#his mouth? knows what hellfire tastes like

[trainer-from-unova]

master of puppets

𖤐 bandom blog: @princess-lvcifer 𖤐 english ao3 𖤐 spanish ao3 𖤐 edits 𖤐 kofi 𖤐

ship: eddie munson x f!reader

summary: where you play d&d with the hellfire club as a substitute

a/n: shameless self insert and retelling and lots of metallica references / i wrote this in summer 2022 / english isn't my first language

cw: none

word count: 2.8k

She was in the school canteen during break time, sitting at the table where she and her friends always sat. She was listening to the conversation her friends were having, when suddenly, something, or rather someone, caught her attention, and not just hers and her friends', but that of everyone in the lunchroom.

Suddenly Eddie, the boy she liked, jumped up on the table where he was with his friends and started shouting and addressing people in the lunchroom.

"...As long as you're into band...!" he said, looking at the musicians in the high school band. "Or science...!" he said, looking at the scientists. "...or parties" he said looking at the revellers, and one of them gave him the finger, but it was obvious that he didn't mind at all. "Or a game where you toss BALLS INTO LAUNDRY BASKETS...!" He said even louder, putting his hands to the sides of his mouth and looking at the members of the basketball team.

Someone screamed "Loser!"

"You want something, freak?" asked the team leader. Eddie put his hands on his head, index fingers raised to resemble demon horns, and stuck out his tongue and made funny noises.

She laughed in amusement. She didn't know him well, but he was clearly outgoing and didn't give a shit what other people thought of him, and she loved that in a man. He was also her type physically: long and curly dark hair with fringes, tight jeans torn at the knees, silver chains, skull rings, rock and metal band t-shirts, black leather jacket, denim waistcoat.... And to top it all off, he had a lovely smile and common tastes with her.

Occasionally they would talk, if nodding to each other in the halls of high school and saying "Cool t-shirt" when they were both wearing rock and metal band t-shirts counted as talking.

"Is that your man?" asked her best friend as she gave her a dirty look, to which she nudged her to shut up and stop looking at her like that. She didn't want anyone inappropriate to know that she liked him, not because she was ashamed of him, but because she didn't want him to know, especially not like that.

"Yes, it is, and shut up."

The leader of the basketball team decided it would be a waste of time to fight with Eddie, he simply whispered "Prik" and sat back down in his seat.

"...what's KILLING THE KIDS!" he said as he ran around the table, jumping down to yell at a passing teacher, scaring her and pinning her against a pillar.

Some cheerleaders were passing by and he stepped aside and let them pass with a wave of his arm, and she wished she was one of them.

He said something else but she couldn't hear him over the distance between their tables and all the noise in the lunchroom, and she saw him sit back down in his seat and start eating, though within a minute she heard him yell "Shut up."

And then she saw him get up again after a few seconds. Not that she looked at him constantly, but she had him in her field of vision, so she couldn't help looking at him. That she sat where she sat because of that? Maybe. So she could use it as an excuse, if someone caught her looking at him too much.

He was talking to his younger friends, and pointed to the older ones. Then he pointed to himself with both hands. Then he started fidgeting excitedly, pulled his finger out looking at nothing, raised his fist and started moving around the lunchroom excited and laughing. He was a restless ass.

He crouched down between his smaller friends and put his hands on their shoulders. Then he grabbed them by the back of the collars of their t-shirts, which were Hellfire Club by the way, and walked them down the main aisle of the lunchroom.

He scanned all the tables in front of him starting from his left, gesturing for them to look in the same direction as him. Their gazes met, and she nodded at him, trying to contain her smile. He did the same, though more subtly because he was busy saying God knows what to those kids, but he also smiled back.

The hours at school always pass too slowly, but especially on Fridays. She and her friends were about to leave the school to go to the house of one of them and spend the rest of the afternoon there, when they were stopped by Eddie's younger friends.

"Do you play Dungeons and Dragons?" asked the boy in the cap.

"We need a substitute at the Hellfire Club," said the other boy.

"Yes, we do play," said ________'s male best friend.

"Really?" asked the boy in the cap, surprised and happy at the same time.

"Great!" said the other boy.

"The problem is that we have a game this afternoon too..."

"Oh fuck."

"She can go," said _______'s female best friend, pointing at her. "She knows how to play but she never plays," which was true, the games seemed ridiculously long and she got bored, so when her friends were playing she stood to one side, eating snacks while watching TV or flipping through magazines.

They wanted to ask about it, but it wasn't the time for that, it was the time to beg her to go with them. Even if she didn't know how to play, it was good enough for them.

"Can you come? Please."

"Eddie will kill us if we don't come with a substitute for our friend Lucas, who can't come because he's playing in the basketball game tonight."

"Of course, of course. No problem, don't worry."

The time came and she was a little nervous, to be honest. Mike and Dustin, as those boys were called, escorted her to the place where the game would be played, in the high school theatre.

"We're all here!" Dustin said.

"We're bringing a substitute!" Mike said.

Eddie's heart stopped. Was she really going to be Lucas's substitute? Did they know Eddie liked her and brought her here to screw with him and get on his nerves as revenge for not wanting to cancel the game that day? He will kill them.

"Hello, everyone," she waved, looking at everyone one by one.

She was trying her best to hide her nerves. Not only was she nervous about being with Eddie, but maybe he, and not just him, but the rest of his friends as well, didn't want to play with girls, considering them inadequate. Mike and Dustin were nervous too, they didn't know how Eddie and the rest would take it if the substitute was a girl.

They looked at _______ and then looked at Eddie, looking for a reaction, a response to his presence. He was the leader, the Dangeon Master.

"The warriors bring a princess!" he said, getting up and going to her direction. He took her hand, leaned down and kissed it, making her blush and scream inwardly like mad. "Do you play Dungeons and Dragons?"

"My friends, but they're busy this afternoon with their game. I'm the only one who doesn't play, but I know. I hope I'm not disturbing..." she whispered.

"What are you talking about? It's a pleasure to have you here, and even more so in need of a substitute. Welcome to the club," he smiled.

"Thank you," she said, calmer now.

"The hooded cultists chant "Hail Lord Vecna"..." said Eddie in a whisper, very serious and concentrated, looking at each one, "Hail Lord Vecna..." They turn to you, hands, remove their hoods..." he said, gesturing as if he himself were wearing a hood and taking it off, "You recognize most of them from Makbar, but there is one you do not recognize... His skin shriveled, desiccated... And something else... He is not only missing his left arm...!" he said, pulling his left arm behind his back, "BUT HIS LEFT EYE!" he shouted, covering his left eye with his right hand.

"No, it can't be!" cried Mike, holding his hands to his face.

"Vecna's dead!"

"He was killed by Kas!!" said Mike.

"So it was thought, my friends, sooo it was thought. But Vecna," he said, picking up a figurine, "LIVE!" Eddie's passion for the game was both admirable and adorable. "You are scared, you're tired, you are injured... Do you flee Vecna and his cultists? Or stand your ground and fight? Come on." Everyone was confused and undecided, still processing the sudden and unexpected information. They decided.

"I say we fight, to the death," said Dustin.

"To the death," said Mike.

Everyone, including her, started shouting "To the death," and Eddie laughed. It was what he wanted to see. Besides, he saw her laugh too. What he didn't know was that he had caught her smile.

"Time-out, time-out!"

Everyone got up from the table and gathered in a circle to discuss the game, shoulder to shoulder.

"Guys, I hate to say this, but we've got to flee."

"I concur."

"Yes, we're getting the shit kicked out of us, but... Didn't we say to death?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"That wasn't literal."

"Vecna just decimated us. We can't kill him with two players."

She turned her head slightly and looked at Eddie, and he nodded at her as he did when they passed each other in the high school hallway, and she smiled at him and turned back to pay attention to the conversation.

"You too? He only has 15 hit points left, don't be pussies"

"Pussies? Really? 'Cause we're not delusional?"

"Hey," said Eddie, getting everyone's attention, which is what he wanted. "If I may interject, gentlemen... And princess," he winked at _______, making her bite her lip to keep from grinning like a fool from ear to ear, but it was hard for her to behave he acting like that. "Whilst I respect the passion, you'd be wise to take Gareth the Great's concern to heart. "There is no shame in running". Don't try be heroes. Not today," he smiled, "'kay?"

"...One sec," said Dustin, and they all turned to discuss, "What do you think, Mike?"

"How many hit points do you and ______ have left?" he asked.

"12," they both answered at the same time.

"It's risky as hell" said Mike, "but you're the ones on the battlefield... So it's your call."

"What do you say, _______?" Dustin asked.

"Yeah, ...right?" she asked a little confused.

"Yeah, screw it" Dustin said, and they all turned to look at Eddie, "let's kill the son of a bitch."

"The chances of success are 20-to-1!"

"Never tell me the odds" said Dustin, holding up his index finger, "give me the D20" he said to Eddie, and Eddie did as he was told and threw it to Dustin.

He threw the dice and rolled an 11.

"That's! A! Miss!" said Eddie, grinning from ear to ear and shaking his head.

"No!"

"Shit, shit!" He was so irritated that he even threw a can of soda.

"Not to pressure you, but.... It's up to you," Mike told _______.

She was scared, it was a lot of pressure. She knew how much this game meant to everyone here, and now it all depended on her and her luck, which she felt was usually not very good. She looked at Eddie, and he nodded. That comforted her, gave her the confidence to go on and move forward.

She took the dice and locked them in her hands as she shook them to shake the dice. Everyone looked at her expectantly.

"Please!"

"Come on, please!"

And then she threw it. She felt that as she waited for the die to fall, roll and stop, life was in slow motion.

"20!"

Everyone screamed with excitement and clapped their hands together. Eddie couldn't believe it either, he thought they were all dead.

"That's why we play!" he said.

With the game over, there was nothing more to do there, so they packed up and headed for the exit of the theatre, but when Eddie didn't follow them, she stopped and stood there.

"Shall I help you pack up?" she asked as she approached him.

"No need, don't worry," he said as he put the things in his backpack, "you've helped enough. Thank you. I hope you've entertained yourself at least a little," he said as he zipped up his backpack.

"Yes! You make it very interesting," she said as she picked up two folding chairs and put them back in their places.

"Me?" he said as he approached her to take the chairs out of her hands and not let her help him pick them up. She grimaced in annoyance but went on her way to get more chairs.

"Yes, you put a lot of passion into it, it's nice to see someone happy doing something they love," she said as she approached him, where he had left the folding chairs he had just taken out of her hands, while he went to pick up the remaining ones, plus his throne and the table.

"Oh, you're going to make me blush!" he said, turning to look at her as he walked backwards towards the rest of the furniture, while covering his face with strands of hair.

"And you haven't thought of putting on some music to set the mood? Something like... Master of Puppets?"

"What a great song, for fuck's sake!" he said excited, laughing and clapping his hands.

It was the first time they were talking so much and they were happy. Besides, they were alone, and in a dark place with dim, coloured lighting.

"I'm learning to play it on the guitar," he reported.

"Let's see when I see you play something."

"Whenever you like," he felt like telling her that he could touch whatever she wanted, with a double meaning, but he didn't dare be so obscene, especially with her. He didn't know how she would take it.

They went on packing up the theatre and left it together, walking and talking in the corridors.

"I think we won," she said, referring to the high school basketball team as she took in the atmosphere outside.

"It looks like it. Is someone coming to pick you up?"

"Yes, I have to call my mother to come," she said, pointing to a phone box.

"If you want me to drive you home, or wait with you for your mother to come and pick you up here," he said the second option, assuming she probably wouldn't want to be alone in his car with him.

"The first option is fine," she said to his surprise.

They went to the car park and got into Eddie's car.

"Do you want to listen to something?" he asked before starting the car.

"What do you have?" she asked.

"Metallica, Megadeth, Dio, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden..."

"Metallica. Which album is it?"

"Ride the lighting," he said.

"Wow, my favourite!" she smiled.

"Yes? Mine is Kill 'em all," he said as he inserted the cassette.

"I love it too, I consider it better than Ride the lighting," she said while the intro of Fight fire with fire, the first song of that album, started to play, "because Ride has songs I don't like and I like absolutely all the songs on Kill, but I like the songs I like on Ride much more compared to the ones on Kill. Do you know what I mean?" she laughed nervously.

"No, can you explain it to me again, please?" He said jokingly as he started the car, making her smile even more. "Where am I taking you, princess?"

She showed him where her house was and on the way they sang the Metallica songs from the cassette they were listening to.

"It's in that house," she said, pointing to it, and he parked in front of it. "Well, then.... Thank you so much for letting me play with you guys, for bringing me here... For everything."

"Thanks to you. Mm, could I have your phone number, by the way...?" he asked a little nervously. "For when you want to meet me to see me play, or we can also meet sometime to listen to music and sing together. This has been fun."

"Yes, perfect! I was about to ask you the same thing, actually."

Eddie pulled out a black ink pen and a random piece of paper from the glove compartment and handed it to her. He noticed her smile as he wrote down her number, he wanted to memorise it.

"Here you go," she said, handing him back the pen and paper.

"Thank you."

"Can I have yours too, please?"

"Sure," and he wrote down his number on the paper and tore it up, handing the piece with his number on it to her.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Well, then..." She unlocked the passenger door and opened it. "My pleasure," she said as she got out of the car and waved goodbye, "I'll see you around."

"Same here, princess."

[hairmetal666]

They're sitting in Eddie's bedroom, Steve propped up in the bed, flipping through some sports magazine, Eddie curled on the floor using his knee as a table as he scrawls notes for Hellfire's next campaign. Metallica spins on the record player, volume low. They're doing this more and more, being together and doing their own thing, music a soft backdrop to it all.

Eddie's deep into his planning, enough so that he manages to forget that Steve Harrington is in his bed. He keeps hearing something, though. It just manages to catch at the edge of his awareness, but when he fully tunes in the only sounds are Steve flipping a page, Ride the Lightning, the shift of blankets as Harrington taps his fingers. It happens a few more times, but when he tries to catch it, it's gone. Steve hasn't reacted at all, to the point Eddie wonders if it's all in his own head.

The next time, he's interrupted before he even gets back into it, that noise again, but this time, now, he's aware enough to see that it's Steve. And he's not, like, reading the magazine out loud to himself. No. He's singing along.

To Metallica.

And he wasn't idly tapping his fingers before. He was tapping along to the beat.

"You're singing along?" He asks before he can stop himself.

Steve looks up, a faint smile on his handsome face. "It's not too bad."

"Not too--Not too bad." Eddie's nearly screeching. Can't wrap his mind around Steve--"You've been listening to Metallica on your own? You've been--you--" He jumps to his feet, notebook spilling onto the floor. Steve's just looking up at him with big eyes and a gentle grin.

"Sure, Munson. You like it, yeah?"

He nods, mutely, unsure how he so thoroughly lost the plot that Steve's been listening to Metallica just because Eddie likes it.

"Got a taste for any other metal bands I should know about, Harrington?" He flops down on the bed, making Steve bounce a little.

"Well, Dio's pretty okay."

This time Eddie does really, actually shriek.

---

Eddie swans into the kitchen to greet Steve, who's already lounging on the couch with a beer. There's another one on the coffee table, waiting for Eddie.

"Just helped yourself, Harrington?" He teases.

Steve shoots him a look. "Wayne grabbed them before he left. What the hell took you so long?"

He can't say it's because he wanted to look nice with Steve coming over, even if they are just getting high and watching movies. Of course taming his hair took so long that he didn't have time to find a shirt, and Steve's knock at the door had him grabbing the first thing he could and jamming it over his head.

"You want chips?" He asks.

"Wait--Eddie--" Steve stands, pointing at Eddie's chest.

"What?"

"That's my--oh my god, I've been looking for that."

And, well, he had thought it was a little strange that the t-shirt he grabbed was gray. He pulls at the fabric, stares at the upside down Hawkins Tiger with a basketball in its mouth.

"It's my favorite sleep shirt. I thought Robin took it and you--"

Eddie's face heats. Steve's shirt. Of course. Steve stayed over one movie night, forgot the shirt, and Eddie. Well. He was going to give it back, but--

"Here, man, my bad." He goes to pull the hem over his head. "I didn't know it was your favorite."

"Nah," Steve says. He's sitting back on the couch. "You should keep it. You look really--" he pauses and takes a sip of beer. "It's nice on you, Munson."

He's sure his blush is a horrendous thing to witness, has to fight the urge to hide in his hands. "Right. Uh. Chips!" He whirls towards the cabinets, refusing to think about the matching pink stripes across Steve's cheeks.

---

"C'mon, Munson, you're hogging the covers." Steve's sleepy mumble cuts through the dawn quiet.

"Mmph," Eddie groans. Rubs the soles of his feet against Steve's shins.

"You're a dick," Steve grumbles. He shimmies closer, which is what finally does the job at fully waking Eddie.

"Wha--huh?" He blinks.

"You stole the blankets, man. If you're not going to share, the least you can do is cuddle."

"Uhh." Eddie is sure he's dreaming, but Steve's warm, strong arm slips around his waist, pulls them together.

Eddie doesn't know what to do. Where he should put his body. Does he relax into it? What do his arms do? They're not usually this rigid, right? But what do they do when he's sleeping? Somewhere in his gay panic, he has the presence of mind to grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over his friend.

"Better?" He asks. His voice is all wrong but maybe Steve will attribute it to tiredness.

"Mmm." Steve's grip tightens around his waist, his nose nuzzling against the nape of Eddie's neck. His breathing is already slow and deep.

Eddie can't imagine sleep finding him anytime soon. Not when Steve, his crush, his best friend, is holding him like this. Not when he now knows what the real thing would be like. Not when it's so impossibly out of his grasp.

---

Steve and Wayne are watching a Cub's game. Eddie's curled up on the couch between them, trying to work on a sketch, but his brain keeps skipping to a song he's writing. The lyrics have been easy, coming to him like nothing, but the melody...he wants it to be heavy, loud, wanting, but it won't fit.

He glances up at Steve, chatting with Wayne about some baseball thing called a ribee. His hair's not done, flopping softly around his forehead, and he's wearing his result-of-too-many-concussions glasses, the yellow sweater from that horrific boat ride, retrieved by one of the kids and painstakingly washed by Karen Wheeler.

Steve looks sweet, soft, relaxed. He laughs at something Wayne says, and Eddie's a lost cause. He's just fucking smiling at the pretty boy on his couch, hanging out with his uncle, too far gone to be able to fight it.

A melody forms in his head, and it's soft. Not sweet, no, but gentle. Almost tender. Nothing like he imagined.

---

It's early, early enough that Wayne's not home yet, but he got tired of trying to sleep. Didn't want to bother Steve, who still softly snored in Eddie's bedroom. So, he grabs his acoustic and his notebook, goes out to the couch to work on the song. It's coming along, really good, one of his best. He hasn't shared it with the guys yet. It's--he's not ready, lays him too bare.

There's a clatter from the kitchen, Steve's voice, deep and sleep rough, says, "Hey, Munson."

He pushes the guitar and notebook aside. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, I'll--"

Steve shakes his head, pads into the living room. He's wearing the yellow sweater, a pair of Eddie's sweatpants, bedhead rampant. He curls up next to Eddie, pulling the couch afghan over his feet. "What're you working on?"

Eddie's ears get hot. "Nothing much. New song I've been noodling on."

"Cool." Steve's smile is little and fond. "Play it for me?"

"Ahh," Eddie says. His hand twitches around the neck of the guitar. "Not sure if it's quite ready for that."

"Oh, yeah." Steve nods. His face does something weird and squiggly that Eddie's never seen. "Just never heard you play before. Thought now might be...you know."

Eddie swallows, hard. "Well, maybe we'll get a show up at the Hideout soon."

"Of course. It's just--this is just you."

He blinks at Steve for a few long seconds, can't believe he's about to do this, but--It's not like Steve will know it's about him, anyway. "It's not a full song yet, alright? Just a verse and half of a chorus, so like. Don't judge it too hard."

"I would never." He can sense Steve's smile but can't look directly at it, knows it would kill him.

He situates the guitar, spins the notebook to read the lyrics like they aren't already burned into his brain, starts to play. His fingers are deft and sure, his voice a little rough, a little raspy with nerves.

The song ends and he's afraid to look at Steve, to see the thoughts written plane on his face. The silence extends, though, and he asks. "So, what did you think?"

"It's--that wasn't what I expected." Steve's voice is weird. Wobbly. Eddie chances half a glance at him, but can't make anything definitive out from his expression. "I didn't think--that's not the kind of music I thought you made."

He licks his lips, swallows. Puts his guitar down. "It's not usually."

"It was a love song." Steve says. His eyes burn into Eddie's.

He can't say anything for seconds that seem to span minutes. "Yeah, Steve," he says in a voice cut with gravel. "It's a love song."

"Eddie," Steve whispers. He reaches out then, thumb tracing along Eddie's jaw, the scars that linger there from the bats. "Is this okay?" He can only nod as Steve's hand twines through his curls.

He's shaking, just a little bit, not because he's inexperienced but because this is Steve, because it's happening, because their lips are meeting and a trembling noise falls from his mouth at the sweet way Steve kisses him.

It's gentle and quick, but they don't part when the kiss ends, stay sharing air as their foreheads rest together. Eddie can't stop smiling.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming, Stevie" he whispers.

"You dream about me?" Steve asks, eyes blazing.

"I wrote a song about you, and you think dreams are a reach?"

Steve laughs, brushes a kiss against the tip of Eddie's nose. "I loved the song."

"Yeah?"

"Can't wait to hear the whole thing."

"Well, stick around for a while."

Steve leans in, kisses him again, longer this time. "Just try to get rid of me, Munson."

[eddiernunson]

The Splash of Rain on the Roof | Eddie Munson x f!Reader | 18+

Thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, always there for me, bestie.

Also to @bebe07011 for reading everything before I post and giving me feed back. Love ya.

Summary: you're best friends with Eddie Munson after moving to Hawkins, the new girl who ditches the cheerleaders for the Freaks. A year later, you've fallen head over heels for him, and you're convinced there's no way he has any interest in you. It finally seems confirmed when you find out (more or less) that he's into a fucking cheerleader. Your heart breaks.

Warnings: (idiots) best friends to lovers, dork!reader, virgin!eddie and virgin!reader (its cute, ok), kinda slow, no protection, creampie, praise/degradation, minor miscommunication trope, sleepy 5am writing, first I love yous

I have another one shot planned, it's about 3/4 done.

Word count: 11k

-

As any first day at Hawkins High in the middle of the semester goes, you had a fairly decent one. A cheerleader spotted you in her class and dragged you over to her table, a parade of jocks and cheerleaders surrounding it. You wondered if their insistence was genuine, and you let yourself believe it. Until their true colours were shown through a nasty gossip session.

For the most part, they all had kind things to say about one another. They encouraged each other and asked how your day was so far. Did it count as false advertising if fake friends show their real colours? If anything, you were grateful they were so quick about it. You barely had a chance to memorize their names when one of them broke out in an overdramatic bellow in disgust. Your interest piqued, nearly drowning in their dull conversations, no matter how polite.

You followed the curly haired boys’ line of sight across the cafeteria to a group of boys laughing louder than the rest of the school. They looked carefree and like they were enjoying themselves. You envied them. Your eyes switched back to your new supposed friends, afraid of what exactly was so worthy of their collective disgust.

Their immediate round of insults to the harmless group of boys left the worst taste in your mouth. After the three or four people had their say, you got up without another word.

“Wait! Where you going?” Called the girl who escorted you to the table.

“Anywhere but here.” You answered, having understood immediately what kind of group of people she associated herself with.

She had plenty more to say, but you didn’t hear another word. You were far too busy beelining for the gorgeous man who was at the head of said table. The moment you looked over to them, your vision tunneled. The complaints voiced by the table of Preps seemed to be an extension of their “freakiness”, or so they called it, which you deduced was just another word for “dork”.

Little did they know, you are also a dork.

So, the table you had just ditched watched in horror as you walked straight to the table and immediately sat down with them.

Turns out the gorgeous man was as kind as he was good-looking.

-

It’s been over a year since you started at Hawkins, over a year of friendship with Eddie Munson, said gorgeous man. What’s even worse, he’s better than you had expected him to be. As you settle into the Hellfire Club, adding your own adventurous characters, and contributing to inside jokes, you and Eddie end up closer than you had ever expected.

Unfortunate news is, he has you so far in the friend zone, you’re starting to wonder if even he knows you’re a girl. (With fantastic tits, which he never seems to even look at.)

You’ve spent plenty of nights in a pair of tiny shorts and an oversized top with no bra as you listen to music and smoke a joint with him, hoping over and over that he would just make a move because lord knows you weren’t gonna do it.

The pressure of his hand when it rests on your lower back, the way he curls your hair behind your ear, his breath down your neck when he hugs you, it all sets your skin on fire.

On one night you were terribly upset at your mom after having a fight with her, getting in your car to take the eight-minute drive to his house. You had arrived at his trailer uninvited plenty of times before, Eddie encouraged it once he realized the fights were a regular thing. Only this time, he wasn’t in the living-room watching a scary movie, or in his bedroom listening to records or making a new campaign.

He was in the shower.

At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He’s had plenty of showers while you were over. He’d be stupidly apologetic about it, but if you were to be honest with him, the smell of the body wash that lingered on him was too good to pass up. You grabbed a bag of chips and a soda from his fridge and a beer for him, figuring you’d meet him when he struts out in that low hanging towel. On your way to Eddie’s room, a noise like music hit your ears and the slick beer almost fell out of your hand.

“Uh, uh, oh shit…fuck—” You heard him, loud and clear, a noise you only imagined late at night in your own bedroom. You stood there frozen in the hallway, listening as he fucked his own fist. You listened as his breaths got faster, his whining higher pitched. But no sound could match the divine noise Eddie made as he finished. Your breath hitched then, drool pooling on your tongue as you pictured sticky white ropes all over the shower.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, your panties drenched just from listening to him. You wondered what would’ve happened if your hands were empty. When the shower turned off, your gut swooped, butterflies kicking in as you raced to look casual on his bed. You didn’t have much time to prepare, turning on some music and picking up one of his magazines. Shit, dirty magazine. You quickly adjusted to the next one over, featuring a Metal band on the cover.

As Eddie entered his room, you were laying on the bed looking casual as you could, hoping he didn’t pick up on your heavy breathing. If he did, he didn’t indicate it. As much as you tried, your breathing didn’t slow, your eyes zoned in on the droplets of water dripping down his bare chest, lingering on his treasure trail. He greeted you absentmindedly, picking up a pair of sweats.

That night, you could do nothing but stammer through your sentences, chalking it up to stress from the fight with your mom. He offered you to sleep over, a normal habit you’ve developed, but the itch to slip your fingers down your pants was too much. If you had to face your mom just to get it figured out, so be it.

A switch flipped in you that day, it went from being a schoolgirl crush into a want, no, a need for him.

God, you wish he’d just get a clue…or that’d you get the nerve to make a move.

Something better than this torture.

-

After the third pat on his hand, Eddie finally looked up, wondering why Josh can’t take the hint. “What, what?” He asked, already annoyed at his day as it was. Fucking history teacher…

“New girl.” Josh gestured towards the jock/cheerleader table.

Eddie blinked, questioning why the hell he should be interested in this. The insistence on not just Josh’s face, but the rest of the group convinced Eddie, switching his glance over to the table. You stuck out like a sore thumb, not exactly dressed in their prep uniform. From this single glance, he could tell you were uncomfortable. In any case, neither were most cheerleaders on their first days. Oh well, he figured you would assimilate soon enough. Shame, with how pretty you were.

Soon enough, Eddie’s mood lightened up, amused by the witty banter his friends were spitting back and forth. Something Gareth said ended up being ridiculously funny, a feat that he’s familiar with, and it breaks the entire group into loud laughter, something that obviously disrupts the cafeteria. Eddie didn’t care, and neither did any of the other members of Hellfire. If no one would give them any decency, why the hell would they owe anyone else any?

As always, the laughter invited even more scrutiny. Eddie knew the reaction of the table you sat at, firing off insults surrounding the word freak. If they could just get original content, that would be great, Eddie thought as he looked back down to his notebook of campaign notes. He was in the middle of deciding which book he might need to check out for reference when Josh tapped his hand again, far more aggressively.

“What?” He snapped, but caught wind of what was so urgent immediately.

There you were, walking as if you were strutting a runway to his table. He thought he must’ve had it confused for a second, but after assessing the reaction of your previous table, it couldn’t have been less wrong. Eddie leaned over to the table to his friends, teeth gritted. “Be normal.”

After about ten minutes of awkward conversation, as a last resort you had asked what Eddie was working on. “Oh, the campaign for DnD.”

“Wait, you play DnD?” You asked.

Eddie wasn’t sure if this question was negative or positive. “Yeah, we’re a Dungeons and Dragons club.” Gareth answered for him.

“Oh sweet!” The answer stunned all of them. “Can I join?”

“You play Dungeons and Dragons?” Josh asked incredulously.

“Yeah, my dad taught me.” You replied.

“Drama room, Friday night at 7. Don’t be late.” Eddie said, finally making eye contact with you.

He regretted it from the moment he did. The beauty he saw from afar was only intensified by a hundred. You looked at the table with intrigue, much more interest than you ever showed at the jocks table. Eddie couldn’t believe how wrong he was to assume you would just assimilate with them. You were too good for them.

Wait, you were too good for his club as well, what the hell were you doing there?

-

If Eddie had any current quarrels with the universe, it was that you just kept getting better and better as he got to know you. He was prepared for your level one basic dwarf when you showed up with a level 59 Warlock. You kicked his boss’s ass, carrying the weight of all your co-adventurers.

From there, Eddie swore he must’ve gotten hit in the head somehow, because life just isn’t good for him, never has been. But with you, life is worth tolerating. From the start, he had fallen for you, and he still would have even if you did only have a level one dwarf.

As luck would have it, you would never turn down an offer to hang out with him. The first time he offered, butterflies sat in his gut until he walked up to your locker and offered for you to watch a movie at his house with him. You accepted graciously, asking if he minded you’d watch horror. Internally, Eddie fell to his knees. Externally, he nodded, keeping his eyes on what he called the prettiest damn eyes he’s ever seen.

He felt lucky you accepted his displays of affection with him, leaning heavily into his hugs and letting his legs intertwine with yours. His hair would stand up, your skin setting his on fire.

Lately, though, he could swear something is out to get him. As you started getting more comfortable being at his house so often, you started wearing smaller clothing. First, it started off with a pair of sweats and a messy bun. That tore Eddie farther apart than it should have. It turned into braless shirts and tiny shorts, and Eddie stared at the curve of your ass, usually half hard as you laid on his bed.

The first night he ran to the bathroom to jerk off to the outline of your nipple, he felt like shit, yet he wanted nothing more to mouth at it, to mark it his.

Eddie is so sure you’re innocent of it all, unaware of his lust and feelings for you. It started as feelings, but the lust has started to take over to the point where Eddie has to jerk off before you get there. He knows you’re going to bend over too much as you “help” him with making meals. As of late, the tiny pair of shorts barely conceals the outline of your cunt, something that tugs what could only be described as a whimper out of him, has been becoming all too much.

Eddie realizes he’s gonna have to ask you out.

-

After yet another unsuccessful Saturday night over at Eddie’s house– well, successful in terms of getting you out of your house but unsuccessful in the sense that Eddie just doesn’t seem to see you as a fucking girl– you trade your books to prepare for another boring lecture, watching across the hall as Gareth and Eddie seem to be in humorous conversation, judging on the laughter alone.

Eddie is nodding, appearing to agree exuberantly with what Gareth is saying to him. Might as well kill some time before class starts. You walk over, backpack on one shoulder as the weight from all of your books bounces off the back of one of your thighs. Just as you’re about to interrupt their conversation, Eddie makes eye contact with you. As a reflex, you break into a smile at his dimples. However, Eddie says one last thing to Gareth before walking away from their conversation.

You try not to take it personal. There are several jokes in Hellfire you have learned a long time ago to not take personally. However, this felt personal. Eddie doesn’t usually take part in the jokes at your expense. The boys give you enough crap for him anyways, and he gives them crap, and you give Eddie crap. It’s a wonderful circle of crap, really.

As soon as you approach Gareth, now alone, he gives you a half smile, clearly trying to dissipate from the awkward situation. “Hey,” Gareth greets you, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning onto his locker to seem “casual.”

“What was that about?” You get straight to the point, nodding towards where Eddie had just walked away.

Gareth stutters through his words, adjusting his arms between crossed and placing his hand on his locker. Oh, Gareth, ever so graceful. “I-I-He-he-he just-uh—”

“Gareth!” You interrupt him, knowing he could continue his stammering for a while unless you stop it. “Just tell me!” You shove his shoulder, annoyed already. What reason could Eddie possibly have for taking off like that?

“We were just talking about the girl he likes, is all.” Gareth admits sheepishly, his eyes flicking everywhere but you.

“Oh,” you answer, feeling crestfallen. A girl? Eddie likes a girl? And hasn’t even had the audacity to tell you about it? Were you not his best friend? Maybe he’s your best friend, but you’re not his. You shake off that annoying voice of doubt in your head, knowing on some level it’s irrational. Then why didn’t he tell me anything? “Oh, he’s…never even mentioned a girl around me…”

Gareth knows exactly why you’re crestfallen, your crush on Eddie not the most exact unknown fact in your group of friends. “I don’t know, he doesn’t talk about it a whole lot…” Gareth trails off, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. It wasn’t exactly a lie; Eddie doesn’t talk about his crush on you. He barely mentions it. The only reason anyone in Hellfire knows anything…is because they have eyes.

“Oh. Alright.” You have to get out of this conversation before the tears that crept up behind your eyes make an appearance. “I’ll see you at lunch?” You don’t even wait for a response, already turned around towards a bathroom to get your shit together.

Gareth feels guilty as shit when he sees the way you shuffle off to the bathroom, your sniffles louder than you even realize. In fact, Eddie was just telling Gareth he was finally gaining the courage to ask you out. Unfortunately, your brain has already eliminated this idea altogether.

-

Eddie sits in his usual spot for the lunch period, a foot parked on the edge of the table as he leans back with his arms crossed, observing his friends arguing yet again. Doesn’t really matter what they’re arguing about, never really does. They could be arguing about which album of a certain artist is better, which class of character is better to play, or even which teacher sucks the most in the school.

They’re all pointless, and Eddie always has a final say in who wins the argument. Being the leader has its perks.

Even as he seems casual, he checks his watch occasionally because you’re still not there yet. He looks forward to your presence at the table, to the way you indulge in their idiotic fights, if only for a second. It never fails to amuse him. Usually, as of late, you’ve been picking a side just to piss off Mike, and he still hasn’t seemed to catch on yet.

Right now, Dustin and Mike are arguing over the stupidest thing yet, something not even worth mentioning. Lucas is trying to give his input that this isn’t worth fighting over, but they’re talking over him. Eddie wonders how long he’s going to let them hash it out for.

Gareth rolls his eyes as he watches Eddie’s face lights up as you finally make your way across the cafeteria to the table. You greet the entire table, letting your bag fall to the floor as you rest your chin on your hand.

Dustin immediately attempts to instigate you into the fight. “Hey, can you tell Mike that—”

“No offense, Dustin, but I really don’t care.” You interrupt him, sounding tired. The whole table but Eddie laughs at your answer.

This allows the table to segue into a different conversation, something that everyone can care about. Eddie takes the opportunity to lean in. “Are you not hungry?” He asks lowly, noting the lack of cafeteria tray you have today.

You can barely look him in those gorgeous brown eyes, your heart dropped to your gut the moment you heard he likes someone else. “Not really. Lost my appetite.”

His brows furrow, watching you avoid his eyes and sink into yourself. This was so unlike you. Usually, you’re much surer of yourself, an aura of confidence even he finds himself envious of at times. “Are you okay?” He asks again.

You shrug your shoulders, not committing to a yes or no answer. You finally lay your eyes on him, and he’s staring past you across the cafeteria, you follow his eyeline…directly to the cheerleader’s table. A realization hits you and somehow your heart drops even lower.

He likes a fucking cheerleader.

You should’ve known his type would be a girl who jumps up and down in a tiny skirt. Maybe you should’ve joined the cheer squad then. Then at least you would’ve had a damn chance.

Somehow, you don’t even have the appetite to sit next to him anymore. “Listen, I have to ask for help in my chemistry class, it’s kicking my ass. Um…”

Eddie is about to protest but you’ve already picked up your bag and started jogging out the large door of the cafeteria. In fact, you missed the rest of the school day to fucking wallow in this stupid heartache. Your mom doesn’t pay enough attention to the school's phone calls to begin with.

As you leave the cafeteria, Eddie gives a questioning look to his fellow Hellfire mates. Hell, if they know. Gareth knows, but they’ve made a collective agreement not to meddle, as much as it pained Dustin. Eddie was just gearing up the confidence to ask if you’d want to hang out that weekend, which is where he was planning on making his move for the first time. He didn't know what was upsetting you, but he figured it was something to do with your homelife, as it usually does.

However, he couldn’t have seen the next week coming.

As Eddie goes through the motions of barely making attendance and handing in assignments with maybe a paragraph of some bullshit he spewed, he usually has your pretty face to look forward to. In his second period, his leg bounces as he waits for you to sit next to him in your usual seat so he can have an opportunity to ask the damn question he’s been meaning to. He's in class on time for once, just to watch your pretty face as you walk to the back corner to sit with him. One benefit of repeating senior year is that he gets to have class with you now. If you could only see his face as it fell as you walked into the classroom and took the immediate seat right by the front door.

After an hour of over thinking, Eddie finally convinces himself you simply just weren’t in the mood for conversation. The way you avoid the Hellfire table when you walk into the cafeteria that day seems to prove that theory right. Until over the following week he sees you having conversations with other members of Hellfire. Alright, that hurts.

One day, he calls your name as you’re at your locker, and he catches your eye contact before you run towards the front door.

What the hell did he do wrong?

-

In your 7th or 8th day of narrowly avoiding Eddie, you end up having to walk home in a light drizzle. Usually you have your car, but your mom insisted on needing it for the day. On the occasion that she needed the car, usually you would grab a ride from Eddie. Right now, that just wasn’t an option.

You start to feel bad for the first time since your avoidance started. You saw how Eddie’s face fell every time you made eye contact and walked the other way. No matter how much you’ve wanted to talk to him, you just can't let your feelings go.

You just need distance. If you give yourself enough time, the idea of having to leave him so he can have date-night with another girl won’t send you into a mental spiral. If you give yourself enough time, you could stand the idea of listening to him gush about her. As of right now, there’s no possible way any of that sounds doable to you.

As you got up this morning, the weather was bright and sunny, warm on your skin. You wore a layered skirt and a tank top. Unfortunately, the rain was picking up slowly, and you’re sure it's going to be pouring by the time you get home, still another mile or two away.

You walk on the sidewalk, arms crossed over one another to prevent from shivering as much as you can, narrowly avoiding the splashing from tires as cars pass by. While the rain picks up, your ears barely pick up on a vehicle slowing down right by you.

“Get in!” You hear a voice, recognizing it off the bat.

You look up to face him, nice and dry in his van that he has pulled over right next to you. You can barely see him through the rain. You shake your head, continuing your walk home.

“Sweetheart, get in! You’re gonna get sick! It’s starting to thunder!” Eddie argues, driving slowly as you continue to walk.

“No, I’m fine!” You answer, your chattering teeth giving away your iron clad position.

“Oh, for fucks—” You think Eddie has given up, your eyes on the ground as you trudge forward, until you see his scuffed-up shoes in your direct eyeline. His firm hands land on the soft flesh of your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey. What the fuck did I do?”

Your eyes look up to him in surprise. “Huh?”

“You’ve been avoiding me for the last week and a half!” He yells, mostly because the rain has picked up so goddamn much.

“I-I just need space.” You tell him, attempting to get out of his hold.

“Wait, what? Why?” Eddie asks. Your eyes blink rapidly as you peer up at him, his curly hair already soaked from the rain. “What do you mean, you need space?”

You gulp out of both tears and frustration. “I just need space, Eddie! I need some time… to get used to it.”

You might as well have been speaking in tongues. “Get used to what? What the hell are you talking about?”

The words bubble up in your thoughts and through your throat before you can stop them. “You made it extremely clear that you don’t see me as anything other than a friend, and now you have a crush on some girl!”

Eddie couldn’t register a single word you were saying. It made no sense to him. “What?”

“I have made a complete fool out of myself! I basically put myself on display just for you to look at some girl shaking her ass in a cheerleader uniform.” You chuckle, wiping some rain from your face as it drips cold down your cheeks. “Maybe I should’ve joined the squad, then I would’ve stood a chance.”

“Wait, wait.” Eddie is having trouble processing any of this. “Can you please go from the start, sweetheart?”

“Gareth told me you like someone.” You admit, your voice faltering. “After sending signals for God knows how long, I guess I finally realize I’ve been making a fool out of myself with you.” You sigh, giving him the saddest look he's ever seen from you. “I just need some time to get over you.”

The information finally all seems to add up for Eddie. “Wait, sweetheart, back up.” Eddie says a soft smile landing on his face as he understands. “You-you like me?”

“Uh, yeah?” You answer, the answer obvious.

“And you think I like some cheerleader?” Eddie asks, pulling you closer to him.

God, this is torture. “I mean, you do, don’t you?”

He laughs, loud and…joyful. “God, no.” He says, and you nearly melt at the half smirk now settled on his face.

It's your turn to be confused. “Huh?”

“The girl I like is you, you dumbass.”

Suddenly your heart is in your ears, and you can’t think passed that smile on his face. The glint in his eyes is new, the look in his eye driving you stupidly crazy. “Wait, Ed, don’t fuck with me here.”

The hands resting on your shoulders float up to the shine of your cheeks, framing your face. Rain is dripping off his bangs and he’s nearly struggling through it but doesn’t seem to care. Truth is, he does not. All he can see is the shine of your lips from the rain. “Baby, I’ve been wanting to kiss those lips since the moment I saw you.”

Your breath hitches, staring at those lips you’ve stared at so many times. “Then what's stopping you?”

Your lips meet in the middle, rain colliding with one side of your face as you tilt your head. He takes the lead right away, your skin on fire as you are barely able to believe that this is real, and that he’s really kissing you. Eddie nibbles on your bottom lip, you let out a small whimper in response. Your tongue eagerly reaches out to meet his, the collision feeling like velvet. Eddie’s hand spreads out on your face, his limber fingers something you’ve fantasized about several times.

You continue to make out in the rain, one of your hands finding their way in his soaked hair. One hand is placed on the small on your back, tugging your body right up against his. Another whimper escapes your mouth, Eddie opening his mouth and breathing heavily into yours in a knee-jerk reaction.

Eddie separates from you, placing his forehead against yours. “You wanna get in now?” A half chuckle passes his lips at the sheer stupidity of this major miscommunication.

“Please.”

Eddie opens the back door to his van, already a blanket and pillow on the floor thanks to his habits in his free time. As you climb in, you squeeze the water from your hair, suddenly realizing you’re actually quite cold. Eddie observes your shivering. “Cold, baby?”

“Freezing.” You admit, grabbing a blanket folded in the corner. He helps you get wrapped up, rubbing your arms quickly. “I don’t wanna stop kissing you, though.” Another admission comes out just as easily.

“You sure?” He asks, walking on his knees to meet you.

“Just kiss me.” You tell him grabbing him by the jacket.

He chuckles as he meets your lips, his face dipping down to meet yours again. You fall backwards to lie down, tugging on his jacket so he lands on you. He giggles as he lands on his forearm right next to your head, all teeth against your lips as he smiles into you. Your legs curl up around his torso, tugging him impossibly closer.

“You have no—” He sighs, kissing you in intervals. “…No idea how badly I’ve wanted to kiss these pretty lips of yours.”

Your heart flutters as you giggle into the kiss, the compliments he showers you in too much to believe. “Ed, I-I want you to touch me…” You sigh, the blanket slowly falling off your body.

“Uh, don’t know if you know this, but I…I’ve never…” Eddie stutters, sounding nervous.

You let out a small huff of laughter. “It…it’s okay, Eddie.” Your hands entangle into the wet curls on his head. “Neither have I.”

Eddie lets out an audible gulp from the simple implications. “I think we should get off the main road before we start getting too into it, baby.”

“Oh, ok.” You tell him, butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

He sits back up, a noticeable tent in his pants making you feel flustered. You thought you felt something against your thigh, but mentally, you couldn’t fathom that he was hard for you. He extends his hand out for you, you accept it gratefully as he helps you scoot back out of the back. The two of you scurry to your prospective seats, the rain now coming down so fast your hair is soaked from the mere seconds it took you to get there.

Eddie pushes his wet mop of a head of hair to the side as he laughs with you at the scenario you currently find yourselves in. As he starts the van, he gives you a cocky eyebrow raise, the heat from the air vents surprising you in a blast. His heavy foot placed on the gas pedal surprises you, your head swinging backwards at the force.

Without asking, you know exactly where Eddie is headed. The drive takes longer than average, your nerves racking sky high as his strong hand holds yours absentmindedly.

The rain continues its assault from the sky, a flash of lighting reflecting in the water as you pull up to the edge of Lovers’ Lake. As Eddie brakes, your head falls back onto the fabric covered headrest, eyes closing as you place his hand in yours in your lap. The heat of your arousal is radiating off you, your thumb absentmindedly smoothing over Eddie’s.

There’s nothing you’ve wanted more than to be sweaty with him on top of you, but now that it’s about to happen, the fact is nearly overwhelming. As you soak in the sound of the rain on the roof of the van, Eddie presses his hand where you have it on your upper thigh, putting pressure on it. An involuntary whimper escapes your throat, and as your lungs fill up with air Eddie leans in across the gap of the seats, a chuckle leaving those sweet lips as he nuzzles into your neck.

A sigh leaves your lips as you can feel his teeth start to nibble lightly, relaxing into it. He places his other arm over you, coming up to rub your torso as his tongue delicately laps along your jugular. “Ed…can we lie down?” You ask, your eyelids starting to feel heavy.

“You wanna climb, or you wanna get out?” On cue, a flash of lightning hits right on the lake. “Climb?”

“Climb.” You agree, giving him your sweetest smile.

“Ladies first?” Eddie asks, gesturing to the back.

You awkwardly place your knee on the middle console your hands having a rough landing on the blanket covered floor of the van as you start to crawl forward. Behind you, Eddie appreciates the view, how your pink, thin panties beautifully showcase the outline of your cunt, still soaked from the rain. Well the rain and your arousal, of course.

You turn around, one leg bent as you wait for Eddie to climb over. His hand moves to turn on the overhead light, then he slowly crawls his way to you, the look in his darkened eyes sending a thrill up your spine. By the time his body lines up with yours, you’re giggling out of nervousness, wondering where this energy came from.

He hovers over you, the wide smile on his face as he switches between your eyes sending your nerves up into the atmosphere. Your legs open for him, accepting him as he lays on top of you. His hair starts to fall over your face as he leans in, his mouth deliciously open as he kisses you some more.

“Ed.” You mumble, moving your hands to where they seem to favour, the collar of his leather jacket. “Take this off.”

He hums as he follows your order, sliding the jacket off his shoulders as he continues to kiss you. Well, his multi-tasking is a bit jagged, but you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You admire his newly exposed arms sitting in his wet muscle shirt. He leans down to continue lapping at your neck again, adding more teeth to turn your neck purple, having stared at this part when you stretch out a kink or two from your neck.

You’re so turned on; you can feel it in your bones. “Eddie,” you whimper out, eyes closed as you give in to the way his tongue feels electric. “I need you to touch me, please.” You beg him, your pussy begging you for attention.

“Of course, baby,” Eddie gulps, and knowing him, you could hear his nerves.

“Hey,” you say, reaching out to hold his face. “I can help you, just reach out to touch me and I’ll tell you how to do it. I just need your fucking fingers on me, please.”

Eddie leans in, kissing gently along your jawline. “I know, maybe I just wanted to hear you beg.”

You roll your eyes, calling him out on his bluff. “Mmhmm. Just fucking touch me, Munson.”

Eddie’s hesitancy seemed to die right there, his unsteady fingers simply placed over the thin layer of your panties makes you gasp, just the light touch giving you some satisfaction. “You were saying?”

Eddie starts to lightly trace along the folds, noting how it dips right where your hole would be. Eddie can’t help but get harder as the heat from your pussy radiates. “Feels good…” you mutter, sighing lightly. “Just a little harder, please?”

“You want it harder, sweetheart?” He asks, you nod enthusiastically. “You sure?” You nod again, frustrated at his damn questions.

He puts pressure on his fingers, experimentally starting to circle them around. “Little higher, Ed.” You tell him as he just grazes your clit. He listens, moving his fingers a half of an inch higher and continuing. He moves his fingers just high enough, starting to circle perfectly on your clit. You moan out loud, letting out small gasps. “Right there, right there!”

“Oh my god.” Eddie mumbles to himself, watching your face crumple up as your legs fall more open. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you moan like this…fucking stunning.” Your moans grow louder, your thighs starting to tense. Eddie suddenly stops, and you whimper at the loss. You feel him start to move your panties aside. As soon as you realize what he’s doing, your head perks up, watching his face as he stares at your exposed pussy for the first time.

The heat in your pussy increases, tenfold, weeping just from his intense stare.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, mouth half open and his eyes don’t even blink. “Eddie?” You ask, starting to feel self-conscious.

“Wow…” he mutters, eyes finally locking with yours. “I knew your pussy would be pretty, I didn’t know it would be this ravishing.”

You gulp, feeling more wanted than you knew you ever could.

His fingers trace gently along your folds, just feeling your pussy. As he hears a whimper from you, a note of your impatience, he suddenly turns his hand upside down starting to touch with more pressure. “Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.” He whispers. “All…all this for me?”

You’re wet for him more than he knows, but your mouth can’t even communicate it, your brain having gone dumb from his touch alone.

He licks his lips, starting to rub at your folds purposely. “Look at this pretty little cunt, oh my god���wonder…” he doesn’t finish his thought, but when his long digit makes its way in you, you can deduce what he was thinking. He slides it in and out slowly, the length of his finger reaching much farther than yours ever have.

Your breathing gains speed and depth, adding another finger and fucking you slow, yet perfect. “Eddie.” You moan, your slick dripping down your ass and onto the blanket. Eddie moves his fingers faster, looking at your face for your response. “F-faster!”

Eddie lets out a huff of laughter you don’t hear, too caught up in the pleasure. “Jus’ gonna…” He leans in, and his tongue flat against your clit yanks the first genuine moan out of you, the pleasure all encompassing.

“Just like that! Please, Eddie, so close, please!” You beg him, the orgasm sneaking on you as it hurtles toward you, just around the corner.

He switches up, still new to this whole thing, but he makes up for it by gripping onto the soft flesh of your thighs and starting to fuck his tongue into your weeping hole. His lips create a sort of suction around the length of your lips, and the heat that radiates into your thighs becomes too fucking much as your thighs close hard against his ears.

“Gonna…” it’s the only warning you can provide for him before your entire body tenses up, a primal moan leaving your lips. Eddie works you through your orgasm, holding your thighs held against his head and revelling in how you soak his lips. He’s pictured his nose against your pussy too many times to already be satisfied.

As you finally come down, Eddie is still fucking into you with his tongue, seemingly not giving up. You lift your head up, your thighs now loose as you peer at him. “Ed?” You ask, the sensitivity of your puffy lips causing your thighs to quiver a little bit. “Wh-what are you doing?”

His tongue leaves your cunt for only half a second. “’M not done yet.” It’s warbled, his hot breath right against you eliciting another whimper.

Your head falls hopelessly against the van floor, his thumb contacting your clit and tongue swirling against your walls, moaning into your pussy. As you’re still sensitive, the second orgasm starts brewing in your tummy quickly. “Eddie, it’s too much.” You say, attempting to squiggle your hips away from his relentless tongue. “Too-too much.”

“Mmm, ‘can do it.” He mumbles, doubling down on his pattern.

“Ed…Eddie!” You cum into his mouth, your torso involuntarily tensed as you raised, incoherent sounds leaving your lips as you wither beneath him.

As your thighs relax again, he licks a last few times, as if trying to collect all the slick covering your pussy. After one last time, he looks up to you, licking his lips as you recollect yourself. “Was that ok?” He asks, breathing heavily and sweating as if he just ran a marathon.

You give him a look of disbelief, eyes furrowing as you shake your head. “Was…was that okay?” You repeat back to him in astonishment. “Eddie that was…I-I it was… I don’t know who taught you to do that, but it wasn’t me, Jesus!”

He crawls up to you, smile on his face gloriously cocky. “Yeah?”

“Uh huh!” You confirm, your voice indicating that you’re stating the obvious.

“Been wanting to do that for a while,” he says, mouth just hovering over yours.

“What a coincidence, been wanting you to do that for a while.” You smirk, switching your glance between his hypnotising eyes and his glossy pink lips. He finally leans in for a kiss, tongue reaching out to meet yours in a dance of straight up pleasure. “Ed…” You whine, bunching up the wet muscle shirt he’s wearing in your fists.

“Hmm?” He asks, slowly kissing you.

“I wanna help you.” You sheepishly admit, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Please?”

“Help?” Eddie asks, feigning ignorance in the meaning of your request.

“I wanna suck your cock, please, Eddie.”

Eddie lets out a laugh in incredulity. “Holy shit, please.” It’s damn near a whine, music to your ears.

You giggle in response, finally the shoe on the other foot as you get to now hear those moans as a result of what you do to him, and not through his bathroom door. Experimentally, you reach down, feeling at the tent you’ve felt brush against your thigh as you made out with him. At the mere brush of your hand on the outline of his cock, he moans, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

One leg bends, using it to push and get him onto his back. You sit up, straddling him as you assess his astonished expression. As soon as you sit up, however, you notice the twitch of his cock right under your pussy. Your breath stutters at it, not realizing your bodies would line up this well. As if your brain knows what to do before even you do, your hips start rutting against him, alluring a moan in sync from the two of you.

“Oh my god,” Eddie whimpers, eyes rolling in the back of his head. If you could, you’d take a picture of him.

You giggle, attempting some ounce of self-discipline as you start to crawl down his body, already missing the twitch of his dick against your bare pussy. If just his dick against you feels this good, you wonder how great he would feel inside you, and you almost run out of patience.

No. You want this power: to be on your knees as he moans for you. Show some fucking discipline.

Your hands fumble as you undo the button on his jeans and Eddie lifts his hips as you move them down his legs. You want to tease him over his thin boxers, but the anticipation is too much, the need of the weight of what appears to be his thick cock on your tongue too great. You tug down his boxers, his cock popping out deliciously.

The look of pure lust you saw on Eddie is essentially copy and pasted onto you, your eyes darkening as you take in his length for the first time.

“Uh, baby?” He asks, watching as you’re stuck in some sort of trance.

“So pretty.” You mumble to the pink head, precum already pearling at the slit. Your tongue darts out, wanting a taste of the salt dressing it. You sigh in satisfaction, eyes closing as you wrap your hand around the base. Tentatively, you wrap your lips around the head, sucking gently.

“What a good mouth, oh my god.” He babbles, hands in his own hair in a haze.

If you could, you’d smile. Only knowing from a magazine with blowjob tips, you start to move your mouth up and down his length, barely able to take in half of it. Your mouth sucks harshly on him, moaning around him as slobber starts to gather at the base. As a way to get the spit off your hand, you rub it on to his cock almost in exact time as you continue sucking.

“Baby, baby, do that again.” He whines, his gasps audible. You follow his request immediately, moving your hand in tandem with your mouth. “Just like that, so good, thank-thank you.”

A sense of pride hits you, increasing your speed as his legs start to move aimlessly around under you. Your jaw starts to become sore, so you decide to experiment some more. You give one long lick from base to tip, chasing a vein that travels around his cock. At the skin around his base, you suck lightly, giggling as he lets out a deep moan. You recall one tip telling you not to neglect the balls, so you travel down to one, sucking on the ribbed skin empirically.

“Fuck—I—” Eddie stutters out between loud gasps of pleasure, eyes closed.

You lick under it, trying to get every inch of skin as your hand absentmindedly strokes him. Your tongue goes back for his now leakier tip, engulfing his cock to the furthest of the back of your throat you possibly can, your gag reflex choking on him.

“Choke on that fat cock, baby, fucking choke on it!”

His stern tone surprises you, yet still turns you on as you continue the choking, now on purpose. You slobber all over his cock, one hand travelling up to hold his hand.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so fucking close…” You double down on every action, his hand squeezing the life out of yours. “Gonna cum down your throat…fuck—”

Eddie lets out the greatest moan of all time, a salty thick substance shooting down your throat as you swallow it easily. You barely have a chance to taste it, too much coming too fast to keep track, attempting to swallow it all. His cock finally stops twitching in your mouth, and as your mouth leaves him, you leave a final sweet kiss on the bright red tip.

As you lift your head to assess him, you see the obvious way his chest breathes in and out, catching his breath. You bite your lip as his eyes stay closed, palm on his forehead as he recovers. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah?” You ask, having never given head before.

“Uh, yeah!” He says as if he’s stating the obvious, falling back on the blanket. “Mere.” He sits back up, grabbing you at the shirt and putting his lips on yours. You moan into his mouth, panting happily as his tongue makes contact with yours. “Fuck, did you swallow?” He asks, fabric of your thin tank top lifted by his hand on your bare skin.

“Mmhmm!” You confirm, giggling as he lets out a sigh of contentment.

Eddie lifts your shirt off, the light-yellow fabric see through from the rain. He throws it across the van, moving you onto your back with his hand supporting the small of it. As he lies down alongside you, mouth slowly moving against yours and a hand trails along your skin, setting it on fire, yet goosebumps appear on your skin in its wake. His hand reaches its destination, travelling under the wire of your bra and starting to play with your peaked nipple.

You whimper into his mouth as he plays with it, tugging on it and sending pleasure down your spine. Your hands leave from where they were stationed on his shoulders to your skirt, trying to move it down your hips. “No, no, let me.” Eddie laughs, his hand leaving your nipple and replacing your hands on your skirt.

He tugs both your skirt and panties down off your legs, moving down the length as he gets them off your feet. You giggle and take off your shoes with it, watching as Eddie finishes taking off his pants and shoes as well.

Eddie lands back between your legs, his eyes hungry, making you feel vulnerable. A single hand, ever ambitious, moves around your back to take your bra off. To your surprise, he takes it off single handedly, the bra snapping off your back as a cheshire grin of satisfaction makes its way onto Eddie's lips. Finally, you move your hands around his back to help him take off his muscle shirt, admiring as each tattoo is revealed, finally allowed to ogle him.

You bite your lip, admiring him in the low light of the van. Eddie falters for a second, gulping. “I…I don’t have a condom.” He admits sheepishly.

You giggle, smiling at him happily. “I don’t care about that, I just need you to fuck me, Ed.”

He smiles, leaning in for a sweet, lush kiss. “I…I have to tell you something.” He sighs, on all fours as he hovers over you.

Your stomach swoops nervously. “Um…okay.”

He lines himself up, the tip slight pressure against your hole. “Okay?”

You nod, now confused. Wasn’t he going to tell you someth-oh my god. He slowly enters you, the pain over taking the pleasure, but the feeling still phenomenal.

“So tight.” He grunts, arms still straight as he waits for you to adjust.

It starts to feel overwhelmingly better, Eddie pulsing inside you, you can feel every inch against your walls. “More.” You plead.

Eddie pushes in a bit more, a high whine leaving your lips. “You’re doing so well, baby, taking this big fat cock.”

“Cock feels…so good…” You sigh, eyes closing on their own accord. “Didn’t…didn’t you have something to say?”

He laughs, his cock twitching in tandem. “I do…”

“You’re inside me, and you’re still a tease?” You ask, humming as it turns to pleasure again. “More.”

Eddie pushes in a little bit more, licking his lips as he takes in your pleasure-stricken face. “A tease, eh?” He asks, wondering what you meant.

“Walking in with your chest still wet—” you whine, interrupting yourself, “the cut off sleeves you wear, mast-masturbating in the shower…more.”

“Just a little bit more baby.” You don’t know how he could be any deeper, you’re pretty sure he’s already at your cervix. “Wait…you heard me in the shower?”

You huff a breath of laughter, tightening around him. “Mmhmm. Sounded so fucking hot, I might’ve touched myself in your bed when I heard it.”

Eddie moves in a final time without your say-so, and you moan in surprise. “Sorry, baby, you just—you just took me by surprise. You touched yourself in my bed? When I was in the shower?”

“Only because I could hear you.” You admit, your legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him closer to you.

“You could hear me? I was so sure I was being quiet.” He admits, his breath hot against your skin as he lies directly against you.

“Not really.” You admit, biting your lip in embarrassment. “It was so fucking hot, Ed.”

Eddie sighs, peppering kisses against your skin. “Well, I was thinking of you and those thin pjs you wear, sweetheart, so I guess it was a mutual masturbation.”

“I wondered if that was working.” You admit, humour in your voice. Eddie shakes his head, everything suddenly making sense. He kisses you deeply, hips still stagnant as he allows you to get used to his girth.

“So, you had something you wanted to tell me, Eddie?” You ask, slowly caressing the side of his torso, lightly tracing the tattoos you come in contact with.

“Mmhm.” He hums, leaning down to kiss skin gently, any skin he could reach. “Thanks for remembering.”

You roll your eyes, starting to get antsy at his still hips. “Just tell me.”

“I’m telling you this, because it broke me to see your reaction after you thought I even liked someone else.” The heartache seems so far away now, especially since he’s currently balls deep inside you. “I don’t just like you, sweetheart.” He admits, his voice suddenly soft and sweet. “I’m in love with you. I have been in love with you for as long as I’ve known you, at least, I think…I don’t know. But I don’t want anyone else, never have, baby. I just. Want.” Unexpectedly, he lifts his lips, pulling a gasp. “You.” He bucks his hips once for emphasis, taking in the already fucked out look on your face as you take in everything he just gave you.

“Really?” You ask in a light whisper, breathing heavily. “You-you love me?”

“Mmhmm.” He affirms, his hips bucking out slowly yet again.

“I-I love you too, Ed.” You admit, your heart open and full, every part of you, full, as he slowly fucks into you.

The words take a minute to register, his hips stilling completely. It’s such a tease, the way his hips still after only mere seconds of starting their trek. You whimper as an answer, your hips lifting to silently request that he’d continue. “Ed?”

“Oh my god…” he mutters, slowly lapping his way down your neck. “I’m so crazy for you, baby, so fucking insane.”

“Can…you please move?” You request politely, legs tense at his hips as your cunt begs for more attention.

“Need this fat cock to fuck you good, don’t you, baby?” He manages out, voice with a hint of husk in it as he continues to kiss his way down your body. The dip of your collarbone, valley of your tits, biting at the areola, licking dirtily along the curve of your breast…as far as he could go without his cock leaving you. “Hmm? Just desperate for it, aren’t you?”

One side of you wants to ask him where he's come up with this, because it’s driving you absolutely wild. The other side doesn’t fucking care where he got it from, the pleasure from his delicate licks consuming you whole. At a loss for words, you nod your head.

He grunts as he bucks himself into you, this one harder than the last. “Oh? Can’t use your words, baby?”

You whine, feeling pathetic, and yet, ravishing in it. “I just want you to rail me, please, please, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” He asks, turning his lips into your neck again, muttering against your throat. “How bad?”

“Enough to think about you” you huff, heat floating to your cheeks, hesitant in saying it. Could he just…keep moving? Please?

His teeth graze your ear, nipping at it. “Wanna finish that sentence, love?” Eddie asks, his voice making your thighs clench together around his hips.

“Eddie, I've thought about you everytime I fucked my pussy with my fingers. I’ve thought about you fucking me more times than I can count.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know how many times I’ve fucked my fist praying one day it would be you…whimpering and whining for me.”

“Then turn me into a fucking mess, Ed. Please.”

Finally, his lips leave your throat and he looks at you, his grin manic as those adorable dimples finally give you that look you’ve been craving for what feels like eons at this point. His hips move into action, fucking you at a force that pulls feral grunts out of your mouth, sounds you didn’t even know you had the capability of making.

“Baby, your pussy is so tight, just pulling me in.” He grunts, one hand curling its way into your hair, pulling lightly at the roots.

“Eddie, your cock feels so fucking good. Fucking—keep going—oh my god.”

Eddie is torn between moaning, grunting, and thoughts that are never finished. His hand, nimble and huge, trails up and down your torso, your legs, touching every inch he can. Finally, two of his fingers make their way to your clit, rubbing it with fervour. Your pussy clenches around his length as he continually bucks into you, the mix of sensations too much, and yet, everything you’ve ever wanted from him.

“Eddie, can you please do something for me?” You ask, reaching out to hold his face with both hands and giving him a sweet kiss.

He sighs into your kiss, tongue connecting with yours, and you feel dizzy and high in pleasure. “Anything, angel.”

“Want you to call me a slut.”

He leans in for another kiss, much dirtier and much needier. His hips rut into yours desperately. “Yeah? Dunno if you’ve really earned it…” he comments, teasing you.

You don’t realize he’s egging you on, desperate for him in ways you didn’t think you could be. Your mind goes to the thing it was fixated on when Eddie once held your face, hands petting two fingers absentmindedly. You grab at the same two fingers, nimble and long, and place them in your mouth, sucking as you wrap your tongue around them.

Eddie’s mouth opens, jaw slack as his tongue pokes out. A shine appears in his eyes, glazing over as they fixate on your mouth. Your mind might’ve been tricking you, but you swear his dick twitches inside you. His hips have stopped…again. “Oh shit, my dirty little slut.”

You nod your head enthusiastically, rutting your hips up again, silently begging for more. You moan around him, eyes hooded, Eddie blurring in your vision from the steep want. Your teeth graze his fingers lightly, lapping your tongue over it when he whines. Around his fingers you choke, your mouth hot and wet. Your mouth leaves his fingers for a moment, light shining in the spit glazing your mouth. “Baby I need you to fuck me. Please, Ed. Please.”

“Listen to this little slut beg for it. Can you beg some more? Hm? See that pretty little mouth beg, just for me.” His low rumble only spurring you on further.

Eddie knows you love what that husky voice is saying as your pussy pulses around him. “Hmm. Eddie, please, please fuck me. Need that cock so fucking bad. You have no idea how much you turn me on, your rings, your arms, fuck, that pretty fucking mouth, those gorgeous eyes, oh my fucking god. I have needed you to fuck me for this last year, please, Ed, just rail me until I can’t think.”

Your chest is heaving, eyes slowly assessing Eddie’s reaction. A smile slowly creeps on his face, until it’s a smirk that sends a shiver right through you. Your eyes dart back and forth between his, anticipating his next move, biting your lip. The first thing he does is lean down to give you a kiss, that can simply be described as romantic. His tongue reaches out to connect with yours, gliding together in a dance that you don’t think you’ll ever get over.

Honestly, you think, if his kiss ever bores you, the person to your left better beat your ass for taking for granted how fantastic these lips are.

After a moment of just his lips on yours, lying together so unified, you aren’t sure where he stops and you begin. Slowly, his kisses move from your lips, down the dip of your neck, and he licks slowly up to your ear. “Hmm. Fuck you until you can’t think? Baby, I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

A moan leaves your throat, a hint of a whimper. His lips curl up more against your ear, a light laugh huffing against it.

Then, his hips get to work.

Every goddamn time Eddie stopped, every time he made you beg for him to keep going, whether it be silent or verbal, he makes up for it tenfold as soon as his hips start moving. He pushes up, using his hands to lift his body up and start fucking you at a relentless pace. Slowly, you recognize an annoying squeak fades in the background, the sound of the axel against his differential from his hips bucking wonderfully.

Not a word leaves your throat, the only sounds are small gasps falling from your lips, faster and faster as the pleasure impossibly grows within you. It feels like an aura of heat, radiating from your full pussy, and throughout your body.

“Feel good, baby? Feel that fat cock fucking you, good and full?” He grunts out from between gritted teeth.

You nod, whines leaving your throat, one shock at a time.

His hand on your hip tightens, nails digging into the doughy skin of your ass. “Hey, slut. I asked you a fucking question.”

“So good…so good…so fucking good…so fucking good. Ed-Eddie…I—” You’re cut off by your own shout, the way he hits hard, and deep, impossibly harder.

“Look at my cock-drunk little slut, taking this cock so well.” He mutters, voice deep and gasping for air. “Fuck, feels so good.”

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him so his forehead lands on yours, harshly, but in a way that makes him grunt…almost…animalistic…

“Cum…cum in me…” it’s a struggle to get out, but once it does, you witness Eddie falter for just a second.

“R-really?”

“Please, please cum in me. Want it dripping out of me, please baby.”

His hand stutters in its movements, sliding up from your hips, to your neck, hands gently raising on the front. “Want me to cum in you?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Want me to claim you as yours?”

“Been…been yours since I sat down at—ah—your table, Ed.”

“That’s fucking right, you have, you’re all fucking—all fucking mine.”

His hip movements are a little more jagged, his breathing heavy and jagged. “Harder.”

He chuckles, hand tightening around your throat, a grunt leaving your throat at each fucking hit. “Fuck…gonna—”

He cuts himself off, his cum filling you up deliciously in spurts of hot, white, mess. You go over the edge with him, your orgasm hitting you in a way that will have you fucking skipping around the halls of the school. You whine his name, choked out past his ring-necklace wrapped around your neck.

His torso collapses on yours, covered in sweat in the thick of the van.

His hand leaves your neck, both wrapping themselves into your hair. You seem to finally catch your breath, almost gasping as his weight is the most comforting thing you’ve ever felt in your life. He’s laid on you several times before, but never this intimate, his breath mixing with yours, making you feel whole.

You giggle, a smile that takes over your face in every muscle, completely lighting up. As much as you try, you can’t hold it in. It floats down your face and into your body, every limb full of complete joy. Eddie twists his head into your neck, you feel the wide smile he makes, gorgeous laughter leaving his lips against you. His teeth nip at your neck, making you giggle harder, hands flying up to your face.

Eddie leans up his face to see yours, the lazy smile lopsided, a pretty shine in his eyes. It’s…new…and radiant. You giggle again as you look up at him, your hands landing on each side of his rosy, glowing, cheeks. His skin is hot and flushed, your thumbs slowly caressing his face.

He leans in for another kiss, gentle this time, making you feel all too dizzy. A sigh of utter contentment leaves your mouth, biting your lips anxiously. “Hi, love.” He mutters, a lithe finger moving a strand of hair that fell into your eye. “Doin’ good?”

You nod, shyly rubbing your head into his chest. “Very good.”

He laughs, tilting his head up to face the roof of the van, still sheltering you from the sturdy and never-ending rain. “Fuck, rain hasn’t stopped.”

“It’s pretty.” You comment, observing the pattern of the roof his van. “I love the sound.”

He hums, eyes raking you over as he leans into you. “Not as good as the sounds you make.”

You roll your eyes, hitting his arm gently. “Eddie.” You giggle, legs wrapping themselves around him. “What a line.”

His lips softly land on your cheek, giving you a final kiss. “Not a line, just the truth.” He whispers, hands now preparing himself to lift out of you.

“Wait.” You stop him, holding on to one of those strong arms of his. “I—I really don’t want you to leave yet, baby.”

A laugh escapes his throat, in utter disbelief if anything. “Oh, we have plenty of time for cock-warming, gorgeous, don’t you fucking worry.” He assures you. “I just thought we could go to my house, make out and watch a movie, ya know?”

“Mmhmm.” You answer, still moaning at the loss that was too much to handle. “I just wanted to…revel in it.”

“Oh, I love you so fucking much.” He sighs, grinning at you as he crawls to his clothes.

You lean up into your elbows, a symphony of giggles leaving your throat as he tosses your panties into your face. “Can we make out on your couch?”

“Whatever you want, baby.” Eddie tells you, curly hair that’s already frazzled from the humidity even crazier from the tryst. “Hell, you can ride me, let’s get out of his van before we both catch a cold.”

You put on the skirt he hands to you. “Both?”

“Yep.” He nods, also throwing his jacket. “You walked a mile in the pouring rain with no jacket on. You’re gonna be a mess this weekend.”

Nodding, you agree with him. “I mean I’ll be a mess either way, no?”

Eddie shakes his head as he puts on his shirt, giving you a look you’ve been dying for him to shoot you. As if he’s so lucky to have caught you.

He’s wrong, you’re the lucky one. The two of you finally finish getting dressed, meeting in the middle in your cold, wet clothes. You crawl into his arms, nuzzling his chest as he places a kiss on your damp hair. “C’mon, let’s figure out how far we can get into Halloween before ripping each other’s clothes off again.”

You giggle, climbing into the passenger seat. If it was up to you, the tape wouldn’t even make it into the VCR.

Your hand intertwines with his on the way there, your whole body relaxing into the fabric seats. He can’t keep his eyes on the road, glancing at you every five seconds. It’s hard to believe only twelve hours ago you were in bed cocooned because your heart was aching so badly.

Now your heart aches in a completely different way, and it’s from not being able to comprehend that you could love and be loved in return just as much.

The next morning, Wayne walks into his trailer to see clothes scattered along the hall. You didn’t even make it to the couch.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

[lovebugism]

oh my god absolutely feral for the cynical prompt list PLEASE!!! maybe like bad at feelings/grumpy!r x steve with these vibes?:

• "you.. LIKE ME???" "i'm a little wary but so far, yes."

• "you're my favorite person. i didn't know you could have those."

• i love the idea that although they're cynical they would simultaneously not care to admit it ^ like "okay, yeah, i fell in love. so what???? people fall in puddles, and pools, and you know, other things!!! don't hold this against me!"

or literally anything from that list like i just know you’d eat

hope you like it angel xoxo — you tell steve you love him for the first time in front of all your friends who didn't even know you were dating (grumpy!r, fluff, 1.3k)

Eddie drops off a few Hellfire stragglers at Family Video after a lengthy campaign, you among them. Robin watches you file in with a freckled chin nestled in her palm. “Stevie! Your children are here!” she singsongs in the otherwise empty store, flipping unenthusiastically through an old magazine.

Dustin and Lucas grumble under their breaths about being called children, though you think they’re still very much deserving of the term. Eddie, meanwhile, crosses his leather-clad arms over his chest. “You know I’m older than him, right?” he monotones with squinted eyes. “So that’s, like, scientifically impossible.”

You deadpan from beside him, somehow more stoic than the raucously dressed metalhead. “And also, I’m dating him,” you frown. “So that’d be, like, extra weird.”

Everyone looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, then. Like you’ve just said something awful. 

Steve’s presence saves you, but only for a moment. He comes out from the back wearing a stupid grin on his scruffy face. “Hey, babe,” he greets you first, with a wide hand spread warmly over your back. 

When he ducks down for a fleeting kiss, you can taste the Cheetos he’d been snacking on and the wintergreen gum he’d just plucked into his mouth. The concoction is strange. Maddening, still.

All of your friends leer at you for several long moments. They gape at the two of you in horror, as though there was some kind of truth in what Robin had just announced moments ago — as though you and Steve shouldn’t be kissing at all.

“Wait,” Lucas mumbles, filling the heavy silence. His face twists in confusion a second later. “What?”

Eddie’s pale face contorts in something short offense, like you’ve betrayed him somehow. You sort of did, in a way. You’re Hellfire’s prettiest, grumpiest, weirdest member — you’re not supposed to be dating Steve The Hair Harrington. It goes against, like, every unwritten rule in the handbook. 

“Is this why you wanted me to drop you off here?” he questions, palpably heartbroken. “So you two could— suck face?”

You shrug, emotionless. “Sorta.”

“We have a date tonight,” Steve announces with a proud smile. He squeezes gently at your shoulder, then cowers at the glare you give him. He clears his throat and corrects himself. “Not date.”

You’ve noticed his very strange tendency to call any time you spend together a date. You don’t like that. It makes you feel it’s some kind of appointment you have to book with him — an engagement you have to put too much effort into. Sometimes, you don’t want to go on a date. You just want to sleep over at his place, steal one of his shirts, and raid his kitchen in your underwear. 

Eddie does everything but pout. “But I thought… I thought we came here to bother Steve until he let us take something home for free?” he confesses in a quiet voice.

“We can still do that if you want.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” he frowns.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Robin shouts, abandoning her magazine and waving her hands in front of her face. “How did I not know about this?”

Steve bounces his shoulder, jostling the nametag pinned to his chest. “You don’t know everything about me, Buckley,” he sasses.

“So… you like him?” she presses, pointing to you and then the boy beside you. “You like Steve? Steve Harrington?”

You swallow hard and hope you don’t look as anxious as you feel. You shrug to feign an air of nonchalance. “I’m still a little wary about it, but, yeah… So far, anyway.”

Dustin’s senses return to him, then. He shakes his curly head in disbelief. “That is just… confounding,” he mumbles to himself.

“And how long has this been going on, exactly?” Robin squints.

“Couple months, I guess,” you monotone.

Steve has a much different, much more enthusiastic answer. 

“Well, if we’re going by the first time I knew she liked me, it’s been five months. But if we’re going by the first time we kissed, it’s been four,” he rambles with his honey eyes flitted to the ceiling. “But if we’re going by the first time she actually admitted she liked me, it’s been… A wonderful six days.”

He flashes you a grin, which you meet with a hardened scowl. “Shut up…” you grumble, but don’t push him away when he cuddles you closer to his side.

“You? And Steve Harrington?” Eddie gapes. “You’re kissing?”

Steve scoffs. “Well, we’re dating Munson. So obviously we’re kissing. Among other things…”

You dig an elbow into his ribs to shove him away. “Do you have a death wish?” you spit, eyes narrowed and bitter, while the boy just chuckles to himself.

“It’s just… weird,” Dustin remarks.

“But, like, a good weird,” Lucas nods. “Like a solar eclipse, sort of weird.”

“Or, like, that one in a billion chance of atoms aligning and your hand going directly through a solid object, sort of weird,” the curly-haired boy adds, punctuating his sentence by slapping the front counter. His palm collides with the hard surface with a resounding thud.

“What did you think was gonna happen?” Steve monotones when Dustin winces.

“Well, impossible things happen all the time, Steve. Including now.”

You start to choke on the attention. The stares are borderline suffocating. A bunch of wide-eyed gazes holding yours until you feel like you can hardly breathe. 

“What’s the big deal?” you blurt before you mean to. “We fell in love. Who cares? Dustin fell into a puddle earlier today— how’s that any different? People fall all the time.”

Dustin’s eyes narrow. “I thought we agreed not to bring that up.”

“Wait…” Steve mumbles, pink lips quirked in a crooked smile. His chocolate gaze glimmers with hope and confusion, eyes darting back and forth between yours. “You’re… You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah?” you shrug, trying not to cower at the way he looks at you. “So what?”

His grin widens. It takes everything in him not to kiss the life out of you then. He settles for a warm squeeze at your shoulder for now. “Nothing. Nothing, I just— I love you back. That’s all.”

The honeyed moment is ended bitterly by the sound of Eddie’s fake gagging. Robin gripes beneath the horrid noise, “You guys are gross…”

Lucas smiles. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Only ‘cause you’re more lovesick than these two idiots,” Eddie scoffs. He saunters away from you and takes the two Hellfire boys by the shoulder, leading them inevitably to the Sci-Fi section. Robin has no choice but to fix her frowning face and smile when a customer walks in.

With the crowd freshly dispersed, and the attention no longer on the two of you, you look up at Steve with a softer look than you’re used to. “Why did you look so shocked?” you murmur, eyes all squishy around the edges. “When I told you that I— that I loved you or whatever.”

“I wasn’t shocked,” Steve laughs and turns to face you fully. “I just… wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

You squint. “So you were shocked?”

“…I guess so. Yeah.”

“Well— you’re like— my favorite person or whatever,” you stumble over your words, finding it suddenly very difficult to meet his gaze. You gesture wildly with anxious hands. “And I didn’t even know you could have one of those, so… By that logic, I figured I must be in love with you.”

Steve grins, maybe bigger than he realizes. It’s all plush and pink and petaled, dripping with an adoration you’re not sure you deserve. “Well, by that logic, I must be in love with you, too, then, huh?”

“Guess so…” you grumble under your breath.

Steve smiles at the distant look of disgust scrunching your pretty face. “You’re so cute…” he mumbles under his breath, pressing a kiss to your pout before you can blink.

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter sixteen ⭐︎ Hold me, love me, touch me, honey

Warnings: 18+ minors don’t interact! smut, unprotected sex, *cough* breeding kink *cough*, slight allusions to pregnancy? but not really. not proofread... ignore any mistakes please

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve's newfound feelings awaken something else in him when you reveal a little secret to him.

Word count: 7.9k+

Author’s note: I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter, I hope it was worth the wait though and that you guys will enjoy it! shoutout to @hellfire--cult for helping with this as always hehe ♡

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

The aching in your head is the first thing you feel when you wake from your deep sleep, the throbbing pain making you groan in displeasure. When you open your eyes, you quickly shut them again, it’s not even that bright in the room, the curtains are closed but the little light that peeks through is still enough to hurt your sensitive eyes. You scrunch your nose and raise your hands up towards your face, hiding your eyes with your palms, you roll over on your side and sink your face into Steve’s pillow. 

You can still taste the beer in your mouth and it brings back the nausea that has been haunting you for a while. 

You raise your head and touch the spot beside you, sliding your palm back and forth, only to find Steve’s side of the bed empty. 

He is downstairs, you can hear the radio, it’s not even loud but your ears could pick up any sound right now. 

You squint open your eyes and give yourself a moment to adjust to the light, you stretch your arms out and inhale his scent that lingers all around you, embracing the fluttering in your heart. You slowly push yourself up but keep the covers over your body, looking over at the nightstand on your side of the bed, a smile appears on your face when you see the glass of water and Advil along with a little note ‘drink up, blondie – and come downstairs for coffee and breakfast’. Your dry mouth is begging for the water, you scoot over and reach for it, gladly grabbing the painkiller too, you throw it into your mouth and wash it down with the water. 

From the corner of your eye, you see the clothes you wore the night before, the skirt he slid down your body, the top and the bra he took off for you before he helped you put on his shirt. 

Pictures of last night start flashing in your mind, you remember how he held your hand and how he kissed you, how he held you and refused to let you out of his sight. He was soft with you, gentle and sweet — how you always wished him to be with you. 

Was it because of how you acted? Because of the side you always refused to show? 

The alcohol in your system revealed something you were always afraid to show, a you that you’ve always kept sacred, because you were too afraid to show your real self to people, the gentle and caring side, the loving one that craved intimacy and affection so so badly. This side of you is too vulnerable and you don’t like it, you don’t like to be perceived that way. You’d rather let people keep seeing you like this — rough, mean and cold. They won’t know if you’re hurt, they won’t see through your act, they won’t see you, and you want to keep it that way. 

Embarrassment fills you the longer you think of how you were around him, how giddy and happy you were, how love guided you to kiss him and treat him as though he was your boyfriend when he wasn’t, when he isn’t, when he will never be. 

How will you face him after last night? 

What does he think of you now? 

Will he treat you differently now? 

Can you just pretend like you don’t remember a single thing and you can both go back to normal?

You throw the covers off your body and get up from the bed, making a trip to the bathroom to brush your teeth, wash your face and comb through your hair to make yourself look more presentable before you walk downstairs to join Steve in the kitchen. 

Your heart starts doing pitter patters the closer you get to him, feeling nervous to look into his eyes and trying to pretend like everything is normal between you both like his soft touches didn’t fill you with a sliver of hope – something that makes you feel like a fool, there is no hope, there shouldn’t be, but your stupid heart can’t understand that. 

When you walk into the kitchen and you look out the window, you realize that it’s not even that bright out, the sun is only peeking through the big clouds, drops of rain roll down the windows, and the faintest sound of thunder rumbles through the sky, overpowering the music playing from the radio. 

Goosebumps rise up on your skin, an unsettling feeling appears in your stomach but you’re not afraid, despite how uneasy you feel, you’re not afraid, because you aren’t alone, because you’re with him. 

It smells like coffee and waffles, the mixed scents making your lips curl into an excited smile. 

Steve is standing with his back to you, finishing up on the waffles that he’s already got a stacked up plate of, he is sipping on his coffee and you wonder how long he has been up for already. 

His head is slightly banging along to the music, his hair is still messy, uncombed and unstyled, he is wearing a white tank top and sweatpants, he looks so cozy – that’s how you love him the most. 

You take in a shaky breath and open your mouth to speak, to say good morning, to say something as the nervousness seeps in deeper but he beats you to it, as though he can feel your eyes on him, he turns around to face you, his hazel eyes lighten up at the sight of you, the smugness that sinks into his features makes you shrink into yourself a little, your cheeks heat up and you suddenly feel flustered. 

“Good morning, Blondie,” he smirks, eyeing you up and down as he takes you in, how you look in his shirt – he will never get tired of this sight. “How are you feeling?” 

“Morning,” you murmur as you make your way over to the coffee maker, you reach for one of the mugs in the cupboard and place it on the counter, pouring yourself some coffee, you take your time turning back to him as you try to calm your nerves and your blushing. “Good… surprisingly.”

Steve chuckles behind you, you hear his footsteps and how he opens the fridge, getting something out of it before closing it again. 

“Yeah, you were pretty drunk last night,” he clears his throat and you suddenly feel his breath on your shoulder and his hand on your waist as he places the creamer on the counter before you, “no hangover?” 

His hand lingers and he doesn’t step away just yet. 

“Thanks,” you murmur as you reach for the creamer and pour some into your coffee, “my head hurts a little but I feel fine.” 

Steve nods behind you, he squeezes your waist and fights the urge to just turn you around and steal your breath away by kissing you deeply. 

“Did you drink the water and the Advil I put on the nightstand?” 

He doesn’t remove his hand, even when you turn around to face him, he leaves it on your waist. 

You cup the mug with both hands and bring it up to your lips, taking a sip as you look up into his eyes. The burning in your cheeks is still there, the heat matching the one of the hot beverage in your hands. 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Good,” he nods, eyeing your face slowly. 

He can tell that you’re flustered and shy even – that is a rare sight to see, it makes the fluttering in his heart so much stronger. 

You blink as you stare up at him and take another sip, squirming a little when he takes a step closer. 

Steve can’t help but chuckle to see you blushing, he brings his hand up towards your face, slipping his fingers through your hair before he tucks it behind your ear. 

“Do you want another kissy?” 

Your lips part and your eyes widen, more embarrassment rushes through you at his teasing. 

Steve chuckles again when you roll your eyes and groan. 

“Stop!” You whine, not knowing that this sound only makes him adore you even more. “I was so drunk!”

“Yeah? I couldn’t tell,” he snorts, shaking his head in amusement. 

“That was the alcohol talking,” you murmur, lying. 

“Was it?” He asks, furrowing his brows as he tilts his head to the side, adoringly so. “I don’t know, I really liked this Blondie. She was so cute and touchy.” 

Whether he’s teasing or mocking you, your heart doesn’t seem to care as it beats even faster in your chest. The thought that Steve could find you cute makes you feel giddy and it fills you with a sense of happiness only he can make you feel. 

You roll your eyes at him but he chuckles as a smile tugs at your lips. 

Steve’s hand moves from the side of your face to your shoulder and then to your waist again. 

“Don’t get me wrong, your mean side grew on me but you were so adorable last night.” 

Adorable. 

He is teasing you, you are sure that he is just teasing you, the smirk on his lips, the glowing mischief in his eyes gives him away. 

“Don’t forget your waffles,” you blurt out, not knowing what else to say to that. 

He huffs in amusement and squeezes your waist once more before he steps away from you, making his way back to the kitchen counter, he opens the waffle maker and takes out the last one, placing it on the plate before he turns his head to look at you. 

“Come on, I already set up the table.” 

You turn to look at the round kitchen table, seeing it set up just the way it was the first time he made you breakfast. 

Warmth blooms in your chest and your eyes soften. 

He held you in his arms when you fell asleep last night, he got up before you just to make you breakfast – your favorite kind too. 

Is he like that with everyone? 

Does he treat all his hookups like this? 

Does he make them breakfast too or hold them in his arms until they fall asleep?

Or are you the only one that gets all this? 

You don’t even know if he is seeing anyone, if someone else occupies your side of his bed when you don’t see each other. 

Your eyes follow him as he makes his way over to the table and places the plate full of waffles in the middle. 

The thought that someone else might get this too makes you feel uneasy, upset, and hurt. 

He looks at you with furrowed brows, looking as you stand there with a frown on your face, holding the mug against your chest as you stare at him. 

“Come here, your waffles are gonna get cold.” 

You blink, snapping out of the thoughts that leave you with a bitter taste on your tongue. 

You nod and step away from the kitchen counter, you hold the mug tightly in your hands as you make your way over to him. 

Steve pulls back the chair for you, waiting for you to take a seat. 

You try to hide the surprise and the blush on your face as you hide your face behind your hair and turn your back to him as you sit down but it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, he smiles to himself, adoring this shy side of you. 

“Eat, Blondie,” he murmurs, patting your shoulder before he walks around the table and takes the seat across from you, “we need to get some energy back in you.” 

“Yeah, I actually agree,” you chuckle, picking up a waffle for your fork, “I feel like there’s a huge hole in my stomach.”

“You need to eat more,” he says sternly. “You devoured that chicken sandwich last night.”

“Mhmm it was heavenly,” you nod and pour some syrup on your waffle, “especially after all the beers I’ve had.” 

Steve chuckles, picking up the bowl with strawberries and raspberries, he puts them on your plate, “you need some vitamins too.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Shut up,” he snorts. 

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, only the sound of the radio continues on. You eat your waffles and drink your coffees, sharing glances and sweet smiles, a few comments here and there, his foot touching your own under the table. This is nice. You could get used to this.

If only you knew that he feels the same. 

Steve watches you, how you comfortably sit here with him, enjoying the breakfast that he made for you, you’re much quieter than you were last night and he can’t help but miss the other side of you — the clingy and touchy one, the one that asked for kisses and even peppered his face in them. He wonders if you even remember any of it or the things you’ve said to him. You rambled so much, that you probably forgot about the comments you made. 

He takes a sip of his coffee and clears his throat, “do you remember what you said to me last night?” 

Despite remembering everything, you can’t help but panic slightly, wondering if there’s a small detail you can’t recall, that you might’ve said something you tried to keep secret, that you accidentally revealed your feelings, or even confessed your love for him. 

“Uh… I think I’ve said a lot,” you chuckle nervously, scratching the back of your neck as you straighten your back. 

He laughs and nods, “yeah you did, but you told me you had a surprise for me. What’s that about?”

The look on his face is a curious one, his head is tilted to the side, tapping his fingers against his mug. 

A surprise. 

Oh, you surely remember that and what you meant by ‘surprise’ and you can’t help but curse inwardly at your drunken self for thinking that it was a good idea to mention it as that. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks again and the nervousness inside of you returns once more. 

“Ah, right uh… it’s not exactly a surprise but uh…” you pause, not knowing how to start this conversation, sensing the awkwardness that is about to ruin this comforting moment already. 

He raises his brows at you, waiting for you to continue. 

You take a deep breath, breaking eye contact for a moment to look out the window. 

“Um, do you remember those three days we didn’t see each other before Vickie’s party?” You ask and look back at him. 

“Yeah.” 

“I went to the doctor one of those days…” 

His eyes widen a little, his heart skips a beat as some kind of hope swirls inside of him and a million questions start running through his mind. 

“Oh?” Is the only thing he can say as the excitement for something that probably doesn’t even exist starts building up. 

You bounce your knee and hold your mug tightly, blinking as you stare into his hazel eyes. 

“Yeah I um… I got an IUD.” 

Steve blinks a few times. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He asks in confusion, he expected something else. 

You huff, getting more and more nervous as each second passes. 

“An IUD… Birth control? Didn’t you learn that in school Lego Head?”

He nods quickly and furrows his brows again, “I know what it is, I’m just wondering why.”

The heat in your cheeks intensifies and suddenly glows so hotly, embarrassment flushes through you and as he stares at you, completely lost and confused, you feel like a deer caught in headlights. 

You had never used birth control before him, or even thought about it, you would’ve never gone without protection with anyone else, birth control or not but with Steve, it’s different. You want him. You want to feel him. You want him closer and more intimately. That one time wasn’t enough, how could it ever be? 

But while you kept thinking about this, wishing for a repeat, he clearly didn’t want the same. 

“J-Just in case,” you mumble with a shaky voice, not realizing just how nervous and small your voice sounds. 

The gears in his head start turning, though very slowly and he is still staring with parted lips and widened eyes. 

He knows what you mean by that, he knows what you want and he wants it too, he’s been wanting it so badly, he’s been thinking about it day and night, when you’re with him or not — he wants you, he wants to feel you again and again. 

He just can’t believe you fucking said that.

You blink and look down, clearing your throat as you close your eyes, feeling regret settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Just, forget I said that, it's just another measure of contraceptive, we don't need um — you know to lose the other, just to make sure you know! The IUD might fail…” You clear your throat, knowing that an IUD's failure is only... like 2%. 

Your heart starts beating wildly in your chest and you feel the need to escape this awkward situation and him. 

“I uh, I’m gonna get changed and go home… and we can talk later,” you mumble and get up from the chair, not looking into his eyes, “thanks for breakfast…” 

You rush out of the room and away from him before he can even react or say a single world. You hurry up the stairs and walk back into his room, gathering your clothes as quickly as you can. 

“You’re so stupid,” you murmur under your breath, cursing at yourself. 

What were you thinking? That he wanted you like this? That he would care and get excited about something that wouldn’t mean anything to him?  

You don’t listen to the footsteps in the hallway or the door that opens behind you but you yelp in surprise when you feel his hands on your waist and he turns you around, ripping the skirt from your hands that you were just about to put on, he throws it back on the bed and cups your cheeks, nearly making you gasp from how dark and lust filled his eyes are. 

“You can’t just tell me that you’re letting me fuck you raw and then run out on me.” 

“I—“ 

With his lips against your own, he cuts you off roughly, not letting you finish whatever you were about to say as he kisses you with desperation in his touch as his hands move from your cheeks down to your waist and he grips it tightly. 

You whimper in need, throwing your arms around his neck, you ignore the surprise and the pounding in your chest. You deepen the kiss and bury your fingers in his messy hair. 

His lips taste like coffee and the sweetness from the waffles, his chest is pressed against yours tightly, so tightly that you can feel the beating of his own heart. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you feel him against your stomach, making you squeeze your legs together as you feel heat pooling in your lower stomach. 

And just like that, all your worries, all your overthinking disappear into nothing as pleasure takes over your body. 

The kiss is messy, his lips smack against yours continuously, his hands grope your body over his shirt that he wants to get rid of. 

Steve always feels eager and desperate to fuck you, to strip you off your clothes and taste you, to pleasure you with his tongue and his fingers, to take you in a way no one else can but he isn’t sure if he ever felt this kind of need before. He feels as though his skin is on fire, the burning seeping through his flesh and only you can mend it. 

His dick strains against his boxers and his sweatpants, almost hurting from how hard it is and he can’t help but growl against your lips when you slide your hand down his body and start to palm him over his clothes. 

He slips his hands under your shirt, touching your hot skin with his cold fingers. 

The sound of your whimper only pushes him further into you, gaining dominance in the kiss as his tongue moves against yours eagerly. 

He pulls away just enough to murmur against your lips, “you drive me crazy, Blondie.” 

You can’t hold back the whine that falls from your lips, you almost feel embarrassed for what he turns you into every time he touches you. 

His eyes are dark, almost unrecognizable, he looks hungry, like he’s starving, for you. And it does little to mend your own hunger. 

He grabs your waist tighter and picks you up, catching you off guard when he throws you on his bed, making you bounce on the mattress. 

Steve makes quick work of getting rid of his tank top before he crawls on top of you, spreading your thighs with his knee and reaching for the hem of your shirt, he practically rips it off of your body and exposes your bare chest to him, his eyes grow even darker in the process. 

He grabs your boobs with his large hands, pinching your nipples, he leans down and hovers over you. 

“Steve!” You moan, lips parting as you chase after his lips. 

“Keep moaning like that for me,” he murmurs before he smashes his lips back against yours, kissing you just as roughly as before. 

You close your eyes and reach for his shoulders, holding tightly onto him as you move your lips against his, melting into the kiss. 

You don’t even bother to try and fight for dominance, you won’t win, not today. Steve is in control, and you don’t mind, not for a single second. The pace of the kiss, the touch of his hands, his moans, and the roughness of his lips turn you into a desperate mess as you arch your back and lean into his touch, trying to grind against him. 

Your panties are already damp, the material clinging to your pussy and you just want him to rip them off you just as he did with the shirt. 

As though he can read your mind, he slips his hand down your stomach, his fingers reach the flimsy material that still covers you. He presses your hips down before he touches you the way you’ve been whining for. He groans into the kiss when he feels how wet you are, knowing that he is the cause of it. 

“Is that all for me?” He asks, not moving away from your lips, he rubs circles on your clothed clit, making you whine for more. 

“You know it is!” You don’t feel ashamed to admit it, you don’t bother to hide something that is so obvious anyway. 

He chuckles in satisfaction as he moves his middle and ring finger lower, teasing your entrance. 

“D-Don’t tease me,” you beg, pleading with your eyes as you dig your fingers into his shoulders.

“You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” He smirks, pecking your lips as he moves your panties to the side. “So desperate that you want me to fuck you raw, huh?” He asks as he slips his fingers through your wet folds, gathering your slick and bringing his digits up to your clit. 

“Yes!” You whine as you buck your hips up, grinding against his fingers. 

“You want me to cum inside of you again, don’t you? Want me to fill you up, honey?” He asks as he continues to tease your clit before he slips two fingers into your dripping hole. 

You suck in a sharp breath, closing your eyes as a loud moan escapes you, he catches it with his lips, smashing his mouth back against yours, stealing your breath with the kiss and the pace of his fingers as he starts to drag them in and out of you, keeping your legs spread with his left hand. 

He lets you adjust for a moment, spreading you open with his long fingers, he kisses you deeply and grinds against your thigh, getting desperate for relief himself. 

The touch of your hand and the feeling of your lips against his own makes his heart flutter and his dick twitch in anticipation. 

This moment is all so driven by lust but he can no longer deny the way you make him feel, the way he needs to feel you close otherwise he might go insane, he wonders if you feel the same, if that is the reason why you want him in a whole new way. 

You clench around his fingers and move your hips, wanting more, wanting him deeper. You mewl against his lips when he curls his fingers inside of you and his thumb presses against your aching clit. 

“Do you hear that?” He asks breathlessly, pecking your lips over and over again. “You’re dripping for me.” 

Steve admires the scrunch of your nose and the furrowed brows, the desperate look in your eyes as you look into his. Your skin is flushed, your chest is rising up and down heavily, your nipples hardened from the coldness in the room and the pleasure in your bones, you’re getting wetter and tighter around his fingers. 

“But you want more, right?” He asks and leans down to wrap his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it, “you want me to breed you, don’t you?” 

His words are driven by lust, a part of him he doesn’t recognize shining through, surprising both you and himself. 

You gasp, your cheeks flushing even deeper as the heat rages underneath your skin. You feel too shy to admit it but this might be exactly what you wanted. 

You liked it when he fucked you against his door, when he came inside of you and his cum rolled down your thighs, you loved it even, despite how messy it was, you loved it because it was him. 

You nod and shut your eyes again, your mouth waters at the feeling of his fingers hitting your g-spot and you arch your back in pleasure as your hands find their way back to his hair, pulling and playing with it, making him match his moans with yours. 

“P-Please, Steve…” You whimper as you feel the fire building up in your stomach, beginning to crash over you, “I’m so close.”

Steve starts kissing your chest and making his way up to your neck, tilting your head to the side to suck a mark onto your delicate skin as he continues to fuck you, faster and rougher, moaning at the squelching sounds and your pretty whimpers. 

“Yeah?” He breathes, peppering kisses along your neck and your jaw, “are you gonna be a good girl for me and cum around my fingers?” 

“Yes!” 

Your breathing gets heavier, your heart starts pounding faster and you can’t help but reach for his face, dragging him back to you so you can slam your lips back against his as your fingers dig into his hair roughly when he rubs your clit faster, throwing you over the edge with his touch. 

You kiss each other feverishly, you scrunch your eyes shut, letting the pleasure take control, letting him slam his fingers in and out of your pussy, causing tears to build up in your eyes from the hot intensity. 

“Let go for me,” he whispers against your lips, “cum for me.” 

One more thrust and a deeper swipe against your clit has you crying out his name in pleasure and this time, he lets you shut your legs around his arm, though that doesn’t stop him from moving his fingers still. 

Stars flash in your vision and the wind gets knocked out of you, the overwhelming high crashing over your body. 

“S-Steve,” you whimper. 

“Yes?” He kisses your lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“You!” 

“Me?” He smirks, licking his lips as he looks down, watching the way your thighs are shaking already. “How do you want me? Tell me, honey.”

You are so deep in your pleasure, no shame, no shyness exists for you in this very moment. You are so eager to feel him the way you’ve been craving him for weeks now. 

“I want your cock, Steve–” You whine, tugging at his hair. “Please fuck me!” 

He chuckles darkly, eyes growing five shades darker, something in him awakens, something that had never been there before, not even the night of Vickie’s party. 

He pulls his fingers out of you, fighting the urge to stick them into your mouth and make you lick and suck on them. He grabs your hips and manhandles you on your stomach, knocking the breath out of you again. He slaps your ass and gropes it roughly. 

“Stevie!” 

“Get on all fours for me.” 

You whine, gripping the sheets underneath you tightly as you look back at him over your shoulder, nearly pouting at him but he only slaps your ass again. 

“C’mon Blondie, wanted me to breed you, we gotta do it the right way.” 

His fingers are still coated with your slick as he pushes his sweatpants and boxers down, making his dick slap against his stomach, pre cum rolls down his length, his tip is red, he is aching for you and twitching in anticipation, knowing that he gets to fuck you without a condom.  

Steve expects you to push yourself up on your hands and knees but instead, you worsen his hunger by pressing your front against the mattress and pushing your ass up, presenting yourself to him. 

“Holy fuck,” he curses, biting back the growl that threatens to fall from his lips as he takes in the sight of you. Your pussy glistens, the arch in your back is deep, your ass up high and you look over your shoulder again, giving him a pout and desperate eyes as you beg him to fuck you and fill you up. 

The hunger in him is insatiable, he already knows it, he will never get enough of this, he will never get enough of you and he doesn’t mind, not even after last night’s realization and how easy it could now be for you to crush his heart — it’s yours now. 

He wishes that he could take a picture of this and keep it in his wallet. 

He moves closer to you, grabbing your ass and sliding his palms over your cheeks before he grips your hip tightly, slipping his already soaked fingers through your folds, he gathers your slick and uses it as lubricant to stroke his dick before he presses himself against you, pressing his lips together as he looks down at your pussy. 

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” he murmurs as he teases you with his tip, circling it around your dripping entrance, moaning at the sight of it. 

“P-Please,” you whimper, pressing your ass back against him, prompting him to hold your hip even tighter as he slips his length through your wet folds, continuing to tease you and himself.  “Just fuck me already!” 

The tone in your voice is nowhere near demanding, it’s anything but that, you're whiny and desperate – you are showing a sight only he is allowed to see. 

The excitement is burning in him, his own desperation eating at him. Seeing you like this makes him want to do things he has never done before. His fingers dig into your flesh and he sucks in a sharp breath as he slowly pushes into you. 

Your name falls from his lips in a moan, his eyelashes flutter as the pleasure finally envelopes him. With one hand on your hip and the other now grabbing your ass, he inches inside of you, groaning at the sight of your puffy lips around his length. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, gripping the sheets tightly and shutting your eyes as you feel him splitting you open. 

“You’re taking me so fucking good, baby,” he praises you, smacking his palm against your cheek once again, making you jerk and gasp in pleasure. “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” 

Your stomach flutters at his words, as your walls do around his length, causing him to moan as he pushes in deeper and deeper until he’s buried inside of you, completely. 

“Y-Yes, Steve!” You cry out. “I’m your good girl!”

You are both doing things and saying words you never thought you’d ever use, whether it’s the pleasure that is controlling you both, the desperation or something in the atmosphere but neither of you care, this is nice, this is perfect. 

“That’s right,” he growls as he pulls out and slams back in, making you cry out his name. 

Steve starts rolling his hips, roughly and desperately, picking up the pace with every thrust, making you both moan and whimper in pleasure. His cock hitting deep in every right spot, making you drool already. 

You hold onto the sheets, your eyes roll back as filthy sounds fall from your lips. You want to look back and watch him, see how good he looks fucking you like this but you find no energy to lift yourself up or turn your head. Your chest is pressed against the mattress beneath you, Steve’s hands feel so right on your hips, molding into your skin so perfectly. Waves of pleasure crash over you, making you arch your back even further, giving him an even deeper angle. 

You gasp in surprise, eyes shooting open when his large palm smacks against your flesh again. 

“You’re so filthy, honey,” Steve moans, his eyes nearly roll back as he feels your tight walls clench around him, prompting him to hold you tighter and fuck you harder, snapping his hips against your ass. “Letting me fuck you like this, wanting me to cum in this tight little pussy.” 

You feel his throbbing length, the veins on his cock, his balls slapping against your sensitive skin, the roughness of his touch and the eagerness in his voice – it overwhelms you in the best way possible, especially when you feel him growing more and more desperate the closer he gets to his high. 

“Y-Your cock feels so good!” You whimper, your head falling and your eyes closing, tears slipping from your eyes. 

“Yeah?” He breathes as he looks down at the way he is slamming in and out of you, his length glistening with your slick, your wet walls hugging his dick perfectly. You keep clenching around him, making him throb and twitch inside of you, making him whine in a way he isn’t sure he ever did before – but one thing is for sure, Steve had never felt anything like this before, and he knows he never will again after you. “Your pussy feels like fucking heaven.”

Your walls flutter around him, drool slips past your lips and down on the rumpled bed sheets, you can feel your second high approaching, you can feel the tension in your stomach, the ache in your clit. 

Steve fucks you mercilessly, dragging you back and forth on the mattress as though you are his personal fucktoy. And for a moment, you both don’t share any words, only your moans of desperation and need fill the room, the wet sounds of his dick slamming into your weeping pussy, the bed creaking beneath you, and the occasional smacks against your ass. 

His hair clings to his sweaty forehead, his cheeks are glowing red, and he doesn’t know where to look, he wants to see your face, he wants to keep staring at the way his dick disappears into you – this feels surreal, like it’s something that came straight out of his dreams. 

He feels the need to make you scream, so he slides his hand under you, his fingers finding your clit with ease, he begins to play with your sensitive nub as he changes his pace to slower but deeper and harsher. 

You gasp and twitch beneath him, trying to push yourself up only to fall back down again, the sight of it making him chuckle darkly. 

“Steve!” You scream out, feeling just how sensitive you are when he rubs your clit faster. “I-I’m so close!”

He can’t help himself when he leans down and presses his lips against your shoulder blades, murmuring against your skin, “do it, cum around my cock, baby.” 

Stars and tears blur your vision, the feeling of his lips on your skin only adding to the pleasure, the softness of it a stark contrast to the harshness of his thrusts, the sweet nickname and the swipe against your clit throwing you over the edge completely and you’re suddenly cumming and screaming out for him. 

“B-Baby,” he murmurs in a mix of a whimper and a growl, hands flying back to your hips, he grabs you tightly as he feels your walls clinging to him, making him shudder. “I’m gonna… fuck…” He groans, going to pull out, out of instinct. “I need to–”

“Cum inside of me, Stevie!” You sob as his fingers still move against your clit. “Please, please, please!” 

He can’t even control it, your words hit him so hard and he suddenly cums, hard. He spills inside of you with a loud moan and a whimper of your name, he paints your walls white and he keeps moving, even as his eyes roll back and he grows sensitive. All of this turns him on even more, not even after he reaches his high, if anything, his hunger is even more insatiable now. 

He slows his thrusts and he breathes heavily, his eyes are still clouded with lust, moans still falling as he takes in the sound of your whiny whimpers. 

Steve licks his lips as he pulls out after a moment, despite not wanting to but the vision in front of him is so worth it, his cum leaks out of your pussy and starts to roll down your thighs. He doesn’t know what gets over him when an animalistic growl falls from his lips and he gathers his cum with his fingers and pushes it back inside of you. 

“Don’t wanna let any of it go to waste,” he smirks when you whine even louder. 

You’re surprised and incredibly turned on by his action, you have to press your shaking thighs together, the ache in your center growing bigger despite the two orgasms you just had.

“Steve…”

Steve is staring at your pussy, at the way you’re sucking his fingers in, at the mess he made of you, how can he not grow hard all over again? 

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” he murmurs under his breath. 

He pushes his fingers in and out of you, admiring the way he pushes his cum deeper back inside of you – somehow the thought of what could happen if you didn’t have an IUD turns him on even more. Steve keeps going, using the same slow pace for a while, getting lost in you before he snaps back as your whimper tears him back into reality – but he wants more, he needs more, and he decides to keep you here with him, all day.

“I got you,” he whispers, pulling his fingers out and cleaning them off on his messed up sheets before he starts kissing up your body, letting his lips linger on your shoulder before he wraps his arm around you and flips you over on your back. 

His lust filled eyes intensify when he sees the tears pooling on your lower lash line, the needy look in your own eyes. He cups your cheek and presses his lips against yours for a short kiss, craving more of you. 

You reach your arm out weakly, and kiss him back, savoring this moment for as long as you can before he pulls away again and collapses on the bed beside you, he places his hand on your thigh, keeping it there as he starts breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. 

Silence falls over the both of you, you stare up at the ceiling, too speechless to speak, too stunned with what just happened. 

His fingertips stroke your skin, your heart is pounding in your chest, your legs quivering as his cum leaks out of you, making you press your thighs together. 

You can’t believe that you would ever be turned on by something like this, that you’d ever be here, that you’d ever do something like this with him. 

You want more and more. 

You blink, a lazy smile tugging at your lips, the fluttering in your heart and stomach taking over again. 

“So…” Steve mumbles, turning his head to look at you, to admire your beautiful side profile, “can we discard the condom from now on?” 

“Only if you wrap it up for… others,” you mumble, wincing at your own words as you don’t want to ruin the moment for yourself by thinking of this. 

Steve furrows his brows, smile falling a little. 

You think that there are others? 

You think that he could even think of being with someone else, let alone like this? 

He squeezes your thigh reassuringly, “there are no others, don’t worry about it.” He says softly. 

Your features soften and a weight falls off your shoulders and your heart, and still you can’t help but feel surprised about his confession. 

“You are the only one, Blondie.” 

He wants you dead. 

You are so sure of it, Steve Harrington wants you dead. 

Why else would he say such words to you? 

“O-Oh?” 

Steve is so in bliss, he doesn’t even notice the blush in your cheeks and the quivering tone in your voice.

“Yeah, and what about you?” 

You turn your head to look at him, you lock your eyes with his. 

What about you? 

You can never touch another man again, that is for sure. No matter what the outcome of this thing between you will be, you’re ruined, utterly ruined. 

You blink, heat flushing over your body the longer you look at him, at his messy hair that you always want to bury your fingers in, the hazel in his eyes that is now your favorite color, his puffy lips that you want to kiss, moles you want to count and trace with the tips of your fingers. 

God, he is beautiful. 

“There are no others for me either,” you whisper, feeling exposed and vulnerable to admit it to him. 

The smile that appears on his face catches you off guard, he seems… happy about it? 

And he is, he truly is. 

Steve doesn’t want you to be with anyone else, he doesn’t want you to see other men, kiss them or let them touch you the way he is allowed to. He wants to be the only one for you, he wants to be your only one. 

He squeezes your thigh again, scooting closer to you, he eyes your face and lets them linger on your lips. 

“Guess we’re exclusive then huh?” He asks with a smirk on his lips. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, hope flickering inside of you, the anxiety you felt over thoughts of him with other girls diminishing just like that. 

You try to act normal, like you aren’t fazed by his words, like your heart didn’t burst, like this isn’t anything special. 

You clear your throat, “seems like it.” 

He chuckles, hiding the happiness that flutters in him. 

This is what he wants, this is what he has been craving for a while now, to have you all to himself, to be the only to touch you, to taste you, to fuck you, to fill you up and claim you as his own. 

“You got anything to do today, Blondie?” 

“I uh… I was gonna meet up with Eddie—“

“Cancel it.” 

You raise your brows in surprise, confusion flashes in your features but your heart slips a beat when you see the darkening in his eyes again and the feeling of his hand gripping you tighter and harder. 

“What?”

He moves closer and closer until his lips are on your jaw and he tilts your head to the side so he can kiss your neck, nibbling at your skin and pressing his hand against your sensitive core again. 

“Cancel. It.” He rasps into your neck. 

A gasp tears from your lips when he slips his fingers back into your pussy, morning at the feeling of his cum inside of you. 

“You don’t need anyone but me today,” he whispers as he presses another kiss against your neck and curls his fingers inside of you. 

You bite your lip and moan when he spreads your legs with his free hand, his long fingers pushing deeper into you — you are so sensitive, so overstimulated but just like him, you can’t get enough, you want more. 

“Steve…” 

“Mhmm.” He murmurs against your neck, peppering kisses along your skin, “I know, baby. I’m gonna take good care of you.” 

And taking good care he did. He fingered you in bed until you saw stars, mesmerized by how his own spent worked as lube, mixed with your own juices. You felt exhausted after that, so he drew a bath for you and even helped you wash your hair, knowing your limbs were all tired out.

But he couldn’t have enough of you. Not when you got into his mustard sweater because you felt a little chilly, leaving your legs bare. He wanted to give you more time to relax but he couldn’t help himself while making lunch, so he had to bend you over the kitchen counter to make you scream again.

Overstimulation was very much present, to the both of you, but you couldn’t stop. You wanted to feel him and he wanted to feel you. It felt intimate, and private, but most of all… it felt… hopeful.

Hopeful that, even if you spent a whole day fucking, that this new development means something. Hopeful that this exclusivity is real and will go on until he decides to actually take the leap, to actually fight for what he wants again. Hopeful that he feels the same as you do. That you two would not do this with anyone else, but with each other.

But those thoughts can be for another day. For tomorrow. Maybe the day after, because right now, as he hugs you in the middle of the night, laying in bed, dinner devoured, and one last round of feeling one another, you feel your heart be calm for the first time in a while. 

Because for the first time ever you actually feel it. Genuine. True. It is no longer a mere word that you discard, no longer a word that sits in the back of your mind, thinking you would be so stupid to actually let yourself feel that.

But this night, you swore you felt something at the top of your head that you are sure you didn’t make it up. You felt a press at the top of it. A kiss. A good night kiss from his part as he kept rubbing circles on your lower back. This is not the same Steve from a month ago. This is not the same you from a month ago. You two are not the same as a month ago. 

So you let yourself feel it. Embrace it. And maybe… maybe it will grow more at some point that it might give you the courage to take that definite step.

You felt confident.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars

[acapelladitty]

sweeter than honey

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Fem!Reader

Summary: "You'd let me," Cooper pauses to allow the truth of the question to hold in the air, "rip my teeth into you and take a bite of you for myself? No knife. No healing. Just teeth." Groaning at the very thought as you consider the other wicked things those teeth are capable of, your thighs widen in open invitation. "Yes."

(warnings for: oral sex, cannibalism, biting, blood, sub space painkink, cum marking, masochism, teasing)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Slick with sweat, your breath comes in shallow pants as every inhale breathes fresh life into your burning lungs while you drift in the pleasurable haze of your post-orgasm comedown. The sloppy mess which steadily drips free of your cunt to the leather duster below is quick to stain the fabric as Cooper's electric eyes gaze up at you from the flat position between your thighs where he'd long since dropped his body.

"Nothing like it, darlin'. Sweet as honey and enough to make a man want more."

His mouth and chin glistening with your release and his own spit, for someone whose own mess streaked the dusted ground where his groin has rubbed itself into a frenzy, Cooper didn't seem quite finished with you as he licks a lazy stripe across your slit - the simple move making your legs jerk as his tongue grazes your engorged and overly sensitive clit.

Brain fuzzy, you can only squeak out a casual acknowledgement as you lazily egg him on with a dopey grin.

"Take more if you want."

Cooper scoffed.

"Last time, your foot kicked seven shades of hell outta my jaw cause it was too much for you, sweetie. I ain't falling for that shit again."

"Not like that." You smirk, recalling the fantastic yowl which fled him as your overstimulated body acted of its own accord and cold-clocked his wicked mouth. "I mean take what you want."

"You know what I want." Low voice rumbling from his throat like an approaching storm, Cooper presses his lips to your thigh in a chapped kiss before continuing. "But some things just ain't likely, are they?"

"I'd let you do it."

"You would, huh?"

"I mean, if you wanted-"

"You'd let me," Cooper pauses to allow the truth of the question to hold in the air, "rip my teeth into you and take a bite of you for myself? No knife. No healing. Just teeth."

Groaning at the very thought as you consider the other wicked things those teeth are capable of, your thighs widen in open invitation.

"Yes."

Something savage, almost animalistic twists at his features as he takes the encouragement for what it is, his face rubbing against your thigh as he nestles himself against the flesh. His lips ghost across the skin of your inner thigh with reverence; licking the skin there with a textured tongue as he steals a taste of what's soon to be his.

"You sure, darlin?" It's an ask, more like a plea, as he tries to hold back the excitement in his tone - his blazing eyes flashing up at you for one final acknowledgement, a final chance to back out and forget the offer.

"Do it, Coop. Take what no one else ever will."

Teeth blunt and not designed for a clean tear, it hurts like fuck when he sinks them deep into the flesh of your thigh; the heat of the pain burning like hellfire and forcing your spine to go ramrod straight as you beat your fists against the floor and writhe in place against it.

"Fuck! Fuck- ow! Fucking hell, Coop!" You whine out, the words only able to break free of your gritted teeth as the white-hot pain levels out into a terrible ache which makes your limbs tremble and tears slip free of your eyes.

Despite it all, there's a heat in the actions - a thrill of pain and pleasure rolling across your spine as you glance down through watery eyes to see him swallowing down the small part of you he had ripped free.

Part of him now.

It was enough to make you light-headed. Well, that and the blood loss, as the fresh wound bleeds freely and droplets trickle across the skin of your legs as they follow the curve of your thighs to drip to the duster.

His mouth licking at the wound, almost like a cat as he catches the blood he can - his hands slips up to cup at your cunt and his fingers are quick to spread your lips as he sinks past the mess he left to circle his calloused digits around your clit.

Mewling out something incomprehensible, nausea and arousal making the pressure in your skull difficult to ignore, you can't muster up the energy to push him away as each gentle touch feels like fresh lightning scoring across your overheated flesh.

"Every part as good as the last, sweetheart." Cooper speaks eventually, flashing bloodied teeth at you as he covers the wound on your thigh with his free palm, the pressure making you squeal in discomfort. "A man won't be able to forget an experience like that."

"Remember it well, handsome, cause that hurt like fuck and I ain't doing it again."

The threat of an approaching orgasm quickly making your heels curl against the ground, you gasp out your response before his actions have you reduced to a babbling, sobbing mess - so lost in that hazy space where pain melts with pleasure that you doubt you'd even notice him sneaking his way in for a second bite.

Slipping higher until the sensation of his breath on your cunt makes your brain short-circuit, Cooper is as enthusiastic as ever as he growls playfully at your words.

"Noted, sweetheart."

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

ACITHYCS.

“a crack in the heart you call stone” (john wick/fem reader)

Running away from John Wick is never a good idea. TW: nsfw, noncon, dead dove, abuse, violence, power dynamics except the reader doesn’t have any power, smacking, spanking, choking, rough, awful shit. Your assassin sweetheart is not sweet in this. He’s fucked in the head, but I mean it is your fault.

It was a really, really, really.

Really. 

Bad fucking idea. 

Bad fucking idea to turn cottontail and run away in the night. 

Run from him.

But you did, didn’t you? Maybe because you didn’t realize what a stupid decision you were making, maybe because you were too scared to stay, maybe because you didn’t know what else to do. 

Maybe because running away from monsters is the standard of sane and you needed to prove that you were not crazy. 

“That’s bullshit,” you know he’d say, “your decisions are your own and you will deal with their consequences.”

And, oh fuck, you haven’t heard his voice in so long - that sweet honey heroin aphrodisiac infused growl - but somehow little drops of it still sit sticky inside your ears. 

Your cotton panties feel uncomfortable and clingy, and you have to squirm several times in your seat to pull fabric from damp folds. 

That’s the worst part, the one that makes you want to put a 9 mm barrel in your mouth because surely - guaranteed - you’re sick in the head for almost - ha, who are you kidding - for definitely - wanting him to find you. 

Insane after all, even through the trouble to prove otherwise. 

You shouldn’t get out of the cab, you shouldn’t walk upstairs to your apartment, you shouldn’t open the already unlocked door, you shouldn’t start curling your toes and burning when you see him casually sitting at your dining table, drinking a cold beer and eating leftover pizza. Like he just belongs here, in the life you picked specifically void of him.

He ignores you, favoring the newspaper clutched in his fist, munching and relaxing and as handsome as any husband should strive to be.

You take the chair opposite from him and press your thighs together in anticipation of that involuntary, awful clench of your cunt when his broody eyes meet yours. You try to rest your hands on the table, but pull them back into your lap when you notice they are visibly shaking. 

“John.” You’re surprised you can talk through the saliva filling your mouth. 

“Hello, honey,” he says, then kicks the table out of the way and muffles your scream with the loud crash into the kitchen counter. No barrier between the two of you now - really, you’re a fucking idiot to think anything could keep this beautiful, horrifying human wrecking ball away from you - and he fists the loose fabric dress over your tummy and tugs you forward. 

“You know what happens now?” He asks, terrifying you with a smile. 

You blink owlishly up at him, tears globbing on your bottom lashes, body shaking violently, and ask: “wh-what?” 

Instead of answering, he grabs your throat, takes you off your feet and slams you - not gently - against the wall. Picture frames smash to the ground, scatter glass over the linoleum. One minute you’re breathing, and the next you’re wondering what delicious air even tastes like.

You claw at his hands, face swelling up and turning a shade of beautiful blue that grabs his cocks attention - the length of him fattens up against your tummy and he grinds into your soft, plump skin, hard and unforgiving. 

There’s black hellfire in his eyes, a dark promise to make you sorry for your miserable little John-free existence, and, for a second, you resign to the notion that he is going to keep his iron grip around your suffocating throat until you pass out. Your vision is already blurring and darkening, claws scratching pitifully at his arms. A little woodland creature in a big bear trap. 

But, he lets you go, dropping you right on the hard floor, and you land on your ass, gasping for air, face soaked from tears, dress ripped down the middle. He jams his pointy shoe in between your legs, pressing the tip into your cunt, hurting you. 

“John, please,” you whimper through grit teeth, trying to push his leg away and only getting a big black dress shoe crushing your pussy as reward. 

Your head flips back, neck craning just enough to put agonizing tension on your scalp and spine. His fist nets what feels like every tearing hair on your head, and you can’t help but screech in pain. 

“Please,” he repeats, voice eerily calm even as he’s shoving his fingers down your throat and making you choke. He pulls out and leaves thick white spit dripping onto your pouty lips and chin. He smears the excess on your cheek and smiles down at you - almost lovingly - “you’re begging already? Fucking pathetic.” His foot digs deeper into you and you let out a cry, proving his point. You are pathetic. 

“Oh, I missed this tight little cunt,” he sighs and closes his eyes as if talking to himself. “Thought about her every fucking day.” 

“John, I’m sorry, I-“ 

“Shut up.” He slaps you on the cheek, hard enough to leave a big red welt, then lugs you up by your hair. He doesn’t bother to move his leg, so your bare skin scrapes raw on the rough fabric of his pants. “The only thing that’s gonna come out of that pretty mouth from now on is ‘yes, John.’”

He spins you around, manhandles you onto the counter, presses his cock into the cotton of your panties and slaps your ass harder than he had done to your face. He watches your plump jiggle and retract, wets his lips, grunts. “Did you hear me, babydoll?” He slaps the same spot, and you yelp and claw at the counter. 

“Yes, John.” The phone is right beside your head, you see the screen light up with worried texts from your friends, asking if you’re home yet. You could try and pick it up, call someone, dial 911, but this is John, and you know there’s not a chance in hell you could touch that phone without him crushing it in one grip. 

“Oh?” He sees where your eyes are, of course he does. He’s a fucking lethal predator, and you’re just a stupid girl. “You wanna call somebody to come save you? Do it. Call them. But you’re gonna watch attentively while I kill them all, I can promise you that, honey.”

Fat wet tears run down your cheeks and puddle on the counter. You can’t help but feel partially responsible for the crazed, lightless black fire in his eyes. The way he’s completely gone and fucked in the head. No, not partially. This is all your fault. You drove him to madness, left him with a broken heart that turned black and rotten over time, and now you’re gonna deal with the repercussions. 

He grinds up against your cunt and ass, so smashed in that you feel his plump cock head chafing your clit. He tugs on your hair to bring your face off the counter. “My little cry baby’s gonna be sobbing a lot more often, now.” He tsks as if disappointed. 

He slaps your ass for a good bit, alternating each cheek, using the tips of his fingers to make the sting unbearable. You almost move your hands to cover the raw red skin, but he tugs your head back harshly in warning. 

You whimper and put your hands back on the cool counter, wishing it was your ass instead - the tissue is on fire, a new level of burning every time his hand meets your flesh. 

His palm is worse than his fingertips. It’s a throbbing pain that shoots over your back, legs, and tummy, and he gets you screaming with a big, ruthless swing. Screaming and crying and kicking your feet and biting your lip hard enough to taste pennies. 

Sharp slaps on your plump little cunt turn you into a sobbing, begging wreck of a human. Then, he pulls your panties to the side and pinches your burning labia, tugging and stretching, making it snap and swell. 

“She missed my cock, huh? How many times did you try and fail to fill her up?” 

He unzips himself and pushes his pants and boxers down, then jams his massive cock into your unprepared hole and you wail into the counter. 

“How could you fucking do this to this to her?” he laments with a snarl, thrusting into you with shattering, slow slams. 

You try and nudge yourself onto the counter to get his raging tip away from your cervix, but he pulls you farther down on him instead and starts taking what he wants, hard and unforgiving, hair fisted in his hand so that your back arches for his cock to pound deeper into you.

“John. Please. I can- can’t. Fuck. Too much. It hurts.”

He smacks your ass with palm again, only this time latching to your skin, fisting a pound of flesh and fat. That familiar flop flop flop of your body accommodating his intrusion tells you that you’re soaking his dick and making it easier for him to fuck you harder. Traitorous fucking whore. 

“What did I say?” He asks you, that poised voice cracking into growls and grunts and groans, slick with impending orgasm. 

You don’t answer soon enough, and he digs further into your ass with blunt nails. You feel like he’s going to rip the meat right off your body. 

“Yes, John.” But he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t let up. He gets meaner, lifting your feet up off the ground and your head impossibly higher in the air, making so the only thing holding you up is his brutal cock. You feel fucking impaled. 

You’re helpless, trapped, humiliated, and all you can do is take the rough slap of his pelvis against your abused skin. When he reaches down and pushes his fingers into your swollen lips to find your clit, you can’t help but hate yourself for enjoying this - this consuming fire spreading, overtaking, the choice to orgasm from this brutality ripped away from you as he rubs and fucks you toward blinding, white hot release. 

He leans over you, puts one foot on the counter beside your ass to give him an impossibly deeper angle that reads like his cock is in your womb. 

With all senses overwhelmed by excruciating pleasure - an impending orgasm that’s going that’s going to wreck you - the only thing you can really do is cry and take it until he decides to baste your burning cervix in cum. 

It’s immediately spurting from you, coating your thighs, his legs, dripping pearly rivulets onto the floor. He replaces his dick with two fingers, wrenching away any hope of release, gathers some fluid and brings it up to the only unstained place - your asshole. He costs the outer tissue, pushes two fingers in and curls them down, rubs at your delicate insides harshly. 

“Think you can handle my cock in your ass, Mrs. Wick?” He leaves two fingers inside your anus and pushes his thumb into your snapping, gaping, runny cunt. You push back onto his finger, trying to fuck the almost orgasm free from your aching hole. 

John snorts as if to laugh at this whorish attempt. 

“Tell you what, I’ll give you two choices: I shove my dick into your ass and fuck it as hard as I want til’ I cum again. Or. I spend a few hours prepping you to take my cock. What do you think?”

“Need a break,” you mumble, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks in shiny rivulets. 

He smacks your thigh. “That wasn’t an option, honey.”

“Okay… okay.” Your frantic, hissing tone makes him smile for the first time in a long while… For the first time since you ran away from him and left a sobbing, drunk, blood hungry mess of a man on the kitchen floor; surrounded by glass and blood and splintered wood, screaming, smashing everything in the house to tiny pieces. You don’t know how many people have died terrible deaths for the absence of this spongey, tight, beautiful pussy - Christ, he even dabbled in torture just to see if it would get him off like you could. 

But he’s going to spend the rest of your life reminding you - reminding you that if you ever fucking leave again he’ll kill everyone until you have no one left but him. 

“Ten seconds and then I’m picking for you,” he murmurs, kissing behind your ear. 

He has to press his weight into your hips to keep them from rocking down onto his fingers - the ones he’s got shoved up to the hilt of his hand inside you, teasing your front wall with languid little rubs. 

The resigned, pathetic defeat in your tone warms his heart. “Second option.”

“Which one was that again?” 

“Prep me.” 

He nips your cartilage with his teeth, wrenching a little beaten whine from deep in your throat, the loss of his bully fingers making you clench and spasm and writhe. 

He picks you up, cradles you to his warm heartbeat, kisses your head. You can’t help it, you fold into his embrace, cling to the John you once knew, hands clutching at the lapels of his suit in some desperate attempt to find comfort. 

“I’m sorry, John.” You choke on whimpers, smothering your tears into his collar. 

“Oh, babydoll,” he coos, smoothing your sore scalp. “No you’re not. But you will be.” 

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor

Independent Study 01: Art

Series masterlist

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: Eddie reflects on your most recent study session.

WC: ~1.68k

C/W: 18+, SMUT, MDNI!! I don’t want to give too much away, so I’ll just say that Eddie has some alone time… (If you’ve read the rest of this series you’ll likely not be surprised by any of the content, but if anyone feels strongly that this part needs any specific cautions LMK 💙) No physical descriptions of reader, but she is described as wearing makeup (though this isn’t integral to the story and it’s only one line)

A/N: I know I promised you Lesson 3 was coming soon, but I couldn’t help thinking about how Eddie and reader might feel after their recent tryst in the library, so this extra was born (and you can shout at me about it in the comments if you wish, I would love it ISTG 😂).

As if it wasn’t bad enough already, he muses. Eddie’s been increasingly distracted, and even his Hellfire campaigns are starting to suffer. But ever since that kiss (oh fuck, that kiss) in the library, Eddie absolutely can’t stop thinking about you.

The situation only gets worse when he’s alone, and is compounded further anytime he’s naked.

He’s already jerked off to the thought of you so many times, and he’s certain you knew exactly what you were doing when you brought those (silky, stained) sleep shorts to school for him. (He’s ashamed to admit that he’d spent that morning break under the bleachers with them pressed up against his face, breathing so deeply he almost hyperventilated, and since he got them home they haven’t left his bed.) But he still feels like it’s somehow wrong for him to think about you like this, and he’s sure you’ll see it written all over his face…

This isn’t the first time he’s thought about you whilst he’s in the shower, either. In fact, that started even before you became his tutor - it just took you wearing a particularly short skirt to biology class and it rapidly became a favourite pastime of his.

But today, thanks to your unexpectedly steamy study session in the library, his his cock is already fully hard, standing proudly in front of him within moments of him stepping into the tub, and his mental imagery is especially vivid.

He manages a quick wash before the throbbing between his legs demands his full attention, and his thoughts inevitably turn back to you.

Taking his cock lightly in his hand, he imagines kissing you gently, slowly. He remembers how your lips and mouth felt against his, and how your hands crept up his back over his shirt just hours ago. He recalls every movement, every sensation, as if to burn it permanently into his memory. The feel of your lips, how you smelled, how -oh god- how you tasted. He thinks about how gentle and soft your tongue was, and how he can’t get the sensation of it sliding against his out of his mind. It’s jostling for space next to the thoughts of how much he wants to use his own to explore every inch of you, if you’d ever let him.

Then, in his mind, you’re going over more test questions with him, just like you were in the study room. Except now each time he gets a question right, you praise him, stroke his face… and remove an item of clothing.

Eventually your clothing is all gone and you’re kneeling in front of him here in the shower, the warm water cascading over you in sparkling rivulets. Your naked body seems to glow, and your skin has an otherworldly, fantastical iridescence. Your pretty makeup smears and runs, creating delicate streaks of colour down your cheeks. And you’re wearing a shining tiara made of precious metals and sparkling stones.

His Princess.

Your knees are spread, leaving yourself open, and he imagines how you’d feel on his fingers. Soft, warm, wet, waiting.

He suppresses a moan, lest any of his neighbours are passing by. The flimsy walls of these trailers are hardly soundproof.

He curses as he imagines your hands running over his taut quads, your lips kissing them, then your soft, warm tongue tickling up his inner thighs towards his cock.

Eddie strokes his fingers delicately over his sack, imagining it’s you licking him, looking up at him through your wet eyelashes as you promise,

“Let me show you what a clever boy you are, Eddie. How much of a reward you deserve for working that beautiful brain so hard.”

And then you’re running your tongue up the full length of his cock, all the way from base to tip, but this time you’re not using biological terms, not trying to educate him. This time, you’re just filling yourself with him, suckling on his swollen head and sliding your wet mouth down onto him, further, further, until the tip of him is nudging your throat.

He thinks back to the last time you were on his sofa, your last ‘lesson’, how good you looked and felt when you took his cock in your mouth and looked at him as he grasped your hand. How your tongue swirled so devilishly before you nodded so sweetly and let him cum down your throat. How you licked his release from your lips…

He feels his balls tighten and a familiar sensation stirs in his abdomen, but he doesn't want this to be over yet, so he grips and squeezes that part of his dick that he knows will stave off his orgasm, opening his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, focussing on the swirl of the soapy water as it spirals down the drain.

Breathing deep, Eddie allows himself to slowly and elaborately create a new fantasy, this time imagining he’s pressing you up against the tiled wall.

He wonders what your wet skin might feel like against his, and how your tits might feel against his chest, beneath his hands, in his mouth.

He pictures what it’d be like to nudge your feet apart, just a little, and slot his hips between those luscious thighs.

How it’d feel to push through your glorious folds with the tip of his cock, and slide slowly into your warmth and wetness. The thought makes his breath leave his body in a rush, and he has to stifle another moan.

He wonders how pliant you’d be, whether you’d tell him how talented he is, how much you love it when he does this, how good you’re gonna be for him.

He wonders whether he'd be sweet, telling you you’re so beautiful, how he'll always take care of you, and treat you like the princess you are.

Or whether you’d be filthy, spilling profanities as you urge him to fill you deeper, take you faster, go harder.

And whether he’d ever have the balls to talk dirty to you, and tell you how well you take him, how your cunt is so perfect for him, how much he wants you, and adores fucking you.

Dick slick with foaming shower gel, Eddie’s swollen member slides almost effortlessly into his fist. He braces himself on his free forearm, palm flat against the tiles, imagining your body is between him and the cool ceramic, moving you both with each thrust of his hips.

He imagines his warm chest pressed to yours, and how the water feels trickling over and between your writhing forms as it flows over his shoulders, across your tits, over his balls and down between your thighs.

He groans into the steamed up space as he bucks up into his fist, imagining it’s your wet and willing pussy. Would you cum like this? It’s his fantasy, so of course you would… He wonders how it would feel. Would it be like he’s read about, where you’d be tight around him, squeezing his length as you rode out your high?

He can almost hear your moans as the head of his cock hits that special spot inside you that - just as you promised the first time you came over - you taught him to find. His ego lets him imagine he’d be skilled, maybe the best you’d had, and he imagines how your voice would eventually crack as you'd breathily tell him, just as you did in the library,

“That’s it, Eddie! You’ve got it!”

All of it combined is enough to tip him over. His hips stutter and his abdomen tenses as he cums with a broken groan, his vision becoming spotty as his wet spend spurts high up the tiles, some of it almost reaching eye level, sticking to the wall in sweeping, dripping splashes and the rest running down over his hand and wrist.

He squeezes himself, milking his cock of every last drop, whispering your name as he leans his forehead against his forearm and rests there, catching his breath. He’s not sure if he’s ever cum that hard by himself, and he certainly never has in the shower.

Vision clearing, he appraises the evidence of his lust. Human art on ceramic canvas.

However, for once it’s not an artistic display of his that he wants anyone else to see. He makes a mental note to clean off the tiles higher up than he normally would, and begins to rinse off under the cooling stream.

Shit. Wayne’s gonna be pissed when he comes home to find he’s used up all the hot water, and he doesn’t even have an excuse.

As he sluices the mess he’s made down the drain and his post-orgasm fog starts to lift, Eddie starts to feel like the deviant perv he’s sure he must be. He also realises how increasingly difficult it’s getting for him to suppress the various feelings he has for you. How the hell is he supposed to face you after this?

Is this that thing he’s heard about? Post Nut Clarity, or something?

Coming down from his high, he wonders what you’re doing right now. Probably hanging with friends, or diligently doing your homework. Something innocent and worthy. Wholesome.

By stark contrast, as he considers the somewhat-uncomfortable, almost-permanent semi he sports when you’re anywhere near him. Or, when he knows you’re in school generally. Or, fuck, simply just whenever he thinks about you. Suddenly he’s grateful for the cooling water, as his dick threatens to get hard again just from the mere thought of seeing you in class, or passing you in a corridor.

But then there’s also… the other feelings. The ones he’s never experienced before. The ones that tell him there’s so much more to this than just ‘having fun whilst tutoring’. At least, there is from his perspective.

Because what if this is just a temporary arrangement, and once he passes biology class you’ll have had your fun and will move on. Maybe even with somebody else?

Or, what if you feel the same?

And honestly? He’s not certain which prospect terrifies him the most…

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked this little extra ❤️

Series masterlist

Prev parts: Lesson 1: Female anatomy Lesson 2: Male anatomy Extra Credits 01: Communication skills Extra Credits 02: French Next part: Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

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[pursuitseternal]

Reader x Raphael

“Mixing business with pleasure”

You willingly walk into his deal with a counteroffer: you will deliver him the Crown of Karsus and help him become the Archdevil Supreme, but only if he proves to you he’s a worthy lover.

“Mixing Business with Pleasure:”

Raphael x f!Reader | E | Smut Asks Prompts

CW: Cambion form smut, inappropriate use of tail, cunniligus

Hells…. That was more challenging than it should have been to sneak out of the Elfsong alone at night. One by one they had turned in for the night. At long last, even your Vampire Spawn companion nodded off in his trance.

A smile on your face, you crept out of the tavern and into the street, back to the South Span. Crowds push past you, drunk and horny. But you don’t care, cutting through them like a blade between your enemy’s ribs. The image makes you smile, your fingers itching for your daggers, for the power they give you.

Speaking of power, you can almost taste it on the air as you enter Sharess’ Caress. It’s not the scent of sex or sweat that makes your mouth water, it’s that tingle of hellfire and smell of brimstone that pulls you up the stairs.

The Devil’s Den, the Devil you know waiting inside.

You push the door open unannounced, the scent of cherries and rose water from his bath filling your nose. He doesn’t turn even after you shut the door, his tall frame standing near the shimmering pool, a towel wrapped around his still damp, dusky skin.

Nothing more than that.

“It’s late, little mouse,” he purrs from over his shoulder, the corner of his dark eye catching sight of you as you draw to a stop near him. “What sort of business could be so vastly urgent it draws you into my clutches at this ungodly hour?”

He snickers at his own wording. But he’s always been his own best audience, you smirk and roll your eyes. “My business is the sort that mixes business with pleasure…” you reply, your words entice even as your tone snips at your syllables all matter-of-factly.

Slowly, he rounds, one hand resting on the towel where he’s tucked it in beneath his navel. Fuck… you swallow, taking in the sight of him. Damp, dark skin shimmers in the candlelight, the shadows seem to melt into his brown hair as it clings to his head, drenched and dripping. But it’s nothing compared to the patches and swirls of dark curls that dart down his torso… that trail of hair that gathers just above where his towel covers the rest of him.

Raphael shifts as he follows your gaze, that small cock of his hips is enough to make you visibly shiver… almost. You catch yourself in time, for you can’t play all your cards right off the bat. Not when your opponent is as cunning as the Devil. His smirk widens as you force your eyes to meet his. “Well tell me then about this pleasurable deal you’re willing to offer. I’m beginning to think you long to give me more than your soul…”

He lets the daring judgment hang in the air. But you just give an unaffected sigh. “And I’m beginning to wonder just how badly you do want that Crown, Devil…”

A sly, knowing smile crawls over his sharp-angled face. “My, my,” he purrs, drawing so close to you that you can feel his scalding hot breath. “You left here so certain, your companions so vocal about how giving me the Crown would be… devastating.” That last word is crooned like a melody, a cadence all its own. “Is that why you burst boldly into my den so conveniently alone?”

You fold your arms and puff out your chest. “Maybe,” you smirk.

“Maybe?” Raphael chuckles, reaching to grab a single loose tendril of your hair from your shoulder so carefully, he doesn’t even touch your skin. “Such an innocuous word, so full of potential fulfillment, or else the promise of despair.”

Fingers reach for the back of your head, grabbing with just enough force to angle your face into his. “So which is it, little mouse? Fulfillment or despair?”

“That will depend on you,” you meet his gaze with all the confidence you can muster as you stare down the Devil. “Like I said, we will mix business with pleasure. I will bring you the Crown of Karsus if you meet my terms.”

A rolling, bassy chuckle overwhelms you. “Are you the one drafting a contract for me?” his deep voice boils with amusement. “That is something extraordinary. I haven’t endured this for some time.” His hand releases your head only to claw its searing touch around your chin. His fingertips buckle your skin. “Tell me, foolish mouse, what do you think are amenable terms for your deal?”

You shift on your toes as he draws your weight higher. “I will give you what you seek, the Crown to make you Archdevil Supreme if…” you swallow as his fingers close around your windpipe more, “if you can prove yourself a worthy lover.”

Those deep set eyes blaze at your offer, flickers of hellfire in their warm brown depths. “You’re either ambitious or very stupid, girl.” His voice is pressed, constrained inside that surly chest.

You shrug as his fingers release your flesh, slowly stroking your neck instead. “I like powerful men,” you give a flippant reply.

Raphael raises a thick brow. “The bear of an Archdruid not enough? Nor the former lover of Mystra, nor the vampire poised to be the most powerful of his kind should he defeat his master?”

You shake your head. “Compare that to the almighty ruler of all the hells? It pales in comparison, and I know where I wish for my allegiances to… lie.” Gaze darting to the bed in the next room behind him, your innuendo and meaning is not lost on the clever Devil.

“You’re cheeky and presumptive, little mouse,” his hand presses at the smaller of your back, pulling your body against him. Drops of near-steaming water dampen your skin through your chemise. “I like that,” he croons into your ear, the pads of his lips loudly suckling that outer shell a little before he pulls away. “If you like powerful men, perhaps you would prefer a different form for me to take?”

“Give me your most powerful, your best,” you rasp trying to catch a kiss on those smirking lips. But he dodges out of your reach, one warm finger pressing against your daring lips to silence you.

“Whether you could handle my most fiendish form remains to be seen, but perhaps we could start with a body that offers more of a bite.” His chuckle resounds eerily before you, smoke and ash and sulfur filling every sense as his body is cloaked in darkness.

Warm supple skin bubbles, cherry red scaly flesh scalds you as you insist on caressing the lines of his chest. The mighty Cambion swaggers in place, great wings beating the cool air of the room as he looms above you. “On to the bed,” he growls in sonorous tones, “and off with your clothes.”

A shiver of delight runs down your spine to pool as wanton need in your belly. You pull your tunic off over your head, sliding your leathers down and stepping out of them unceremoniously. You don’t even glance behind you as you crawl on the lavishly soft bedding, its color somehow less vibrant than the being that gazes at you from the bedside, black and yellow eyes roaming over every detail on your body. You catch sight of his vermillion forked tongue as he licks his lips. “Relax, my dear,” he purrs, his voice low and scintillating as he stalks closers. “I shall give you a taste of what I have to offer. It would be foolish to demonstrate all my finest abilities as the curtain opens. That leaves nothing in suspense,” he grins to reveal all his jagged teeth, “and I do so long to see you hanging in suspense for me.”

He gestures for you to recline with a long sweep of his arm, a matching arc made with his wing. The bed seems to suck you in. Your body grows ungodly hot, your skin burning so furiously that his Cambion fingers feel cool to the touch as they rake nails down your sides. “Shall we inspect the collateral you have to offer on your end of the bargain? A body like yours is meant for scrutiny, for delight and examination down to the most minute detail…”

He’s crawled over you, his wings spread wide, darkening your world to shades of dusky red and burgundy. Those unearthly eyes stare into yours, lips pressing softly once, giving you that taste of cherries and smoke. The forked tips of his tongue press against your mouth, a silent request. But it’s the only act of gentleness he gives you, the only entreating movement for more.

For once you give, once you part your lips for the sizzling heat of his tongue, he plunders you. That impossibly long tongue darts and devours, his pointed teeth nipping and breaking the skin of your lips as he works his mouth. Your head grows light as his lungs suck the very air you need to live from yours. Panting, you fight for control. Not to mention you’re fighting for air. His hands grip their pointed claws into your shoulders, pressing you down as he breaks your kiss.

The warmth of his mouth envelopes one breast as he caresses his way down your burning skin. Back arching, your hands reach for the first part of him you can grab, locking around those rough curves of his horns. His deep laugh tickles the sensitive skin of your chest, his tongue laving hot spit up and down the center of your body in long, sensual swipes. One of his hands claws around your breast, kneading it and teasing your nipple to a hard, aching peak. The other hand grants your aching mound its touch, fingers parting your folds, revealing your drenched and swollen cunt for him. His wings flap, air rushing as he sinks his head between your thighs. “Hold my horns if you like, little mouse, for next time I eat you up, you might just be holding the prongs of my crown.”

You gasp as his tongue dives right for your clit, circling it with expert, ancient precision. Hips rolling, you match the mesmerizing workings of his mouth, that deep sonorous voice growling as he feasts, consuming every drop of arousal that seeps from inside you. But still your walls ache for more, you crave something to fill you up. And just as the thought passes your mind, you feel it.

Long and bluntish and sinuous, something pushes into your cunt. Curling up, you dare yourself to look, for it can’t be his cock….

His tail wriggles alongside his mouth, the tip of it sliding into your welcoming heat with ease. The mere sight of it makes you nearly burst, but it’s when those dark and golden eyes flash up to meet you with his potent gaze that you crumble. Your head slams back against the bed, your back arching as he fills your entire cunt with his wicked tail.

It starts behind your navel, where his hand slinks from your breast to push on that expanse, making you feel each ram of his tail against your cervix. Your breathing grows ragged and dry, and all you hear is the wet squelch of him thrusting in your liquid heat and the growls of his pleasure as he sucks and swirls his molten tongue over every inch between your thighs.

One more press of his hand on your belly, and you erupt. Every muscle floods with heat and contorts as your orgasm is rend from your body. He rips your pleasure from your frame, sucking on your clit to draw out your climax. He feasts on your bliss, devouring your ecstasy until you can’t move a muscle.

It’s all you can do to lie limp in his bed as he withdraws every appendage from your body. You groan, missing the heat of his body and the wet of his tongue as he slinks from the bed again. You close your eyes, reopening them to see that bright red form towering beside you. He runs a nail down your middle, the line of his spit still pooled on your skin. “Oh little mouse, so deliciously spent,” his laughter is low and husky, that little edge of threat at its core. “Bring me the Crown, and next time, I’ll let you have my cock too.”

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh. That Crown will be his, just as much as you are.

[mediumgayitalian]

“You ever pray we’re wrong?”

Nico lets his next step sound against the smoothed pebbles, dismissed the shadows he hovered on. Will doesn’t turn to face him, but one of his shoulders slumps, stretched-out camp shirt neckline hanging around his collarbones, in acknowledgment. Nico crouches down, inspecting the pebbles until he finds one suitable — flat, almost disc-like, a little bigger than his thumbnail, smooth as shaved skin.

“‘Bout what?”

It skips when he launches it, on the tail of Will’s, one, two, three times before sinking. Will’s goes much longer, as does his next. And his next. Sink.

“About the —

Sink.

— afterlife.”

He doesn’t look as he scoops up another handful, eyes glued to the setting sun. His pebbles are all the wrong shape, but he launches them, one at a time, one at a time, one at a time; each of them skips.

“About the world —

Sink.

— down there.”

Sink.

“Underworld.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You ever hope we just —

Sink.

— dreamed it up?”

Sink.

One, two, four, sixteen. Sink.

Sink.

“The whole thing. Gods and Judgement and Punishment. Hellfire.”

Sink.

One. Twothreefourfivesix. Seven. Sink.

Sink.

“Like the Mist. An illusion to keep us compliant.”

Sink.

One. Two. Ten. Twenty. Sink.

Sink.

“It isn’t,” Nico says, as gently as he can. He runs his thumb over the edge of a pebble, tracing its ridge. A rough broken corner slices along the pad of his thumbprint, and he jumps, breathing a curse, sliding the irony salt into his mouth. “Do you wish it was?”

“I hope it is.”

The blood is long since gone. Nico hooks his nail over his bottom teeth, tongue twisting at the lingering saltiness, and watches him, eyes hooded; the set to his shoulders, his spine; his sand-covered feet and soaked pants rolled to his calves. Lee’s shirt, worn thin, hanging off his shoulders, still; four camp necklaces on his throat, heavy with beads, one wrapped three times around his wrist. Hair, wilder than usual, knotted, matted, whipping in the wind, thick with sand, curling around his eyes.

“Why?”

“I hope we’re wrong and it’s Mist and it’s softer. And it’s —

Sink.

— nothing. Quiet.”

Sink.

“Why?” Nico repeats.

Sink.

“Because I’ve —

Sink.

— because I’m going to Hell, Nico.”

Sink.

One.

Sink.

One.

Sink.

One.

Sink.

Sink.

Sink.

“I’m going to —

Sink.

— Hell, and I’m scared.”

Sink.

“You’re a hero,” Nico says, quiet, and the pebbles in his fist are loud, are grating, and the bitter in Will’s laugh is stronger even than the lingering taste on his tongue, and louder, and brighter, bright, brighter, like the Sun, like the stars, like the brand new moon, and it sears, and it aches, and Nico looks away. And Will laughs, and keeps laughing, and launches his pebbles into the lake, all of them at once, and they hit the water like spit, and spatter, and they sink, and Nico hears them hit the floor, hears them ricochet through, down, descend.

“I hear the injured screaming and choose which ones die,” Will says, sink,

sink,

sink,

sink,

sink, “and I hear them curse me, as they die, and I am going to rot in Hell.”

Sink.

Sink.

Sink.

“You are a hero,” Nico says. His hands shake and he folds his thumb into his fists. “You are a hero. You’ll go to Elysium.”

Will smiles at him. “Okay, Nico.”

Sink.

“I’ve — judged, you know. Before. Good things way heavy. Good things weigh heavy.”

Sink.

“Okay.”

“You’re not cursed, Will.”

He sits, or he drops, on the rocky shore, bones against stone, and he stares, at the lake, at the Sun, at the Sun, at the Sun, and he waits, and he glows, and he burns.

“The gods aren’t fair,” he says. Quiet.

Sink.

[sky-kiss]

Imagine Raphael giving you to Haarlep to cycle between edging and overstim for a day + aftercare. The next day Raphael puts you in suspension bondage and occasionally walks up while he is reading to play with your still raw and over sensitive clit/cock.

Plucking, stroking, teasing until your voice breaks. Then he walks away, licking his fingers.

A/N: I MEAN. HERE’S THE THING. Nothing I write is going to be able to touch that. But I will try. Hopefully you like it. Hiding sin under gif.

Raph x Haarlep x Reader (GN): HAHA I'M IN DANGER

___

He gives you to Haarlep to "rest." 

Of course, he smiles as he says it, eyes glittering specks of hellfire. He waves you away with a small smile and a pat on the ass. Raphael's good little toy, obedient and deserving a touch of kindness after hours at the devil's mercy. Every muscle in your body aches in the most delicious way, fingerprints emblazoned across your hips, shallow abrasions across your belly. Your throat is a ruin of kiss-sucked bruises. Precisely how he likes you, his pretty canvas.  

But you're tired. You need the rest. Haarlep coos to you, hands feathering over your hair. They touch and tease, massaging out the aching muscles in your lower back. The incubus always promises you the sweetest things, a whisper of affection as they settle between your thighs. 

It's "rest" only in the loosest sense of the word. You whine, hands clenching in the sheets. Sometimes, it's their mouth on you. It's an irresistible game, building you to a dizzying high only to pull back and leaving you wanting and cold. Up and up until you're left raw, a live wire sparking in the overheated air. You beg them to let you come. 

Haarlep always agrees. But a devil's acquiescence is rarely without cost. They stuff you full of cock, riding you until you're too hoarse to scream. They order you to come for them, laughing, bright, loud, and cruel. A hand fists in your hair, turning your face into the mattress. 

"Oh, my love, you asked for this, no?" He leans over you, licking up your spine. "Begged to come. Called me cruel! Wicked Haarlep!" You whimper. His right-hand snakes around your throat, squeezing and pulling you back against his chest. The incubus nips the shell of your ear, dragging the lobe between his teeth. "Scream for me, won't you? You can still do that much." 

You try. They make sure you try. But Haarlep is an industrious creature capable of making their own entertainment. After they've come, they flip you onto your back, moving you like their little doll. It's back to teeth and tongue, licking his mess clean, stroking you. It's too much. Pleasure and heat, spiraling until you think you'll black out. 

And the sweetest thing is that whenever you awaken, Haarlep is there, still toying with your body—building and breaking, building and breaking, over and over. 

One of them must hang you. You don't remember, blissed out, boneless. Raphael loves to display you like this: hanging near his desk, an art piece to observe at his leisure. The chains chafe a little, but you know that irritation will be dealt with after. For now, you enjoy the reprieve. There are no hands on you for the first time in what feels like days. 

"Did you enjoy your reprieve, mouse?" Raphael smiles at you, almost gentle, almost fond. There are so many possibilities, and your brain is too addled to parse any of them. He leans back in his seat, hands folded over his belly. "Haarlep lamented your performance. Uninspired, they called it." The cambion chuckles at this, humming. "But the results." 

He holds his arms out wide, smirking. Yes, the results- your ruination. Your head sags forward, chin resting on your chest. Raphael crosses the room, hooking a finger under your chin. The devil groans, kissing you deeply. His tongue presses past the seam of your lips, tasting you, dancing but not demanding. 

A contrast to the way he touches you. He doesn't build you to an orgasm; he wrenches it from your exhausted body, the touch stinging against your overstimulated flesh. You whimper into his mouth, twisting to take more, to get closer, to relieve the pressure in your wrists. He tuts. Raphael kisses your nose, your chin, your mouth. 

"Now, now, you know the game, mouse. Be very good, and we'll let you down early. For now…relax. Simple…be yourself." 

He pats your stomach and returns to his reading, brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. 

[lanafofana]

Temptation

Pairing: Raphael x Tav(f)

Word count: 3.6k

Summary: She won't sign another contract but she’s not opposed to a different kind of deal

Rating: Explicit [🔞MINORS DNI]

Warning: Porn! Filthy depraved devil porn! A little bit of hate sex (PnV with a little PVP), ( she throws hands twice)(but he's into it). Cunnilingus, because it wouldn't be a Lana fic if a tongue wasn't getting shoved in someone's [redacted]. A little bit of toxic relationship dynamics at play (devil gonna devil). SMUT SMUT SMUT

No beta, we die like pumpkin pie (listen, it's been a long night)

💖✨Kudos to @dr-demi-bee for the prompt✨💖

AO3 Link here for all who celebrate the time honored tradition of validating authors via kudos etc etc etc

“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Raphael doesn't look surprised to see her anymore. Merely gives her a look when she finds him on the balcony of his Archive and snaps his fingers to conjure her a drink that appears in her hand before returning his attention back to the fiend giving him some kind of report in the guttural language of the infernal.

She slips away, perusing his collection of tomes from some kingdom long dead and sipping at her wine. It's too sweet, cherry rich and decadent but the alcohol burns pleasantly warm in her belly. Later, sprawled across a lavish settee, an open book in her lap, Tav is trying to untangle a web of mental snares that have put her in a melancholy mood of late when Raphael finds her.

He doesn't say anything for a long time but she can feel his gaze taking her in with more precision now that he can afford his full attention to the task. The predator, sizing up the prey. Her skin prickles.

She's returned to his house with more frequency of late and though he’s never brought it up she’s struck with the sudden anxiety that she is overstaying her welcome. Draining her glass of wine she swishes the liquid around her mouth while watching the crystal goblet refill in a blink. He's never asked why she’s decided to help herself to his company or tries to dissuade her attention when she comes calling. There's a mystery there she’s too afraid to pursue. She sighs and takes another drink.

Footsteps, steady and deliberately slow, approach. The predator, stalking their prey. Turning a page in the book she isn't reading Tav pretends his proximity doesn't send a bolt of heat and fear fizzling along her spine. In her peripheral he stops, a looming metaphor for the direction her choices are driving her to. A finger, warm and familiar, presses against the soft vulnerable space just past the jut of her chin and tilts her face to meet his.

“Have you come to bargain?” His dark eyes drink in her face, giving nothing away.

He already knows the answer to that question but she answers it anyway, deriving a weird sort of comfort from the repetitive nature of this exchange they've replayed so many times they might as well have memorized a script.

“No.”

His eyes narrow and she doesn't hear the snap but her wine glass and book both vanish. Standing involves significantly more motor skills than she presently possesses so, with a smirk, the devil offers her a courteous hand and hauls her up. Her breasts graze against the broad expanse of his chest before she gains her bearings and straightens. He doesn't let go of her hand.

“What then do you seek from the House of Hope?” His voice is mocking but his eyes are hungry. Tav knows the steps to this dance by heart but she’s hungry too. Famished.

Grasping the collar of his opulent coat she tugs him into her orbit, sliding a hand into his hair and pressing her lips to his. He tastes like hellfire and forbidden fruit.

The edges of her vision white out for a moment when he displaces them to his quarters, his infernal magic buzzes against her tongue pleasantly. Pressing close with nothing but fabric between them she shifts, a calculated movement to stoke the fire of his desire.

“Crawling and secret she constructs her own web, a trap for her prey, fallen into instead.” Raphael wedges his knees between her legs and, hands tight on her hips, bows her back to wrest control from her. Dizzy with drink and anxiety and lust Tav grinds against his thigh, seeking the friction that will at last unwind her mind.

“Needs work,” she critiques unnecessarily, breathless and smirking. He nips her bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh taunt in chastisement but it makes her lashes flutter, her clit throbbing against his thigh.

Huffing a laugh at his petulance she pulls away. Pulling her clothes loose and discarding them under his dark gaze while backing towards the bed. The backs of her knees hitting the edge of the mattress, she beckons and –after a moment– he follows, unbuttoning his doublet slowly.

“Go on then,” she teases, heedless of the black warning in his face, “Seduce me with your limerick.”

“A mouthwatering fruit, this human heart.” He sheds his jacket, the shirt too, preening under her appreciative stare. “Devastating, damned, and doomed from the start.”

She swallows, mouth dry as he approaches and comes to a stop close enough to feel the heat off his skin.

“Dazzling, delicious but,” he looks at her critically for a moment, “Not very rare, this cracking soul is fetid with,” Raphael leans in, to take in her scent deeply. Closing his eyes he murmurs lasciviously, breath hot against her ear, “Despair.”

She throbs with need.

Wrapping a hand around her throat he pauses only long enough to take her pulse, sneering at the staccato beat, before sliding his hand down her chest, to her breast. With both hands he gropes her roughly, squeezing and tugging at her nipples till they pucker, rosy and stiff. The expression on his face hasn't changed much, cold and disdainful but his eyes. She shivers under the blistering heat of them.

“Take what you came here for, creature.”

The words are hardly out of his mouth before her hands are on him pulling him close with a rough hand in his hair, yanking his head to the side, putting her teeth to his throat.

She bites him savagely, electric at the needy whine he tries to stifle unsuccessfully. She laves her tongue against the red teeth marks soothingly, hands on his shoulders. His hands have migrated too, palming the swell of her ass. When she runs the edge of her teeth down the column of his throat and licks the dip of his collar bone he smacks an asscheek, the crack sharp and loud in the otherwise quiet room.

In retaliation she sinks her teeth into his shoulder so hard he repeats the action on her other asscheek. She cries out, her inner walls slamming down on nothing.

“Tell me, my dear,” his voice, rough and deep, is commanding. Tav clenches her thighs together in response.

Nothing and no one comes for free in the House of Hope. Each visit to his bed, a transaction between her hunger for his body and his hunger for her pain. Their unspoken devil’s pact. She knows exactly what he wants and her stomach flips in trepidation.

Hands full of her ass he is not gentle when he pulls her against him, grinding her against the hard length of him through his trousers. She whimpers, drawing her nails across his shoulders and scoring livid marks into his skin. “Tell me,” he repeats, a furious snarl, as he shoves her to the bed.

“Then ask, you fucking monster,” she hisses, hitting the mattress with a soft ‘oof’ as the wind is briefly knocked from her lungs.

He follows her descent, aiming to cage her body with his but a spike of adrenaline has her scrambling out from under him. Awkwardly she heaves her way to the head of the bed but he’s faster – stronger– and he snatches her ankle in a fierce grip, dragging her back within range.

Wrapping himself around her, thick cock against her ass, bruising fingers holding her captive against his chest he chuckles. The sound chills her in the same way it sends another trickle of wet desire between her legs.

Close to her ear he breathes his full query at last. “What is the root of your despair?” Her stomach sinks down to her toes, the red flush of her desire doused cold.

What was your last wickedly depraved thought, he's asked her before. When did the thrill of bloodlust last blind you completely to sense; do you hate anyone more than you've hated yourself? She may have never signed another contract with him but somehow he’s found a way to drain her soul, piecemeal, all the same.

“Tell me,” he murmurs against her skin, parting her thighs to drag a finger along her slick wet slit.

The reason for the wine becomes clear to her in that moment. She’s never had inhibitions where sex is concerned. Has never considered it a trial to use her body and let it be used for its skill with a blade, on either side of the sheets.

But put enough wine down her throat and inevitably the secret hurts that haunt her begin to spill out from between her lips.

The devil growls at her hesitation, flipping her over and pinching a nipple between his teeth slightly too hard. Demanding her attention and supplication in all things.

“I–,” she gasps and leaves half moon indentations on his skin when he sticks his tongue in her belly button, swirling his tongue there lazily. “I’m sad, all the time,” she confesses in a rush like it will hurt less to say it fast. Her heart pounds. “I hide from my friends, from everyone, and suffer alone. I’ve always been alone, I’m pretty sure I'll always be alone because it’s–” her breath hitches on a strangled sob when he just barely presses his thumb to her clit and leaves it there, teasing. Torturing. She doesn't want him to ever stop. “I’m too much to be around. Too much unhappiness in one person to inflict on anyone else.”

“Self pity,” Raphael groans with relish and she bristles because of course he's right. “Never looked so lovely than on the utterly pathetic,” the words burn, as they're intended to. “Look at you, mourning yourself to the point of self destruction.”

Blood rushes to the surface of her skin, blooming red and hot across her throat and cheeks. Within her bosom she aches. Raphael hums with pleasure, as drunk on her internal agony as he is on her body.

Feeling flayed open she wails, hands scrabbling for purchase on his skin and in the rumpled bedding, when he sinks a finger fast –and hard–and deep in her dripping, aching cunt. She bites her lip and breathes through the discomfort of letting him see her. The despair and self pity on full display for his perusal. He feasts on her pain like a man deprived of fresh air, reveling in the cocktail of humiliation, fear, and miserably pathetic sorrow.

“Entrust me with your soul and you'll never be alone again, for as long as your pitiful soul flickers,” he vows, working a second digit in with the first. She’s so wet her lips squelch lewdly around his scissoring fingers to punctuate his words.

He means it too. It's far from the first –or the last– time he has promised an eternity to her. Her soul nestled within his grasp forever, damnation tempered with endless companionship. A demon’s version of love. Eternal ownership. The ache in her chest sharpens to a knife’s edge. Thrusting her hips against his hand, her breathing changes, getting deeper and faster as her orgasm inches tantalizingly closer.

Her legs are open but her heart's been closed so long the hinges squeak and grind in complaint at being disturbed. Maybe that's why his canny words rend instead of pierce, like they're claws mauling instead of hands gently stroking. Devils don't know kindness but there's a world of gentleness in the way he peels open her ribcage to curl up in her chest cavity with his insidious intent.

“Kiss me,” she begs. Begs, hoping it will be enough to stem the tide of his incendiary words. Words spoken with the intent to hurt, to disturb, to split the cobbled pieces of her being back into shattered fragments he can hold in his hands. To mold her, shaping her to his will. Without ceremony he crushes her with his mouth, his body, and his desire.

Raphael moves against her, heavy and too big, a threat and a promise that tastes like cherry wine and feels like coming home. The kiss, a miscalculation on her part, steals his voice but replaces wounding words with bruising force. Shoving his tongue into her mouth he seeks only to consume and she moans around the wet intrusion, curling a hand tightly into the hair at the nape of his neck until he hisses against her teeth.

She lets him continue only for so long before the hand she has locked in his hair tugs viscously and she gets a glimpse of his pupils blown wide before his eyes flutter closed. The Archduke Supreme would never admit to his proclivities in bed but he’s not the only one studying his prey during their encounters.

She maneuvers until he's beneath her, breath stuttering in his chest as his ardor intensifies with her forceful take over. The meticulous Archduke Supreme, Lord of the Nine Entire, Devil of False Hope, Cania’s Conquerer might have eaten her whole for the audacity of asking for control in the bedroom but when she takes it…

He groans, squirming and wanton, when she peels herself away from his lips to sink the fingers of one hand around his throat while the fingers of her other hand tug on the laces of his breeches.

“Tav,” he growls, the reverberation of his vocal chords against her hand shooting directly to the heat that burns in her core.

She pulls her hand from around his throat to pull back and strike him across the face. His hips surge up against her desperately. “Silence,” she warns, nimble fingers slipping his throbbing cock from its confines.

The fat head is wet, a glistening mess of his own precum. The smell makes her mouth water. Wrapping her hand around the shaft she pulls at him experimentally, running the calloused pad of her thumb across the leaking slit on top and along the thick vein beneath his glans until he whimpers. The sound makes her smile, the power of her unique position sending a rush of wet slick through the lips of her vulva, dripping down the inside of her thighs.

Moving the hand she just had wrapped around his erection to her own throbbing need she drinks in his expression while he watches her fuck herself on two fingers. She leans back to give him a better view while she circles her own clit, biting her lip and shifting her hips in time with the movements until she’s close, almost too close.

The devil never looks more beautiful than when he’s languishing untouched, desperate and needy and simmering with helpless fury.

“Open that pretty maw, creature,” she sneers, an echo of his earlier epithet.

Obediently his lips part and she leans forward, shoving her fingers into his mouth, pressing against the molten heat of his tongue.

“Suck.”

Tav's eyes flutter, nearly rolling to the back of her skull as the Duke follows her instruction, locking his lips around her slick coated fingers and sucking hard enough to tear her soul through her fingertips. She moans, positioning herself above his pelvis and undulating her hips to rub his delicious head through her slippery folds.

Inside his mouth his tongue swirls across the pads of her fingers and he echoed her moans; pleasing, pretty, broken little sounds that have her sinking onto his cock halfway in her excitement. He bucks, too sharp teeth grazing erotically against her fingers and she withdraws them to backhand him; whip fast and snapping his lust drunk face to the side. He gasps and she revels in the feeling of him jumping against the walls of her sex.

Pulling herself upright she arches her back, giving him a pretty view as she plays with her own breasts, running the tips of her fingers along the goose pimpled flesh of her abdomen.

“Like what you see, devil?” She taunts, sinking a little more around his girth. “Tell me, Archduke,” she smiles cruelly. “Tell me how much you want to fuck this sweet mortal cunt.” She twists her nipples and sinks a little lower on his cock, watching the expressions flit across his face faster than he probably even registers them. She smiles, all teeth. “Beg.”

“Please!” He doesn't even hesitate, voice gone tight. “Please, let me feel you sink that perfect tight cunt onto my cock.” He releases the most delicious open mouthed whine when she does, enveloping him completely. “Please!” He blurts, hands fisting in the bedding, muscles quivering with the restraint to keep from fucking into her.

The stretch is nothing short of divine. Her hips yearn to move, to rock against him, grinding his hips into the bed but she pauses, balancing on the precipice.

“Please, what?” She demands, relishing in the widening of his eyes, the way his mouth hangs open.

“Please,” his eyes close briefly and he swallows thickly, “Archduchess Supreme, My Lady Eternal.”

“Good boy,” she murmurs, warmth suffusing her entirely when he keens at the praise.

Planting her hands on his chest she wastes no more time, fucking herself on his thick cock; fast and hard and rough. Between her fingers she pinches his nipples, leaning forward to swallow his cries as she rides him to the brink. Between her thighs he cants his hips, mindlessly matching her thrust for thrust as his orgasm barrels within reach.

She slips a hand between their bodies, pinching her swollen clit and cries out his name and a litany of swearing as she crests her final peak. Her mind whites out, the walls of her cunt bearing down on his cock so tightly he spills into her with an inarticulate groan.

Their bliss reached, their movements stutter clumsily to a stop, chests heaving and breathless pants peppering the air with the soft sounds of post coital exhaustion.

Tav disengages from Raphael's body slowly, flushing at the rush of slippery fluid that leaks out of her. The devil looks at the mess between her legs, unabashed, a pleased smirk hovering in the corners of his mouth.

Running a finger through their combined spend, shivering on the cusp of overstimulation, she holds his gaze as she reaches up to paint his lips with it.

He doesn't even blink, licking the shine of his own seed from his lips and making a pleased noise, deep in his chest, that echoes in the throb of her empty cunt. Leaning into him, chest to chest, Tav chases the taste of them on his tongue with a redolent kiss, slow and tender. His hands drift along her sweat slick skin, raising goose bumps with each delicate graze of his nails.

Wrapping his arms around her Raphael flips them, startling a sound from her that he chases with teeth and an amused chuckle. Before she registers what he's doing the devil is wedged between her legs, pushing one of her legs wide, fingers sunk tightly into the plush thickness of her thigh while the fingers of his other hand part the puffy lips of her sex.

He stares, transfixed, for only a moment before he bends his head, slotting his lips against her wet, sticky heat. The predator devours the prey. The gluttonous wet sounds of him licking and suckling at her sex sends her brain rocketing away on a tidal wave of sensation. She grasps the back of his head in shock and a haze of overwhelming arousal.

“Raphael!” She cries out when he locks his lips around her clit and sucks. “Nnnggg– ahhh!!”

“Say my name again,” he growls, immediately spearing her with his tongue and twisting to lap at every drop of her slick heat. “Say it!”

“Ra– Raphael! Oh– nnngggahhh!!” If she is his Archduchess then he is her god and she cries out to him, exultantly. “Raphael! Yes! Yes! RAPH–”

He hums his pleasure and the vibration has her sinking both hands into his hair, pressing him closer– harder–

She flexes her hips, rocking against the sensation of his mouth taking her apart, heart slamming against her ribs as her mind spirals faster and faster and–

“RAPHAEL!” Tav’s mind flies apart as she screams her release, back bowed, thighs clenched tight around the Archduke’s ears.

She comes back into her body to the feeling of her fingers being disentangled from their iron grip on his hair. She releases him immediately, flexing her digits and collapsing against the bed as a wave of exhaustion slides over her.

“You,” she pants breathlessly, boneless and still buzzing for the high of her orgasm. “That was–

“Delicious,” he finishes for her with a sinful smile that does nothing to soothe the thunderous beating of her heart.

This time it is the devil who stretches himself over her body, skin against sweaty skin, and presses the taste of her arousal and his spend between their lips in a filthy kiss. When he pulls away Tav’s dazed expression pulls another smile to his face, this one different from the one he usually shows her. Her stomach clenches but in the next moment her face is split in a jaw cracking yawn and when she looks again he looks the same as he always does.

“Sleep, my dear,” he says in a tone that conveys he neither cares if she does or does not. With a snap of his finger he is dressed and polished once more. He drags his eyes down the length of her naked body with an appreciative leer. Another snap and he's gone in a flash of hellfire.

Tav forces her body to move though her limbs feel made of jelly. She crawls between the sheets, the luxurious material cold against her heated skin. Sweat on her scalp and elsewhere on her body sends a shiver down her spine. Cocooned, safe, and spent, she sleeps.

That's All Folks!

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Thirteen Months- Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

If the Silco x Reader fics were realistic.

And not in a good way.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

tw: physical abuse, drug use, rough sex, mistreatment of sex workers

Snippet:

Migraine's ripening in his brainstem; the cigar's nearly dead. He stubs its smoldering butt into a crystal ashtray at the table. Sevika's eyeing him with a shrewd mix of caution and concern. 

Ghosts here, too. A shared bed, and the physicality of memory.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" she asks.

"None."

"Figures." Her face goes through a complicated series of micro-expressions. Then it resets into guarded neutrality. "Maven not doing her duty?"

"Maven is, as we know, a marvel."

"Doesn't answer my question."

Silco doesn't answer that, either.

Thirteen months, he thinks.

Thirteen months since his and Sevika's last time. He's not sure what the gap signifies, other than the fact it does signify something, else why'd he keep track of the tally? He's no idea what to call it either: this no-man's land between reproach and rapprochement, a space of tacit glances and barred doors, of shared history and estranged present.

He's got only two working theories. One: it's the symptom of an early midlife crisis, triggered by Jinx's blossoming adulthood and a city narrowly salvaged from hellfire. Two: it's not a crisis, but a crossroads, and Silco's finding himself, after years, in the uncharted territory of unmet need. The kind of need that summons live memory, and makes the memory ache: a shared smoke of brightleaf; a skull resting against a strong shoulder; a sinewy arm slung over a hard waist...

Silco doesn't dwell on the two theories, because there's a third. And he hates it, because it's the truth.

It's not about him. It's never been about him.

It's always, always, been about her.

He would never say he feels the lack. He keeps a revolving door of liaisons who spend the night at the Laguna Lounge, and fill his sheets when they're not filling his head with promises, platitudes, praise. It's a libertine's smorgasbord: from zaftig beauties in crushed velvet to sharp-cheeked high-rollers in bespoke pinstripe.

Except, in Silco's mind, they're an unspooling procession of flesh, like a carnival freak composed of a hundred different limbs. Only vague outlines and fleeting sensations last the distance. He remembers a cute little crooner who'd sing for her supper over his knee. A muscular dockhand with a cock like a bludgeon and an arsehole as pinkly unspoilt as the petals of a Demacian rose. A svelte tinkerer with elegant fingers and the vilest mouth this side of the Fissures; a late-night raver with hair like a halo of sparks and eyes incandescent with holy lust.

He recalls playthings on their knees; paramours at his feet. Recalls his darkest appetites fed; his worst hungers sated.

He recalls Maven.

Last summer, he'd summoned back to his service. She was a dab hand at spreading her lovely legs on command and seeing to his satisfaction without interrupting his twisting train of thought.

Better yet, she was unafraid of his proclivities. Whatever he dished out, she took in stride. Whatever he demanded, she gave.

Talent deserved recognition; Silco had rewarded hers generously. He'd set her up in the Laguna Lounge's east wing. Given her a corner suite, a maid of her own, a monthly stipend. Gifted her with luxury and leisure: anything from high-end threads to high-grade wines. Granted her access to his best, most potent, Shimmer.

He'd also given her an order: Come when called.

For six months, it was bliss. Then it devolved into a nightmare.

Maven was a whip-smart girl with a taste for decadence. But she also had her own vendetta to grind. Her life had been a constant peril, and she'd only made it thus far by making herself indispensable. Now, by a stroke of fortune, she was the Eye's favorite.

And she was determined—at any cost—to secure a permanent berth in his boudoir. 

In bed, she was quick to pick up on his cues; even quicker at cater to his whims. Full-body massages, tongue-baths, foot-rubs—the works. Silco awoke to morning suckjobs that could strip the chrome off a tailpipe. Drowsed to nightly kisses that'd drain the venom from a snakebite.

Sometimes, she'd treat him to wicked games of her own devising. Once, she'd greeted him at the Laguna Lounge's front door in nothing but a black leather harness and a set of gold clamps attached to her nipples. Let him fuck her on the marble-topped bar, and afterward, while he'd lazed back in the sofa and sipped a cognac, sucked him off with those same clamps twined around his balls.

Another time, she'd arranged for a trio of dancers—all male, louche and lithe and oiled to a shine. The first pair had swapped sloppy kisses with his cock between their lips; the third had ridden him for a solid hour. Maven, curled up in the sofa, had watched the proceedings with the feral interest of a cat eyeing a birdcage. After the show, she'd fixed him an icy gin cocktail, a hot-tub soak, and an exquisite dinner of seared filet-mignon, poached eggs, and the creamiest souffle he'd ever sampled.

Silco, replete, had asked if she was angling to become his personal chef. Maven, perched naked at the end of the table, had purred, "Among other things."

"What other things?"

"Whatever you want, my love. Whatever you need."

My love.

The endearment hadn't jarred him. She'd used it often. Yet it'd stuck in his palate that night, like a fishbone between the teeth.

In reply, Silco had taken her bent over the table, her cheek pressed to the linen and the tablecloth bunched between her fists, as the wineglasses toppled and a plate shattered beneath his boot. Afterward, to her wet-eyed dismay, he'd retired to the Laguna Lounge's south wing and spent the rest of the night alone.

A week after the dinner debacle, Maven had greeted him at the door, shiny-eyed and smiling. But in her hands, instead of his nightly brandy, she'd presented him with a box.

"What's this?"

"A gift."

"I've no taste for gifts."

"You'll enjoy this one." She nudged the box closer. "Open it."

Inside was a vial of bright-green liquid. Silco, the premier chem-baron of Zaun, recognized it at a glance. A potent psychedelic distilled from a rare strain of Fissure mushroom. The kick was so intense it made the walls breathe and the ceiling bleed.

"A fresh batch," Maven said, her cat-eyes a slow wandering across his face. "One of my old contacts hooked me up. Told me it'd make our lovemaking divine."

"Divine," Silco echoed.

"Even a devil deserves a taste of the divine. Right, my love?"

She'd gone on tiptoe and kissed him. Silco, tongue curling against hers, let it happen. It'd been a bad day. Another Firelight raid. Another fight with Jinx. Another not-talk with Sevika. He'd allowed himself to be persuaded.

It was a costly mistake.

She'd chosen a smooth-flowing jazz song from his record collection, and set the needle on the gramophone. Chosen a syringe, and a vein in Silco's arm. Chosen her favorite spot, and straddled him on the sofa.

Then, hands braced on his chest, she'd engulfed his cock in a wet glide as the world began its slow-motion collapse. 

For hours, Silco fucked, fought, fucked inside a kaleidoscope of colors. His brain was on fire with a thousand schemes. His cock was electrified with a thousand volts. Maven's hands were everywhere, melting, maddening, merciless. Her mouth, a living furnace. Her cunt, a nest of wet silk and wetter sin. Her screams, a chorus to his climax. The colors were climaxing, too.

She'd begged to be whipped until her buttocks were a nightmare of earthworm-red welts. Silco obliged, and she'd sobbed so sweetly, so wretchedly, as he flayed the meat off her supple young flesh.  She'd begged to be tied to the bedposts and fucked, and he obliged again. She shook and wailed and shook as his cock split her, a rapidfire barrage that had the bedframe jolting and the mattress springs shrieking and the walls coming down. Then she'd begged to be choked, and he obliged once more, and the colors were no longer climaxing but combusting, and Maven's eyes, her beautiful hazel eyes, were rolling back to show the white moon-curves, and her mouth was a perfect circle of rapture, and her thighs were quivering, her spine arching, her cunt squeezing and squeezing and squeezing—

And the high-pitched phantasmagoria liquified into a single blackened maw, and he'd found himself staring into Vander's face. 

"You'll lose everything, Blut."

And the high was stripped bare, and Silco fell into a depthless sea, and drowned.

When he resurfaced, there was a body in the room.

Not Maven. She was slumped by the headboard. Knees drawn up, her hands pressed between them, her head lolling forward.  Seizing her shoulders, Silco shook her awake. She stirred, murmuring drowsily. He'd sifted her tangled hair aside to take her pulse. It was strong. But there were dark fingerprints on her throat, her wrists, her thighs.  Her lovely eyes held a glaze of shock and a deeper, unreachable awe.

In the afterglow, she'd kissed Silco's knuckles, wetting them with tears. And, turning those cat-eyes eyes upon him, she'd breathed, "I won't tell."

The body belonged to a boy.

A lovely, long-limbed lad, with hair like a headful of black waves and eyes like the sun off a churning blue sea. He was a new hire—skittish, as new hires often were—whom Silco had summoned from the lobby, earlier that evening, to restock the bar.

Now he lay starfished on the carpet in a pool of congealing blood. There was a red-lipped gash in his jugular. Vander's knife—now Silco's knife—was planted hilt-deep in his left eye.

Silco had slithered out from bed and crossed the room. Knelt over the boy's body, and stared at the soft sea-glass eyes. It was a stranger's stare. It was his own stare: the face that he'd worn in another lifetime.

"I won't tell," Maven repeated, and Silco felt the icewater closing in.

The blackguards had disposed of the body; Posky had scrubbed down the carpets; the crew sent a fat severance check to the boy's family.

That's how Silco recalls it now: not bloodlust, but a hungover tedium of logistics and a cold stack of paperwork.

He'd not told Sevika. The crew, on pain of death, were likewise sworn to secrecy. Not because Silco dreaded the repercussions. He dreaded, above all, that Sevika would know.

She'd know it'd happened in a psychotic stupor. Know the root of it wasn't naked bloodlust, but naked need.

She'd know, and she'd never, ever, let him forget the truth.

The truth, that Maven was a marvel, but Sevika was worth a million in cold steel—and it wasn't for her grit or her guts or the sheer force of will she exerted in a crisis. It was the other side of her. That quiet side, so seldom revealed.  The  tether that'd quieted Silco's storm, in turn, and steered him to port. Into a bed that was always warm, and a body built of bedrock.

Except the port had denied him safe harbor, and the bed was empty, and the body beyond reach.

Thirteen bloody months.

Maven hadn't lasted half that time. She'd begun to believe their shared secrets gave her leverage. To believe, too, that Silco's devotion belonged exclusively to her. Bit by bit, she began spreading her tendrils across his private life. Began to intrude where she wasn't invited, and linger where she was least welcome.

Suddenly their late-night drinks were no longer a regularity, but a requirement. Suddenly, the backrubs had an agenda, and the footrubs had a catch. Suddenly, Silco could no longer relax after a long day, because instead of a suckjob and sweet silence, he'd get sulking and a strident earful of demands.

She expected no more playthings past his threshold unless she’d hand-picked them—be they crooners, tinkerers or dockhands with rosebud arseholes. No more games unless she lay down the law—be they on a bed of sweat-stained silk or a dirty rug that'd seen better days or a tub sloshing with wine as cold as a dead man's balls. And no more straying from the beaten path: if she didn't fancy a kink, it wouldn't make it to the negotiating table, much less see the light of day.

She was especially jealous of Silco's private time. She'd pout if he took a business call mid-fuck. If a blackguard intruded with an urgent message, she'd slam the door on his face. Once, she'd nearly gutted poor Posky for wheeling in the breakfast cart at an inopportune hour.

To a point, Silco had indulged her peevishness. A coping mechanism, he surmised, given the hellacious circumstances she'd faced in her formative years.  But then, she'd dared to bar Jinx's way into his chambers with the toe of a lacquered heel.

Silco's tolerance took a steep nosedive.

Jinx, to her credit, had given Maven the cold shoulder—nearly regal in its teengirly frost. She'd waltzed right in, a sashay to her stride, pecked Silco's cheek and unfurled the blueprints for a sump-drainage pump across his desk.

Silco had bestowed his usual praise, and the rare show of affection—a palm at the nape of Jinx's neck. He'd not missed Jinx's childishly flushed glee; nor the spite that etched itself at the corners of Maven's pretty, poisonous mouth. After, he'd signed off on the order for the pump's manufacture, and sent Jinx on her merry way.

"It's sweet how close you are." Maven clipped off the word 'sweet' like shears taking off the tip of a rosebud. "She must miss you terribly when you're busy. Why not make it easier on yourselves and move her in here?"

The sarcasm was treacle-thick and spiked with envy. She was testing his boundaries, as she'd been wont to do lately. For Silco, boundaries were ones that didn't need to be enforced. It was implicit that to cross them meant a blade to the throat.

Maven had an appreciation for his knifeplay. But a short memory for the blade's bite.

She'd need a refresher. 

"I'd have thought," Silco said, without lifting his eyes from the blueprints, "you'd prefer our privacy."

"Maybe I would." She slid onto his lap. Her dress, a sheer black number, was a curtain of smoke over his suit-clad legs. She circled her tongue over the shell of his ear, then whispered into it, "Or maybe I'd enjoy it if she invited Vi along, and they both watched."

That had done it.

Maybe it was the mounting pressure. Maybe it was the memory of dead boys and rivers full of corpses. Maybe it was his knowledge of Jinx's late nights, and with whom.

Or maybe, he'd simply had his fill: of the constant scheming, the endless death, the ceaseless want. And fact that his needs—his real needs—could not be satisfied, because they were not the needs of a monster but the needs of a man. 

His need for Vander's absolution. For Nandi's forgiveness.

For Sevika's touch, and the trust they'd once shared.

Silco needed them all, but none were his to take. 

So he'd taken it out on Maven instead.

The backhand was so hard she'd skidded off his lap and crashed to the carpet. A livid mark bloomed across her cheek. When she looked up, shock stole over her face, then an ugly, disbelieving fury. 

He'd never struck her before. There'd never even been any sign to suggest it. 

The Eye of Zaun was many things—each more atrocious than the last. But he was not a man who'd beat his girls. 

Maven was no longer his girl.

"How dare you?" Maven spat. "After all I've done for you—"

Silco's shadow, looming, killed the words in her throat.

"You've two choices," he said, deathly soft. "Leave, and do not look back. Or stay, and take the consequences. I'm giving you this choice because you've served me well. Do not presume that it entitles you to more." His shadow spread across the carpet; Maven's breath caught. "Do not presume anything, least of all what I owe."

The fury leached from Maven's face. Only gelid tears remained, suspended like dewdrops upon her eyelashes. 

And in those tears: fear.

Fear, that the man who had saved her life might yet end it, for a transgression so severe it verged on treason.

"Sir," she began, "I—"

"I said: choose."

Maven's lashes dipped; the tears spilled. Shivering, she turned her head, offering the unblemished side of her cheek for the second strike. 

The choice, and her penitence, were accepted.

Silco hadn't spared her. He'd taken his due. Taken her, after, on her elbows and knees, with an utter absence of mercy. Taken her until she was sobbing real tears, and barely able to keep her balance. Taken her, as he had the night she'd sworn herself to him: her body bared to his blade; the rest of her aching to prove her worth.

He'll call upon that vow again, before the end.

Since that night, she's slept in a huddle at the foot of his bed, shivering under a crisscrossing of welts. Stripes she's earned, and will wear without complaint. She'll crawl on her knees and abase herself for his pleasure. She'll greet his daughter with downcast eyes and a deferential smile, and she'll be twice as diligent in her duties to him.

And in her heart, where ambition and adoration entwine, she'll be twice as covetous. Twice as cunning. Twice as eager to prove herself worthy.

He'll use that, too, before the end.

And, the end's nearly in sight.

Silco's glad of it. A warm cunt's not a confidant, and Maven's a poor substitute for either. In her, he sees his hunger reflected. Sees the limits of what that hunger can take, and what it'll leave behind.

Blood. Bruises. Bodies.

He thinks of Sevika's steady hands and steadier eyes, and wonders what they'd see if they knew the truth. That, in the absence of a tether, he's let the storm run rampant, and it's taken him over a cliff's edge.

And now he's fallen into the deepest, darkest place of all.

His child: compromised, and no longer his own.

[lovebugism]

Hi there 👋🏻 I've been binge reading your stories lately and I love them all! I have a request if you're up for it. Could you write one where shy!reader doesn't like her laugh because some people think it's annoying but Eddie loves it? Totally not self-projecting by the way! 🙃 Thank you!

thank you angel! please enjoy :D — eddie comforts you when he finds out an old boyfriend made you hate your laugh (shy!fem!r, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1k)

You and Eddie sit on opposite sides of the worn, sunken-in couch — long legs bent at the knees, socked feet wedged neatly beneath your thighs. Your bare calves rest on either side of his lap while his calloused palms rub up and down the length of them. His touch is largely absentminded as he tries hopelessly not to laugh through the punchline of his own joke.

“—And I was like, ‘Boom. You lookin’ for this?’”

You think the brown-eyed look of expectancy he gives you is funnier than anything. You smile wide, hiding the sparkling expression behind your palm.

Eddie meets your beam with a boyish pout. He repeats the punchline, more serious this time. “And I was like, ‘Boom’—”

“I heard you, Eds,” you assure with a small chuckle. A mere breath of a laugh.

His frown deepens. “Oh, c’mon!” he exclaims, lifting his hands in protest. They drop back to your ankles a second later. “That was funny! That always kills with Hellfire!”

You nod rapidly, brows raised and eyes wide, like a parent comforting a child. “It was good,” you assure quickly.

“Then why aren’t you laughing?”

“So, what— I have to laugh if I think something’s funny?”

“Well, that’s usually how it works, yeah,” Eddie monotones with a flat face, nodding until his wild curls sway around his jaw. He shrugs lazily a second later and jokes, “If you’re not a psychopath, at least… You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

You meet his narrowed eyes with a more pensive gaze. Your lips purse to the side of your mouth as you jokingly ponder the silly question. “No,” you answer after a few long moments. “Not yet, anyway.”

Eddie nods like he’s relieved. “Nice.”

“There’s still time, though,” you add with a scrunched nose.

He scrunches the bridge of his back. “I’ll take that risk,” he says with a small huff before lifting his weight on his knuckles. The old couch creaks in protest as he leans over to kiss you. 

With a poorly bitten-back grin, you meet him halfway. Your mouths smack together in a fleeting kiss that tastes faintly of frozen pizza.

You settle back on the arm of the couch with Eddie’s socked toes wriggling under your thighs. His thumbs continue tracing shapes on the insides of your calves. He watches you watch the staticky television screen, too wound up about the whole thing to join in on the stupid sitcom.

The subtly overwhelming feeling bubbles in his throat until it spills like vomit from his mouth. “Do you think I’m not funny or something?” he blurts, then goes all shy right after. “Is that why… Is that why you don’t really laugh at my jokes?”

Your breathy scoff only further proves his point. “I laugh at your jokes all the time, Eds.”

He shrugs, unconvinced. “I mean… I guess. You, like, breathe really hard through your nose or whatever, but you don’t… You don’t laugh.”

“I think if you heard me laugh, you’d break up with me,” you joke and don’t think twice about how self-deprecating it is.

Eddie’s face twists at the thought — that he’d ever want to break up with you, or that there’d be a part of you he wouldn’t automatically adore on instinct. “Why would you say that?” 

You shrug with a vague I don’t know type of sound and turn back to the television. “My laugh is just weird, I guess....”

“No one’s laugh is weird!” Eddie insists. “It’s, like, the one sound people make when they’re happiest— It can’t be weird.”

You flash him a deadpan look of silent disagreement.

He caves.

“Okay. Fine. Dustin Henderson’s laugh is weird,” he concludes. “But… that’s just because he’s Dustin, you know?”

You breathe a faint chuckle at that. Almost like you’ve trained yourself to be as quiet in your laughter as you can. 

“My last boyfriend thought my laugh was annoying,” you confess like it’s no big deal. “So eventually I just kinda… stopped.”

Eddie’s soft features harden into a solemn frown. “What a fucking prick…” he grumbles like a storm cloud.

“It’s okay. I got over it. Mostly.”

He squeezes the backs of your calves with a pair of ringed hands, a warm and reassuring touch. “Well, I don’t think anything you do could annoy me,” Eddie tells you, tilting his head to the side until his wild curls bunch at his shoulders. “Just so we’re clear.”

Something in your chest flutters — like there’s a thousand moths trapped behind your ribcage. “Good to know,” you tease in the same sardonic tone.

Eddie rises suddenly, tugging at your ankles until you’re lying flatter on the couch. A squeal sound in your throat as you watch him rise to his knees and lean over you. He digs his fingers gently into the plush of your sides before you can blink. 

“Get off!” you swat at him, laughing loudly at the tickling sensation before you can help it. The golden sound spills from your lips and fills the dim trailer with so many little sunbeams. 

Your face heats at the proud, lopsided smile Eddie gives you.

“Get off,” you repeat, sterner now but still mostly playful. You’re only slightly surprised when Eddie obeys without pouting. You sit up a bit more and tug your shirt down from where it had ridden up. “And stop looking at me like that.”

Eddie fights to purse his beam to the side of his mouth. Your sparkling, unsmiling disposition is impossible not to smile at. “Can’t help it,” the boy shrugs with a stupid grin. “You’re too cute.”

Your face scrunches in disdain of his compliment. You prop your back against the couch and cross your arms over your chest, averting your gaze to the TV once more. “Just drive me home,” you grumble in protest, hardly meaning it.

“No can do, sweet thing,” Eddie says with a sympathetic sigh, dropping a heavy arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. You melt begrudgingly into his sloppy embrace. He presses a kiss to your hair and mumbles into your temple. “‘M never letting you go, actually.”

And, despite your very obvious pouting, you pray he never breaks his promise.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

💌🎀

Bitchy popular reader x Eddie, enemies who fuck and idiots in love, jealousy, angst and fluff, 18+ blog so mdni.

❤️

Eddie is waiting for you in one of the disused classrooms in Hawkins High. He's perched on the desk, long limbs stretched out, an endearing goofy smile on his face as you walk over to him, quietly shutting the door. He gets up and tugs you to him.

"You're lucky I was able to sneak away Munson, I'm sure the girls are getting suspicious, not helping with that hickey you left on my neck" you chastise him.

Eddie looks smug as hell as you say this. "Well I could leave them on your breasts or between your thighs instead" he replies in a husky tone which makes arousal pool in your lower stomach. You tug him to you and kiss him.

He backs you up against the wall and you wrap your legs around his waist, moaning as his fingers dig into your backside and he sucked on a particular sweet spot of yours on your neck.

"If you keep moaning like that princess someone's going to catch us" Eddie murmurs as he kisses along your jaw, soft moans issue from the both of you.

"We wouldn't want that would we?" You reply sweetly and your nails dig into his back causing a groan of pleasure to leave his lips.

In public you and Eddie were enemies, the two of you couldn't stand one another so that was fine. Until the barbs, teasing and heavy tension exploded one night into the most mind-blowing sex.

Since then you couldn't get enough of one another and snuck around in private, away from the prying eyes of Hawkins High gossip chain.

Here the two of you could let your desires run wild, you couldn't stay away from Eddie and he couldn't stay away from you either.

"What the fuck?" the door bursts open and Sasha, a new member to Hellfire is staring at you both, her mouth falls open. She's gazing at the two of you stunned.

"You and you" she points to you and then Eddie and then appears momentarily speechless. You sigh and distentangle yourself from Eddie.

"Uh, Sasha hey" Eddie waves and you smirk amused as Sasha's face goes impossibly redder and redder. You fix your clothes and hair and apply your lipgloss, the one Eddie loves the taste of and wait for the kick off.

She's still spluttering and you grow impatient as you wait for her to say something. You give her a little wave and she swears under her breath.

Fuck could she just say something because you were cold and Eddie's lips were still looking very inviting, all kiss bitten and a little swollen. Involuntarily you shiver and Eddie notices, picks up his jacket and wraps it around you.

The gesture is so unexpected and gentle that it surprises you. Sasha makes a strangled sound in her throat and instead of blowing up at Eddie, she storms out and Eddie sighs.

"I'll handle it princess" he follows her out and you wait for him to come back, eventually you make your way to where they are as Sasha's voice raises.

Sasha frowns, "You know I had a bit of a crush on you, that's why I joined Hellfire. Not that it matters now. You're with her" she huffs. You feel a tiny bolt of jealousy and glare at her.

Ah shit Eddie sighs,. Hewas afraid of this. He knows he has to be as gentle as possible turning her down. "Look, I'm sorry Sasha but I only see you as a friend, that's it. I don't feel that way about you, sorry"

"I get that, I understand that Eddie but why are you even with her in the first place, you could have picked anyone else. She's from the dark side, popular and can be bitchy when she wants to be, like what the hell?" Sasha demands to him.

Eddie can't explain it, he can't explain why he's so drawn to you, how he can't stay away.

" It's just sex. It doesn't mean that much" you feel like you've been punched in the stomach when you hear Eddie say that.

Just sex. That's all you were? You will yourself not to cry and walk past Eddie and Sasha, toss his jacket to him and don't say a word. Eddie must be able to read your expression because his own face falls.

"Sweetheart" he calls after you but you ignore him and get in your car. It's only when you're back at home that the tears finally flow freely.

If you didn't mean anything to him then maybe you should just move on, stop this shit between you and Eddie goes on longer and longer.

The longer it goes on it will only increase your heartbreak when it ends. You can't risk that.

❤️

Sasha spends half the day glaring at you and Eddie, Eddie spends most of it trying to to talk to you.

Eventually you grow tired of his attempts and talk to him. "Alright Munson, if you want sex then just say or not" you snap and he looks taken aback.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He hisses, the tension rises between the two of you, it's so thick that you feel like you can't breathe. Stubbornly you hold his gaze and shrug.

"Nothing, what would be wrong? Of course you want to talk about sex or some shit like that. It's all I am to you and good for, right?" Your friends round the corner and you use this as an excuse to get away from Eddie and those stupidly pretty, big brown eyes.

❤️

There's a party at Jason's tonight you'd much rather be anywhere else right now. Jason is acting like his usual douchebag self, which darkens your mood even further.

Not helping matters is that Eddie's here, doing his usual dealings. Not that it bothers you that he makes money this way, it's to lessen the burden on his uncle which you think is sweet.

No, you're pissed at the fact that he's here at all, you've avoided him all day at school and now you have to avoid him here too. What could you say to him that didn't end with him either laughing at you or outright rejection. It wasn't appealing to you in the slightest.

Hurt by the fact that you're nothing but a fuck buddy to him you distract yourself and flirt with Jackson.

The flirting draws the attention of Eddie who stills and watches you and Jackson like a hawk. You ignore Eddie's silent fuming, even if it does give you a little thrill.

But you mean nothing to him so why does he care?

You sip your beer and nod your head to the music, catch up with your friends until a very irate Eddie catches your eye again and jerks his head to the door. He wants to talk.

Swallowing your nerves, you down your beer and walk past him, he follows you and you can see the jealousy written all over his face.

Once you're far away from the party Eddie rounds on you, "What the fuck was that? Jackson Reilly, are you fucking kidding me?" He sneers at you.

"He's nice to me" you shrug and his cheeks darken in anger. Brown eyes flashing dangerously.

"So I'm an asshole to you huh? You want a small dick fucker like him?" you shake your head and fold your arms across your chest, protecting yourself.

"No you dingus, I want you but you made it very obvious how you feel?" he looks to you confused and you move closer to him, frustrated that he's forgotten what he said.

You glare at Eddie and mimic what he said to Sasha "It's just sex, it doesn't mean that much. So you won't care if I'm with someone else then, no?" Eddie swallows and reaches out to you.

"I didn't mean that. I opened my big mouth to try and salvage the situation and I said dumb shit" you pout still feeling down about the whole thing.

"You still said it. So obviously you must think like that" he softens and he tugs you close to him, you smell the faintest hint of smoke and Eddie's cologne. You're favourite scent.

"No. No I really don't" he admits to you and the way he sounds, the affection for you is clear as day in his voice, it does things to your heart. You feel yourself soften slightly. Just slightly.

"How do I know you're not lying?" you murmur and try to hide the vulnerability in your voice. He shakes his head.

"I would never lie about things like this princess" he says sincerely and you believe him, rest your head on his chest.

"Shall we get out of here?" you nod at his suggestion, just wanting to lose yourself in him for a while.

...

Much later Eddie is fucking you on the hood of Jackson's car, his eyes meet yours and his hands tighten in yours as you both reach an explosive orgasm. It takes your breath away.

Eddie's lips shakily press to your forehead and his hand reaches up to stroke your cheek.

"This does mean something to me sweetheart, more than you know" he kisses you again and it sends your heart racing. As do his words, because you know that this means something to you too.

🫶

[rainylana]

“Treat me rough, baby.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: you and eddie fuck at hellfire:)

warnings: language, smut, blowjob, dirty talk, sexual use of sir, decrophylia, rough sex, sex in the drama room, unprotected sex.

a/n: this is my first full fic i’ve done in awhile! it’s not super long like my others, but it’s a start! it’s also what was most voted for in the tally so i hope it’s up to par:)

“I should be working, baby,” His hands squeezed the backs of your thighs, his lips warm and flush against yours. “Guy’s will be here soon.” Another kiss. “Be’ pissed if I’m not ready.” Another. “Gotta work.” And another.

Your relationship with Eddie was new, exciting. You were at the stage were everything was fresh. You couldn’t spend enough time together. You were always hot for his touch. Your belly was always in knots and you fantasized about him all the live long day.

“I know.” You relaxed into his touch, sinking into his lips with tiny nips. His back leaned against the drama hellfire table, arms around your waist as you disgustingly kitten licked each other. “But don’t you like kissing me better?” You smiled up at him, blowing his curl.

“God, yes.” You stood between his parted legs as he answered. “But, i’ll never hear the end of it.” His eyes were a deep brown, like chocolate. You wanted to eat them. “Just one more and then I gotta get back to work, okay?”

You pouted, but he quickly shut you up with a full kiss, his hand going to the back of your head. His tongue licked your teeth and pushed your own with his, breath hot against your cupid’s bow. Your pussy throbbed when he pulled away.

He looked so damn handsome in that chair, legs spread and strong hands writing away at a fantastic script for their campaign. He was so creative. You watched him with a finger at your lip, thinking of the way he defiled you. You wanted to taste him, and you couldn’t wait. Without him noticing, you walked to the other end of the table and crawled underneath, walking on all fours up until you got to his feet. He jumped you palmed his cock.

“What the-” He gasped, his chair being pushed back so you had room to kneel in front of him. “Y/n, what are you doing?!”

“What’s it look like?” You smirked, raising up to unbutton his jeans. “I’m gonna suck you off. Have a problem with it?”

His face flushed red, but he smirked cockily and leaned back into his seat. “Treat me rough, baby.”

You laughed and sunk down to kiss the tip of his cock that was now free, holding the base gently. You licked along the sides, making him gasp. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, closing his eyes as he shamelessly bucked his hips to your mouth. “Open those lips, sweetheart,” He huffed, opening his eyes. “Wanna feel that warm mouth.”

You did as he said and took him in your mouth, breathing through your nose as you took him fully. He moaned when he hit the back of your throat, and then he whimpered, dear god, he whimpered. It made you throb so bad you almost wanted to cry for him. Your noises of slobber and gags made him breath heavily, his hips bucking up and down as the tip of your nose grazed his throbbing cock. The curls of his hair bounced as he jerked his head up and down.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” He panted, no whimpered. “Fuck, fuck, get up.”

“What?” You pulled off of him.

“Wanna come inside you.” He stood abruptly, stepping out of his pants and boxers. “Turn around.”

You blushed at the demand and turned, gasping when he pushed you down on the table. You mewled when he lifted your sun dress, pulling down your panties. “Be a good girl and make those pretty noises for me, yeah?” He aligned his cock with your wet slick and you closed your eyes in ecstasy.

“Yes, sir.” You spit out the title with little warning.

He bottomed out with the first thrust, your torso squeaking loudly against the table with your skin dragging against it. “Fuck, I think I like that.” He moaned as you choked on your breath.

He gripped your hips and guided his cock in and out of your hole, his curls ghosting over your back as you were shoved up and down in a quick motion. “God, oh god, fuck,” Your eyes filled with tears and you let out a sob.

“That’s it.” He nodded, landing a hard smack on your ass that made your shriek. “Cry on my fuckin’ dick you little girl.”

He grunted oh so loudly above you, his noises making you clench around his slick length. You weren’t going to last much longer and neither was he. He felt his balls tighten and he pressed his chest against your back, pressing you against the table fully. “Call me sir.” He husked, his cheek against yours.

The weight of his hips punished yours in a bruising, painful way that irritated your skin, but the pain always brought you pleasure. You cried heavily, face twisted in euphoric pleasure.

“Fuck uh- fuck me harder, sir!” You begged. “Please, sir! Fuck..god, Eddie, god, I’m so close, please, oh my god!”

He picked up the pace maliciously and you both sang through moans and groans, and when you started clenching over his cock, he couldn’t keep up his dominance. He whimpered as he shot his load into your cunt. “Fuck, fuck , oh fuck-” His voice shook.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and you sniffled through your orgasm, shaking like a fallen leaf. You hyperventilated in his arms, collapsing your dead weight on the table, legs going slack. When he caught his breath, you felt his nose nudge your neck. “I didn’t kill you did I?” He chuckled breathlessly. “Check in with me, babe.”

You moaned back. “M’ dead.”