#kel=kelsey (I think?) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

handful0fteeth · 2 years

Text

hot for teacher

summary: you’re going on your first date with steve harrington, and hours before he’s due to pick you up your best friend gives you some rather unsavory information.

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, dirty talk, (slight) rough sex

words: 13.6k

EDIT (09/24/2023): i am not a “no beta we die like men” person, but this?? she was not up to my standards. so i fixed her! enjoy ya horny bastards

"You know I heard Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

This announcement from your best friend is enough to make you choke on the mouthful of sandwich you're chewing on and spew chunks of it all over the table.

You drop your food noisily back onto its plate and reach for your drink, struggling to breathe while there's still turkey and lettuce lodged in your esophagus. The diner's patrons ogle you as you attempt to collect yourself, some concerned, some plain annoyed.

"Christ, dude!" Kelsey laughs, leaning over the table and thumping you hard on your back. You wave her hand off and guide your straw into your mouth, desperately gulping down Coke with one hand pressed to your chest as if that’ll ensure the food doesn't take a wrong turn on the way down.

"You have to - fuck, dude - you have to give a girl some warning before you just say shit like that, Kels," you sputter. You wipe a hand across your damp eyes and take a couple of steadying breaths, and finally, the reality of what Kelsey just said hits you. You look up and blink away the tears to get a clear look at her.

"Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?" you ask quietly, not wanting to attract any more attention. Kelsey nods, a smug grin plastered across her face. "Apparently, it's like a dog trying to drink water," she giggles. "Katie Kaspbrak went out with him last week, and she's been telling everyone how God-awful he is at head."

"Katie Kaspbrak? The same girl who swore half of the staff at school was in love with her?" You lean back against the cool vinyl of the booth and cough lightly, suddenly less interested in this gossip now that you've learned the source.

Katie Kaspbrak would lie about what she had for breakfast if she thought it would make her seem more interesting. Actually, now that you think about it, she has done that.

"That's what I thought too," Kelsey continues, "until Belinda Carter and Donna Greene overheard her, and they said the same thing. Belinda said she was so shocked that she just faked it until he thought she came and then made an excuse to leave."

You pause. Katie Kaspbrak is one thing, but two other girls? That can’t all be a coincidence.

But… it's Steve Harrington. Every girl - and some of the boys - you've ever spoken to have the hots for him, whether they want to admit it or not, and how could he be so sought after if he gives such a piss-poor performance at something so fundamental? You pick at an errant lettuce leaf that juts out from the edge of your disheveled sandwich, pretending to find it fascinating so you don't have to look at Kelsey's elated expression anymore.

"Why are you waiting until now to tell me this?" you ask. Kelsey leans back in her seat and pops a french fry in her mouth, glancing at the dusty clock that hangs in the diner's lobby.

"Just wanted to give you something to look forward to before your date, Y/N," she says with barely contained glee. "I can't wait to hear all about it tomorrow." You shoot her a dirty look.

"Who says we're even gonna go that far tonight?" you counter, but you both know you're full of shit. You look down and pick at the skin around your fingernails to avoid Kelsey's knowing gaze because if you meet it, she'll see the uncertainty written all over your face.

She loves messing with you like this; she's done it for almost every date you've ever gone on, regardless of who it's with. You pick up your sandwich and take a too-big bite to avoid having to talk anymore.

"Yeah, right. You've wanted to bang Steve since the moment you saw him, but you'll magically dry up the second you get the chance. Sounds legit."

You stick out your tongue, letting Kelsey get a nice view of the smushed-up chunks of meat and bread hanging off it, but it doesn’t deter her snickering.

Her smug declaration is all you can think of for the rest of the day. It's so distracting that, while getting ready, you accidentally kiss the burning hot barrel of your curling iron to your temple and put your shoes on the wrong feet twice.

Who says that you have to go down that path tonight, anyway? Who says Steve is even the kind of dude to want to fuck on the first date?

Well...everyone who attended Hawkins High says, actually. Son of a bitch.

Perhaps you could just go down on him and insist he doesn't have to return the favor; it's not like most of the guys you've been with haven't leaped at the opportunity to skip the preamble and shove their dick in something anyway. The only problem with that is…you really wanna fuck Steve Harrington.

Really, really badly.

And you want it to be as good as it possibly can be. You've wanted this for years, and now that you've both graduated, who knows how long Steve plans to stick around in Hawkins so you can have your chance?

The time Steve promised he'd pick you up rolls around quicker than you'd anticipated. In the mirror, you smooth down your skirt one final time and fluff up your curls.

Kelsey doesn't know what she's talking about, you decide. Who were you to listen to gossip spread around by Katie Kaspbrak anyway? You practice smiling brightly in the mirror and notice a smear of lipstick across your front teeth. You lick at the stain and then rub it away with your index finger. It would be fine.

Everything would be fine…right?

A car horn beeps twice before you can successfully reassure yourself.

He's here.

Oh, God.

You fly down the stairs two at a time, briefly worrying about how humiliating it would be to crack your head open before your date and snatch your purse off the kitchen table as you say goodbye to your mother. She reminds you of your curfew, and you give a vague acknowledgment as you pull the front door shut behind you.

In the faint evening light, Steve's maroon BMW is almost black, glimmering in the sour yellow streetlight like the shell of a beetle. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you croak a "Hi!" around it. Steve Harrington climbs out of his car gracefully, and his easy smile, accompanied by the bouquet of flowers he has clutched in his hand, is enough to make your knees wobble a bit.

"You look really pretty," he says, eyes flickering up and down your body. You're grateful for the dim outdoor lighting as your face flushes scarlet. "Thanks. Are those for me?" you ask, pointing at the bouquet. You wanna kick yourself as soon as you finish saying it. Of course, they're for you, you absolute buffoon. You’re on a date - who else would he be carrying flowers for?

Steve chuckles chuckles under his breath and extends them toward you. "You said these were your favorite, right? I saw 'em while I was getting stuff for tonight, so…Yeah." You gingerly take the flowers from him and bury your nose in the petals, inhaling their fresh scent as you look up at him through your lashes. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides, though his expression remains as casual as ever.

Is he…nervous?

He reaches in front of you as you walk up to the passenger side of the car and opens the door, bowing his head and gesturing for you to come inside exaggeratedly. You giggle and sink into the leather seats as he scurries around the car's hood. As he swings the door shut behind him and settles in behind the wheel, you silently draw a few steadying breaths.

The inside of his car smells distinctly of cologne and floral soap, so much so that you have to briefly wonder if he got his car detailed in anticipation of your date. His cologne is woody and sweet, not so strong that it stings behind your eyes, but you know the scent will stick to your clothes whether he lays a hand on you tonight or not. The thought makes your stomach flutter a little. As he revs the engine, you absently twirl the stem of a flower around your finger.

"By the way," he says as he pulls out of your driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. "If you hear something clunking around back there while we drive, that's just Lucille."

You cock an eyebrow. "Lucille?"

You swear you see the ghost of a knowing smile creep across his lips, but an evening shadow cuts across his face before you're entirely sure. "Just a safety measure, that's all."

~~~

The date is more perfect than you could have ever imagined it to be. Steve takes you to a restaurant near the video store where he works, a little Italian place that's surprisingly upscale - at least, upscale for Hawkins. Your fingers don't get the opportunity to graze a door handle or the back of a chair the entire time, as he's always right behind you, reaching around your body to beat you to it.

His gaze never leaves your face when you talk, and he's so clearly hanging on every word you lose your train of thought a few times. It's jarring to have the guy you've been obsessed with for so long give you his undivided attention - in a good way, of course, but that doesn't stop the words from getting caught in your throat.

He’s so pretty it's hard to maintain a coherent thought; all you want to do is stare at him and memorize the details of his face. The way his hair gently curves over his forehead, and he pushes a hand through the soft fringe to get it out of his eyes; the way his eyes sparkle in the warm, low light of the restaurant, transfixed on you like you're the single most intriguing thing he's ever laid them on.

You're not even halfway through offering to pay for half of the meal when he informs you he slipped his card to the host before you were even sat, and it's already taken care of. You insist he at least let you cover dessert - a small square of tiramisu you both nibble at - but he waves you off.

"You can pay for the next date," he says coolly, smiling behind a sip of his drink. You pull the cloth napkin from your lap and pretend to dab food from your mouth so you can hide your giddy smile and blushing cheeks. Next date, huh?

After dinner, he drives you to the outskirts of Hawkins, parking in a clearing in the forest that overlooks the blinking lights of the small city below. You have a perfect view of the moon as it gleams in the sky, full and white, and the stars glitter against the black velvet of the night without all the light pollution.

You sit on the hood of his car, legs crossed under you, picking at a loose thread on the hem of your skirt as it pools in your lap. You tug a too-big jacket tighter around your shoulders, a gift plucked from his trunk once he saw you shiver from the autumnal air against your skin.

Steve is leaning back on his palms, head dropped between his shoulders as he stares at the sky. Goosebumps ripple across his skin, and every so often, his body twitches forward with a slight shiver, but he seems content enough in his short-sleeved shirt.

He catches you staring and chuckles when you avert your eyes and pretend to be fascinated by the paint on his car.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asks.

"A cute guy," you respond, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat.

"That's so funny; I was just looking at a cute girl!" he exclaims, and you laugh. "Crazy how that works, huh?"

"Aren't you freezing?" you ask. Steve shrugs.

"I'm alright. It's refreshing. Keeps me awake," he murmurs.

A few minutes of silence pass comfortably. You listen to the sounds of the forest around you, only slightly concerned when you hear a twig snap in the distance or something rustle in the foliage beyond the car. But Steve's lack of interest in either puts you at ease. After a while, he points at a random spot in the sky and announces, "Found it!"

"Found what?"

"My friend Dustin - total nerd, by the way - was talking my ear off yesterday about constellations, like, how to find them and shit, and I found one!" He gestures for you to scoot closer without taking his eyes off his discovery, apparently not wanting to lose his spot. You do so, body hovering close enough to his that you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and his cologne wafts pleasantly back up into your nose. You follow the direction his finger is pointing in, scanning the inky blackness of the sky.

"Do you see it?" he asks excitedly.

"Did your nerdy friend happen to tell you what this constellation was called?"

"Uh. Ursula…something…I think. He said it was "the littler one" of the two."

"Ursa minor?" you posit. Steve snaps his fingers and points at you affirmatively.

"There you go! Do you see it?"

You shake your head. The name is familiar, but you don't remember what it's supposed to look like. You mostly slept through your astronomy class in high school.

Suddenly, an arm drapes itself around your shoulders and pulls you in, and warm fingers caress the sides of your jaw, tilting your face further upwards. Apparently, Steve has decided that the best way to help you see what he sees is by manually guiding you in the proper direction, so he's pressed your bodies together and is trying to angle your head in just the right spot.

Your stomach flips, and your heart jumps into your throat. This time, you're worried you'll choke on it. You're sure Steve can feel the blush in your cheeks burning beneath his fingertips, but he's either too engrossed in Ursa Minor to care or is choosing not to mention it.

"Right…there. See?" Steve says, voice notably lower than before and now right against the shell of your ear. A shiver walks its fingers down your spine.

“O-Oh, yeah,” you stammer. You do see it, a tail of shimmering dots curling into a small rectangle of stars, but you're more focused on Steve's mouth right out of the corner of your eye, his lips parted and quirked up into a smile. His hair brushes against your cheek as he turns his head toward you, and his index finger presses itself against the curve of your jaw to encourage you to look at him.

His eyes shine in the moonlight, dark and kind, as they flit over the details of your face, lingering the longest on your lips. He's warm and solid against you, and you tentatively place your fidgety hand on his knee.

He's so beautiful, you think to yourself. It isn't a word you've ever used for the other men you've dated, but it fits Steve well. A square jaw still soft at the edges with youth, wide brown eyes framed by lashes so thick and long that they fan across his cheekbones when he blinks, full pink lips barely parted and pursed like he has something to say. Beautiful.

Steve’s finger slides down the edge of your face until it reaches your chin, pinching it between bent thumb and forefinger. He leans in close enough that you can feel his breath wash over your lips.

You, on the other hand, forget how to breathe entirely.

He hesitates, and you feel a tug in your stomach as the thought of him pulling away from you occurs. Does your breath offend? You did eat a lot of garlic bread at the restaurant. Maybe you should've packed gum in your purse -

"Is this okay?" he murmurs. You blink, a little caught off guard by the question.

“Huh?” Very astute.

“This,” he says, and his thumb presses itself briefly in the center of your bottom lip as if to punctuate what he means. “I mean…can I kiss you?”

You swallow hard to avoid swooning at the question and clear your throat. "Yes. Yes, please kiss me."

He barely even has to move to capture your lips, so softly at first, like he’s afraid you’ll suddenly change your mind if he applies more pressure. Electricity thrums beneath your skin, zapping every nerve you have until your entire body is lit up with excitement. Your free hand trembles as you rest it against his chest. His heart thumps wildly beneath your palm, indicating that Steve Harrington is just as nervous as you are right now. This helps you to relax a bit, strangely.

Steve's arm slides down from your shoulders to wrap around your waist and pulls you firmly against him. He smiles against your mouth as a contented sigh escapes you and pulls away just enough to mumble, "Still okay?"

You bunch up the fabric of his shirt in your fingers and bring your lips back together, kissing him with more fervor. He hums against your mouth, satisfied with his answer, and his smile grows almost imperceptibly.

When he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you gasp, and his hand slips up to the nape of your neck and buries itself in your hair. He doesn't pull, just holds you firmly in place, and though the act is relatively small, its possessive nature makes you unconsciously sink into his touch. Your mind races with thoughts of what it would feel like if Steve did pull, just a little - how your neck would bend forward, how your eyes would be forced skyward, and how you'd have no choice but to arch toward him as he kept you where he wanted you.

He keeps you still as he pulls away, chuckling at the little mewl that falls out of your mouth at the lack of contact. He soothes you with kisses peppered down the expanse of your neck, pausing only to nip and lick at random spots of flesh. You moan breathily into his hair as he sucks on a patch of skin just above the neckline of your shirt, and your hand creeps even further up his thigh.

"If you give me a hickey…my mom will kill me," you breathe, and Steve snickers against your neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks. The thought is enough to make your stomach sink with dread. You shake your head ardently. He grazes his teeth against your throat, his satisfied grin tangible against your buzzing skin.

"I didn’t think so."

He makes his way back up to your lips after sucking another hickey into your flesh, this time thankfully below where your clothing can cover, and doesn't waste a second slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You swear you'll turn to liquid any second now and slip straight through Steve's fingers. Steve tastes faintly of tiramisu still, and you eagerly chase after the taste, your tongues sliding against each other. The hand in your hair glides down your spine and pauses above your ass. His fingers twitch hesitantly against the hem of his jacket, hiking it up only to smooth it back down several times. He waits for you to move to give him some indication that you want to go further.

So, you oblige him.

You pull away, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips. It's Steve's turn to whine at the empty space where your mouth used to be, and it's a sound that resonates right into the fingers still curled against his chest. It makes a feral heat stir in your belly, and you make a brief mental note to find what else elicits that noise from Steve Harrington's lips later.

You decide if there was any moment in your life to be bold - it's right now. You use the hand on his chest to nudge him up the hood of the car so his back is flush with the windshield, and before he can question what you're doing, you swing one leg over his lap and sit, straddling him.

He takes a surprised breath and smiles at you, the moonlight making his eyes shimmer like liquid bronze. You kiss him again, and he boldly reaches down and grabs two generous handfuls of your ass. With a groan, you roll your hips back into him, urging him to grab more, grab harder.

Your hands grip either side of his slim waist and dip below the edge of his shirt. His skin is so warm compared to the chill of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to do anything to obtain more of his heat.

"Do you…wanna head inside the car?" he asks breathlessly, kissing the corners of your lips and down your jaw. "It's a lot more comfortable."

"I'm pretty comfortable right here," you say, and Steve laughs. He sits up straight and slots his hands under your knees, pulling you forward and down so you sit directly on his crotch. Despite the multiple layers of clothing between you both, you definitely feel something hard nudging at your inner thigh, and you let out a noise that's half surprise, half arousal.

"He's getting a bit restless if you catch my drift," Steve drawls, capturing your chin between his thumb and forefinger again. Your eyes flicker downward as if you’d be able to see with your legs and his jeans in the way. God, you want to see it, though, need to see it.

"'Course, if you're uncomfortable, we don't have to,” he says quietly, earnestly. “It’s up to you, Y/N.”

Your answer is to grind down on his dick hard enough that he pushes air out through his gritted teeth and grips your ass tighter. "Like I said," you purr against the shell of his ear, "I'm plenty comfortable."

Though Steve helps you back onto solid ground gingerly, there's a tautness to his muscles, a stiffness in how he moves that belies how desperate he is to get you into the car. He tries to adjust the front of his jeans casually, and you pretend to be staring into the treeline when he glances in your direction. You cock your head a bit in confusion when you notice him pull something long and thin out from below the backseat. It appears wooden, and the flared nub at the bottom is familiar enough that you realize it's probably a baseball bat. However, the top of the bat is oddly lumpy and seems to be covered in something spiky; you can't tell for sure what that could be because it's wrapped tightly in a tattered blue towel.

He pops the trunk and throws it inside, acknowledging your puzzled expression after slamming it shut with a calm smile. "Lucille," he says simply. You decide you'll ask about it later. If you remember.

What you do remember, as soon as your back is nestled against the interior car door and Steve slots himself between your thighs, fingertips pushing the fabric of your skirt further up around your hips, is the conversation you had with Kesley.

"You know Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

You try to push the thought from your head by carding your fingers through Steve's hair, marveling at how soft it is while he plants kisses along your inner thighs. His lips brush across the intersection of your hip and thigh so gently that it makes you squirm a bit. Steve, despite your efforts, takes notice.

"Ticklish?"

"Uh. No?"

It's a lie. A bad one.

Steve smirks up at you and pushes your skirt past your pelvis, over your panties. Before you can stop him, his mouth is latched down over the sensitive juncture of your thigh, and you squeal in protest. Your breathless laughter and pleas for him to stop go unheeded, and he pins your writhing hips to the leather of the backseat so he can continue sucking a bright red hickey into your skin. Seemingly satisfied, he pulls off with a pop and strokes a finger over his handiwork. You bump his head with your knee, a halfhearted attempt to get him to stop prodding.

"Cute panties," he says lowly, and his finger follows the thick tendon that runs from your inner thigh to the edge of the cotton fabric. He drags the tip of it just underneath the seam of the gusset, pulling it far enough from your skin that it snaps back and makes you flinch. You remember agonizing over which pair to wear while you dressed - everything was too itchy, tight, plain, or extravagant for a first date. You only settled on the blush pink pair currently hugging your hips because they were the least offensive thing you could find.

You swallow hard, your hands fidgeting from their place atop your chest, and reflexively try to shut your legs. You're suddenly painfully aware of Steve staring at you, your most intimate part. A thin scrap of cloth is the only thing that separates your pussy from Steve Harrington's eyes, and while it's not like no one has ever seen you in states very similar to this, this time is…different.

The butterflies in your stomach are hammering against your ribcage and fluttering into your lungs, threatening to cut off your air supply entirely. You're sure you're going to suffocate before he can make any further moves, and you're gonna pass out right in the back of Steve Harrington's car before he's even really done anything -

“Y/N?”

Steve's warm hand squeezing your hip pulls you from your thoughts. You pull the pooled fabric of your skirt up against your stomach so you can look at his face. His expression is hued with concern.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?" His thumb rubs in small, soft circles above the purpling hickey on your thigh.

"Yeah! I'm totally fine, I just…sorry, I kinda got lost in thought."

"Are you sure? I can stop if you need me to, yanno, if you're feelin'...like, weird about any of this."

You shake your head and smile, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "I'm absolutely fine, Steve. I promise you. Did you say something before? I didn't hear you."

"I, uh…" He curls the tip of his finger beneath the gusset of your panties again, this time tugging experimentally. "Just wanted to know if I could take these off."

Your face is scorchingly hot, and if it weren't for the shadows cascading over the both of you, you’re sure Steve would laugh his ass off at the shade of red your cheeks have achieved. Any verbal response you might muster is lodged impossibly tight in your throat, so you just nod, let your legs fall further apart, and lift your hips off the seat so he can work your panties down your legs.

He does so with something akin to reverence, inching the fabric further and further off your body until his warm breath unfurls over your bare skin in deep, measured breaths. He carelessly tosses your panties somewhere in the front of his car, eyes transfixed on the spot between your legs. You're torn between wanting to yank your shirt collar over your eyes so you don't have to look at the deferent expression on his face, the damn near worshipful look in his dark eyes, and wanting to sit up to get an even better look at him.

"Wow… you're…fuck." Steve Harrington is at a loss for words because of you. You keep the glow of pride you feel at that fact to yourself…for now. You pull your legs back toward your chest, hooking one hand under your knee ditch to hold it steady and give him a better look.

"Are you, uh…can I, like, eat you out?" he asks, and though part of you inwardly leaps for joy at the request, another part wants to suggest he do literally anything else.

You're being stupid, you chide yourself. Who gives a shit what Katie Kaspbrak or her stupid friends say? They're probably full of it anyway. Why are you entertaining the idea of telling Steve fucking Harrington he can't eat you out?

"Yes, please," you hear yourself breathe out despite your internal reservations. Steve smiles and raises a hand to replace the one keeping your leg pulled back. You take note of the way he licks his lips before he brings his mouth down against your pussy.

It's…well…it's interesting.

His tongue bypasses your clit completely and instead presses against your urethra, of all places. It isn't flat or relaxed; instead, a stiff pinpoint of muscle grinding uncomfortably into a spot that is decidedly not meant for that kind of stimuli. You shift, uneasy, but he seems to interpret it as a pleasured movement, which only spurs him on. He digs the tip of his tongue harder into your flesh, and you're grateful he can't see how your face is screwed up in distress.

Oh, God…oh, God. It really is awful. It's almost excruciating, and Katie Kaspbrak was fucking right. What do you do? What will he say if you tell him it's not good? Will he get embarrassed or hurt or even angry? Has anyone ever tried to tell him that this was wrong before?

You're conflicted and debating on just letting him finish up and possibly lying for the rest of time that Steve Harrington is a champion at eating pussy, until his tongue flicks upward and the unrelenting nub of his tongue stabs into your clit. You yelp involuntarily and yank your leg out of his hand, tightening your thighs. You press your fingers against your slit, hoping to soothe the throbbing ache Steve's harsh ministrations have brought on.

"What, what happened?" he asks, frantic, sitting up as much as he can in the confined space of the backseat.

He looks so much like a kicked puppy it's physically painful, maybe more painful than the burning sensation in your clit, and you consider for a moment just brushing it off as a leg cramp and letting him continue as if it's the best head in the world.

But you can't. You won't. If Steve doesn't know what he's doing wrong, he can't fix it, right? You just hope he's genuinely ignorant of how unrefined his skills are and not just overconfident and uncaring. The apologetic expression he's wearing is encouraging that it's the former.

"I…that hurt," you hiss between your teeth. "That hurt a lot."

"I'm so sorry," he says, reaching towards you instinctively, but then he seems to reconsider and takes his hands back. They rest atop his knees, clenching and unclenching, just like when he picked you up. "I…I thought that's what girls liked. I haven't…no one's told me any different, and I don't, like, have a bunch of practice - I mean, I've had practice, but no one's ever said anything before. I had no idea I was hurting you. I don't…I don't have to do that if you don't want it. I can do something else. I mean, Nance never really liked it when I did that either, so-"

He stops, eyes widening once it dawns on him what just came out of his mouth. Admittedly, you're a little shocked yourself. You attempt to keep your expression neutral to not make him feel worse, but you clearly fail because Steve cringes away when he catches a glimpse of your face.

"Shit…sorry. I shouldn't… it's not cool to bring up your ex on a first date. I know that. I'm sorry…Look, if you wanna go home, I get it. I kinda messed shit up, so I can-"

He's so fixated on his contrite ramblings that he doesn't notice when you sit up, nor when your hands cup either side of his face, and he only stops talking once you've pressed your lips against his, making it physically impossible. You feel the tension melt out of his body, and he tentatively grips your elbows.

"I'm fine," you start, leaning your forehead against his. His breaths escape in panicked, warm bursts against your lips. "I don't need to go home. I'm absolutely perfect here, with you. You didn't stab me with a burning hot poker or anything, so I'm doing pretty alright." The corners of his lips twitch upward in a sad suggestion of a smile. You should know better; you shouldn't ask about Nancy Wheeler even if Steve accidentally brought her up first, but you can't help the question that ripples from your lips.

"What do you mean, 'Nance never liked it?'" you ask carefully, and his muscles flex beneath your fingers. You're treading on thin ice. You rub your thumbs over his cheekbones, attempting to put him at ease and have his eyes meet yours.

"It's… it's stupid," Steve mutters, eyes downcast at his lap. "She…Nancy really, super hated it when I went down on her. I never thought about it too hard, I guess. I chalked it up to her being kinda uptight and just moved on, but now it makes way more sense. I suck. Of course, she hated it." He offers a dry, humorless sound you suppose is his attempt at a laugh.

"Did she ever, like…tell you what you were doing wrong?" you ask softly.

"Yeah…well, no, not exactly. I don't know. She'd usually just sit up and tell me she wanted to do something else, and when I asked what was up, she would just dance around the question, and we'd do something else and…I stopped trying after that. I should've asked questions."

"Well, you can ask them now. If you'd like."

Steve finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and his eyes are markedly brighter than before. "If it's not too astoundingly lame…yeah, that'd be great. What exactly hurt about it? Was I too rough?"

"Partially that, and partially how rigid your tongue was," you giggle. "It feels much better if you loosen up. Think more like licking a lollipop than Vlad the Impaler."

Steve laughs sincerely at that one, and his head tilts forward to rest on your shoulder. "Vlad the Impaler, huh? That's pretty bad."

"It is, but it's nothing you can't improve on. I'll even let you practice if you want." Steve sits straight, his once crestfallen expression replaced with wide, hopeful eyes and a hint of a genuine smile on his lips.

"Seriously?"

"Mm-hm. I'll guide you through it, like, uh...like a pussy-eating professor."

Steve snorts and kisses you briefly. His hands move to your hips in twitchy anticipation, unsure whether or not he should settle on your bare flesh or the hem of your skirt. It's almost like he suddenly doesn't know where to start. You decide for him; you lay your hands over his and guide them toward your body, bringing them up beneath your skirt and settling them on the bare skin of your hips.

"Give me a reason to tangle my fingers in that famous hair, pretty boy."

Without warning, you're pulled forward hard enough to fall unceremoniously onto your back, nearly thumping your head against the door handle. Steve almost concusses you in his excitement, but you can't bring yourself to care once you feel his breath washing over your exposed slit in warm, quick puffs. You sigh contentedly and thread your fingers through the hair at his temples.

"Loosen up, right?" he hums, and you make an affirmative noise high in your throat when you remember he can't see you nod.

"Start at the bottom," you say quickly, "and work your way up. Don't go straight for the clit, just-"

The sensation of Steve's hot, wet tongue licking a flat stripe up your cunt, slowly and carefully, makes your brain short-circuit. The instructions fizzle and die on your tongue, and you forget why you were speaking for a moment.

"Like that?"

"Huh? Yeah…yeah, like that. You don't have to just lick, either. You can like, um…suck on certain areas, like the lips and the - fucking shit -"

Steve is, apparently, a fast and very ambitious learner - before you can finish a complete sentence, he's applying your advice fucking beautifully. He licks another long, languid stripe up your pussy and sucks gently on your labia, tugging lightly with closed lips. Shifting his face upward, his nose grazes your clit, eliciting an unexpected moan. One hand flies above your head, fumbling for the handle on the car's roof for purchase, and you keep the other firmly planted in his hair.

"Still good?" His voice has an edge, much cockier now than it was just a few moments ago. He's so entertained by your reactions, and you don't know if it makes you mad, turns you on, or both. You decide that's not important because his mouth isn't on you anymore, and you can't stand for that.

"Fucking fantastic."

"Any more lessons to teach me?" he asks smugly. His hands are splayed across your inner thighs, spreading you open just slightly, and his thumbs are massaging your outer lips as he talks. His tone ignites something defiant within you. You push yourself up on your elbows and stare down at him evenly, meeting his eyes. His rediscovered confidence is undoubtedly hot, so hot you can feel your arousal starting to leak onto the upholstery beneath your ass, but it's in your nature to want to challenge him a little bit.

"Here's one," you rasp. You fist a hand into Steve's hair, gripping it tightly by the roots, and shove his face deeper into your cunt. You toss both legs over his shoulders and lock them at the ankles.

"Give that mouth something useful to do other than fuckin' talk."

You swear to everything holy, you hear Steve Harrington growl.

He dives into your pussy with renewed fervor, fingers still keeping you opened up for him, and laps at the rivulet of slick drooling out of your hole. Once the taste hits his tongue, he moans into you and pushes his face so deep you can feel the light stubble on his cheeks grazing your sensitive folds.

Your back arches, lifting you almost entirely off the seats, and you bite your lip to stifle the noises threatening to burst from your throat. It's not to spare whatever stranger may or may not be lurking in the bordering forest but because your moans sound downright embarrassing. His tongue burns a wet trail from your weeping hole to your clit, where it laps experimentally at the swollen bud.

You twist and shudder beneath him, your body operating without input from your brain, but the feeling of Steve's hands slamming your hips down into the seats snaps you back to attention. You lift your head from its position against the car door, struggling to focus your eyes. Steve has laid himself as flat as he can across what little space remains in the backseat. His arms coil tight around your thighs, which keep both legs hanging limply over his shoulders. He stares up at you through his thick lashes, eyes gleaming hungrily, while he licks and sucks your pussy like it's the last meal he'll ever eat. His ordinarily perfect hair is trashed, sticking to his damp forehead in dark clumps.

You gnaw on your bottom lip stubbornly, clinging to what little rebellion still smolders inside you. Steve laughs; the vibrations feel like heaven against you, and you fling your head back down.

It isn't until his mouth has formed a near-vacuum seal around your clit that you unabashedly squeal into the humid air, unable to contain yourself anymore, pleasure wracking your body in unrelenting waves. Steve doesn't let up, swirling his tongue while he sucks, somehow keeping you glued to the seats without much apparent effort. You knew he was strong; he was an athlete the entire time you were in high school, but you didn't imagine his slender frame belied this much strength. The ease with which he's made you almost immobile is unexpected and very, very sexy.

"S-Steve, Steve - fuck - okay, God, you're getting me close already," you wheeze, voice straining high and desperate in your throat. You don't usually get close this fast unless you're alone and rubbing out a quick orgasm before bed or out of boredom. Still, the combination of his greedy suckling and licking, the sheer amount of enthusiasm he's displaying toward pleasuring you, and the fact that this long-held fantasy is coming to life right before you are making you hurtle toward the edge.

You inhale sharply, your body tenses, you're so, so close, you're about to cum -

Steve pulls off you, his lips making a wet, obscene pop before they curl into a fiendish grin. You whine, and he chuckles at you, rubbing your thigh apologetically. "You taste so fucking good," he says breathlessly.

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper. "And…thank you?"

"I'm having too much fun and didn't want you to cum yet," he says simply. "Plus, I wanted to ask something."

"Go for it."

You can't see them, but you can feel Steve's fingers on your pussy; his thumb makes a few small, tight circles around your clit before two more digits glide down the length of your folds and stop right at the entrance of your hole. They nudge around the rim as he speaks.

"Do you like getting fingered at the same time?" he asks, hopeful. "I know I'm at least good at that."

"Yes, please, do that," you beg, hardly letting him finish the sentence. You pause as the last part of Steve's sentence registers in your lust-addled brain. I know I'm at least good at that.

The corners of your mouth tug downward into a frown. Just as Steve ducks his head down again, you cup the sides of his jaw in both hands. He looks up at you, and the way his eyes flash nervously in the darkness doesn't escape you.

"By the way," you murmur, rubbing your thumbs into the stubbly flesh of his cheeks. "You've proven to be very…very good at…yanno, all this. Not just fingering."

"Yeah?" The hope in his voice is so genuine and sweet you could cry.

"Yeah. You just needed a little guidance, that's all."

He turns his head and kisses your palm, tracing circles into the back of your hand with his own before pulling it away and lacing your fingers together. Your interlocked hands rest next to your bare hip, and he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh. "Want me to get back to the, uh…fun part?"

You giggle. "I'm having a ton of fun, personally, but if you mean the eating my pussy part…yes, please."

"Gotcha."

Steve wastes no time reclaiming your swollen clit in his mouth, but he's decidedly gentler as he trails his two middle fingers around the rim of your hole. You can't tell if he's teasing you or testing the waters as he dips the tips inside you a few times, never edging past the first knuckles before pulling them back out again.

If he keeps this up, you’re going to go batshit insane. You're milliseconds away from telling him so before he swipes his fingers through the slick puddling beneath your pussy, and plunges them inside you up to the last knuckle.

"Oh my fucking God," you moan, writhing as much as possible while trapped between Steve's body and the car. His fingers curl, brushing against a spot that makes sparks fly behind your closed eyes, and he rubs against it purposefully once your voice pitches up and your breathing quickens even more. Both hands tangle in his disheveled hair, and you're torn on whether to push him away with how overwhelming the pleasure is becoming or pull him closer so he never stops. You settle on knotting your fingers at the roots and holding on for dear life.

Steve's fingers make lewd wet sounds as they pump in and out of your hole, and his free hand rests on the soft mound of skin above your clit. He pulls back just slightly, a stringy line of saliva connecting his tongue to your body, and his index finger stretches your skin up enough that the hood of your clit shifts backward. He chuckles.

"You should see how much of a mess your pussy is," he says. His tongue darts out to lick the slick shining on his lips. "It's so cute."

"Cute?" You don't know if that would've been the word you'd have picked to describe yourself right now, nor had anyone ever done so before. Despite the flush rising high on your cheekbones, you pretend to be more offended by it than you really are.

"Adorable," Steve coos, a smug smile sprawling across his handsome face. "And the noises you're making are even cuter. Have you been saving those just for me?"

You're speechless. You can't deny it, but you sure as hell aren't going to confirm it for him, either. His head will get so big you worry it'll fill the car's cab until you're both suffocated by the sheer mass of it. You sit up as much as you can against the car door, tugging the hand still woven with yours and smiling audaciously at him. You cross pinched fingers in front of your lips in a zipping motion, twisting them at the corner and flicking your wrist over your shoulder. My lips are sealed.

Steve scoffs. "Oh? We'll see how long that lasts, pretty girl."

Steve thrusts his fingers deep inside you again, fluttering them against your g-spot, then spits on your exposed clit. He dips his head and licks up the saliva trickling down your slit in one slow, hot strip, eyes never leaving your face.

You press your lips together tight, screwing your eyes shut and exhaling hard through your nose. Your legs are trembling, you're gripping his hand so tightly you're surprised he isn't complaining of bruised bones yet, and your chest is heaving with the effort of staying silent, but you're winning.

Or, at least, you think you're winning.

That is until he stuffs his fingers so deep inside you that it causes his hand to curl upward, almost cupping your cunt in his palm and grinding the heel of his hand into your tender clit. You can't help but gasp as he outright abuses your g-spot, rubbing circles against it with such pressure that even if you wanted to make noise, you can’t - the pleasure radiating from your core has snatched your voice away. You can't even draw in a satisfying breath and only manage a few sparse, shallow gasps.

"You done acting like you're not gonna give me what I want?" Steve asks, voice dripping with sweet condescension. You sob. It takes a stammering, whimpering, tear-filled moment before you gather enough oxygen to reply.

"U-Uh-huh, I'm - shit - I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, Steve…."

"Atta girl." Though his fingers don't relent in the brutal pace they've set, he does bend his hand down enough so he can lap at your clit again. Tears eke out of the corners of your eyes and drip slowly into your hairline, and when you find your voice again, it bursts out of you in a broken scream.

It takes thirty seconds of consistent attention before he's got you close again, and you warn him of that fact by whining and tugging on his hair.

"You gonna cum for me?" he huffs, breath washing over your sensitive skin.

"Y-Yes, yes, yes, fuck - oh fuck me, Steve -!"

"Soon, baby," he hums.

Your orgasm crashes into you full force, and your throat burns with the force of your wailing as you arch off the backseat; you guarantee you're pulling some of Steve's hair out with how tight your grip is, but he is decidedly unfazed. He milks this moment for all its worth, never stopping or slowing in his ministrations.

Tears flow down your cheeks freely, soaking into the neck of your shirt and wetting the hair you'd spent so much time on. The pleasure crescendos into something too intense to handle quickly. You choke out a few half-assed pleas, your brain melting out of your ears at this point, far beyond being capable of intelligible sentences, and Steve ignores you.

Clearly, you don't decide when Steve Harrington is done - he does.

Your orgasm seems to go on for days, months even, and just as the pain begins to nip at the edges of your earth-shattering pleasure, as you almost snap your legs shut and beg Steve to please just give you a small break, you feel it.

Your second orgasm. Building, apparently in secret, riding the tails of your first one and sneaking up on you to the point you don't notice you're going to cum until your cunt spasms around Steve's fingers again.

"C-C-Cumming, cumming again, fuck, oh God, fuck, I can't - Steve, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Steve assures, fingers working impossibly faster. You're astonished he doesn't have the mother of all hand cramps right now. Perhaps he does, and he just doesn't care. You don't think you care, either. "You can cum for me again, Y/N. Come on. Cum on my fingers, pretty girl."

This time, you don't even have the strength to scream. You weep and sag against the car door, body tremoring and barely managing a few pathetic pleas between hiccuping breaths.

You're drenched in sweat, and you're sure your makeup is fucked because of it. That and the tears, of course. You must look utterly trashed, but when Steve finally pulls off your poor, sore pussy with a pop, he looks at you like you're the single most beautiful creature on the planet.

He goes to wipe his lips with the back of one hand, and you notice slick shimmering down his chin and even splattered onto his neck. It's only then you feel the absolute lake of cum that’s accumulated beneath your ass, and your entire body burns bright red with embarrassment. He raises himself up on his palms, his arms boxing you in tightly.

"You are so gorgeous," he says, cupping your cheek in the hand that isn't glistening with your cum. You laugh shakily and lean into his touch.

"Sorry… 'bout your seats," you offer weakly, and he shakes his head. "You can ruin my upholstery anytime."

Steve leans down, dark eyes scanning your face, and smiles. It's a sweet, lopsided expression, nowhere near the self-satisfied, almost sadistic grin from earlier. They both quicken your pulse, but this one assures you you can at least take this moment to recover from possibly the best orgasm of your life.

First and second-best orgasms. Wow.

He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He slots his leg between yours, narrowly avoiding the puddle you've made, and cradles your head as if he's the only thing keeping it from flopping sideways. Frankly, he is. When he pulls away, he kisses your forehead before leaning his own against it.

"You okay?" he asks. You nod, sighing and swallowing despite your parched mouth. Your hands rest atop your chest, curled up into each other meekly as you try to regain any semblance of strength in your extremities. You bump your lips into him again briefly.

"You're a remarkably fast learner, Steve Harrington," you mumble, voice hoarse. He chuckles.

"It's easy when I have such an incredible teacher.”

It takes a few minutes to clean you - and the car - up. Steve digs around in his glove box for some old fast food napkins and gingerly sops as much of your cum out of his seats as he can while you lay on your side, curled up and heavy-lidded as the adrenaline slowly dribbles out of your system. He dabs the sweat from your brow, following the rough, cheap napkin with gentle kisses to soothe your flushed skin. Afterward, he bunches the napkins and shoves them in his passenger side door before rejoining you in the backseat.

He hoists you up onto his lap and guides your head onto his shoulder, allowing you to nuzzle your face into his neck and inhale his scent as he rubs your back.

"Any more pointers?" he asks just before you've dozed off. You smile and shake your head.

"None whatsoever. You've exceeded my greatest expectations, dear pupil." He laughs and thumps your back appreciatively. It's not until you're readjusting slightly to get more comfortable that you realize something - Steve is still hard. Achingly so, it would seem, as you can feel the rigid denim stretched over his bulge so tightly you're surprised the zipper hasn't popped clean off. Heat stirs in your belly, and you make a soft, serene noise in your throat as you grind your bare pussy into his lap.

His hips stutter upward just enough for you to bounce slightly, and you giggle into the crook of his neck. "We still haven't taken care of you yet." "We don't have to if you're too tired," he assures you, voice little more than a deep hum against the shell of your ear. "I'm happy just makin' you feel good."

You consider it. You know you'll be sore tomorrow, regardless of if you choose to have more of Steve Harrington stuffed inside you, and your clit is throbbing and achy to the touch. You could fall asleep on his chest right now; he could keep you in this beautiful, dreamlike space for the rest of time if he wanted to. But there's a part of you, a part much, much louder than the part complaining about your sore slit or exhausted body, that is dying to know what Steve's dick looks like.

You leave a trail of kisses up from the hollow of his neck to the curve of his jaw and blink at him happily. Once your faces are close enough that his eyelashes are nearly tickling your cheekbones, you snake one hand between your bodies and trail a finger over the cold metal teeth of his zipper.

"Just 'cause my cunt is sore doesn't mean I'm totally out of commission," you purr. "And since you did so well with your mouth on me… don't you think it's fair I return the favor?"

You feel, rather than hear, the low moan that rumbles through Steve’s chest at the insinuation. You hook your nail through the eye of his zipper and give an experimental tug.

"Can I suck your cock, Steve?"

His lips are on yours almost before the question rolls off your tongue. His fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you still as his tongue explores inside your mouth. Steve's natural taste mixes with the taste of your slick in an intoxicating way, but just before your head starts spinning, he breaks the kiss enough to breathe, "You're gonna have to move, baby."

Of all the lewd, downright filthy things Steve Harrington has done and said tonight, the way he slurs the word "baby" against your swollen lips is the thing that makes you blush the hottest.

He reaches behind you and opens the car door, and you both shiver slightly as the cold air rushes in from the forest and cools your sweat-soaked skin. He pats your thigh and juts his chin forward, so you awkwardly clamber out of the BMW despite your wobbling legs. You lean one hand on the car's roof while Steve scoots to sit on the edge of the backseat and swings his legs onto the ground.

He brushes past you as he emerges from the car, planting a quick kiss on the top of your head before he pops the trunk and struggles with something inside for a moment. With a victorious smile, Steve waves the same raggedy blue towel that had been wrapped around "Lucille" before assuming his spot in the backseat again. He folds it in half once and lays it out between his spread legs atop the mud and sparse grass you're standing on.

"So you don't get your legs all dirty," he explains, observing your mildly confused expression.

"My legs?"

"It'd be killer on your back, sucking my dick while you're bent at the waist, wouldn't it?" Steve laughs, undoing his belt with deft fingers while he watches the realization dawn on you. "The least I can do is make you more comfortable and keep the mud and crap off your legs, right?"

“Yeah…totally…”

Words escape you as you watch the metal of Steve's belt buckle glitter in the moonlight while he slips the leather out of the loop. His shirt is riding up just far enough onto his stomach that you can see a dark thatch of hair leading upward from the hem of his jeans, and at that moment, you are determined to follow Steve's happy trail with your tongue at some point. As he pops the button on his pants, you release your grip on the car and collapse to your knees. You grab his hands and pull them out of the way, splaying your fingers across his thighs and squeezing.

"Let me," you say, eyes darting between his mostly undone jeans and his face. He chuckles at you, and you try to commit his crooked, sweet smile and warm brown eyes to memory. He's beyond handsome, drop-dead fucking gorgeous - and he's letting you suck his cock. You take a moment to thank whatever deity or greater cosmic force that's brought you to this exact moment in your life.

"Be my guest," Steve says, leaning back on his palms and staring down the bridge of his nose at you. You lean forward, using the grip on his legs to keep balance and capture the end of his zipper between your teeth. You drag it down agonizingly slowly while keeping complete eye contact with him. You can't look away from his amazed and steadfastly aroused face. Pants fully unzipped, you think you can make out that Steve is wearing dark red boxer briefs.

Very normal, all things considered, but you know in the back of your head that this particular shade of red will always make you horny now - Pavlov's dogs had their bell, and you drool at the sight of Steve Harrington's underwear.

Steve lifts his ass off the backseat just enough for you to tug his pants and boxers down to his knees. You could pull his cock out through his underwear, but no, you want to see all of him, every last inch. Fair is fair, right?

Steve is…fuck, he's big. Bigger than you ever even fantasized about.

His cock springs upright fully after you've freed it from his boxers, and with a hard swallow and a fluttery feeling in your gut, you realize it's big enough to touch his navel. It curves toward his belly, an angle so perfect it's impossible not to imagine how it'll feel inside you once you can handle it. The head is flushed a dark red and slick with precum, and you watch in reverence as a milky bead forms at the slit. It's all you can do to not surge forward immediately and lick it off. The hair covering the base of Steve's dick and balls is dark, nearly black, and unexpectedly curly compared to the other hair on his body.

You reach a tentative hand out and wrap it around his shaft. He's so thick your fingers barely touch once you've made a fist. Steve hisses at the feeling and drops his head back a little.

"You're…so fucking big," you say breathlessly. Steve laughs and cards a hand through your hair, brushing sweaty strands away from your forehead.

"You think you're gonna be able to handle it?" His voice drips with fake sympathy, so you nod your head despite being unsure. The head is so big you worry you won't be able to fit it in your mouth without your back teeth accidentally scraping it, let alone have it go down your throat. But the cocky, smug look he wears makes you want to suck his dick until he cries, just like you did.

You nudge his shirt further up his torso, noting how solid his abdominal muscles feel beneath your palm, and dip your head down to his happy trail. You lay soft kisses amongst the thick, coarse hair, and Steve subtly squirms.

"Ticklish?" you ask. He narrows his eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

You chuckle, sorely tempted.

You copy his actions from earlier and lick a long, hot stripe with your flattened tongue up the entire length of his cock, stopping only to swirl around the head and lap up his precum. The salty taste blooms across your tongue and your mouth embarrassingly floods with drool as you suck and lick more of the flavor into it. You inch carefully down his shaft, opening your jaw as wide as possible to avoid an encounter between his dick and your molars and twirl your tongue around the length in your mouth to make up for what you can't wholly swallow yet. One hand wraps around the base to make up the difference, stroking up and down slowly as you bob your head.

It's an interesting, intricate dance, trying to fit Steve Harrington's monster cock in your mouth without outright biting it. You persuade your gag reflex to let him go down your throat a bit more, your quick strokes getting slicker and slicker with the drool that pours freely down Steve's dick and wets his pubic hair. Breathing through your nose proves difficult when his massive cockhead obstructs the back of your throat entirely, but you manage well enough.

Steve is absolutely beside himself. He's moaning unabashedly, and it's like music to your ears. He's the first man you've ever been with who makes noises outside of oddly paced-out grunts or a random curse word here or there, and it's having more of an effect on you than you ever could have imagined. You press your thighs together as more slickness drips from your throbbing cunt, free to gush almost to your knees without the interference of your panties.

"Fuck, baby, fucking shit…fuck yeah, just like that… you're sucking my cock so good, you look so fucking hot right now, oh my God," Steve babbles, eyes fluttering and head lolled over to one side. He bucks his hips, probably involuntarily, and his cock bumps the back of your throat just hard enough that it makes you gag.

You cough and pull off him far enough to take a breath, your hand still firmly locked around his base and wet with spit. He laughs breathily and caresses your cheek as you pant.

“Sorry…sorry…I didn't mean to choke you. You're just… you're so good…."

"You can, uh…like, do that again if you want," you say shyly. Steve cocks an eyebrow.

"Do what?"

"That. What you just did. Again."

"You want me to gag you like that again?" It's said with genuine surprise, not judgment, and you smile sheepishly at him.

"Kinda, yeah…only if you're okay with it too, I just…I can handle it…."

He considers it, absently twirling a few strands of your hair around his fingers as he mulls your request over. Then, both hands slide to the back of your head and gather your hair into one large, tight handful that makes you sit up straighter. Cold air gusts against your freshly exposed skin, and you shiver as Steve leans forward and kisses your forehead. He uses his other hand to pull his jacket tighter around your body, tucking the collar against your throat.

"If you can handle it," he says, and with one smooth push, he's shoved you back down on his cock. The head bumps the back of your throat hard, and though your entire body jerks forward as you gag, Steve doesn't relent. He seems as determined as you were to fit the daunting length of his dick down your throat, and the fact you practically begged him to facefuck you appears to have dissolved any lingering inhibitions he may have had. He keeps one hand securely fisted in your hair, and the other moves to feel where his length is bulging through your throat. He hums lowly and strokes his fingers over your taut flesh.

"You can take more than that, can't you?"

You haven't even begun to respond before he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his way past your uvula, and you can only gag and shudder as your nose gets buried in the thick curls at the base of his cock. He guides you back by your hair only far enough that his head isn't bullying into your airway anymore, then pushes you back down - he does this over and over, hardly letting you have a moment to breathe while he chases his pleasure. You moan as you realize you've essentially become a means to an end, a method of reaching an orgasm, a warm, wet hole for Steve to fuck his cock into, and your fingers sneak down between your thighs to rub your aching clit.

Though you try to be discreet, you're soaked, and you can't do a thing to hide the obscene squelching sounds your pussy makes as you grind into your hand. Steve, with sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and drunk on lust, laughs.

"You're so fuckin' cute. You like bein' my cocksleeve that much, pretty girl?" You attempt a nod and a noise that leans toward acquiescence, and it's good enough.

Steve sets a rigorous pace, bringing you down far enough to kiss his pelvis every time, moaning a little louder when the muscles of your throat contract around his thick shaft as you gag. You are, admittedly, worried you'll puke at some point, and the thought of having arguably the best sexual experience of your life ruined by you blowing chunks all over Steve Harrington's penis does, unfortunately, cross your mind. But before you can dwell too long on it - and before the building nausea becomes too much for you to handle - Steve pulls you off his cock.

Your lips pop wetly as they leave his shaft, and you gasp shakily, the sudden influx of oxygen almost dizzying. Drool drips freely from your aching jaw and the thick strand of saliva that connects your mouth to the head of his dick glints in the moonlight overhead. Your fingers never stop working your clit, though your orgasm ebbs away after your throat ceases to be utterly abused.

"Why'd you stop?" you rasp.

"Was gonna cum too soon," he chuckles. You whine and surge forward, but you're stopped by the firm hand still ensnared in your hair. You crave the taste of Steve's cum on your tongue so intensely, and the fact he isn't letting you have it right away fills you with tantrum-level frustration.

"What, you want it?"

"Yes, Jesus Christ, please."

"Aww. You can beg much better than that." His fingers curl, tugging your hair at the root and jostling you back and forth a little.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he starts dragging you further away from his shining, dark-red cock. Drool and precum ooze from the tip and you can see it twitching every few seconds, and though your throat feels raw and sore, your jaw aches, and your legs are alight with pins and needles, you need it back in your mouth. You could kneel here all night, and you would swear you were in heaven. The brazen fire in your belly has been snuffed, replaced with the most thrilling need you've ever experienced, so you can't think of anything snarky to say in response. Instead, you do as Steve says, and you fucking beg.

"Please, please give it back, Steve."

"Give what back, baby?" he purrs.

"Your cock."

"What about my cock?"

"Please give me back your cock, Steve. Pretty please, I need it."

He clicks his tongue at you, giving your head a little shake again while your eyes are helplessly fixed on his glistening shaft. "Hmm, I still don't believe you."

A broken sob falls from your mouth before you can help it, and you paw helplessly at his thighs. "Please, please, please, fuck my face, Steve, please. I need it so badly. Please give it to me. I'll do anything, just please...."

He smiles and coos at you, bending down slightly to kiss your forehead softly. "You sound so pretty and pathetic for me, baby," he hums.

Your mouth is full again in a flash, and this time, it's evident that Steve has surpassed any pretense of being gentle with you. That clumsy, nervous boy from earlier has melted away, leaving this commanding, exceedingly bold, and surprisingly dominant man in his wake. His voice has lowered to just above a growl, rough with lust. The way he's reclining back and fucking your mouth like he's pumping into his fist, the way he teases and mocks you and eggs you on - it's fucking intoxicating. You can't get enough. You want him to go further; you want more, more, more.

"Fuck, fuck, 'm cumming, I'm fucking cumming, fuck Y/N," Steve gasps, placing both hands on the sides of your head and driving his cock down your battered throat. The heat of your impending orgasm begins to pool between your hips, and you rub your clit furiously as you gaze up at Steve, trails of mascara-riddled tears tracked down your spit-wet cheeks.

The exact moment his cock pulses and the first hot, thick rope of cum shoots down your throat, you push yourself over the edge of your third orgasm of the night.

You moan as much as you can around his dick, body spasming uncontrollably, and the vibrations from your noises make him grip the seats beneath him so hard you think he’ll shred the upholstery. You try to swallow as best you can, and Steve does mercifully pull out just enough that the head of his cock rests against the middle of your tongue, allowing you room to breathe. His cum is salty and heady, and you're immediately addicted to it, and you hollow your cheeks to greedily suck more of it into your mouth. He looks at you with worshipful adoration, like you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Your hand drops from your overstimulated clit as your orgasm abates, and you use it to hold onto Steve's thigh for balance. You distantly feel embarrassed about smearing slick on his jeans.

When Steve pulls his spent cock from your mouth and releases your bunched-up hair, you fall forward unceremoniously into his lap. You pant raggedly into the fabric clustered around his upper legs, trembling like you've been tossed in the snow. He praises you under his breath, almost like he's not entirely cognizant of what he's saying.

"You did such a good job, God, that was amazing…you did so well, baby…fuck…."

You smile dreamily, glowing under his praise. He pets your hair absentmindedly, and after a while, he gingerly guides you back so you're sitting on your haunches, the rough terrycloth of the towel digging into your knees. He looks beautiful in the bluish light of the evening, hair mussed and sticking out at odd angles, cheeks still dusted a light pink, lips swollen and red and wet with his spit. Steve cradles your face in his hands and rubs at the greyish tear tracks streaking your cheeks, almost embarrassed of their presence.

"Are you okay?"

You nod sluggishly, nuzzling your cheek into Steve's surprisingly rough palm. He smooths the frazzled hair he'd been tugging on so enthusiastically back away from your damp forehead, fluffing it apologetically once he realizes the style you'd sought to achieve is thoroughly ruined. You're sure you look destroyed, to be fair - most of your lipstick is smeared messily on the lower half of Steve's softening cock, so you imagine the rest of it is smudged down your chin and across your cheeks. When you wipe the back of your hand beneath your jaw to catch a few stray tears, your skin is stained blackish from the mascara-laden liquid. Definitely not Harrington-proof, you note amusedly.

"Lemme help you up," Steve says, scooting forward off the backseat and bending toward you. One arm snakes around your waist and tightens against the small of your back; the other hand knits itself against your right hand, and when Steve pulls you to your feet, you're pressed flush against his chest, bodies entwined like partners gliding across a dance floor. Despite everything that's happened in the last hour, you still giggle nervously at the lack of distance between your face and Steve's. He smiles sweetly, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

The hand clasped in Steve's twitches toward your lips reflexively. Your mouth still tastes like his cum, and while you certainly don't mind, you aren't sure if he will. He notices your hesitance, and after a moment, the reason seems to click for him. His smile grows imperceptibly.

Steve takes your face in both hands and kisses you deeply, licking your bottom lip before sliding his tongue against yours. Your already weakened knees wobble, threatening to let you drop like a ton of bricks right back to the rumpled towel beneath your feet. The tangy taste of your cunt still lingers on his tongue and mixes with the salty flavor coating your mouth; it's addictive, and for a moment, it tricks you into thinking you could go just one more round. The way your clit throbs painfully at the mere insinuation, however, quickly dispels that idea.

Steve presses a final, sweet kiss to the tip of your nose after he pulls away from your lips, and the way his eyes sparkle at you in the moonlight dashed across his face makes your stomach flip excitedly, a sensation you're almost embarrassed to feel. It seems too innocent, too chaste after everything you've done tonight, but your cheeks flush hotly regardless.

"You…are something else," Steve says quietly, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

"You're one to talk."

You turn your head toward his palm, kissing his warm skin. The yellow-green light of his watch glows out of the corner of your eye, and when he twists his wrist a bit to the side, you catch a glimpse of the numbers.

No. No, that can't be right.

Steve makes a discordant sound as you yank his arm back toward your face, pushing his sleeve up to his elbow. You must've read the time wrong; it can't be that late.

But there it is, clear as day, in blocky electric numbers. Your curfew, which you've never broken, passed almost half an hour ago.

Your heart plummets down through your stomach, and you swear you hear it plop into the dirt at your feet.

"I'm so dead," you murmur, and Steve cocks his head quizzically.

"What?"

"I'm dead!"

You scramble toward the rearview mirror and tug it upward. You look absolutely wrecked. How will you explain why ninety percent of your makeup is gone? Why your hair looks like you've just gone through a tornado? Steve huffs out a confused laugh.

"Am I…missing something?" he asks, leaning casually against the side of the car. You tug the collar of your shirt up and scrub at your mouth - it makes your lipstick look worse and stains the inside of one of your favorite tops. Shit. You frenziedly try to work the buttons on Steve’s jacket closed, desperately tugging the collar up in an attempt to conceal the rapidly deepening red blotches he’s sucked into your skin. They’ll bruise by tomorrow, and if you weren’t in a blind panic, the thought would turn you on. Admittedly, it still does.

"I'm so, so late. My mom is gonna kill me," you say frantically. Maybe it'll be dark enough that no one will notice your lipstick…but they'll definitely see the black trenches carved into your cheeks. Shit.

You turn to the side, trying to tame your hair into a halfway decent shape. It doesn’t work, and you exhale roughly through your nose; the scrunchie you always wear around your wrist is snatched off, and you twist your hair into possibly the sloppiest, worst bun you’ve ever created, but it’ll have to do. Every single aspect of your appearance is like a bright red, flaring neon sign blinking above your head, ready to announce I HAD HOT SEX, AND THAT’S WHY I’M SO INCREDIBLY LATE.

You know it shouldn't matter; she doesn’t have much recourse since you're an adult, but fear still pangs in your gut so hard it makes you nauseous. You can picture it now, tiptoeing into the living room just to have the lamp in the living room flicker to life, your enraged and concerned mother silhouetted in the dim yellow light. You're sure you'll be able to see the steam rolling off her body in waves from where you'll be standing at the landing of the stairs. You'll be lucky if she lets you leave for the supermarket after this, let alone on another date.

"Shit, is it really that late?" Steve asks, and how his voice pitches up in genuine confusion only aids your panic. He bounds to the driver's side of the car, almost tripping over his feet as he fumbles the keys from his pocket and slams them into the ignition. Your butt barely touches the passenger side seat before the engine roars to life, and Steve slams on the gas.

Apologies tumble freely from his mouth as you clumsily clip your seatbelt into place, and you assure him it's alright as best you can while licking your fingers and scouring the mascara stripes off your cheeks. It doesn't work and tastes weird, but it's all you've got.

~~~

When Steve screeches up your driveway, you are an hour past curfew, and that’s only by the grace of God and Steve’s disregard for speed limits.

You sling your purse strap over one shoulder and almost kick the passenger side door off its hinges as you get out of the car, but just before you're about to bolt up your driveway, you pause.

It wouldn't kill you to be just a little later, right?

You whip back around, and Steve stares up at you, a little breathless, flushed, and still so beautiful. You grip the edge of the window and bend down, poking your head inside the car.

"I had an amazing time," you say, and you wish Steve wouldn't smile at you the way he does because it makes you want to say, "Fuck it," and hop back in the car. But he does, and you don't, and he nods.

"You wanna do it again sometime? I mean, not, not it, like a date - well, we can do it again if you want to. I'm just saying we don't have to…."

He sighs, and you pretend not to notice the flexing and unflexing of his hands on the steering wheel. It's endlessly endearing how nervous he is when he isn't jamming his cock down your throat or eating you out like a starving man. Something in your mind wants to see how flustered you can make him, but you silence it.

"Such a way with words," you tease, and you cup his cheek in your hand. You kiss him tenderly, hoping it encapsulates everything you want to say but don't have time for right now. Fingers slide up the nape of your neck and ensnare themselves in your hair, keeping your lips locked for a few moments longer. Your mouth is swollen and chapped, but you'd kiss him all night if he'd let you. Maybe one day he will.

"I'd love to do this again, by the way," you hum against the corner of his mouth. "Assuming I live past tonight, that is."

"Looking forward to it, Y/N. Oh, and, by the way…."

He grips your hair, not too hard, but just enough to where you stiffen and let out a soft moan. He peppers kisses along your cheek, to your temple, to the shell of your ear.

"I'm keeping your panties. Maybe next time I'll shove 'em in your mouth if you try to play the quiet game again with me."

He releases his grip on your hair, and his hand purposefully slides along the curve of your jaw until it reaches your chin. He pinches it between thumb and forefinger and kisses the bewildered, now painfully aroused look off your face before leaning back, giving you a wink, and revving the car's engine.

"See you soon, baby," he calls. His car crunches back down your driveway, and you're left standing there, brain short-circuiting and threatening to melt out of your ears, hyperaware of the cold night air nudging against your bare pussy under your skirt. You press your thighs together and jam fabric between them self-consciously, hoping against hope that you won't flash your poor, unsuspecting mother, who is undoubtedly waiting for you to chew you out.

You turn unsteadily, gazing up at your house. The living room light is already on, and you can see a lithe shadow flitting anxiously from within the windows. You're going to get an earful.

It was so. Fucking. Worth it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #steve harrington / reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #fem!reader #f!reader #smut #my writing #funny how love is series

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inazumatrash · 1 year

Text

Some concept art for a discarted comic idea.

But I ended up adapting the script to a fanfic! (It's a little rough and I'm new to writing, so any feedback is welcome) Omori spoilers ahead.

The events of this story happens sometime after Mari's funeral.

///

It's sunset time with blue and soft pink tints all over the urban scenery. Basil is finishing tying up the velcro of his sandals to go out. Grabbing the door knob, he turns his head back to leave one final message before leaving.

"I'll be back soon, grandma!"

There's a chilling breeze outside and the streets are eerily empty. But Basil prefer this way. His head is full of thoughts, he needs the space. Approaching his destination, he stops looking at the sidewalk and lifts his head. He finally spot a living soul a bit ahead of him.

It's Kel. He's in front of Sunny's house. Kel seems to hesitate for a while, but gathers courage and knocks on the door. He vigorously give three consecutive knocks.

"That's a bit too much." Basil observes. Good old Kel.

It doesn't take too long for the door to open, and Sunny's mom appears. She has a dull look in her eyes. She's tired.

"Oh, it's you, Kelsey…" She looks over his shoulder. "and Basil."

Kel also looks back. Basil is suddenly there, a few steps of distance.

"What can I do for you two?"

"Uh." Kel is a little surprised with Basil's presence, but figured out he came for the same reason as him. "Can I- Can we talk to Sunny?"

"Hm…" She looks away before answering. "He's a little more unresponsive than usual..."

Basil feels a pinch of pain in his stomach.

"I wasn't able to talk to him since… the funeral." Kel fidgets a little. "I want to let him know he can count on us!"

Sunny's mom mouth corner's change to a soft, yet warm smile.

"Well, I'm sure he would appreciate to hear from you two, at least."

She steps back, opening the door welcoming the boys in. Kel perks up and calls Basil with a hand gesture. They enter the house.

"He's at their- at his room."

At the living room, the boys can see the glass door that leads to the backyard, highlighted with a menacing reddish orange light of the last sunrays. Kel immediatelly changes his attention to Sunny's mom back, while Basil has a hard time moving away his focus from it. They arrive at the staircase. Kel doesn't think twice and steps halfway through it. Basil freezes.

"Basil?" Kel calls out for him.

Basil tries to hide his anxiety and replies "C-coming!"

They are at front of Sunny's room, Sunny's mother a little further, to give the boys some space. Kel knocks the door, but this time, more gently.

"Sunny? It's Kel and Basil!" No reply.

Basil gives a quick look back at the staircase and Something starts crawling around him.

"Sunny." Kel starts again, leaning his hand on the door. "Sorry for not talking to you until now. But you know that we're here for you, right?" Kel sends a signal to Basil by raising his eyebrows and tilting his head towards the door, asking him to join.

Basil desperately tries to find the words. But the truth is, he wasn't expecting Sunny's mom, much less Kel's presence. It's not that he didn't have anything to say. He couldn't say anything he wanted to.

The creeping silence started to bother Kel, so he continued instead.

"Oh, I know! If you want, we can have a sleepover!" No reply. "Uh, it doesn't need to be anything fancy! We don't need to play games or eat snacks… We don't even need to talk. Just have each other's company, y'know?"

Kel smiled as he placed his other hand and ear to the door, waiting for the answer. He believed his idea was too good to be turned down. No reply.

"Sunny?" More silence.

Sunny's mom sighs, ready to call Kel and Basil back. Kel moves away from the door. He starts playing with his hoodie strings, looking a little less bright than before.

"Don't worry about it, it's okay." He did his best to hold a smile "I totally understand if you just need time alone."

"…like Hero." He completes under his breath, almost a whisper.

Another wave of silence. Is Sunny ignoring them? Is he even listening? Basil's mind go blank as he stares at the door.

"We'll come back tomorrow!" Kel bursts. The "we" took Basil by surprise.

"R-right! We'll be back tomorrow, Sunny." Basil faintly addes to the farewell.

Kel gives one last knock on the door, and starts walking away. Basil follows him.

"Oh, kids…"

"Can we really come back tomorrow?" Basil asks.

"Oh, yes, you may come… I'll let you know if he's available or not." It wasn't very reassuring.

After one last goodbye, the two boys leave the house. A few steps later, they stop in front of Kel's house. Before Basil could say anything, Kel apologizes.

"I'm sorry you couldn't say much. I hogged all the time for myself."

"N-not really. I wasn't sure what to say, anyway…"

"Isn't it strange, though? Sunny… He doesn't like to be alone, why would he…?" Kel stops and shakes his head. "We just have to try again tomorrow!" Kel smiles seems forced, Basil notices.

"W-well… See you tomorrow, then?"

"No, wait- let me walk you home!"

"O-okay." Basil let him be.

In the middle of the walk, Kel turns to Basil.

"I still didn't talk to Aubrey either. Did you?" Basil shakes his head. "I thought about visiting her too, but- I think I'm the last person she would want to see." Basil thought the same of himself, but kept silent about it.

Kel is a open book, he has no reason to hide his emotions and usually can be very blunt with his honesty. But something feels off today. Or since then. That day. Looking better, Basil notices Kel was using a navy colored hoodie at least two sizes larger than it should be. A small letter "H" was embroidered on it. Kel would use passed down clothes from Hero, but this one was clearly borrowed before its time.

He was lonely too.

Soon, Basil's home is right around the corner.

"Hm, actually." Basil starts. "I promised grandma I was going to buy a few things at the convenience store. Do you want to tag along…?" Kel snorts in reply. Was Basil trying to cheer him up?

"Sure, let's go! But let's be quick, mom won't like if I come home too late." He skips ahead.

"Wait! The store is on the opposite direction!"

"Oh!!"

///

It's night. Between the interval of a lightpost to another, Kel can't stand the silence anymore.

"Aah, I should have brought some pocket money!" He comes closer to Basil, using his hand to shield the conversation like he was about to confide a secret. "But I already spent all my allowance."

Basil wasn't expecting chit-chat, but wasn't too surprised either. It kind of gave him a sense of normality.

"…Hero always scolds me for spending it too quickly.

Like everything that happened was just a bad dream…

"But Mari would always treat me instead!"

A shiver passes through Basil's spine.

"Are you cold?" Kel opens his arms as invinting for a hug.

"No, I'm okay!"

Kel stops and rewinds what he just said.

"Sorry."

"N-no, don't be." Basil almost regrets calling Kel over. The uncomfortable silence is back, until Kel broke it again.

"I'll be more careful with my money from now on."

"?"

"So I can be the one who treat everyone out! How is that?"

"Are you sure you'll be able to do that?"

"What? You understimate me!!"

Basil slips a weak smile. Kel smiles back, like he planned it from the beggining. They continue their walk.

///

At the convenience store, Basil goes straight to what he went for. To kill time, Kel explores around until something take his attention at the candy area. Basil approaches too see what was so interesting. Kel only notices his presence after a while.

"Eek!" Kel was startled.

"…Are you going to ask for borrowed money?" Basil teases.

"No!! I was just looking… See, there's everyone's favorite flavor today…"

Basil identifies each flavor and silently pick them up.

They leave the store and Kel lifts his lollipop over his head.

"Basil, you're the best!" The compliment take Basil aback.

"It's just candy…"

"Yeah, it's just candy." Basil didn't expect him to agree so fast.

"It's the thought that counts!"

Basil just nods.

///

They arrive at Basil's house again.

"We're here!" Kel announces the obvious.

"Y-yeah."

Basil moves ahead to the door.

"See you tomorrow!!"

Basil stops.

"S-sure."

///

Basil is welcomed by his grandma with tea and cookies. Putting the groceries aside and with a cup in hands, he stares at the lollipops over the kitchen's table. Strawberry, watermelon and grape. He thinks back when Kel pointed that everyones flavors were available. All six of them. He shrugs the thought away.

Kel is on his way back, already appreciating his orange lollipop, while waving the cola flavored one in the air. He wonders when he'll be able to deliver the little gift. He wonders when he'll be able to talk to Hero again. Or to any of his friends for that matter. He shrugs the thought away.

THE END

#omori #omori spoilers #kel #basil #fanfic

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crowdeerdire · 16 days

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aka Cove finds out Kel's "real" name. (read left ---> to right) Hi, this is a stupid comic that wouldn't leave my head so I spent too long working on it lololol. Which is good! I want to practice making more comics/more expressions? etc??? Anyways, enjoy my silly girl, the beautiful Liz and Cove who has no right to be as smooth as that as an 8yr old... (gonna write out the text down below if you're blind af as me and can't read it) ~~~~~

1. Kel: Hey Lizzie! This is the new kid, Cove! 2. Liz: Oh??? Aren't you two a pair! >:3c 3. Cove: ??? What does she mean, Kel? 4. Liz: Oh?? Is that what you told him your name is?? >:3c Kel: (shut up!) (Lizzie. Don't.) 5. Liz: Oh! You wanna know "Kel"'s real name? Cove: (???) (Sure?) Kel: (No!!!) 6. Liz: It's Kelsea! Spelled: "K" "E" "L" "S" "E" "A"!! It's water themed like your name! Kel: (*hates it*) 7. Cove: ... 8. Cove: That's cool! We match, then! (very excited) 9. Liz: ... Kel: ... 10. Kel: O-oh... I kind of like my name now??? Liz: Oh? I see :) ~~~~~

So I know Nolani is the one that adopts both of them, but if Pam is around when Kel is adopted, I think that's how her name came to be?? (at least it works in my mind/version LOL) Like Nolani likes the name "Kelsey" and Pam, who knows how much Nolani likes the sea/they live on the ocean/will live on the ocean soon is like "!!!! I like it but let's spell it differently!!" :) Thus why it ends up being spelled that way lol Also tbh I have no idea about babies being adopted and if they would have a name already? I'm guessing it depends on the situation and whatnot? But it's kind of nice to think that Nolani and Pam got to name her :)))

#my art #my artwork #our life #our life beginnings and always #cove holden #our life mc #olba #olba cove #crow draws stuff ig???#our life cove #cove x mc #cove holden x mc #Also not really sure if I should post this like a full page like I did??#Or if I should clip and seperate them into panels?#I'm so new at comics it's not even funny #mc Kel

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daandyli0n · 29 days

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more Rewrite Refs, y'all!! this time: MCI edition!

it is going to become apparent that my favorite Ghost Trope is the "whatever caused your death shows up on you as a ghost" thing

(warnings: child murder/death, blood/gore, bruises, somewhat obvious broken bones (in Felix's ref), eye injury (again, Felix), eye contact, bright colors/eyestrain, disturbing imagery)

this isn't in order of their deaths, but like. animatronic order, i guess

(click on the images to zoom)

design details!! yippee!!

Gabrielle/"Gabi"

the second of the murders.

soul inside of Freddy

transfem, fun fact!

shy and anxious; pretty much the reason Freddy sticks to the shadows.

biracial! mother is from Mexico and her father is black.

family wasn't too wealthy; her clothes were from her older sister.

was one of Elizabeth's friends, and was a kid that Cassidy was close to in the aftermath of Liz's death.

a "popular girl," mostly due to being friends with Naomi and Liz.

died on June 24, 1982; her birthday :(

Baker

the third of the murders.

soul inside of Bonnie.

the youngest; thought he was being taken to see Bonnie :(

AuDHD. no i will not elaborate.

one of Kelsey and Cassidy's closest friends.

one of the calmer spirits, surprisingly.

he thinks the fact that he became Bonnie is one of the coolest things that could've happened (Charlie thinks that it's either a coping mechanism or due to the fact that Baker was too young to really comprehend what happened).

died on June 25, 1982.

Naomi

like Susie, she was The First.

she wasn't the first to die; she was still alive when Gabi was murdered. she was the first victim of the MCI.

soul inside of Chica.

"popular girl," but not...mean. she Does complain about people who annoy her, though. but it's not too often.

like Gabi; best friends with Liz and close to Cassidy.

died on June 24, 1982; tried to warn Gabi, but was stuck inside of Chica and hardly able to even speak. the most she could do were raspy breaths; think along the lines of the noises Chica and Bonnie make when they enter the office in Fnaf 1.

Felix

the fourth of the murders.

soul inside of Foxy.

big fan of Foxy and pirates in general.

the oldest of the original MCI. (Charlie is 12, and three kids in the '87 Murders were 15-16).

genderqueer; "Idgaf what ye call me tbh. Call me whatever ye like, Matey, I don't care-"

was one of the more skeptical kids being lured; wondered why "O'Hare" was leading him to a back room to see Foxy...

was the only kid who really fought back; led to some...worse injuries (bruised, several smaller cuts, hand got broken, missing an eye).

Angry™

died June 25, 1982.

Kelsey

the final murder

one of the souls in Fredbear.

liked to draw! still does, tbh.

shy and anxious (cough autistic) kid.

close friend of Baker and Cassidy.

doesn't...come from a good home.

was at Fredbear's the day he died.

wandered to the Parts & Service room...where William was. got springlocked.

odd, cut-like wounds are from where he was y'know. a young kid in a springlock suit.

William cleaned the suit up and dumped Kel's body in a lake since he couldn't hide him in the suit.

him and Cassidy have a sort of "Comedy/Tragedy" thing with their masks. Kelsey's is much paler, is frowning, and leaks blood instead of the Black Liquid.

fun fact: Kelsey is technically transfem! didn't get to figure it out, unfortunately...but y'know.

anyway!! @that-darn-clown and @hello-there-world if y'all wanna see this :D

#fnaf #fnaf rewrite #fnaf missing children #my art #Dandy's Interesting Fnaf Rewrite #this took me ages. changed coloring styles halfway through. got a mini art block. yeah...#but hey!! here it is :]

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darklydeliciousdesires · 26 days

Text

Little Earthquakes - An Original Story.

So, besties. I thought I'd test the waters with the prologue to my new story. I know so many of you aren't here for originals, but I can but hope I'll find a few readers. Nothing would delight me more! Now, let's get to introducing you to the new world and people within it! I've tagged a few people who I thought might be interested, but if not, no worries.

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 2,831

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Minors DNI!

Prologue.

In every year group of every school the world over, there is always the girl. She’s the one whom other girls covet to be like, and pretty much all of the boys want to get with. In the year eleven group of Fulham Green Academy, west London, back in two thousand and five, that girl had been Holly Madden.

She was popular, kind, proficient academically, and god, she was beautiful. Holly was also the girl one of her classmates would have asked out in a heartbeat, had Nathan ever been able to sum up the courage to open his mouth and speak to her. Various other factors prevented such, too, namely that they socialised in two vastly different groups at their mixed senior school. She was one of the popular girls, after all, and Nathan one of the alternative kids.

The two groups seldom mixed.

That was until one night when Lee Harris, the kid who loved everybody regardless of what social group they slotted into, threw a large end of term party. It was a classic example of ‘my parents are on holiday, I’m not, everybody come over!’ that led to much teenage abandon and hedonistic excess. Especially if your name was Nathan Gill.

The only difference? He hadn’t actually wanted to end up in the state he had. Not at all. Enter one Chris Lawrence and a tray full of weed-infused brownies.

“This tastes weird,” Nathan announced, yet for the kid with a massive disposition for demolishing anything chocolatey, it still hadn’t stopped him from consuming it.

Chris didn’t know how the hell he managed to stop himself from falling apart laughing, standing with their cohort Kelsey, both playing captive audience to the mild deception of their friend. “Does it? Can’t think why, blud.”

“Yeah.” He then paused in chewing the last mouthful, watching his friends carefully. “Why are you’s staring at me?”

“No reason,” Kelsey chimed, clapping a hand to his shoulder, almost able to hear his brain ticking away within his skull.

“Have you put something in this?” The two snorts of laughter were confirmation that yes, they very much had. “Oh, shit off! Nah man, that’s proper messed up.”

His friends howled, watching a very disgruntled Nathan deal with the confirmation that he had indeed been doped. Chris reached for him, ruffling his hair. “Bruv, it’s only a bit of ganja, yeah?”

“Yeah, but I don’t pissing smoke weed, do I?”

“And you still haven’t,” Chris chimed. “You’ve ate it!”

The pout on his face had his friends furtherly descending. “Don’t like being stoned though, do I? That’s why I don’t have nothing to fucking do with the cheeba!” Getting a rise out of the usually very chilled, very zen Nathan was half the fun of it. Seeing him stoned off his balls was the other, Nathan still furious as he finished the remainer of his can of Carlsberg. “I’m not talking to either of you’s.”

How right he was, for when it kicked in, speech was beyond him completely.

“Nath, you alright, mate?” Lee, the party host asked an hour later, finding Nathan sitting at the kitchen nook with a pad of paper and a pen. A note was scrawled.

“Yeah, just can’t speak. Too mashed. Got spiked via cake.”

Reading the words, he began to laugh. “Ahhh, the pot brownies? Nice!” More scribbling followed.

“Not nice! I don’t like weed!”

To Lee’s credit, he held in the desire to piss himself laughing at his mate’s anguish.

“Oh, right! You want a coffee or something? My mum has the fancy machine so I’ll make you one if you want?”

“No thanks. Just wanna throw Chris and Kels into a pissing landfill!”

He boomed with laughter, shaking his head. “Well, I best be moving along, got to do the mingling thing. Later mate!”

“Bye.”

He was left alone then, except for the glances from across the kitchen from Kelsey, who was trying her luck chatting up one of the sixth form girls while keeping a watchful eye on him. That suited him fine, not actually able to speak anyway, sitting there feeling very, very high. It was a different high to smoking it, he had to confess, but he still didn’t like it much.

He felt very fuzzy around the edges, his vision faltering a little bit, but not so much that he couldn’t make out the face of the girl he fancied when she approached him half an hour later. Oh, god. Why Holly Madden? Why now?

Sitting down in the nook adjacent to him, her smile glowed. “Hi, Nathan. You okay?” He turned the pad of paper to her and pointed to the first statement he’d written to Lee, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “Ohhhh, not one for weed then, no?”

“Bingo.”

“Do you want me to leave you be, or can I kotch here? I need a time out, too many drunk people.”

He scribbled, feeling his heart racing. Holly Madden wanted to sit with him. Him!

“That’s fine, but I’ll be on mute for the foreseeable.”

Shrugging, she smiled, a smile that made his heart skip. “That’s fine. I’m not really into loud people. Even when you’re talking you seem quiet and chilled. I like that.”

She’d actually noticed those attributes? Oh, god. It was a good job he couldn’t speak, because if he could he’d have likely ballsed it up spectacularly. Then again, it wasn’t surprising. Holly was very much like the party host in the fact she was open to mingling with everyone, regardless of her status as one of the popular girls. “So, I noticed your display board for the examiners before we broke up. That charcoal you did of the snake was incredible!”

They’d been in the same art group as well as form class at school, submitting their final presentation to the exam board in the shape of a display of their work, which made up half of their GSCE grade. Nathan nodded, taking the pen and scribbling out a note.

“Thanks. I was proud of that one. Loved your stuff, too.”

She was sure he was just being polite since their artistic styles so vastly differed, but thanked him for the compliment anyway. “I’m crapping myself about the results. I really, really want to get in at UAL. Are you thinking uni, too, or something else?”

Again, he began to write. “Yeah, uni. Loughborough, I wanna get out of London for a few years.”

It was a good university, showing clearly that he had a lot of ambition. Sitting there, Holly began to feel a little uncomfortable, the manor of communication strange in the fact he couldn’t actually speak. Also, she felt shy. He had no idea how fucking cute he was, which was an odd feeling to experience, being that he was the furthest from her usual taste in guys.

“Well, I’m going to head back to my friends. If you regain the power of speech, come find me.”

Come find her? She actually wanted him to come and find her? While his brain flew into a panic, his note was calm and succinct.

“Alright. Bye, Holly.” Whether or not he could, he knew that he wouldn’t, though, waiting until she’d left the kitchen before groaning and pulling his hood up over his head as he slumped down, wanting to hide. Oh, the shame of it. Too stoned to talk to the girl he liked when the opportunity to do so had landed right in his lap, and he’d blown it.

Fuck Chris. Fuck Kelsey.

He had to hand it to the latter, though. At midnight when they’d left, she’d been the one to carry him over her shoulder into the waiting taxi when he’d found he was without the use of his legs as well as his voice. Thank goodness she was a big girl, just a little shorter than him at six feet to his six feet two, and built like an ox.

She’d also carried him safely up the stairs and into her bed, stripping his skate trainers and jeans before climbing in herself, definitely worse for wear. Being very much out in her status as a lesbian, her parents didn’t give two hoots about her sharing a bed with male friends at all, knowing there was more chance of hell freezing over than any sexual shenanigans occurring between them.

Not that either of them had ever tiptoed out of virgin territory at that point in their lives. As he fell asleep, Nathan kicked himself that the girl he very much would have liked to change that with had been the one he couldn’t even speak to, and now it was too late. He’d likely never cross paths with the beautiful Holly Madden again now they’d left school.

He was partly right there, their lives leading them in very different directions for many years after that night. Nineteen, to be exact. While she had never left London, Nathan had been to Loughborough, lived up in Edinburgh for a few years, gone over to spend time in Dublin, living a very carefree existence as a freelance tattoo artist who travelled from shop to shop.

Life was everything he’d ever wanted it to be, and he all but forgot about Holly completely.

Arriving back in London at twenty-seven, he’d met a girl, deciding to set up permanent roots in the city again. He and Lisa had married a year later, and a few months after that he, Kelsey and Chris had all gone into business together. The three had coveted to work in the tattoo world since their time at school, Nathan the only one who had gotten an apprenticeship and done it right out of leaving university.

Kelsey had tired of the monotony of managing bars, and Chris was more than fed up of work in retail, so both had moved into their chosen field finally six and three years before, respectively. In two thousand and seventeen, Carpe Diem had opened its doors on Sailsbury Road, Queen’s Park.

It was truly wonderful, the three best friends all reunited and running a thriving business together. Until the day where things started to go awry for one of them finally came along.

“Kels, why you hovering, blud?” Chris asked, glad to be coming to the end of a lot of linework on the full backpiece he was starting on his client that afternoon. Pausing to reload ink, he raised an eyebrow, looking to the back of the shop as Kelsey listened in at the door of the private room used for clients receiving a body piercing.

Craning her ears, she could hear it just above the sound of music playing, the band Soundgarden’s classic Black Hole Sun muffling the other noise emanating. Well, unless you listened closely, like her. With widened eyes, she moved away rapidly, shaking her head with her hands held out wide.

“Oh, no, no, no.”

Chris was perplexed. “What?”

Jerking her thumb, she mouthed her reply, lest the client on the table before him hear what she’d had to. “He’s shagging in there.”

His eyes all but fell out onto the hardwood floor beneath his feet. “Fuck off!” he mouthed back.

“I’m serious!” she hissed in whisper, waving a pointed finger towards the back of the shop rapidly before beginning to clean down her station, ready and fresh for her next client. It wasn’t so much that he was a married man shagging somebody who wasn’t his wife, since he and Lisa were recently separated, it was the lack of professionalism to be doing it at his place of business with the girl whose navel he’d just pierced that shocked his friends more than anything.

It would be fair to say he hadn’t quite been right since his marriage had come to an end. If either was truly honest, his behaviour had been very decidedly unlike the Nathan they knew and loved for much longer. Shagging around now that he was separated was one thing, but doing such with a client right there in the shop, though, was quite another. People talked, after all.

Kelsey stewed on it as she continued cleaning her station, not wanting his reputation as one of the most talented tattoo artists in the city to become besmirched by such, or the good name of the shop to suffer either. After all, it wasn’t solely his livelihood this kind of behaviour could affect.

Five minutes later and the door opened, the girl walking out before Nathan, who moved to the sales desk and took her payment for the piercing. With Chris’s client also now out the door, the two artists turned to their friend, the latter shaking his head.

“Who’s been a bad lad then, ay?”

Nathan didn’t have a poker face for the life of him, yet still, he tried. “What?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Kelsey stated, pointing at him. “Can’t fool us. I know sex moaning when I hear it, no matter how quiet. Listen, you wanna sow your oats now you and Lisa have split, go ahead. But not in the bloody shop, Nath!”

He shrugged. “Weren’t like I was being that loud.” He then turned to Chris, mischief broadening his grin. “Had to cup my hand over her mouth. Poor girl ain’t ever had a pierced dick before, bruv.”

His friend wanted to be supportive to Kelsey’s very real concerns, but the lad in him won out. “Fuckin’ a, blud! Little randy bastard, ay?”

He held out his fist, Nathan bumping it as he chuckled filthily. “I’m a free man again, and shit, can you blame me? Proper gorgeous, she was.”

“For the love of the virgin Mary’s knicker elastic!” Kelsey cried, placing her hands on her hips. “Can we take this seriously and set a rule? No shagging in the bloody shop!!”

Nathan moved to her, grabbing her face in his hands and kissing her head. Immediately, she was aghast. “Don’t you kiss me! I don’t know where your mouth was ten minutes ago. I don’t want any miscellaneous fanny juice on my face!”

“Never thought those words would ever leave your mouth, ay,” Chris interjected with on a snort.

Nathan all but broke apart in hysterics completely at them, wrapping Kelsey in a big, tight hug. “You’re safe, didn’t have time for that. But chill out, ‘kay? Nothing to stress about, Kels. Just a one off.”

Being held close by her friend, there was something else amiss, she noted. Or rather smelled. Nathan usually reeked of nothing but Fahrenheit aftershave, his staple scent since his teen years. Now though, it was tinged with the smell of alcohol. “You been drinking?”

Letting her go, he shrugged, moving to begin sorting inks over at the storage shelves, knowing they needed to re-order. “Had a few last night. Probably sweating it out.”

She left it there, but truly, she didn’t believe a word of it. It smelled fresh, not that stale, boozy sweat stink people suffered after a night on the piss. Also, he showered twice a day religiously. Besides, to her knowledge, he hadn’t even gone out the night before. She’d left him there at the shop at ten the previous evening, Nathan locking up before heading upstairs to the tiny flat above, where he was now living after Lisa had kicked him out.

It was conflicting, because Nathan wasn’t a liar either, Kelsey doubting herself a little as she welcomed her next client, a guy who was having the side of his neck finished off by her that afternoon. All thoughts of her friend and his slightly off behaviour were put aside, concentrating one hundred percent on her task at hand.

As for Nathan, he moved to his book of line drawings, taking the relevant one out and placing it on the light box to make sure he was one hundred percent happy with it. He prided himself on giving his clients the very best of his work. The young woman whose navel he’d pierced could definitely testify to that after the repeated push of his cock piercing against her g spot had made her come so hard, she’d almost passed out.

He smirked as he thought about her, noting that she was the first girl he’d ever fucked whose name he neither knew nor cared to know. For a man who didn’t really do sleeping around even before he was married, it made an exciting change now he was free from the bitch who he’d wasted the last seven years with.

“Hi, I’ve got an appointment with Nathan?”

Turning around, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There she was. “Erm, yeah. Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Holly.”

He would have been lying if he’d claimed to have given his old school crush much thought in the nineteen years that had passed, but seeing her standing there, suddenly he felt just as he had at fifteen all over again.

#original fiction #original stories #original story #smutty fiction #smutty stories #romance fiction #romance stories

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storiesbyrhi · 1 year

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Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Warning... answers may lead to endings. 2882 words.

Notes: Part of this chapter was penned during a writing session with @pastel-pillows. This one is for her.

1986

“I think I might be a bad witch… Not bad as in evil… As in… wrong, in some way. Not how I naturally should be.”

“If you’re a bad witch, I’m a worse vampire.”

You looked deep into his eyes. Maybe you had created a monster when you brought Eddie back, but if so, he was a monster you had no intention of slaying. Like Frankenstein to his creation or the stray cat saved from becoming roadkill, Eddie was bound to you and you to him.

Over and over again, you tried to draw any sort of a conclusion that linked him to your coven. It felt like some of your thoughts were in a language you didn’t speak, refusing to offer meaning and remaining disconnected from everything else you know to be true.

Before you could say anything more, your stomach growled loudly.

Eddie smiled. “When did you last eat?” he asked.

“Ah… I think I had an apple this morning?”

Peeling yourself away from the warm comfort of the bed, you made your way out into the kitchen, ducking under the clothes drying on Eddie’s makeshift clothesline. “I didn’t realise vampires were so easily domesticated,”

“Nor I,” he replied, a coy smile on his face as he sat at the breakfast bar and watched you open the door to the painfully empty refrigerator.

You huffed.

“I will gather food for you,” Eddie decided from his position at the door. You hadn’t seen him move there, but you were getting used to that. “You stole clothing for me. I will steal food for you. Tis only fair.”

With no energy to come up with an alternative plan, you shrugged and nodded, letting Eddie go. Flopping down on the couch, you closed your eyes. Even with all that sleep, you still felt sluggish.

Then, unfairly, the phone rang. You looked at it for a couple of seconds, hanging on the wall, squealing at you. If you didn’t pick up the call, Kelsey would find another more dramatic way of contacting you.

“I’m okay,” you answered, untangling the curled cable so you could sit on the floor.

“The lines were down. I’ve been calling all day,” she told you. It was hard to say if that was a Vecna thing or a ‘Hawkins is falling apart’ thing, not that it mattered either way. “Was it you? Did you stop him? He’s gone. Whatever was holding open the door between our world and his is gone. Everything is… quiet,”

“Hi to you too.” You could feel the unimpressed look Kelsey was giving you down the line. “Sorry,” you started again. “I’m sorry. Yeah, he’s gone. It was… Me. And the humans. I watched him burn to ash. He’s gone, Kels. And… and, yeah, everything is quiet… Hawkins feels… empty. They will rebuild though,”

“They always do,” she said solemnly. “We couldn’t see you. I mean, we haven’t been able to really see you since you got there. It’s like there’s a smudge on the window or something. There was no craft that would let any of us see into his world,”

“Maybe that’s for the best. It was not a world we were ever meant to see,”

“Does it seem… I don’t know… Anti-climactic to you too? The coven will leave the border up for a few days, just to make sure, but everyone is already going back to their lives.”

The battle still ached in your muscles and bones. There hadn’t been enough time between then and now to afford you the perspective to see it as climactic, let alone for this stillness after to feel anti-climactic. If you were honest, the fight for the soul of Hawkins and indeed the rest of the world wasn’t even the main event. It was just another photograph on the murder board. A sense of resolution would begin and end with Eddie. What shape that would take, you didn’t know.

“This is what we do,” you reminded Kelsey. “We should be so lucky that all of the wars are so brief and contained,”

“Yeah…” Kelsey remembered the same as you – the smell of burning vampire bodies at the cost of Penelope’s life, and only after the massacre of humans and witches alike. “You’re right. Maybe it just feels strange because we’re apart. It’s never been like this. We’ve never fought a war apart,”

“I know. I miss you too,”

“Are you coming ho- Wait. Wait, fuck. What happened to the bat man?!”

You were hoping on Vecna overshadowing the cursed bat situation, that you would have at least another day to come up with a good cover story before having to update Kelsey. Eyes darting around the trailer, you looked for inspiration but were coming up short.

Kelsey started to laugh at your silence. “What did you do?” she whispered; the glee evident. “You did something, right?”

“It didn’t work. He’s still a bat.”

She was trying to gauge your tone. “Did you kill him? If you did you can tell me. I know it was an accident!”

“Kelsey! I didn’t kill him!”

“Then why do you sound like that?! Did you fix him? Is that it? Did you turn him back into a man and he’s so unbelievably attractive that you have to keep him secret? Has your icy heart finally melted and you’re in love with the bat man?”

“You’re hundreds of years old, grow up,”

“Ohhhhh!” she laughed. “That was absolutely not a denial,”

“It was. He’s just a common brown bat. I’ve been busy with, you know, saving the world. Not really time to try to unhex a bat,”

“Yeah, yeah. You only get to say you saved the world because you were stupid and went to Hawkins. You got their first. We collectively would have stopped him otherwise.”

No, you thought, the coven wouldn’t have. Not unless one of them had a secret vampire too.

“Yeah, probably. The point is, a curse is hard to break. This is gonna take a while.”

Kelsey replied, but you didn’t listen. Your head had made a connection as you said the words. A curse is hard to break. A curse should be hard to break. It was meant to be hard to break. But… It wasn’t. It had been easier than expected once you’d committed.

A curse is hard to break unless the witch unbreaking it was the one who cast it.

“Kelsey!” you interrupted her. “What do you remember about the flatlands? About being here?”

She was quiet for a moment. “What do you mean? What part? We were there for so long,”

“Right, sure. But, the vampires. What do you remember about them?”

Kelsey did not like the mania in your voice. Still, she answered, measured as always. “We knew they were there before they attacked,”

“When did they attack?”

“Um… it was winter, I think? It was cold. 1835 or 6? We left in 45, and it had been about a decade of war… You know this though. You remember this too?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. It was how you remembered it. “I’m just… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about Penelope. How she experimented… and… I don’t know. Being back here has me nostalgic, I guess,”

“Nostalgic for what…? Killing vampires?”

You winced, felt your stomach flip on itself. “No. I just… I don’t know.”

Kelsey was quiet again. “What have you done?” she asked seriously.

But that was the problem. You didn’t know. You didn’t know what you had done, nor what had been done to you.

“I’m okay,” you told her. “Everything is okay,”

“You have to know that I know you’re lying, yeah?”

“It’s going to be okay.”

You heard her sigh deeply. Kelsey had an entire vocabulary of sighs at her disposal. Really, all witches did. Maybe, all women did. It was a secret language you could speak to each other in.

“Really,” you assured her.

“Alright,” Kelsey conceded. “Well… Call me soon, okay? These two weeks have felt like eternity,”

“I will. I love you,”

“I love you too.”

Eddie had returned but waited outside the trailer until your call ended. He listened as you hung the phone back on its cradle. You were breathing too fast, your heartbeat following suit.

He was pleased that his speed didn’t seem to bother you anymore. Eddie placed the bag of food on the kitchen bench and looked you up and down. You sighed and he wasn’t sure what it meant. The look in your eye, though, he could decode. You were sad and worried.

“I think I did this to you.” Your voice was small, as though the guilt muted sound.

Eddie moved slowly, came to sit next to you on the floor. “Why do you think that, little witch?”

“I… I mean, I don’t know for sure. But the curse was too easy to reverse. It’s easier to undo your own magic than another witch’s,”

“If so, why do you not remember?”

Shaking your head, you looked at him. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “I think there might be other things I don’t know and can’t remember.”

There was an impulse Eddie ignored, one that laughed at the notion of a dishonest sisterhood. He didn’t think your misery was funny though. Whatever guilt you felt about potentially being the cause of his hex, he matched with his own about being the cause of your sorrow.

Instead of apologising or asking if it was routine for a coven to conceal truths from each other, Eddie stood and began to take things out of the bag he’d returned with.

“Food is readily available,” he noted. “I assume it has not always been so,”

“Nope,” you said, standing and looking over his gathered goods.

“I can read but much of the packaging still lacked useful description… What is a Toaster Strudel?”

“Oh, they’re good!”

“They did not look good. Nor did Captain Crunch,” he told you, pronouncing the ‘captain’ so formally. You giggled. “So, I took what appeared to be real food.”

The image of Eddie stalking through an empty supermarket was so endearing. He’d collected fruits and vegetables, eggs and soft cheese. Fresh milk too. Things that were recognisable to him and his 1800s brain. You picked up the one thing that was out of place. A single pack Moon Pie.

“Curiosity got the better of you?”

“I wake to find myself in the future where Moon Pies are plentiful. How could I not?”

“You can’t… eat…”

“But I can taste!” Eddie defiantly opened the plastic wrapping, took a bite of the Pie, and chewed. When his jaw stopped moving, you snorted at him.

“You wanna spit that out?”

He nodded.

“Trashcan under the sink,” you pointed. “How was your taste of the future?”

“Dry…”

“Yeah. They’re not the best. Should’ve got Hostess CupCakes. But, the rest of this is good. Thank you, Eddie.”

While you made a pot of tea and drank milk from the bottle, Eddie watched like he was trying to learn the dance of your movements. You ate brie on apple slices, and fried egg and tomatoes. The food made you feel the closest to normal you’d felt in weeks.

As you washed the dishes, it occurred to you. “Have you… eaten?” you asked Eddie.

His lips tipped up into a smile. He nodded slowly. You nodded back in acknowledgment. The both of you were thinking it. He didn’t have to ask. He just waited for you to come to a decision.

“Tell me,”

“He may have counted as one of yours… but I doubt you’d claim him,” he began with a wicked smile that reminded you of what he was. “He was in the forest, looking for where she died,”

“Who died?”

“The… cheerleader? The gate is closed. All that remains is the valley he ripped into the earth. But… I can smell the blood there. Her's. It’s splashed against the trees. Still stuck to some of the fallen leaves. There was a man out there. He was looking for that place,”

“How do you know?”

“Ah, well, chatty young demon… He had a photograph of her. And a look in his eye. I asked him if he was looking for death. He misunderstood,”

“That’s it?” It didn’t seem enough. You agreed it was ghoulish to visit a murder scene for fun, but it certainly wasn’t enough to warrant death.

“No. Curiosity is natural. His candour though, almost supernatural. He was revealing in the darkness that has taken Hawkins. He could name all the people he was happy to have seen perish. The cheerleader was at the top of the list. He appeared to be quite infatuated with her. Moreso in death.”

Eddie’s dark eyes watched you for a reaction, any hint you didn’t want to hear about it anymore. Your expression was one of worry and anticipation. He continued.

“When I showed him where the blood was, he grew excited. In… every sense of the word. He asked if I was like him. Which, I fear, in some ways I am. But not in the ways he wanted me to be.”

It was a question of morality. Maybe even theology. And if there were things to question bigger than that – then those too.

“Do you think he has ever hurt anyone?” you asked, trying to form a complete picture.

“Yes. It was in his nature.”

What Eddie was describing was a budding sociopath. A potential serial killer. Or maybe just a run-of-the-mill asshole man that took pleasure in the pain of others, especially when those others were pretty girls like Chrissy Cunningham. Either way, there would be no more pain.

What pain had Eddie caused in his lifetime? Bloodlust wasn’t something alien to him. Why did it feel fair for the young man in the forest to die but for Eddie to live?

“Are you thinking about your murder board?” Eddie asked softly.

“Even if I had all the information in the world, I think there would still be questions that can’t be answered,”

“Perhaps it would do you well to exercise the thoughts. Turn your mental murder board into something real,” Eddie suggested.

Although you didn’t have a pinboard and coloured string, you did have notebooks and a multitude of pens. It was a good idea.

Eddie sat on the couch as you pushed your coffee table alter from the center of the living space, making room on the floor. Cross legged, you ripped pieces of paper and began to write out everything you knew for sure.

1830 – 1843 Eddie hexed, by who? Likely the coven, possibly me?

1845 Coven leaves Hawkins, some memories of my time here missing, coven vows never to return

1986 Something calls me to Hawkins, Vecna? (probably not), Eddie (probably not), what then?

You paused. It wasn’t a lot. It was nothing, really.

The Witches Who Came Before: warned against returning to Hawkins (why?), foretold that when fighting Vecna I would not be alone, ‘history will not repeat,’ ‘lore will be rewritten,’

Looking up at Eddie, he offered an encouraging nod. All you could do was shrug back. “I don’t… I don’t know how we can possibly get any answers without asking the coven.”

He could hear the frustration in your voice and responded by slinking down, pushing his arm against yours as he sat beside you.

“May I ask what the answers would do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Eddie tapped a long nailed finger against one of the pieces of paper. “Does it matter who called you to Hawkins? You came and you saved your humans. Is that not enough?”

You shook your head. “No, it does matter. Vecna didn’t know about me or what I was, so it wasn’t him. That wouldn’t make any sense. But, it wasn’t you. Unless it was and you just don’t know. That doesn’t… that doesn’t really make sense either though. But I don’t know what else it could have been. Prophecies and pilgrimages are usually voiced by The Witches Who Came Before, and it wasn’t them,”

“They are… Your higher power?”

“Uh, no. They are, like, literally witches who existed before now. Ones that were particularly powerful or noteworthy. They are on a different plane of existence. They can see beyond the limitations of our plane, beyond time and space,”

“Interesting… Why have you not taken your questions to them?”

All their vague words and unhelpful warnings echoed in your head. “They aren’t always… clear… or concise…”

Eddie felt like there were avenues to answers you were not willing to walk down. The Witches, for one, or other types of magic. With answers come endings, and maybe you didn’t want anything to change just yet. If that were it, he felt the same.

“I have questions,” he said then.

Of course he did, you thought. He had no idea who he was or where he had come from or why he was the way he was.

Eddie caught you off guard though –

“What does music sound like now?”

Studying his face, his sharp features and dark eyes, you looked for… You didn’t know what. A reason why he’d never felt like a threat, maybe? A reason why you felt at ease.

“I have tapes in my car.”

End Note: We have moved forward a few short hours in 1986 this chapter. Next chapter, we return to 1836. As always, I'd love to hear from you! xo Rhi

Fic Taglist: @paranoidmunson @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson/Reader #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Witch!Reader

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definedbydaylight · 1 year

Text

“It’ll Be The Last Time” - Matty Healy x F!Reader

Part 2:

Masterlist: .°˖✧

Word Count: 2132

Warnings: angst-ish, smoking, alcohol, drugs and semi-smutty?, mostly just mentions of it, also i promise this is a Matty fic i just love George so i can’t help but add some love for him in there

Series Summary: “You’ve known Matty since you were 14 and the boy has never failed to get on your last nerve, but over the years you two end up having unexplainable moments where you can’t help but feel you two are connected in a way you’ll never feel with anyone else, until one night he tells you something that may change how you view the boy forever…”

January 13th 2011

Today is finally the day, your debut album is coming out and you should be over the moon, you should be enjoying being out with your friends celebrating, but instead all you can think about is the words Matty spoke to you last summer. You hadn’t really spoken to him since, you’d been out with all the boys since then, you really couldn’t avoid it cause somehow Kelsey and Ross were still going strong all these years later, so you’d seen Matty, you just hadn’t spoken to him past a simple greeting. The club you were at was hosting a release party for you, a small area roped off for just your group, your manager had set everything up as a surprise, you would’ve been fine with a small listening party in your flat, but Kelsey insisted you go along with the idea and enjoy your big day. Honestly she was probably more excited for the release than you were, she’d been planning your outfit for the last week, acting as if it was your wedding day.

The situation at hand felt all too familiar to you, the fact that she’d picked you out a green dress to wear only added onto the nostalgic feeling, but you could never say no to her. You’re currently downing your third dirty shirley of the night, you were over an hour into the party and there was still another 45 minutes before the album dropped and your sad music would be blaring through this club, you almost left bad for the people who came out here who didn’t know what they were about to be subjected to. George and Adam are the first of the boys to arrive besides Ross who’d come early with you and Kels, they walk over to your chosen spot in a booth in the far corner of your section, they both greet you with a hug.

“Don’t look too happy about beating us to an album now y/n!” George jokes to you.

“Oh please we all knew she’d be the first.” Adam nudges your arm. “But for real love what’s with the sulking in the corner? It looks like it’s Kels’s release party!”

All three of you look to Ross and Kelsey dancing together to whatever upbeat club song was playing at the moment, the instrumental far too loud and drowning out any words that would help you identify it, you give a small laugh.

“Just preparing myself for the world to either hate it or love it I guess, I’m ungodly nervous.” You admit to the two.

“Oh please y/n/n! ‘With Your Permission’ is going to smash, every song is a fucking tune and you know it!” George had always been the most encouraging about your music dreams.

“Everyone’s a critic though.” You reply slamming back the rest of your drink, when you look back up you see Matty entering with his girl of the week on his arm. “I need a shot! George care to join me?”

He smiles and follows you back up to the bar, you can’t see but you feel Matty’s eyes following you both as George snakes his arm around your waist guiding you through the crowd.

“4 shots of Tequila please.” You smile kindly at the bartender as he prepares the liquor for you both.

“Any particular reason for the excessive alcohol consumption?” George teases you as the shots are set in front you both.

“Killing the nerves babes.” You smile at him, it’s only a partial lie, you were trying to drown your nerves in alcohol, but it wasn’t about critics or ratings, it was about his best mate who’d drunkenly confessed his love for her just barely 5 months ago now.

“Good enough for me.” He kisses your forehead and you both shoot back two shots in each in quick succession.

Afterwards your eyes find Matty’s and you can’t read his expression like you usually could… it was going to be a long night.

2006:

George and you and had been off and on since the dance, you weren’t really official in the dating sense, but when you both got horny or felt like being romantic you knew exactly who to go to. No one in the group questioned it, you were teenagers and you had sworn to Kelsey about a thousand times that you didn’t want anything serious and she trusted your decisions. The only person who took issue with it was Matty for now obvious reasons, he never really said it but his body language and snide comments told you enough about how he felt. Especially now as you were currently sat on George’s lap at another one of your school mate Josh’s parties, his hands on your waist and one of yours playing with the ends of his hair and the other holding a cider Ross had just brought you on his way back outside from the kitchen. Your whole group was gathered around a makeshift fire pit in the backyard, the heat from the flames keeping you all warm in the crappy early english spring, you were honestly surprised it hadn’t started raining yet as you stared at the dark clouds overhead.

“I’m bored!” Kelsey interrupts the comfortable silence you all’d built up, minus the muffled party music coming from inside the house. “Ooo! Let’s play a game!”

The group groans in unison at the suggestion, but when she breaks out the puppy dog eyes at Ross he’s quick to convince everyone to agree to a drinking game.

“What game do you even have in mind?” You ask your best friend wondering what she might have up her sleeve this time.

“Let’s do never had I ever! You say something you’ve never done, and if someone in the group as done it, they have to take a shot! Adam would you be a dear and go grab us a bottle of something and a few those little plastic shot glasses I saw in kitchen? I’d make Ross do it but he’s just got back from the last trip I sent him on.” And of course no one can say no to Kelsey, so Adam nods and is off to the house.

You all set up in a little circle on the patio beside the fire pit, you’d taken your spot next to George and somehow you’d ended up directly across from Matty on the other side of the circle, his stare held on you and he nursed one of his many smokes of the night. You and Matty hadn’t spoke of what happened at the dance since that night, you’d felt bad in a way about how you’d just left him there, but he knew you liked George, his best mate, and he’d still kissed you. Adam returned with two bottles, one apple sourz and a store brand tequila, a baggie of shot glasses under one arm, behind him trailed the host Josh and you and Kelsey’s school friend Maya.

“Hope you don’t mind but I brought along some randoms to make it more interesting.” Adam says as he hands everyone a shot glass and places the alcohol in the center of the circle.

The game started innocent enough with stupid and playful “Never Have I Ever”s, everyone had taken as least 2 shots at this point, and you were all definitely starting to feel the affects of the alcohol. George had made the mistake of getting on Matty’s nerves by using a very specific embarrassing example to get him to take a shot, and what happened next didn’t help.

“Okay! Ummm.” It was Maya’s turn, and she had no clue what flood gates she was about to open, and neither did you. “Never Have I Ever… had sex…” She admitted quietly.

Ross and Kelsey both took their shot expectantly, as did Matty, you felt your face heat up as your glanced to George at your side, he quirked his eyebrow up at you as you both smiled and threw back your shots together.

“Y/N L/N!” Kelsey shouts from other side the circle. “You dirty dog! Why didn’t you tell me!?” She faked being hurt as she placed a hand over her heart.

You put your face in your hands at the new found attention from the group and leaned over into George, he sweetly rubbed your back and laughed a little at your embarrassment, but you knew it wasn’t in a mean way. The one person you expected to make a comment hadn’t spoken up at all, just sat in silence with a small smirk on his lips, something brewing in his eyes. Josh’s turn was next, then Adam, and finally it was Matty’s turn.

“Hmmm…” He feigned being deep in thought about what he’d say. “Oh! I know! Never Have I Ever kissed my date’s best mate while at a school dance.”

Silence overtook the group after he spoke, your face stilled and your heartbeat quickened as you made eye contact with him.

“That is so weirdly specific.” Maya laughs not knowing the gravity of the situation.

“Well?” Matty speaks up again. “Go ahead and take your shot June Bug.”

Everyone’s eyes were on you again, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment you left it was anger, you held your gaze on him as you took your shot.

“My turn.” You say with heat behind your words that everyone could feel.

“Umm no it’s Kels-” Josh tried to speak up before Adam slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Never Have I Ever tried to throw my best mate under the bus by telling his date all he wants from her is a ‘good shag’ before telling her I’ve always cared about you more then kissed her without thinking about the repercussions of my actions.” It’s your turn smirk at him. “Go ahead Matty…” You say drawing it out. “Take your shot.”

George is quietly fuming beside you and his grin on your waist tightens as Matty grits his teeth and takes his shot, the tension in the air is so think you could cut it with a knife, and your just glad you can tell his anger isn’t directed at you, but at the curly headed brunette.

“Jesus Christ Matty.” George mutters as he rubs his temples with his free hand. “You know if I wasn’t drunk as shit right now I would break your fucking nose.”

“Damn Matty you did not think that through.” Josh laughs trying to lighten the mood and failing.

Kelsey is watching at you as you stand up and turn to George, a worried expression on her face. “Fancy yourself a ‘good shag’ babes?” You smile at him.

He looks up at you, smiling right back. “With you? Always.” You grab his hand as he stands up, you both pass Matty as you walk to the house, but George pauses for a moment and leans down to Matty’s ear. “She’s bloody fantastic in bed by the way.”

You both enter the house taking up residence in the master bath for some privacy, meanwhile outside Ross is handing Matty’s ass to him on platter. Only Adam knew the true nature of Matty’s feelings for you, Matty didn’t open up about how he felt about these kinds of things easily, only telling Adam after he’d gotten wasted at his after the dance. Matty truly did feel bad with how he’d handled telling you about how he felt, but tonight he was drunk and high and couldn’t stop himself from being an ass after learning the George had been the one to deflower you.

“Lay off him man.” Adam tried to to speak up and Ross whips his head towards him.

“Are you kidding me! He acted liked a child and practically decided to try and ruin his relationship with not only y/n but his best mate as well in the process!” He yells, he then redirects his attention back to Matty. “What we’re you thinking Matthew!?”

Matty sat in silence now, just taking everything Ross had to throw at him, at some point before now he’d reached for the apple sourz and began to down as much as he could, feeling every emotion and yet none all at the same time. Kelsey was rubbing Ross’s back trying to get him to calm down but it wasn’t working and she eventually gave up, going to sit between Josh and Maya, trying to process the events of what just happened and why you hadn’t told her.

After several more minutes of verbal abuse from the friendly giant Matty had finally had enough. “FUCK OFF ROSS, I’M BLOODY IN LOVE WITH HER! OKAY!?”

Silence overtook the group once again, everyone finding out the truth 4 years before you did.

Part 3

a/n: okay haha idk i just got into a rhythm while writing this so idk if it’s good cause my brain cannot handle trying to check it over rn cause i have work in like an hour haha, but i’ll revise when i get home! anyway hope you all enjoy! xx

#matty healy #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #matty #healy #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #dbd matty fics #dbd it’ll be the last time #george daniel x reader #kinda?#not really tho #george daniel #ross macdonald #adam hann

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