He was lost in the dark crevices of his own mind. 

  The most he could do was offer to give him some alone time, he was sure his boy wasn’t keen on others sticking around right now, even him. 

  “I’ll take Penny home, me and Maude’ll watch her.” 

  Eddie shook his head, a look of panic flashing over his face, “No, that’s alright. She can stay with me.”

  Wayne was reluctant, mouth set in a frown. Penny was a good girl, usually, but he didn’t know if Eddie could really handle her along with processing everything going on around him.

  “Really, we wouldn’t mind─”

  “I need her.” 

  That shut Wayne right up, he and Eddie shuffled to exchange Penny from his arms to her dad’s without waking her. She stirred momentarily then shoved her face into Eddie’s neck, her little body falling slack once more.

  Wayne gave his shoulder a good squeeze, ran his hand gently over Penny’s back before he leaned down—and in a rare show of affection—pressed a brief kiss to your forehead.

  As he was walking out of the room, Eddie felt the panic crawling down his throat again. He croaked out a broken, “Wayne─”

  Wayne paused in the doorway, turning to acknowledge Eddie but his nephew didn’t continue, just looked scared. For a moment, Wayne was caught off guard, sucking in a breath as his boy looked young for the first time in a couple of years. 

  Now, he knew you and Eddie were young. He’d been aware of it when you got together, aware of it when you told him you were pregnant with Penny but sometime after that, he stopped seeing your age, stopped seeing Eddie’s as the two of you grew up for her. Now, right then, he remembered with startling clarity that Eddie wasn’t even twenty-five. He looked so young because he was.

  Eddie didn’t have to say anything else because Wayne knew exactly what he wanted him to say.

  Wayne nodded slowly, mouth pressing into a firm line of determination, “Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

  Eddie choked up, held Penny a little tighter and Wayne went on his way.

  He found himself settling back into the seat he’d dragged near your bed, cradling Penny as she remained blissfully unaware and drooling on his scrub top.

  Wayne wasn’t wrong, she’d probably be a little too much for him but she was his kid, it wasn't like he could just hand her off to people when life came at him like this and he really did need her right now. Again.

  You were here and whole, but somewhere else in this hospital, a member of his little family was still slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t let the other one out of his sight, couldn’t lose her, too.

  Once more, Eddie remained restless as the hours passed. He sat in mostly silence. He’d turned on the tv near your bed, the volume high enough to drown out the sounds of the hospital outside of the room but much too low to wake you. Rain trilled against the windows, much more gentle than it had been earlier. The storm had also passed, and if there was even an ounce of humor in him, he would have been amused with how this storm seemed to fester like a black cloud looming over him. 

  It’d been a normal day up until he’d gone to Lucas’ birthday party, but he’d been skeptical about leaving you, worried something would happen. The metaphorical little black cloud formed over him, as a result, and so did the actual black clouds, quickly calling for wind and rain at high speeds. 

  And when Eddie had found out you were okay, you were alive, his black cloud disappeared, though it left behind damage and a cold atmosphere. The real storm had also run its course, leaving behind weather that reflected exactly how Eddie felt.

  Penny squirmed in his grasp, and he realized he’d tensed up so he quickly relaxed, shifting her into a more comfortable position in his hold. 

  “Why don’t you give her to me?”

  Eddie’s head snapped over to you, surprised to find you awake, somewhat lucid and watching him with a small smile on your face.

  “Because you just had your insides removed and put back in,” He smirked, another wave of relief washing over him. You’d woken up, you really were okay. You weren’t going to leave him.

  You rolled your eyes, making a vague hand gesture to brush the subject off, clearly the surgeons hadn’t removed your sass.

  “She’s tiny and there’s more than enough room on here for both of us.” You hissed as you slowly shimmied your way to the side of the bed and Eddie frowned.

  “Okay, how about you don’t move so we can limit the amount of heart attacks you give me today, yeah?” You knew Eddie must have been worried so you didn’t take the lack of humor behind his words and the tension on his face personally. 

  A quick glance at the clock confirmed your suspicions, “It’s three in the morning, Eddie. New day, but I’ll keep my antics to a minimum.”

  Insistently, you patted the spot next to you, perfectly Penny sized and high enough to guarantee she wouldn’t accidentally move against your incision.

  With a sigh, Eddie complied, gathering his daughter up. Tensing up disturbed her but full on moving her didn’t, most likely used to being carried into your home after she’d fallen asleep in her car seat or on the couch.

  She didn’t stir when he laid her down, either. You both had to rearrange her limbs into a more comfortable position, one that didn’t make it look like she was possessed. Once Eddie tucked her in, he let out another sigh and cast you an apologetic look, big brown eyes wide, glassy and full of sorrow.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” It was the last thing you deserved after what you’d gone through.

  The sincerity in his voice almost hurt you, it was heavy, as though it carried more weight than just a simple apology for his tone. 

  You held out your hand and Eddie immediately slipped his over it, locking his fingers with yours, squeezing as his breath hitched. 

  Your hand was so warm and soft. At one point in the last twenty-four hours, he’d thought he’d never get to feel it again, never get to hold your hand or see your pretty face. Never get to say…

  “I love you,” he blurted out, the panic he’d felt earlier when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those three words to you climbed right out of his belly, trying to claw its way out of his chest. Eddie took in a shuddering breath, head shaking as a hot tear escaped its confinement, trailing down his cheek. He moved to the other side of the hospital bed, so he wouldn’t crush Penny, and took your face in his hands, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, hoping he was able to convey just how much he loved you.

  He needed you to know.

  “Eddie,” you mumbled as he pulled away, only to hide himself in the crook of your neck again. You could feel his tears against your skin and it alarmed you. “I love you, too, baby. What’s wrong?”

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he confessed and you felt your heart seize up, “I thought I was gonna lose you twice in the same damn day. I was so fucking scared, sweetheart.” 

  When he’d been driving to the hospital, there had been a moment when he wondered if you’d still be breathing when he got there. It made him want to throw up so he quickly squashed it and forced it to the back of his head. It hadn’t been ideal when he’d entered the operation room, he didn’t like seeing you get cut open but it was comforting to see he’d overreacted. You were getting a c-section, you weren’t on your deathbed.

  Until you had been. 

  And for the second time that day, he thought you were going to die, thought he’d somehow cruelly manifested this for you and himself.

  “I’m alright, Eddie.” You freed your hand, grabbing his to cradle your cheek with. 

  “See? I’m okay. You didn’t lose me, you’re not going to.” Eddie pulls away from his hiding spot to stare down at you, the wounded puppy look still firmly in place so you add a little humor, hoping to get a smile out of him, “There’s no way I’m checking out this early, I can’t risk you moving on when you look this good.”

  Eddie’s hand was so big his fingers were tucked into your hair, his palm alone took up most of your cheek. His fingertips lightly massaged the area of your scalp available to him as the hurt on his face morphed into an earnest look, somehow more vulnerable.

  “There’s no moving on from you, you’re taking my soul, my heart, all of it with you when you go. You’re the love of my life, my everything. And that—fuck, it terrifies me because I’d still have Penny to take care of and I wouldn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t know how to pull myself out of it, if it’d even be possible and quite frankly, I don’t ever want to fucking find out.”

  Eddie was more than happy to have those types of questions remain unanswered for the rest of his life.

  “You’d be able to do it, I know you would. You would be able to take care of Penny and the baby.” You knew he would, your husband would pull himself out of his depression to make sure your children were okay because of how much he loved them, despite his grief.

  Eddie flinched, something you were quick to clock. You didn’t need to ask, he could see the question reflecting in those beautiful eyes of yours. 

  He had to break the news. You were already in a frail condition and he had to tell you the baby you’d almost died to have, your son, might still die.

  “Honey, the baby—he—fuck, he’s uh…there’s something wrong with his heart.”

  The way your face plummeted shattered something inside of him. 

  “What?”

  “He’s got a hole in his heart, the doctor said it was pretty common amongst heart defects but since he was born so early, it’d be difficult to medicate him or perform an operation. All they can do is keep him under observation, he still might not make it because of how young he is.”

  You squeezed your eyes shut, head dropping back to meet your pillow as you tried, and failed, not to cry. Why was this happening? You blamed yourself, why hadn’t you been able to keep him in your belly? Why had your own body betrayed you? Why had you failed your baby?

  “This is all my fault,” you declared, eyes and cheeks growing wet with your tears.

  “No, no, sweetheart.” Eddie was not about to let you take the blame for something out of your control or even allow you to believe any of this was your fault. “You can’t possibly believe this is on you. These things happen, it obviously isn’t ideal, but it’s just circumstance. It’s not your fault and it’s not the baby’s fault. You did everything you could and more. Okay?”

  He leaned in, finger stroking gently across your cheekbone as he caught a tear. You sniffled, nodding once as he pulled you back together.

  “What does he look like?” You asked, snuggling back into the pillow as Eddie coddled you.

  He hesitated for a moment before he answered, “I—I don’t know.”

  That elicited a small frown from you, “You haven’t seen him yet?”

  Eddie swallowed hard, gaze moving away from you, “No.”

  You waited, watching a series of emotions pass over his features. Eddie often tried to keep his internal struggles to himself, a habit you noticed once you became friends with him (ironically, through some trauma bonding) and even into your relationship. You hadn’t expected him to confide everything in you right away, though you had let him know should he ever need someone to talk to, you’d be there.

  Now, it wasn’t a matter of if he would, it was when. It didn’t take him long. 

  “I don’t know—I guess,” he pursed his lips, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the all too familiar burn of fresh tears. How many times had he cried in the last twenty-four hours? He felt ridiculous to be so emotional, then again, he’d never thought he’d find himself in this tragic situation, so he was due for a couple of breakdowns, “I know if I go down there and I—I look at him, I’m gonna fall in love with him and then what? He dies. I can’t do that, not if I’m gonna lose him forever. I can’t.”

  Eddie was leaking tears, not yet sobbing but well on his way as he made his confession. He couldn’t stomach seeing his baby boy if he was going to be taken away from him, if the two of you would have to put a tiny little coffin—a size that should never have to exist—six feet into the ground. He’d been put through the fucking ringer but Eddie couldn’t do that. It would break him.

  Eddie’s confession had you crying as well, you shared his pain. You didn’t want to lose your baby, either. You couldn’t remember what he looked like through the haze of your fatigue when you’d given birth to him, but if you tried to think hard enough, you could remember how it felt to have him in your arms in the passenger seat of Wayne’s truck. The first time you’d held him and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last. 

  Even if it was, you were grateful you’d had the chance to and you knew Eddie would never forgive himself if he didn’t get to see him, didn’t get to meet him.

  “I know you’re terrified, Eds. It scares me, too.” You grabbed his hand just as it slipped away from your face, encouraging him to look at you. “I don’t want to lose him, either. I want to take him home. I want to cuddle with him, nurse him, take tons of pictures of him with Penny and with you, but most of all, I want to make sure he knows I love him.”

  It killed you to imagine your baby in an incubator, small, helpless and with no one but the nurses, who could make the time to check on him in between all their other patients, offering him comfort. Human contact. And if he did end up passing, he could do so alone in there, not knowing how loved he was. 

  “I know you love him, Eddie, and you don’t want to lose him. But you can’t lose him if you don’t have him, baby. I hate that this is even a possibility for us, but I’d rather have held him and lost him than to never have picked him up at all. I’ll be okay with whatever you decide, but do you really want him to die without having gotten to meet his dad?”

  Eddie let out a choked sob as he shook his head. He didn’t want his baby to die at all but you were right, if he did lose his kid, he’d spend the rest of his life agonizing over the same thing Eddie had been upset with himself for when he thought he’d lose you. He’d been unable to recall the last time he told you he loved you. Only, he’d know he never told his son. 

  “I’ll be right back,” he swore and you nodded just as he leaned down to give you a kiss. He wiped away his tears, inhaled a particularly violent sniffle and you watched as he left your room to finally meet his baby.

  Eddie felt almost disorientated as he navigated his way to the NICU. He’d been there once, briefly, to check on Penny when she’d been there for a few hours, but that was a couple of years ago and he’d needed the assistance of several nurses and staff to direct him, but he finally made it.

  The entrance room, where the viewing window was located, was nearly empty. There was a woman further down, gazing through the large window.

  Eddie approached it with caution and his heart racing a mile a minute. It wasn’t too difficult to find his baby. His son was in an incubator, close to the window and labeled ‘MUNSON’. For the first time, Eddie got to take his son in. He had been right, he fell in love with him at first sight.

  He was smaller than some of the other babies, bigger than others as well and surprisingly well developed. Kind of calmed Eddie’s nerves, just a little. He had a couple of monitor pads attached to his tummy with an additional one wrapped around his tiny foot. Other than the nasal cannula, baby Munson didn’t have a whole lot of tubes attached to him like Eddie had imagined and he could see a smattering of hair on his head, somewhat light in shade but he had a feeling it would darken soon to resemble his own. 

  It was hard to tell if Wayne and Penny were right in their description of him, Eddie couldn’t tell if he was still pale since the baby was cloaked in blue light, but he assumed his son had gained some color by then. Eddie also couldn’t make out his eyes, those were covered by some sort of eye cloth, most likely for protection. He looked a little odd, obviously resembled a baby and while his features were almost indistinguishable, appearing a little generic, as his face still needed to develop a little more, Eddie could see hints of familiar features. 

  He looked like newborn Penny, well, so far. Her features had obviously changed since then, and still were, but he was promising to look almost exactly like she had when she was born. And Eddie thought Penny looked a lot like you, so it got a smile out of him, regardless of the fact his son was bound to resemble his family.

  Eddie watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest with concern. Was he supposed to be breathing that fast? Was he okay? 

  “Which one is yours?”

  Eddie turned to peer over at the woman who’d asked him the question, “Munson.”

  Eddie watched as her gaze moved over all the incubators until they found the correct one.

  “Oh, he’s a cute one. And his breathing looks incredible.”

  “Really? It’s not too fast?” He asked, the worry in his voice obvious.

  “Considering it’s his first time pumping those lungs, I don’t think so, no. Looks like he’s breathing real good to me. Mine needs a little help.” She pointed through the glass to an incubator that housed a baby with a tube in its mouth as well as individual ones in each nostril unlike his son’s nasal cannula. Eddie felt horrible.

  “I’m sorry,” he tried to apologize but she waved him off, a smile still on her face. 

  “Don’t be, that’s all mine is here for. As soon as she figures out how to keep doing it on her own, she’ll be back with me and my wife.”

  Right on, Eddie thought. Before he could continue their conversation, a nurse knocked on the window.

  She gestured down to the baby, “Is he yours?”

  Wow, this glass must have been thin, he could hear her pretty good.

  For some reason, Eddie still assumed she couldn’t hear him and only nodded. She disappeared for a minute and emerged into the room through a large pair of doors. 

  “Would you like to hold him?”

  Eddie glanced at the other occupant and she gave him a nod of encouragement. 

  “Yeah,” he rasped out, turning to look at his son through the window once more, “Yeah, I would.”

  Eddie was nervous the entire time as she prepped him with instructions. While they were concerned about the hole in his son’s heart, he was well developed, had strong vitals, good reactions, even for thirty weeks. He was so good that had it not been for his heart, he probably would have been sent home at the same time as you, given your longer than average stay due to your c-section and preeclampsia.

  And when she placed him in his arms, the love he had for his son almost overwhelmed him. He couldn’t believe he almost denied himself this. 

  “Can I touch him?” He asked, after he’d stopped marveling at the small face—eyes still hidden—in his arms. 

  “Mhm, we’d encourage it. Babies, even born preterm, are still very much so human. He craves the contact, it might even encourage him.” 

  Eddie didn’t hesitate, fingers gently stroking over the soft fluff of hair on his son’s head. This close, he could see it all pushed towards the middle of his head, like a mohawk. His baby was already metal straight out of your womb, it made him chuckle. 

  The nurse stepped away to tend to another baby, giving him a little privacy. Eddie maneuvered his son so he was resting on his chest, little head pressed against the spot just over his heart.

  “Hi,” he whispered down to the baby in his arms, “I’m your dad.”

  Much to Eddie’s awe, the baby nuzzled his head against his chest, making him still. He didn’t know why, but he’d believed his son wouldn’t be able to move for some reason. It was nice to know he was wrong.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” he laughed, the sound soft, “I’ve been looking forward to it, you must have, too. You sure know how to make an entrance, huh? Couldn’t wait in your mom any longer?”

  Eddie ducked down to kiss his little head, lips remaining there as he moved to sit in one of the few chairs of the NICU. 

  “It’s okay, though. I’ve got you, daddy’s got you.” Even if the outcome wasn’t okay, right at that moment with his son in his arms, everything felt like it would be. And if his son needed encouragement, Eddie would give it to him. 

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to come find you, your mom had to talk some sense into me. She loves you a lot, you know? Probably jealous I’m down here and she isn’t, but only because she physically can’t just yet.”

  Eddie’s hand went to support the back of his head as he moved the baby down to hold in his hands, staring down at his little face. 

  “I’ll bring her down to see you again as soon as I can, though. So you gotta keep fighting, okay? I know things are hard for you right now, not as easy as the other babies in the hospital, but I know you can do it. I love you so much, your mom and I just want to take you home, so you gotta beat this, okay?”

  Eddie rocked his baby, gentle swaying motions as he pressed kiss after kiss to his head. 

  “I see you’ve made it down for a visit,”

  Eddie glanced up at the face of Dr. Houseman, she didn’t look as intimidating as she had when she’d first approached him in the waiting room.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m very glad I caught you. I heard your wife is doing well.”

  “She is,” he confirmed, with a relieved grin. 

  “Good, I’m glad. Have you been given an update on your little guy?”

  Eddie recounted what the nurse had told him and Dr. Houseman looked pleased.

  “Well, I have more news for you. He’s proving to be much stronger than we’d initially anticipated, and while his vitals were already good on intake, they’ve improved tremendously in the last few hours and so have his responses. I think he’s figuring out what he’s capable of doing; how to breathe, how to move, how to eat—we introduced him to a rubber nipple to check his latch response and it’s good, not quite there yet, we’ll have to get creative with his feedings but I think he’ll be able to latch onto his mom soon.”

  She must have caught the way Eddie perked up at her use of the word soon. That meant his baby had a fighting chance.

  “These first few hours after a birth such as his and with his condition are crucial. While he’s still significantly weaker than an average full term newborn, your baby seems to be a fighter.  Should he survive this next night, I believe he’ll make it. He’d just need some time in here while the hole closes up, but it just might not be too much for him.”

  She left him with that news and a parting smile.

  Eddie held his son for a few more minutes before a nurse returned to put him back in his incubator. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he’d promised him he’d be back.

  When Eddie got back to the room, his heart was a little lighter and he was able to smile when he saw you giving Penny, who was now wide awake, kisses. He pressed his back up against the door and watched for a few moments as you leaned in and gave her a loud kiss. She’d go into a fit of giggles before demanding another with an again!

  “Daddy!” Penny beamed the moment she saw him and Eddie grinned as he made his way over, lifting her into his arms when she held hers up to him.

  “Hi, pretty one. You sleep good?” 

  “Uh-huh,” it was clear she was distracted and didn’t care about his questions, no, she had some of her own. “You see my baby?”

  Eddie raised an eyebrow, trading an amused look with you.

  “Oh, he’s your baby now?”

  “Ya, he’s—he’s my baby.” She nodded with a grin as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.

  “Well, then yes. I saw your baby,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose.

  “Wha’helooklike?” Penny blurted out, eyes wide as she waited for his reply. 

  “He looked a lot like you.” 

  “Nooooooo,” Penny laughed, shaking her head against her dad’s, “He is my potatoes, not anoda Penny.”

  “It’s true!” Eddie laughed with her as he put her back down by your side and leaned in to give you yet another—he’d never stop giving them to you—kiss.

  “He looks like her?” You asked, after you’d returned his kiss.

  “Mhm,” Eddie fell back into the seat he’d occupied hours earlier. “Looks like she did when she was a newborn. He’s not pale—like a potato,” he directed that part to Penny who just laughed into her little hands, “anymore, at least. I don’t know whose eyes he has, they were covered.”

  Eddie was right about you being jealous, you were practically green with it. 

  “I wish I could see him,” you stated sadly, frown on your lips. You knew, realistically, if he started to decline, they’d most likely let you out of bed to see him or bring him up to you, but still. You’d rather it not come to that.

  “Ran into his doctor while I was there, she said he’s got a better chance.”

  Your eyes lit up, “Really?”

  “I was just about ready to kiss her.” He nodded and you made a face, nose doing that adorable scrunch he loved so much.

  “Okay, well, don’t do that.”

  Eddie snickered, “It was a figure of speech, baby.”

  “I know, I’m just saying it on her behalf,”

  “On her behalf?” Eddie pouted, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

  “Yeah, I want to kiss her, too, but—uhm, Eds, you might need some sleep ‘cause—you’re hot, you really are, but you also look insane right now.”

  Eddie got up to make his way to the bathroom so he could see himself in the mirror, nearly jumping once he’d turned on the lights.

  His eyes were beyond bloodshot, his eye bags were dark and very apparent, his skin had an interesting almost gray like tinge to it and his hair was a wreck. Eddie looked like he belonged in a psych ward.

  “Jesus,” he shouted loud enough to be heard by you.

  “It’s okay, Eds. You’re still beautiful to me!”

  Eddie did end up sleeping. Turns out the chair he’d been sitting on was also a pull out bed. You insisted that he get some rest, and while he did, you changed Penny’s diaper and got some hospital room service for the two of you, you’d even picked something out on the menu for Eddie to eat once he woke up. 

[will80sbyers]

Okay so my thoughts about these pictures...

Spoilers under the cut!

I think these might be from the first episodes 1 or 2 or 3 ( I think ep. 1 because they look fresh lmao), Nancy is in her nurse outfit that she has for some reason probably related to the plot and I think El is possibly training her powers with Hopper and Joyce because she wants to be ready to fight Vecna, again probably in the first episodes because of the outfits they all have on -

oh also they have the bikes of the kids in the car idk why

I think this may also be from the first episodes, maybe ep. 2, and Erica is at the Turnbow residence for some reason - maybe she knows Derek if it gets confirmed that he's their son like we thought and

there's this lady on the left of the picture because of the outfit so Erica is having a meal with them ? I had thought that Lucas was there at the mansion to pick her up and yeah I think that's happening probably!

I think this pic of El could be either at the lab somewhere or in the military base maybe? I'm not really sure of this, seems like there's action happening tho

This might be from around ep. 3 or after because of the outfit Robin has on, we know Murray drives that truck in and out of the military checkpoint

After episode 4, Dustin is in the lab in the upside down, and I think Steve is for sure with him - not sure why they go there

They are dressed like after ep. 3 I think (?), not sure where they are, there's stuff like a chainsaw in the back but I can't recognize the place...

This must be part of the first episodes too because Joyce had that shirt at the radio station too

in this one they are dressed like after ep. 3 I think, they are for sure inside the radio station

and I do think that I guessed right, and the one getting blood on her was Joyce, not sure if she's the one that gets hurt tho, it could be Karen and then Joyce gets blood on her - to me it looks like the same type of shoe

No actually maybe it's not the same but maybe she changed the shoes and the first one is in the first episode??? I'm not sure now but it's the same style so I'm leaning towards the blood shoe being hers too

and, finally, here they are clearly watching the byler kiss! That's it :)))

[munsonsmixtapes]

hiii im wondering if i could put in a request?? 💕

something like you’re dustin’s older sister and you’ve always despised eddie no matter how hot you thought he was and you two were always bickering at eachother and you guys are like enemies right, one night at a party there’s like this crazyyyy sexual tension between the two of you and you guys can’t help but look at each others lips while arguing with eachother like normal and you guys crash lips and it’s like angry sex and soooo hot!!!

Eddie Munson x Henderson!fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) both Eddie and reader are very degrading towards each other, grinding, Eddie receives a hickey, spanking, anal

You had hated Eddie the moment you laid eyes on him. And he didn’t like you either, telling you as much with absolutely no shame. Too bad you could also dish it out. For once, someone was actually putting Eddie Munson in his place and he just couldn't stand that. Because he was the dungeon master for every campaign, everyone just let him say and do what he wanted because without him, there wouldn't have even been a game. Not you, though.

You were always able to get him right where it hurt and he just couldn't stand it, because for once, you were someone who was hating him for exactly who he was and not who everyone thought him to be. You knew he wasn't some evil devil worshiper who was running a cult and that got under his skin, that you were calling it just like you saw it.

Things between the two of you had gotten really bad when you had started a rival DnD club. The other players wouldn't let you back in because all you did was argue with him and ruin the campaign for them, so what else were you supposed to do, not start your own group?

And when Eddie caught wind that you were trying to convince Dustin to join your club? Well, you might as well have stabbed him in the back because that would have hurt a lot less. Dustin might as well have been his younger brother and now you were stealing him away? Sure, you and Dustin were actually related by blood, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm not doing it, y/n," Dustin told you as he got into your car as you picked him up for school. You didn't even have to speak for your brother to know exactly what you were going to ask. You had been asking for weeks and every time it was the same answer. You weren't really that upset and you understood that it was because he had a special bond with Eddie, but you were his sister, didn't that count for something?

"Making me choose between one of my best friend and my sister is really unfair, you know that?" He asked, throwing his backpack into the floorboard.

"No one's making you choose, Dustin," you shook your head as you put the car in drive. "You have a special bond with Eddie and he made his club first so I guess I can let it slide."

"So you'll stop with your stupid feud?" You didn't think it was that serious, but maybe you weren't seeing the big picture like Dustin. You were only seeing it from your point of view and it seemed like Eddie was the one who was always instigating your arguments.

"Yeah, Dustin," you looked over at him for a brief second before tuning back to the road. "We'll stop."

You hadn't lied when you said those words, but the second you spotted him across the room at a party that Robin had invited you to, your blood was boiling. You didn't think he even knew Steve like that, so you had no idea why he would have been there. Probably the free booze. Definitely the free booze.

You wanted to say something to him, but you weren't sure what. You had promised Dustin, but he wasn't there, so you could say whatever you wanted to Eddie and your little brother never would have known.

"Please don't," Robin whined as she saw what you were about to do. She grabbed onto your arm and tried to hold you back, but your mind was already made up.

You downed the rest of your drink and slammed the cup down onto the coffee table before making a beeline for the metalhead. God, you hated him. And how could you not with his stupid perfect hair and he stupid pretty brown eyes and his stupid pink lips that you wanted to kiss?

You wiped the thought out of your head and continued to walk towards him. It was as if everything had happened in slow motion. In the time you had gotten to the party and gotten your drink, one of your shoes had come untied and you had stepped on it, causing you to fall right onto the floor in front of everyone.

Eddie didn't know what he was doing, but he was quick to help you to your feet. You didn’t know why you were wearing heels when you knew that you’d be drinking, but the damage was already done.

“I don’t need your help,” you told him, trying to push him off of you, but he wouldn’t let you go as your legs were giving out once again.

“Yeah, I can tell,” he rolled his eyes and you hated how you could feel the heat of his hands through your shirt and how his warm brown eyes were filled with concern. “Falling for me, hm?”

“Not even close.”

“Right,” he nodded. “You just can’t hold your liquor.”

“Right on the money, Munson. Guess you’re not as dumb as you look.”

“Can we move this little conversation somewhere else?” Robin asked, appearing by your side. “It’s a little disruptive.”

“The conversation is over,” you grumbled, finally getting Eddie to let go of you. He was about to walk away, but Robin grabbed him by the arm, preventing him from getting too far.

“But it’s not,” she said, also grabbing hold of your wrist. “I think I speak for everyone when I say that you need to talk whatever this is out.” She rested a hand on each of your shoulders and led you up the stairs to the nearest room which just so happened to be a guest room.

“Robin, what are you-” you both said in unison, but she shoved you into the room and both she and Steve stood against the door so neither of you could open it.

You tried to opened it but it wouldn’t budge. You then let Eddie try, but he couldn’t get it either, the effort being no use. You were now stuck until they let you out and you knew that you would have to stay there until you worked things out.

You couldn’t believe you hadn’t seen it sooner. You fell right into your friends’ trap and now you were going to have to stay with the metalhead who you despised.

You sat down on the bed with a sigh then collapsed onto your back, accepting defeat. If you couldn’t get out without reconciling, there was no use in fighting. The bed was actually kind of comfortable so you could have stayed there for quite a while if Eddie didn’t start yapping.

He stood by the door, sipping on the beer that was in his hand and you found yourself letting your eyes take over his body. He was dressed in a cropped band t-shirt and pair of short shorts. He looked good and you almost wanted to tell him as much, but you didn’t want to feed his ego.

He turned to you, setting his beer on the dresser before making his way towards you. He stood in front of you, giving you a view of his great legs and you he to tear your eyes away from him.

“Like what you see?” He asked, his tone becoming very flirty. His pink lips twisted into a smirk and you almost wanted to kiss him. Almost.

“Not in the slightest,” you grimaced. But you did like what you saw. Maybe a little too much.

“Oh sorry, here. Let me give you a better view,” he turned around and purposefully dropped his keys, slowly bending down to pick them up, wiggling his ass as he did so. And damn did he have a great one. Why did you want to look and why did you kind of want to give it a slap? It was right there. All you had to do was reach over and-

“I caught you looking, l/n. You can touch it if you want. I won’t tell anyone,” he winked as he set his keys next to his beer. He then crossed the room and planted himself right next to you so that your thighs were touching. "I bet you've even thought about me naked," he teased his face a little too close to yours for your liking. You could see his brown eyes perfectly and could count every single eyelash if he had stayed there long enough.

And the thing was, you had thought about him naked. Even though you never would have admitted it. Sometimes when you couldn't sleep, you'd use your fingers to entertain you and maybe sometimes your mind would wander to Eddie. Maybe he was hot. But only maybe. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him as much. He didn't deserve to know how much you thought about him.

"It's okay if you have," he assured you. "Because I've thought about you naked. And believe me, in my dreams, you look hot as fuck."

"You're disgusting," you grimaced, but really, it was kind of turning you on. You felt your cheeks getting hot and you turned away from him. "I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on earth."

"Woah, sweetheart," he put his hands up in defense. "No one said anything about us sleeping together. I was just talking about fantasies."

"And that's all it's going to be, because in case you forgot, Munson, I don't like you." You stood from the bed and stepped away from him, knowing that you only needed one more push and your lips would be on his.

"I don't like you either sweetheart, but I'm just trying to get along with you because of Dustin, because unfortunately, you're related to him."

"What do you have against me? What did I do?"

"Nothing, actually," he replied, leaning back on his hands, crossing one leg over the other. He was looking hotter by the second and you needed to turn away before you did something stupid. "I just like pushing your buttons. But you clearly seem to hate me. Wanna share with the class?"

"You're arrogant," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "You think your hot shit because you play DnD, but guess what, Munson? So do a lot of other people. I think you're just mad because I'm a better DM than you." That seemed to unleash something in Eddie because before you knew it, he was standing from the bed and making a beeline for you.

"Hey, no one is a better DM than me," he jabbed his finger into your face. You kind of liked when he got angry. There was something about it that made you want him even more.

"Oh, I beg to differ," you chuckled, stepping closer so that you were toe to toe with him. "Even Dustin says I'm better than you."

"No he didn't." You could see his gaze moving down to your lips and you mimicked his actions, trying your best to be more subtle than he was.

"No, he didn't," you shook your head. "But you believed it for a second, didn't you? God, you're so easy to rile up, you're so-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Eddie grabbed you by the neck, pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss. You gasped into his mouth, but quickly responded by moving your lips with his. Your hands quickly wound into his hair as his went to your waist, wrapping around it tightly as he tried to remove any space between the two of you.

Just as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip, you pulled away, not wanting things to get too heated. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and Eddie desperately wanted to nibble on it. Now that he had gotten a taste, he felt like he could kiss you for the rest of his life and never get bored.

"We can't do this," you said, stepping away from him, but he just followed you, backing you up until your back hit the dresser. You wanted him to kiss you again, even wanted to let him go all the way, but there was something about it that felt wrong. Mainly because you were Dustin's sister. Not that either of you would have told him.

"Why not?" He asked, licking his lips and he didn't miss the way you were looking at them, like they were a glass of water and you were absolutely parched.

"Be-because of Dustin."

"He doesn't have to know, but if you don't want to kiss me, then that's fine," he turned towards the door. "We can just go downstairs and tell Steve and Rob that we made up-"

But before Eddie could get to the door or finish his sentence, you turned him around to face you, throwing yourself into his arms before pressing your lips to his in a messy kiss. He was quick to respond, moving his lips with yours, his hands slowly moving up to your waist again.

He licked into your mouth and you moaned as his tongue swirled around yours, backing him up to the bed. He collapsed onto it, taking you with him and you were quick to straddle his waist. You kicked off your shoes then pulled away before pressing a kiss to his cheek, moving his hair out of the way before leaning down, your lips hovering over the shell of his ear.

"I'm gonna show you who the real master is," you whispered and Eddie could feel his dick hardening at your words.

You then pressed a kiss to his neck, peppering the spot with them before adding in your tongue. You could feel his heart racing against your lips and almost wanted to laugh. Good. You had him right where you wanted him. 

You began to suck on the skin, wanting everyone to see exactly what you had done to him. He laid there, pliant to your touch as you marked him up, wanting to let you do whatever you wanted to him. The woman he had been fantasizing for months was on top of him, giving him a hickey so who was he to deny you? This was just a wet dream come to life. 

His hands moved up the back of your shirt, his fingers digging into your back as you continued to work, a moan escaping his lips as he did so. Your teeth grazed the skin and his heart rate skyrocketed, another moan falling from his lips, his fingers digging even further into your back.

Once you felt like your work was done, you pulled away, smiling down at his neck that was now shining with your spit and the hickey that was forming. You had given multiple in your lifetime, but thinking about the fact that Eddie Munson was now going to be walking around sporting the mark that you gave him suddenly made you feel very wet.

He pulled you in for another kiss and you were the one to dip your tongue into his mouth, slowly grinding against him as you did so. You could hear a whimper in the back of his throat and let it die on his lips as you continued to kiss him, still grinding against his cock that was getting even more hard by the second. 

You pulled off your shirt and Eddie stared at your chest, his eyes filling with lust. You stared down at him and continued to grind on him, knowing that he needed just a little push to get the little whimper to pass through his lips. 

“l/n, please, can’t take all the teasing.” His whining was so hot and making you even more wt as you thought about him actually needing you that bad. 

“Gonna need a bit more, Munson.” You were grinding even harder now and Eddie swore that he was going to lose his goddamn mind. “C’mon, beg me.” 

“Please,” he whined again, more passion in his words. “I mean, do you need to see my cock to see how desperate I am?” You knew he was exaggerating, but you actually did want to see his cock, wondering if it looked anything like you thought it did. 

“I do, actually,” you nodded and his hands moved to his shorts and seeing how his dick was tenting in his pants, you could already see what a mess you had made of him. You got off of him and let him get the shorts off, followed by his underwear and you couldn’t help but stare at him, lying there with his cock in full display, the thing much bigger than you had anticipated. 

You followed his lead and stripped your underwear before your skirt and you could see Eddie’s mouth fall open as he stared at you, lust clouding his eyes even more. You then pushed him onto the bed before retrieving a condom from his pocket, opening the packet then rolling the thing onto his cock.

“Don’t think this is because I like you or anything,” you told him as you straddled his waist again, slowly placing yourself onto his cock. “This is just because you’re here and you’re hot.” Eddie had no problem with that. Why you were fucking him was none of his business. He was perfectly happy with you using him for his body. 

“I don’t care,” he shook his head. “Use me.”

“Oh, I intend to.” You leaned down and pressed a hot kiss to his lips before you began to ride him, bucking your hips against his in a slow motion to get used to it before picking up the pace. Your hands found his shoulders and they dug into his skin as his moved to your waist, the same treatment given to your hips.  

You watched him as you continued to ride him, seeing the way he was already coming undone doing something to you. Your movements got harder and faster and clearly that was what Eddie was wanting considering that he was more responsive to you, moans and whimpers falling from his lips. 

“Knew you’d look hot underneath me,” you said, your breathing getting labored, but Eddie only thought that made you even more attractive. “I mean, look at you, I’ve barely even done anything and you’re already fucked out.” Eddie almost wanted to see what he looked like to know if you were telling the truth or messing with him because he thought that he had been pretty nonchalant up until then, Okay, maybe except for the begging. 

“Gonna need for you to beg for me again,” you said and you were getting too cocky for Eddie’s liking. You were so confident that you were driving him crazy, and you were, but he didn’t want you to know just how desperate he was for a fuck. 

In one swift move, he sat up and pushed you onto your back so that he was on top. It was about time he taught you a lesson, making you moan so loudly that the rest of his house could see just how well he fucked you. 

“I’m the master now,” he said, pinning your arms to the bed. Your mouth was wide open and for once, you didn’t have anything to say. You were shocked by the sudden movement that you needed to catch your breath, but Eddie pounding into you made your brain short circuit. 

He was going so fast and hard and all you could do was moan, loving the way he wasn’t being gentle. He was whispering the most filthy things into your ear and you felt so overstimulated, but didn’t want it to stop. This was easily the best you ever had even though you never would have admitted it. Eddie’s ego didn’t need to be fed anymore. 

“Now you’re the one who’s going to have to beg,” he said, stopping his movements completely. He just stared down at you with his big brown eyes, a hint of mischief behind them just like always. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, his moving slowly against, giving you just a taste, but not the full thing. He didn’t want to spoil you, after all. 

“C’mon,” he urged against your lips. You needed him, but there was no way you were going to beg. You didn’t beg. If it came down to it, you’d just finish the job yourself and make Eddie watch, punishing him for what he had done.

“Not a chance,” you replied. “I can stay here all night.” Eddie didn’t like that response. In retaliation, he sunk deeper into you, fitting all of himself into your cunt and he had to hold back a laugh as he watched you gasp. You just needed a little push and you’d be whining his name in no time.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, very close to giving in, the feeling of his entire cock inside of you getting to you. You thought you could take it, but you really couldn’t. It was more painful than you would have thought and it was driving you crazy that he was trying to make you seem like you wanted him more than you did. You both were just fucking each other because you were there. And maybe you were attracted to him a little bit, but that was beside the point.

“Eddie, please,” you begged, your voice much more whiny than he would have expected. “Eddie, please fuck me.” This was exactly what he was wanting and it really wasn’t that hard to get you to submit. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it sweetheart? All you had to do was beg daddy.” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Oh, don’t start that or else I’m going to have to punish you.” He pounded into you once more which elicited another delicious moan from your lips. Your grip on him was becoming more rough and he wanted you to hurt him, wanting to be able to see your marks when he looked in the mirror. 

“You say that like this wasn’t already a punishment.” You were giving it back to Eddie and every response almost made him short circuit since the women he usually slept with submitted so easily, obeying his every command, just wanting to impress him. But you, you were different and he liked that. He liked how bratty you were behaving and was going to have fun punishing you. 

“Turn over,” he commanded, his eyes growing dark. 

“Eddie, what-” you were trying to ask him what he was meaning, but he just cut off. 

“I’m not speaking fucking gibberish, y/n, I said. Turn. Over.” He pulled out and you flipped over onto your stomach, a gasp leaving your mouth as his hand made contact with your ass with a loud smack. He did one more, harder this time and you were becoming concerned about how much you were enjoying it. 

You moaned as the smacks continued and before you could even process what was happening, the spanking had stopped. You tried to turn around to see what he was doing, but he pushed your face into the mattress and pounded his cock into your ass, his movements fast and hard. You turned your head to the side so you could breathe and your fingers dug into the comforter as he continued, another moan slipping from your lips. 

You knew that Eddie was a freak in the bedroom, but not this much of one. And did it make you a freak that you were enjoying what he was doing? Definitely. And now you weren’t sure how you were going to go on knowing that this was what you could have had all along if you had stopped your stupid feud. 

“See what happens when you talk back?” He asked, giving one more push and now you were coming undone, an orgasm ripping through you as he removed his hand from your face. You screamed his name and he chuckled to himself as he had you exactly where he wanted you. He then pulled out and disposed of the condom before helping you to your feet. 

You both got dressed, the tension having died down and now you couldn’t look each other in the eye after what you had just done. You cleaned yourself up then put on your clothes, turning your back to Eddie as you did so, suddenly feeling exposed. This was definitely a one time thing and now you were going to have to masturbate for the rest of your life since none of your other hookups would ever compare, Eddie always on your mind as you got yourself off.

Once you were dressed, you turned around to see him grabbing his keys and shoving them into his pocket before reaching for his beer. He stepped closer and tilted the bottle towards you as if he was offering you some. You took a sip, grimacing at how warm it had gotten then handed it back to him. 

Eddie then grabbed hold of your waist and pulled you to him before pressing a kiss to your lips, this one soft and gentle. Just as you were getting into it, he pulled away, pecking you then turning to the door. He rested his hand on the handle then turned to you for a brief moment.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he winked then fled the room, leaving the door wide open. You quickly followed him, stopping in the doorway just in time to see him bound down the stairs to join the party where everyone was hopefully oblivious to what you had just done. 

You waited a few seconds and followed, heading down the stairs just in time to see Robin handing Steve a twenty dollar bill who pocketed it. They both caught your gaze and waved you over, both wrapping an arm around you.

“So how was he?” Steve asked and you tried your best to hide your smile. 

“Oh, we didn’t do anything,” you shook your head, hoping that they would buy your terrible lie. 

“Oh please,” Robin knocked her hip against yours. “We could hear the two of you fucking like bunnies up there. Now come on, let’s get you some water, looks like you need it.” She led you to the kitchen to get you the water and you turned your head in just the right direction to catch Eddie staring at you. He raised his bottle to you and you nodded in response. 

“Same time tomorrow?” he mouthed and you nodded enthusiastically, fully prepared to give him your number after you got your water. Maybe you didn’t hate each other as much as you thought. Maybe all of your attraction to each other was hidden by your supposed hatred. Well, now you supposed you were enemies with benefits and you had absolutely no problem with that.

[citrusandrottefruit]

Diagnosed with Hanahaki, a genetic autoimmune disease, as a child, Steve has learned to live with it. Along the way, he finds a family and falls in love with Eddie. He is never cured, but he lives.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Some thoughts on this

The conversation with Jonathan and Nancy couldn't be called easy, but it was manageable enough for Steve to do it at a time that wasn't even planned. Maybe it was the lack of planning that made it easier, maybe it was the practice he'd been getting over the last few weeks. 

Jonathan apologized profusely, for the pictures he'd taken in '83, for the punch, and for having gotten together with Nancy before she and Steve had actually broken up. Nancy was a little more complicated. Her apologies only came after a lot of pointing out, about all the times she hadn't noticed what was going on with Steve, and she ended up feeling so bad and guilty that Steve almost had to console her.

Luckily, Jonathan had the good sense to try to hold back their emotional response for later, and they both tried to act normally. The next time they met, it was impossible for Steve to help but notice how worn out they both looked, with even bigger bags under their eyes than usual. So, they had to talk a second time, just to make sure that no, Hanahaki didn't start because of either of them and with everything related to the Upside Down happening, they were far from having caused his health to worsen.

It was a lie, but there was no point in wanting them to blame each other after all this time, especially just because of Hanahaki. Steve wished things between the three of them had been simpler, but the illness had nothing to do with it. And after all, compared to everything that had happened, it wasn't that important.

In the midst of all this, he kept talking to Eddie. He shared the fact that his parents' marriage seemed to have improved after his mother was diagnosed and he had never been able to understand that.

He told her how his mother seemed like the protagonist of a dramatic movie, always suffering with such elegance. He remembered one week, when she was bedridden at home, he had to get up very early to get her makeup and help her brush her hair, even though a nurse would come in later and do exactly the same thing.

When he asked about it, his mother said, “I don’t want to be seen like that, Steve.” 

At the time, he didn’t understand, but he was happy to be of service. Months later, when he was diagnosed, he remembered that day and was even more confused, because it was so tiring just to exist, how could he care how shiny his hair looked? When his cheeks were flushed and his lips were soft? 

It took him years to realize why it felt so good to try to take care of his appearance when there was so little he could do for his own body. It was comforting.

But he didn’t share that memory with Eddie. Not yet. 

He just kept talking about his parents. About how Mrs. Harrington liked to have romantic dinners regularly and she had mentioned about ten honeymoons. It was one of her favorite topics of conversation, and she especially loved trying new hobbies or even sports during those trips. His father was okay with it, just so she would be happy.

“I don’t think she wanted to be a mother, just my father’s wife.”

“Absurd!” Eddie exclaimed, anger hidden under theatrics. He let go of the steering wheel for a moment before gripping it tightly, pulling the van into the center of the correct lane. That day, Steve had his monthly checkup and Eddie asked to accompany him, promising a movie afterwards, in a neighboring city. “How could anyone choose your father over you?”

And there it was, once again, Eddie’s ability to make the wounds that Steve hadn’t even mentioned hurt less.

“It’s just that she’s always been in love with him. When I was a kid, I thought it was the most romantic thing in the world. I even wanted to have the same thing.” He laughed thinking about the absurdity of it. “To love so much that even if that person made me feel so much pain, they would also make me very happy.” Steve sighed, serious again. “But I still want someone who would stay with me on a romantic night or sleep in an uncomfortable chair in the hospital.”

Before Eddie had time to say anything, he turned up the volume of the music.

A few hours later, he confessed that Mr. Harrington was that person to his mother, but not in the right way. Because he indulged in his illness almost like a hobby, very involved in it until he was not around Mrs. Harrington and something else caught his attention. 

Steve noticed this when his father called and informed him, very casually, that she was in the ICU. He would spend a fortune to make her live well, yet he seemed barely able to realize that her life was in danger.

A few days later, with the test results in hand and feeling stronger, he invited the kids over for a movie night at his apartment. Hopper offered to help tell them and was so worried that he decided to spend the night at a diner when Steve refused. Joyce, less extreme, promised to be just a phone call away. 

Jonathan and Nancy weren’t there, because they all figured the kids would be less upset if it wasn’t obvious that they were the last ones to find out. 

Guys.” Steve clapped his hands together, then put them on his hips, standing in front of the TV. “I have an announcement to make.” 

“Are you serious?” Mike yelled. “We’re here for the movies!” 

“Shut up, idiot.” 

“We’re here for the movies,” Dustin interjected into the fight that was already starting to form between Max and Mike. “But we’re going to listen to Steve.”

“You’d hear it anyway, you know, we have three adults here to keep you brats in check.” Robin stood next to Steve and began clapping her hands until everyone was quiet. “Steve.” 

Then she went to join Eddie, who was standing behind the kids, silent and watchful. 

It was good to have them both there, someone to look at without letting himself be consumed by terror.

“This has nothing to do with the Upside Down, but it’s very important, so I’ve already talked to Hopper and Joyce too and I don’t want you to get upset, okay? I’m going to talk to everyone about this in the way I thought would make this easier.”

At this point, no one seemed more scared than Max or Dustin. Even Mike, who was trying to keep his expression irritated, looked worried and was the only one who had the courage to speak up.

“Why make such a mystery? Just say it.”

“I’m sick. Hanahaki.”

There were no more movies for the rest of the night, just tears, screaming and hugs. Max barely left Steve’s side and Dustin kept checking his pulse, as if he couldn’t see with his own eyes that Steve was alive. They also had to explain Hanahaki to El and she was so upset that she joined Max. Lucas did too, after a few minutes. He and Will were the quietest, looking too shaken to know how to react.

Dustin got irritated and started talking nonstop about the health care system. Eddie, finding resonance in Dustin’s feelings, also started roasting the pharmaceutical industry.

They all slept together, huddled together, in the living room.

In the middle of the night, Mike, having the same thought as his sister, asked if Nancy had anything to do with it and after being assured that she didn't, Steve realized that he would once again need to educate the people he loved about how Hanahaki really worked and about his family.

When everyone finally left in the early evening of the next day, he only had a few hours before he realized that he would probably need to have a walkie-talkie on him at all times, because everyone wanted to make sure he was okay.

The next time he and Eddie were alone together, Steve continued to talk.

It was a little embarrassed that he confessed that, although he had always wanted his parents’ love, he was relieved by the huge distance between them, because he wouldn’t have to worry about being the cause of his mother’s downfall. Because he couldn’t even imagine what it was like to be so loved by someone who had a disease so influenced by emotions. It seemed terrifying.

“I must be very selfish.”

“For wanting to preserve yourself? Everyone wants that, it’s not selfish, it’s human.”

“I didn’t give you that option.”

Eddie grabbed Steve by the shoulders so they were face to face.

“You did. You practically put a warning sign on your forehead. We all chose to stay here. Because you’re part of our lives and we love you, Hanahaki isn’t going to change any of that.”

Careful with every move he made toward Steve, Eddie leaned in until he could put his head in the crook of Steve’s neck, for the first time in a long time looking like he was the one who needed comfort.

Steve couldn’t describe how happy he was that he could still provide that and tightened his arms around Eddie.

“If it were up to me, you know where we’d be right now. You’re the one being so careful about this, so I don’t regret it. Don’t ever insinuate that you’re selfish for allowing us to feel the joy of being in your life.”

Steve didn't know if he could ever stop feeling guilty, but he would try.

One afternoon, when Steve came home from his shift at Family Video, he found Eddie standing at his door, a folder full of papers in his hand. He didn’t say anything, just waited for Steve to come in and followed.

“I did some research,” he announced and waved the papers. “Dustin helped me a lot, because he’s much better at research than I am.”

And Eddie launched into a somewhat confusing monologue about how 4.4 out of every 500,000 people had the Hanahaki gene and only a few of them actually had a real chance of developing the disease, and even in those cases, environmental factors were very important. In conflict zones, for example, the chances of acute and fatal manifestations were up to 300% higher than in other patients. 5 to 10% of carriers would be lucky enough to only have mild symptoms even under periods of intense stress, but without proper treatment, even those people would be at very serious risk.

Almost all of Hanahaki’s patients who survive the first two years require at least one transplant at some point in their lives. He talked about the complications, the lacerations of internal organs, the blood clotting problems, the cirrhosis, the hypertension, the encephalopathy.

“Steve, I said I’d do my research, and I did. I’m not a smart guy, not that smart.” He held up a piece of paper at random. “I’ve never been interested in medicine, and I’ve never been good at science, so there are some things I may not have understood that well, but I’ve learned a lot. I’m not going into this blind. I know what the expectations are here, I’m a grown man and I can make my own decisions. And I want you. I’ve wanted you, somehow, since high school, I wanted you when I saw how the kids adored you, I wanted you when you came to me even though everyone thought I was a murderer. I wanted you when I saw you take off your shirt, when you jumped in the lake, when you fought the Demobats, when you walked with me through hell. When you pulled me out of there. I’ve wanted you constantly, all the time, for all these months.” He took a deep breath. “I want you. I love you.”

Steve knew that no matter how happy he was, there would always be things that would hurt him. He would always have scars on his lungs, roots tangled in his ribs, internal bleeding, shortness of breath, injuries… There would always be a million problems, one after the other. Maybe he only had a few years left.

But Eddie knew that too. He knew that sometimes he would need to take care of Steve, and that he would need to learn to control his anger better, that he would always have to be careful when he communicated a problem, that he would need to offer reassurance and remind Steve that he was loved. He knew it would be hard. He knew the risk of coming out of this with a broken heart.

Even knowing the potential disaster, Steve kissed Eddie knowing it would be worth it.

[pinkeoni]

Noticed a tiny detail I never noticed before in season one that could possibly be Upside Down related— Carol’s “frostbite” on her ankle.

Carol says that she has frostbite on her ankle (and puts it ON THE TABLE like an insane person) but Steve (or Tommy?) tell her that it’s a heated pool so there’s no way that this could be frostbite.

And remember, this is the same pool that Barb was pulled into the Upside Down from. Could there have been the start at a small gate at the bottom? Maybe some kind of alternate-dimension goop that got on Carol’s ankle?

And maybe Carol thought it was frostbite because it felt cold? Like “he likes it cold” cold?

So I don’t know exactly what from the Upside Down would have given Carol that, but given that this conversation leads directly into Nancy asking about Barb, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was connected.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 19

part 1, prev part

Dustin’s crying when Wayne walks into the room. Rushing to wipe away the tears when he realizes Wayne’s presence. His hand gripped in Eddie’s while he sleeps. Wayne almost feels like he’s intruding.

“I can go if you need a minute,” he says. Halfway stepping out the door.

Dustin shakes his head, hand releasing Eddie’s to wipe away the rest of the tears. “No, it’s fine.”

Wayne hesitates before sitting down. Debating whether or not the kid is lying for his benefit. But it’s better to let the kid decide for himself than Wayne to decide for him. So he sits in the same chair he always does. Waiting for Dustin to ready himself.

“He was a wake a few minutes ago, you missed it.”

“I’m sorry if he said anything,” Wayne says on instinct. Ready to apologize for the things that Eddie can’t control. “He’s so confused right now that he can’t tell here nor there. Don’t take anything too personally-.”

“He remembered me,” Dustin interrupts. Awe vibrating through his voice.

Wayne’s brain recalibrates. “What?”

Dustin turns toward Wayne. A hope that Wayne has never seen from him gracing his face. “My name. He said my name. He remembered me.”

A smile so unfamiliar at this point cracks on Wayne’s face. The muscles in his face having to remember how to form it. “He did?”

“Yeah.” Dustin smiles. A real bright smile that could light an entire room. “I was reading to him and finished the book. He opened his eyes and was listening, like he has been. And then he started talking, apologized for yesterday, and I think for what happened before. Then he said my name.”

“That’s,” Wayne’s struggling to find words. Anything to express what he’s feeling. “That’s really good, kid.”

There’s that bubbling sort of hope starting up again in Wayne’s chest. The feeling like there’s a chance his boy will wake up again and actually remember him. Say something other than cheap swears meant to hurt and nothing else. Finally, be able to heal. Maybe in a place outside of the blank hospital walls. In a place that feels like home.

If Wayne can find a place by then.

It’s not without a lack of trying, it’s with a lack of funds. His paychecks being tugged in different directions. Most of it going into savings to pay for what is about to be an astronomically high medical bill, the rest going to the money pit of his motel room. Leaving Wayne to use pennies to take care of himself.

Wayne doesn’t know how he’s going to pull himself out of this debt. Having a feeling that it’s going to haunt him for a long time. Hoping that it’s going to be a burden that only he has to have. Not one that he will have to pass down to the person he’s doing all of this for.

“You said you finished the book,” Wayne starts conversation. A dual effort to cheer the kid up and get himself out of this thought train. “You got me all invested and couldn’t even wait for me to finish it. Best you can do is tell me how it ends.”

There’s a certain light that brights people’s eyes when talking about the things they love. Makes the people that notice a bit happier when it does. Knowing that there’s something someone loves so much that it makes time a little brighter for a while. Instead of the suffocating darkness that it can be.

It’s the same light that clicks on when Dustin starts to relay the last few chapters of the book. Talking like someone who’s read it a million times, wanting to interject with their own thoughts of the events. Intertwining information learned in later books and materials when they aren’t necessary for the summary. Often pausing and going back on his words after getting ahead of himself.

Wayne sees so much of Eddie in this kid. It’s insane how two people couldn’t be more related when sharing no blood at all. How mannerisms imprint from simply spending time with each other. And how sharing the same interests can form a bond so special that he hopes it never breaks.

What he said to Steve was true, it was no problem looking out for this kid. It was no problem at all. Mainly because helping this kid was helping a part of him too.

It reminded him that there was at least one person out there that cared for Eddie enough to come and sit by him when Wayne couldn’t. That someone else believed in Eddie’s innocence from the beginning and took the time to try and help him. And, while he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, someone that shares his pain.

Dustin was one of the reasons that Wayne remains as hopeful as he is. It’s harder to lose hope completely when that means breaking it for someone else. Easier for it to remain when there’s a person smiling at every step forward, instead of getting weighed down by the steps back.

And somewhere along the small conversations to try and get their minds off the subject at hand, Wayne started getting invested. Started paying more attention to how Dustin’s doing in school, at home. Checking in a making sure he was taking care of himself, and not stretching himself too thin.

It was easy to start caring about him.

“Oh shit, I almost forgot.” Dustin pulls a take out container out of his lunchbox and hands it to Wayne. “It’s from my mom, she wanted to give it to you. Please don’t refuse it, she gives out food to literally everyone.”

Wayne takes the container, seeing some sort of pasta dish under the clear lid. “Tell her I said thank you.”

Dustin zips up his bag and stands, saying goodbye to Wayne before leaving. Just him and Eddie left in the room.

Despite what people may think about Eddie, about his friends, they’re good kids. All of them. They were some of the kindest people Wayne’s ever met.

next part

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