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5sospenguinqueen · 3 months ago

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Suck My Balls | Kevin Magnussen x Mercedes! Reader

Summary: When you and Kevin collide on track, fans half-expect you to start attacking each other. That’s not… quite how it ends.

Warnings: 18+ after the cut. Male oral. Enemies to lovers. Not an original title but how could I call it anything else

Requested: No, which makes it worse lol

F1 Masterlist

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yn_ln just posted

liked by georgerussell63, hulkhulkenberg and others

yn_ln starting p3 tomorrow, looking forward to going racing. in a position to push for a podium

2,044 comments

mercedesamgf1 that’s our girl! looking forward to a masterclass of overtaking

georgerussell63 flaunting the gear, are we? yet you make fun of me when i post the tommy

→ yn_ln “flaunting the gear” and “post the tommy” this is why twitter say you have 0 aura

→ georgerussell63 @/mercedesamgf1 she’s being mean again

→ user i love the 2019 rookies in merc

charles_leclerc you couldn't have gone a little slower and let me on the second row instead?

→ yn_ln it’s against my contract to help pretty boys

→ danielricciardo is that why you gave max a tow?

→ maxverstappen1 that was an accident!

user she’s such a great starter. i bet she ends up leading by the second lap at least

user yn podium incoming

→ user i think you mean yn win incoming

→ alex_albon i can feel it in my bones

→ yn_ln thank you my #1 fan

→ georgerussell63 so you steal my aura and my alex?

user it’s a shame that yn’s time knocked nico into p11

→ user it's okay because haasband kevin magnussen will be committing war crimes to defend him

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f1 posted a new story

18+

A throaty groan filled the room as nimble fingers tugged harshly on cropped blond strands. In response, his lips sucked on the pulse point below your ear. Kevin chuckled against your skin when your hips rolled eagerly against him.

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this,” you spat, shoving him away from you.

“Skat, I have my thigh between your legs. There’s no way for me to not enjoy this.”

You rolled your eyes at the smug grin on his face, pushing him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the hotel bed. He let himself fall backwards with a soft thud. Tucking an arm behind his head, he watched your eyes track the flex of his bicep with a smug smirk.

“Don’t be an asshole. Or I stop.”

“Now that would be more disappointing than the DNF.” His words trailed off as he choked on his own breath. The palm of your hand pressing down harshly on the bulge in his jeans. “Fucking hell.” He groaned, throwing his head back.

“Do you really want to piss me off right now?”

Kevin lifted his head, blue eyes darkened and pink lips apart, breathing heavily. Your hand moved to the top of his jeans, popping open the button and revealing a glimpse of grey boxers. A dark spot had formed where his tip sat.

“Desperate, are we?”

“Do you ever shut up?” Kevin groaned, pink staining his cheeks.

“Only when my mouth’s full.”

“Then I suggest you get on with it.”

He lifted his hips, helping you to pull the denim down his thighs, giving up once they’d reached his knees. He watched eagerly, holding his breath as your fingertips reached for the waistband of his boxers. He squirmed when your fingers skimmed his stomach. His boxers are pulled down, freeing his cock. It slaps against his stomach, thick and heavy. The cool air paired with the way you’re looking at him sends goosebumps rippling across his thighs.

A stuttered breath left his lips when your hand wrapped around him. Slowly working him, you sink to your knees between his legs. Your hair tickles his thighs when you lean down to press a kiss to the bottom of his stomach.

“Don’t be such a tease,” he hissed.

You ignored him, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his thigh all whilst your hand pumped him. Your tongue licked a stripe up his balls, enjoying the way his body jolted beneath you.

“Fuck,” he grunted when you took his balls in your mouth, sucking slightly. You chuckled against him, sending vibrations through his balls. “Oh, shit.”

Your tongue trailed a line from his balls, up the underside of his shaft before wrapping your lips around his tip. Looking up, your eyes connected with his just as you sucked. Enjoying the way his head tipped back, you took more of him into your mouth before pulling back up. His hips bucked up, chasing your lips. Hollowing your cheeks, you bobbed up and down. His abs clenched when your tongue traced his slit, and you were rewarded with a throaty groan from Kevin. His hand reached for the back of your head, tangling in your hair. He hesitated for a moment, waiting for you to pull back. Pulling back up, your lips sucked gently on the head of his cock.

“You’re so beautiful.” Kevin whispered, pushing a strand of hair back from your face.

Using his hold on your hair, he pushed your head down further. His cock hit the back of your throat, and you gagged slightly. Your hand continued to pump what you couldn't reach with your mouth. Allowing Kevin to control the pace, you relaxed your jaw, taking more of him in when he pushed you down again.

“Shit, you’re so good at that. I’m so close.”

Encouraged, you suck harder, hand reaching down to cup his balls. With a slight squeeze, you let Kevin push your head down once more as he releases with a loud curse. Thick white ropes of cum paint your tongue, leaking from the side of your mouth.

“Oh, god. Oh, fuck. So good.” Kevin whimpered, sensitive as your mouth slid off him.

Hair dishevelled, cheeks pink, mouth wide open, looking spent and satisfied. You decided you could get used to this sight of Kevin.

“I told you that you’d like that.”

Before you could laugh at your own joke, you felt the world spin and your back landed on the white sheets. An involuntary wince escaped you, body bruised from your earlier crash. Kevin immediately scrambled back, off your body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I forgot- and it’s my fault-“

Your arms reached out for him, yanking until he lost his balance, almost collapsing atop you. His arms fell beside your head, bracing him.

“Shut up. You’re not here to be nice. If I wanted nice, I’d have asked your teammate.”

“He couldn’t fuck you like I can.”

“Prove it.”

And, as Kevin reached down to yank your leggings away, a darkness in his eyes, you knew he would.

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yn_ln just posted

liked by kevinmagnussen, francisca.cgomes and others

yn_ln it’s a shame some people don’t have better reaction times but the main take away from this weekend is that i’m okay. a little bruised and a lot disappointed. now for a little girly self care

2,750 comments

landonorris oh god, my eyes (puke)

georgerussell63 blimey, warn a man first. not what i wanted to see

→ yn_ln "blimey?" do you need to calm your nerves with a spot of tea?

alex_albon treat yourself, girly

user i love how the 2019 rookies are together

→ user alex being the only supportive one

mercedesamgf1 we’ll see you on that top step soon enough, yn

user not k mag liking this post whilst she shades him in the caption

→ user can you blame him. she’s thirst trapping

→ user he probably saw people on twitter talking about it and came to drool

user being a passenger princess is the ultimate form of self care

alexandrasaintmleux loving the aesthetic

→ user even the man?

→ alexandrasaintmleux especially

charles_leclerc is the bath a good place to cry?

→ yn_ln yes

→ charles_leclerc can you show me how to make one like that?

→ yn_ln also yes. on my way

lilymhe okay, i see you. treating yourself in more ways than one

→ yn_ln it definitely was more than one way

→ landonorris filth!

user why aren’t more people freaking out about the fact that there is clearly a man touching her???

→ user thank you! like who is he? is this a soft launch or just miss thing flaunting the fact that she probably got railed after the grand prix

user anyone else think that tattoo looks a lot like kevin’s?

(picture 3 has been deleted)

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Requests are open

No tags because this is smut and I don't know if all of you are comfortable with that :)

843 notes · View notes

20-th-centurygirl · 1 year ago

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jude bellingham x fem!reader

summary: jude's nickname for you causes many theories

a/n: i have not been able to get this out of my head i am obsessed !

masterlist

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham and 3328 others

yourusername: lately 🫶🏻

view all 210 comments

judebellingham: my bambi

yourusername: always

user: why does jude always call her bambi

user: idk but it's so cute

user: the flowers !

user: her and jude are so cute

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, yourbestfriend and 2986 others

yourusername: obsessed with denim apparently

view all 195 comments

judebellingham: my pretty girl

yourusername: my pretty boy

user: her outfits are always so gorgeous

user: i wanna be her

bellinghamupdates

liked by, user1, user3 and 2396 others

bellinghamupdates: jude with fans recently! one asked him why he calls his girlfriend bambi and he said its because they went ice staking and she fell and the name stuck 🥺

view all 629 comments

user: they're so adorable GODDD

user: i want what they have so badly

user: he's so fine

user: judes actually so sweet

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you: my nicknames bambi cause i slipped on ice huh 🤨🤨

jude: not gonna tell them the real reason am i 😏

jude: only my bambi when i've fucked you good

you: enough.

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judebellingham

liked by yourusername, jobebellingham and 9,827,342 others

judebellingham: bambi on ice 🫶🏽

view all 17,239 comments

yourusername: nearly lost a finger and you're making cute insta posts

judebellingham: it's my job

user: if you look closely you'll see me crying in the background

user: if i don't have a relationship like this i don't want it

user: they're so 🫠

yourusername: i love you !

judebellingham: i love you more bambi

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you: going to extreme lengths to make people think you call me bambi cos i fell

jude: well you did fall the first time we went ice skating

you: i'm way better at ice skating than you 😒

jude: didn't ask bambi

you: 🖕🖕

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#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smau #footballer imagine #football imagine

1K notes · View notes

dazedandconfused-15 · 9 months ago

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Heaven's in your eyes (Part 1)

This is to answer a request I received from an anonymous user a couple of months ago “Billy asks shy reader out and is protective over her��, for some reason I can't directly respond to their post still getting used to Tumblr. Sorry for taking a while to write this one. Anyway, I got a little bit carried away and turned it into a short fic, I just loved the whole concept. I’ll definitely post a part 2. Comments and constructive opinions are always appreciated 🩷

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

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You have always watched him from a distance.

There was something magnetic about him. Where he was, energy swirled.

You have never spoken to him. He’s something inaccessible to you. He hangs out with the popular crowd. Yet, unlike all of them, he doesn’t seem to pretend. He doesn’t show off. He naturally exudes an aura that makes him alluring. He’s not just what could be called "hot." No, he’s beautiful. When you first saw him in the school hallways, you could swear that for a second, your heart stopped. He was playing with his lighter, walking with an assured stride in the direction of his classroom with Jason Carver. He was a palette of contrasting colors that stood out in perfect harmony. His tanned face was framed by long, golden curls that almost fell over his shoulders. He looked straight ahead as he listened to the boy at his side with his red mouth stretched into a smirk that revealed white teeth. His cupid bow was dusted with stubble. It was no surprise that most of the girls looked at him with no shame, the shyest ones glancing up as soon as he passed them. That California boy did not look like a boy. He looked like a man. You could tell by the way he was built, the black leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders, the muscular legs in his denim jeans.

You had realized that you were staring openly at him when he passed by you and, probably feeling the weight of your gaze on him, his eyes had met yours. There, something had happened inside you. His eyes were the purest blue you had ever seen. They were crystalline. But it was the long dark lashes that gave his gaze something expressive and unique. They were the embodiment of what is called a piercing gaze. It was a unique paradox: as angelic as it was rough in outline. Awakening from your enchantment, you lowered your gaze with an abrupt jerk of your head and resumed putting your books away in the locker, feeling your cheeks on fire and your heart beating wildly.

That was the only time you had even a remote semblance of contact with him.

As you rush to your English literature class a month later, rounding the corner of the hallway, the last thing you expect is to bump into him. You let out an "ouch" as you collide with his hard chest, your notes and pencil case tumbling to the ground in the chaos. It's only when you raise your eyes in a flurry of apologies that you realize who you've bumped into. You swallow, kneeling and picking up your notes hastily.

"You alright?"

"Yes. Yes." the notes slip through your shaking fingers.

His hands appear in your field of vision, and when you accidentally touch them, an electric shock almost makes you wince. He helps you pick them up, then raises to his feet and holds them to you. You thank him, thinking about what else you could say to avoid making the situation awkward. His baby blue shirt matches the color of his eyes. He’s even prettier from closer.

"We’re in History class together, right?

His question surprises you. You didn't think he would remember you. You didn't think he would notice you.

"Yes. That's right."

He holds out his hand, his heavy-lidded gaze on you. "Billy."

You shake his hand, introducing yourself. His hand is large and his grip his firm, but gentle at the same time. That touch makes your stomach tangle. You can't believe he is talking to you.

"You're new, right?" you ask. You know fully well that he arrived here a month ago. You know full well that he is from California. He probably knows that you know, but he doesn't say anything about it

"Yes. Moved here last month."

“Oh, okay. Welcome to Hawkins, then.” you say gently as you absently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence, him probably waiting for you to say something else. You point at the door down the hallway, starting to walk away. “I ah, I have to go to class. Sorry.”

And you walk away, no, you scurry away, almost escaping him, feeling a pang of embarrassment as you replay the scene later in your head, regretting how abruptly you left without saying more.

You don’t cross paths with him again after that. However, you are clearly more aware of his presence during history classes even though you don’t interact again.

In recent months, you've adopted a strategy of minimizing your visibility as much as possible. It’s not always easy. That Thursday is one of the hard days. Mr. Jensen, the new history teacher, makes his way through the rows of desks, collecting permission slips signed by parents for the upcoming day trip he has organized to Indianapolis.

"Ah, I don't seem to have your permission slip yet," he inquires gently as he sees you empty-handed. "Did you forget to bring it today?"

Feeling the eyes of everyone on you, your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. You hate all of this attention on you. "I, um, I haven't been able to get it signed yet. My dad's been working double shifts, and I haven't caught him at home."

“I understand,” the teacher says, “But I need to give all the signed papers to the principal by tomorrow. Is it possibly to get it signed today? By your mother, perhaps?”

Before you could answer, Tommy Hagan's voice pierces the air, his tone laced with mockery. "She's probably halfway across the country by now, cozying up with some other guy."

You don’t even turn to look at him. You saw it coming. It’s been five months since she left now. Hawkins is a small town, so the news spread quickly. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding eye contact with your classmates as you feel the weight of their curious gazes.

"I uh...I just," you try to ignore Tommy's comment, resting your eyes on the professor whose eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. "I'll tell my dad tonight. He's just been really busy. I will bring it to class tomorrow."

“If he comes back with the milk.” snickers Tommy.

You stiffen instantly without wanting to, which the teacher doesn’t fail to notice.

“That's enough, Mr. Hagan. Comments like that have no place in my classroom.” he snaps as his eyes darken, his jaw set. His expression softens as he turns to you. “Don't worry about the permission slip for now. We'll make sure you're included."

As the professor returns to his seat, your eyes remain fixed on the spot where the desk is chipped, absently touching it with your fingernail. Your body fails to relax as you fight to ignore the burning in your throat, careful not to blink, your vision blurred for a few moments. But Tommy's yelp draws your attention and you turn your head to your left, where he is sitting next to Billy.

“What was that for, man?”

Tommy is rubbing his shoulder, his face scrunched up in pain and a mixture of disbelief and confusion on his face. Billy stares straight ahead, his face cold and hard.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he eventually mutters under the teacher’s explanation. However, it sounds more like a statement than a question.

As you go back to stare at your desk, your throat is still burning but your vision is clear again. You wonder if what Billy said was because of Tommy's comments. Why would he defend you?

The rest of the class passes in a blur of confusion and unanswered questions. Tommy's hurtful words echo in your mind, leaving you shaken and upset, the sting of their cruelty lingering long after the bell rings.

***

On the morning of the school trip, you are tempted to call the school and say you are sick, but your father comes back from the plant later in the morning and will see that you are actually fine. Also, Mr. Jensen might suspect that something is going on. Only, the idea of spending the day with the whole class, but feeling more alone than you are when you're at school, doesn't appeal to you. You've never been very outgoing. Since your mother left, the armor that covered you has only thickened, alienating you from the rest of the world. To this day you have received no answers. She left overnight without warning. You never received a call. You knew that things had not been going well between your parents for some time. Or rather, your mother kept complaining about how being in Hawkins was suffocating her, how she was no longer happy. The pain was slowly becoming coated with resentment. She had abandoned you and your father as if nothing had happened, as if years of living together had counted for nothing. As if being a family had cost nothing. Arriving on the ground floor and finding the kitchen light off had now become a habit, not an odd occurrence. Other things had become routine: the unaccustomed silence in your house, the TV once perpetually on now always off, the teapot once always in use was now in the kitchen drawer.

Once on the school bus, you spend your time looking out the window and counting the trees on the distant hills. You can feel the wind blowing outside, the rain pelting cruelly on the window. A crack lets a trickle of air through, making you shiver and clench tighter in your jacket. The ride at least passes quietly, no one talking to you or bothering you. Tommy Hagan keeps his comments to himself, too busy jabbering in the back of the bus with his band of friends. You can hear the occasional shrillness in the voice of Carol Perkins, his girlfriend.

You spend almost the entire morning in the Indiana Historical Society, following the professor through the corridors of the museum. You stay in the background, drowning out the guide's voice and looking at the paintings hanging on the wall. As you change rooms, you realize that you are not the only one who has remained aloof. Billy Hargrove lingers to your side at the back of the row of students, his hands tucked into his leather jacket. You try not to be affected by his presence, suddenly self-conscious of the way you walk and breathe. You still remember what he told Tommy Hagan the week before. You are increasingly convinced that he defended you. As the class spreads in different directions, everyone observing something different and speaking lowly in small groups you realize he’s still here, on your side. As you ponder if you should say something, or just assume that he’s walking behind on his own, he catches you off guard.

“Kinda boring, huh?”

“Yeah, a little," you respond, offering him a small smile that probably looks like a grimace. "History isn't my cup of tea."

“Mine neither,” his gaze scans the display cases lining the wall on your left. “Beats being seated all day in class, though.”

“Definitely,” you nod in agreement as you slowly cross through another room. Desperately trying to fill the silence, you come up with the first thing that crosses your mind. “I’ve been here before.”

“The museum?”

“Indianapolis,” you say. You hesitate before finishing your thoughts. “My grandma lived here. I spent some weekends at hers.”

Billy hums. He sniffs, then retrieves some chewing gums from his back pocket. He unwraps one. “How’s the city?”

“It’s great. Oh, thank you.” you softly say as you take the gum he’s offering you. “There are some nice parks.”

He pops the chewing gum in his mouth. “We have quite a few in San Diego too.

You turn toward him, curiosity overcoming your shyness. “You lived in San Diego?”

“Yes. Big change of scenery.”

“I can imagine.” your gaze wanders to the antique objects displayed in a glass case. “I’ve seen pictures, it looks incredible.” memories of your dad's album, from when he was young, flood your mind – images of palm trees swaying in the breeze, golden beaches stretching for miles, and endless blue skies that seemed to merge seamlessly with the ocean.

“That’s something else, yeah. Honestly, I couldn’t complain at all.”

“I wish I could see California,” you say a little dreamily.

“I can take you one day.”

Your throat feels suddenly dry. So you let out a nervous giggle, avoiding his gaze, assuming he is joking. Fortunately, the professor calls your attention back. It's lunchtime and he tells you that you are free to go wherever you want, as long as you are outside the museum within four hours. You told your father the school would pay for the student's lunch because you know times are tough. He insisted on giving you ten dollars in case you need it.

You walk down the steps of the museum looking around and thinking about where you could make all this time go. It's going to be long. You know a few restaurants, but you know that your pocket money is clearly not enough to eat there. A gust of wind brings the smell of smoke to your nostrils, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy stop beside you. His eyes take in your surroundings.

“So, you told me you know the city.”

“Huh, yes,” you answer, a little lost. “Not all of it, but most of it, like downtown.”

Billy exhales the smoke he’s been holding in his mouth. “Are we downtown?”

You look around, recognizing the skyscrapers in the distance. "Yes," you point to the skyline to your right, figuring he simply wants to ask you for information so he knows where to go with his friends. "It's over there."

“Sweet. You hungry?”

The silence that passes between the two of you makes him turn toward you, waiting for your response. So you rush to answer, ignoring the way his piercing blue eyes make you feel self-conscious.

“Yes. Yes, a little bit,” then you ask him, unsure: “...are you?”

“Starving.” he resumes walking down the stairs again, and you follow him, trying to figure out if he really means what you think he means. Some classmates are already leaving in different directions. “You know someplace to eat?”

“I do. But I don’t have enough. In case you want to go together. If that’s what you were offering.” You add, mentally slapping yourself. Why does everything you say have to come across as weird? Besides, you just admitted that you are practically out of money. “I can show you, though.”

Billy shakes his head, shifting in his leather jacket. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s on me.”

“No, really, I can't let you do that," you insist, your voice tinged with concern. "I mean, I appreciate it, but I can't just let you pay for me."

Billy turns to you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he exhales the smoke sideways. "Come on, it's no big deal," he reassures you. "Consider it my way of saying thanks for showing me around. Besides, it's not like I'm short on cash."

You hesitate for a moment. But ultimately, you know that accepting his offer would ease the burden on your wallet. With a resigned sigh, you nod in agreement. "Okay, if you insist," you concede, offering him a small smile. "But just this once.”

You wanna immediately grimace at your pathetic implication that there would be another time, but Billy doesn’t seem to notice anyway.

He just winks at you. And even if he’s not smiling or anything, it still makes your stomach flip. "Deal," he says. "Now, lead the way."

As you walk beside each other through the park later on, you relish in what surrounds you, not even realizing the silence that has settled between the two of you because it feels so natural. Some people are jogging, there are some families too, or people walking alone headed who knows where. The birds are chirping in the trees that are alongside the walk. You spot a squirrel scurrying up the trunk of one of them, its fluffy tail waving wildly. The late afternoon sun is shining right in front of you, hitting your skin in a gentle caress. Spring is gradually unfurling its colors, bringing with it a glimmer of warmth that has been absent from your life lately. In the midst of the cold and desolation that settled in after your mother's departure, this glimpse of light offers a tentative promise of renewal, a small beacon of hope amid the darkness that has enveloped you and your father. You glance at Billy, realizing that in the short span of your conversation, he's frequently reached for a cigarette. Yet, even during the moments when he abstained, like in the museum and at the restaurant, his mouth was never empty. It was either occupied by a mint, a bite of burger, the straw of his milkshake, or eventually a toothpick found on the table.

“So, uhm, have you been somewhere else besides San Diego or Hawkins?” you venture.

“Nope”, he answers, the “p” resounding loudly. He looks around, one hand in his jacket pocket as the other one holds the cigarette on his side. “Never moved from Cali. I was born in Santa Barbara. Then moved to San Diego when I was ten.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “Is Santa Barbara close to the ocean?”

“It is. I’ve always lived by the ocean.”

You turn to him, enthusiasm laced in your voice as you get carried away in the conversation. “So you know how to surf?”

Billy chuckles, nodding as he brings the cigarette to his lips. “I do, yeah. Surfed every day.”

“Wow.” you breathe, your mind wandering away. “It must be…like an adrenaline rush.”

As Billy exhales the smoke, you don’t miss the nostalgic glint flickering in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. "Yeah, it's something else. There's nothing quite like catching a wave, feeling the power of the ocean beneath you."

“I’ve heard it’s hard to learn.” you muse softly.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps punctuates the conversation. Billy stays silent for a few seconds, probably lost in his thoughts. Then he shrugs. “To be honest, I was on the surfboard since I was a child, so must’ve been natural for me. But yeah, it generally is.

“I can only imagine," you respond, a sense of longing in your voice. You’ve only seen this kind of landscape in pictures or on TV. "Must have been amazing growing up with that kind of freedom."

Billy's sigh is loud as he exhales a plume of smoke, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. "It was. Surfing was my escape, you know? Whenever things got tough, I could just grab my board and disappear into the waves."

What he says lightens some curiosity in you. You wonder what he means by that. You wonder what he went through, what his past was like. There’s something really intriguing about him. But you refrain from asking more, aware of how little you know each other. Besides, you can’t help but notice the little twitch of his jaw muscles as he says it.

"It’s always been books for me.” you offer. “They have this way of transporting you to another world, making you forget about everything else."

Billy nods in understanding. “What kinda books you read?”

“Oh,” you look at your shoes as you feel suddenly vulnerable. You almost feel ashamed of your taste in books, but you know you shouldn’t. “A bit of everything, really. I’m reading a Dostoevsky one right now.

“Dostoevsky, huh? Pretty heavy stuff.”

“You’ve read some of him before?

“I read Dream of a Ridiculous Man. A long time ago though.”

“Oh,” you breathe, recalling how challenging it was to finish it when you read it a couple of months ago. Reading books by Dostoevsky, especially that one, has been both a cathartic and enlightening experience. They made you feel less alone in your pain. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda controversial.” he grimaces. “It’s a fucking depressing book. But... it's like... there's something about it that just... resonates, you know what I mean? Like, you read it and... it's like looking into a mirror, but... the reflection's all twisted and weird. I don't know if that makes any sense.” he shrugs.

It couldn’t make more any sense to you. For the first time, you feel understood in that sense. It's a relief to know that you're not alone in finding meaning within its pages. His words resonate deeply with you.

“I totally get it. That’s part of the reason why I like his books.”

The subtle revelation hangs in the air with the rhythmic sound of your footsteps on the concrete path. You hope he’s not reflecting on your words too much, aware of what you’ve implied. Your own thoughts go on what he said. Why did Billy resonate so much with the book? What if there’s something everybody can relate to, even people who haven’t experienced anything bad in life?

“You?” he then asks. “Always been in Hawkins?”

“Born and raised.” you nod. Then you add, a bit sheepishly: “Nothing like California, unfortunately.”

Billy snorts, flicking his cigarette. “What’s there to do in summer?”

“Oh uh. Nothing much. We have a public pool.” you offer, looking at him.

Billy takes a drag, his eyes trailing on the path in front of both of you.

“We have Lover’s Lake too,” you add. “It’s quite nice, actually. People spend the day there and have barbecues or campfires.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that one,” he says. “You guys party by the lake during summer or something like that.”

“Yes.” then you keep quiet for a few breaths, imagining he’s probably heard it from one of his friends from the basketball team. They’re usually to host parties or organize them. It always involves loads of alcohol and ends up in big scandals. You feel the urge to correct him. “Not me, though. I don’t, uh…I don’t party.”

You feel his eyes on you. “Makes sense.”

You look up at him in question.

“Didn’t see you at the Halloween party.”

“The one hosted by Tina Williams?” you soon look away as soon as you meet his gaze. “I didn’t know you…you noticed.”

“Would’ve sure as hell noticed if you were there.”

As Billy's words settle in, you feel a warmth spreading through you, starting from the tips of your ears and flushing your cheeks crimson. His simple compliment catches you off guard, igniting a whirlwind of emotions within you. You find yourself struggling to meet his gaze, your eyes flickering away as you search for some semblance of composure. None of this makes sense. The mere fact that he recognized your absence at the party, that he shared lunch with you, that he's now walking beside you in the park—it all feels inexplicable. You're accustomed to blending into the background, being an outcast in the bustling halls of the school. You're no stranger to the whispers that swirl around you, painting you as the outsider, the comments about your situation at home, the subtle jabs at your circumstances. The silence between you stretches, pregnant with unspoken thoughts.

“You alright?” you hear him ask.

You slow down, lingering to a stop as you realize Billy has stopped walking too. He looks down at you with a hint of curiosity, the sun caressing his golden skin and reflecting in his eyes, becoming like polished, crystalline gems. That’s when you notice little details you haven’t paid attention to before. The scar cutting through his right eyebrow, the pattern of freckles dusting his nose.

“I guess I’m just a little confused,” you admit.

Billy exhales the smoke from his nostrils, his gaze effortlessly fixed intensely on you. “Why is that?”

“I just…” you try to not avoid his gaze. “Why are you here with me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement and what looks like genuine confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His question is so simple it takes you off guard. Makes you question your reasoning. As you’re at a loss for words, you feel a blush slowly creeping down your cheeks.

Billy’s lips slowly curve into a smile, somewhat teasing. “You really have pretty eyes, you know that?”

You’re positively sure you’re as red as a lobster now, a little whine escaping your lips as embarrassment settles over you. It’s the most instinctual reaction. It makes him chuckle, and makes you awkwardly laugh in response, because what else can you do? He tilts his head to the side, trying to meet your avoiding eyes.

“How about that? I’m here with you ‘cause of your pretty eyes”.

“I really don’t think they’re that special.” you shake your head, still laughing.

You’re not that innocent to not realise he’s openly flirting with you. You’re not surprised, because just looking at him is enough. You’ve also heard things about him and some girls at high school. What surprises you, is that he’s flirting with you. You don’t have that much experience in the love department, but there’s something sincere and genuine in the way he’s doing it now. There’s something soft in his eyes that tells you he’s sincere.

“Well, it’s a shame,” he says, that’s when you realise how much closer you are to each other. You can tell by how you can smell the tobacco and his cologne, his silver earring shining as it catches the sun. He tilts his head again, this time catching your gaze as you muster the courage to lock eyes with him. “’Cause you have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” you mumble with a shy smile, nodding your head slightly. You swear you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

You feel like you want to return the compliment because his eyes are the reason why your heart is reacting the way it does. But then again, you’re too shy to do that, and a tiny part of you thinks it would make things weird or would end up having you vulnerable because you don’t know for sure if his compliment is fueled by real interest in you.

“I just don’t hang out with anyone, trust me.”

As a distant church bells toll four times, their echoes drifting across the park, a subtle reminder of the passing time washes over you both. The realization settles in that it’s time for you to go. You should be back in front of the museum in half an hour.

Luckily, Billy saves you from answering as he breaks eye contact and looks up beyond your shoulder, where the church is. “We should go,” he says.

As you walk back to the museum, you think about his words. Now you realize that you didn’t see him hanging around Tommy Hagan lately. In particular, today on the bus, the latter was seated with his girlfriend and hung out with two other members of the basketball team. Billy was somewhere else the whole time.

When you two reach the museum, the teacher is already counting everyone to make sure the whole class is there. Billy joins his mates, elbowing one of them in a friendly gesture. You didn’t fail the notice the looks most of your classmates shot at you when he saw you two arrive together. The teacher draws the class's attention back to the trip, prompting feedback and reflections from everyone.

What you don’t expect either once on the bus, is feeling someone sitting on the empty seat next to yours. Billy gets comfortable, making it seem something so normal as he stretches his long legs as far as the cramped quarters allow. His thigh brushes against yours and your heart jumps a little in your ribcage, but a few minutes later you start to relax. You can’t help the feeling of warmth spreading through your chest as you take in his choice to sit deliberately next to you. You don’t need to fill the silence, or at least not as strongly as a few hours ago. You’re also quite tired. As you venture a glance in his direction, Billy’s eyes are closed. It seems you’re not the only one feeling tired. His arms are crossed over his chest but his facial features are totally relaxed now that he’s dozing off, his head resting against the seat. His hair seems soft at the touch, a curl falling unruly on his forehead. You feel the distant urge to wrap it around your finger, brush it from his face. There is a difference between now and when he’s fully awake: his expression softened, his gaze peaceful, and his features relaxed. It's a stark contrast from the demeanor you've observed from a distance, where his smile is more wolfish, his facial muscles tense, and his eyes often distant or bored. You force yourself to look away from him, setting your gaze on the window. As the rhythmic hum of the bus lulls you into a state of drowsiness, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. The warmth of the moment envelops you, and soon, you find yourself dozing off as well.

Once you get off the bus, you wrap your arms around your waist as you shiver. The weather is distinctly different. It seems to have been raining all day. The sky is darkening. School buses cannot take you home because there is no bus stop near your house. Forest Hill Trailer Park is in the isolated part of Hawkins. There is no one from the high school living there, so you can't ask anyone for a ride. It's not like anyone would have offered anyway. You've always walked to and from school, in total it takes you forty minutes. As you start to walk away from the bus, you hear footsteps behind you and Billy is at your side, effortlessly catching up with you. You realize his car is parked a few steps away from you. The gleaming navy blue Camaro stands out among the other cars, ‘CALIFORNIA’ on the license plate.

You take the opportunity to thank him before he can dart away and you will probably never exchange another word again.

“Hey,” you start, turning to look at him. “I just wanted to thank you for paying at lunch today.”

Billy plays with the lighter, making it bounce in his hand. “It’s nothing. How are you getting home?”

“Oh, I’m walking.” you point your thumb at the road on your left.

“Come on. I’ll drive you.”

Your mouth opens and closes stupidly, then your brain finally decides to cooperate. Accepting his offer feels like taking advantage of his kindness. You don't want to do this. “I…it’s not a long walk, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s probably gonna rain soon.” he points at the sky, walking past you and toward the parked car.

“You don’t have to.” you insist, guilt filling my stomach as he opens the passenger door for you.

“I know.” he chuckles.

The soft thrumming of a rock song fills the air, the bass pulsing gently as Billy lowers the volume as soon as he turns the engine on. The interior of the Camaro envelops you in a world that feels distinctly his. The smell of leather fills your senses, mingling with the faint scent of his cologne. It's clear that he takes immense pride in his car and the care and attention he devotes to it reflects on the interior. The leather seats feel soft and smooth. There's not a speck of dust anywhere, even in the corners. A pair of aviators rests on the dashboard.

You give him directions, your voice cutting through the quiet ambiance of the car. He nods in acknowledgment, his gaze focused on the road ahead. His left arm casually drapes against the window, while his other hand firmly grasps the top of the steering wheel.

“It’s quite a walk,” he observes as the Camaro speeds through the road surrounded by the woods.

“Yeah…”

You’re thinking of asking him to stop before getting to Forest Hill, but it’s pouring and you don’t have an umbrella. As you get closer and closer, anxiety starts rippling through you. You shake the feeling out of your head. You’re being ridiculous, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. Additionally, you barely know him. You try and distract yourself, asking him about where he lives instead.

“Cherry Lane. You know where it is?”

“Yes, it’s a nice and quiet area. It’s not that far from school either,” you observe.

Billy absently scratches his chin, the glint of a silver braided ring catching your eye. “Yeah. It’s quiet, that’s for sure.”

You find yourself wondering about its significance. Does it have one? You've heard numerous accounts of Billy's involvement in fights at parties, tales of the severe injuries sustained by those who crossed him, and the ferocity of his punches. How many times has that ring been tainted with someone else's blood? Despite the rumors surrounding his aggressive behavior, your interactions with Billy have always been positive. He's consistently shown kindness to you.

Billy turns left, veering off the main road onto a narrow side road, the tires crunching on the gravelly dirt path that winds its way towards Forest Hills. The rain drums insistently against the car, a steady rhythm punctuating the silence between you.

The first trailer emerges into view, its weather-beaten exterior casting a shadow of foreboding over your already uneasy mind. Despite your discomfort, you muster the courage to speak up, directing Billy to continue driving until the end of the road.

You steal a furtive glance at him, searching for any hint of judgment in his expression, but Billy remains impassive. There's no trace of surprise or disdain in his features. His gaze lingers on the scene before you, studying it with a detached curiosity that seems to characterize his view of Hawkins as a whole.

“Thanks again for today, really. I wanna pay you back,” you venture as he slows down.

Billy waves a dismissive hand before settling it on the gear shift, smoothly transitioning into first gear. “I told you it’s no big deal. Wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

You worry at your lip, still not totally convinced. You glance at him. “I know that. But it doesn’t sound fair. It’s important to me.”

Billy's gaze shifts to the road ahead as he seemingly considers your words. "If you really wanna make it up to me," he starts, his voice trailing off for a moment before he continues, "How about you show me around Hawkins sometime?"

You blink, caught off guard by his suggestion. "Show you around Hawkins?"

"Yeah," he nods, resting his forearm loosely on the steering wheel as he gestures while he talks. "I've only been here a short while, and I don't really know my way around outside downtown yet. Like, all the places you talked to me about. The lake, the quarry."

The idea appeals to you, though the thought of spending more time with him outside of school never crossed your mind. The fact of spending time with him in the first place was out off the charts for you. "Sure, I could do that," you reply, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I mean, I'm not exactly a tour guide, but I could show you some cool spots. Whenever you want, uhm. Yeah.”

Billy reaches out to the compartment on the passenger side, brushing your knee with his arm. He opens it and extracts a pen.

“Here,” he takes off the cap with his teeth, and before you know it he’s taking your arm, gently lifting your sweater sleeve.

You try to look unfazed by his touch, though the feeling of his fingertips pressing gently against your skin as he holds your forearm, the sensation of the pen as he writes something on it makes you shiver, raising goosebumps. You look at him in silent confusion as he writes, his dark lashes brushing his cheekbones, a glimpse of pearly white teeth and a sharp canine as he holds the cap between them. Then he releases your arm, and you take a look at it while he takes the cap from his mouth. A series of numbers are written in blue ink on your skin. A phone number.

“Oh.” you say softly. You definitely haven’t expected that.

“Call me when you feel like it.”

It’s really hard for you to hide your nervousness, acting as cool as you can.

“Okay, will do.” you unbuckle your belt, glancing at him enough to give him a soft smile.

Billy nods at you in silent farewell before you close the passenger door. “Have a good night”.

“You too. Bye.”

The warmth of Billy's presence lingers in the car as you step out into the cool, damp air, the raindrops falling softly around you. Closing the door behind you, you watch as the sleek navy blue Camaro disappears down the little road and into the woods from the small window of the living room. As you stand there, the drops of water falling from the end of your hair, you can't help but brush at the phone number on your forearm, tracing the neat handwriting with your fingertips. It's like you're still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. Though you're trying to keep it under control, you can't help the fluttering feeling in your heart.

#billy hargove imagine #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove #dacre montgomery #billy hargove x reader #stranger things fic #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove imagine #dacryphilia #eddie munson #billy hargrove x y/n #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x you #stranger things smut

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harrysfolklore · 1 year ago

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Heyyy I you need fc I suggest kiana davis!! I love her hairrrr it’s so pretty

okay this ended up being suuuuper long but i hope you like it ! tell me your thoughts <3

FOR EXCLUSIVE BLURBS SUBSCRIBE TO MY PATREON !

ask me anything | masterlist | likes and reblogs are appreciated !

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yourinstagram romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours 💖

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yoursister gorgeous

yourbestie i guess those dates are going fine 👀

harrystyles ❤️

friend1 omfg why is harry styles in this comment section

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Tokyo II. March, 2023.

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harryfan1 BABYYYY

annetwist ❤️

harryfan2 harry being single on tour is the best thing that happened to us

yourinstagram bestie best 💕

harris_reed blue denim bunnies 🐰

harryfan3 i want him

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harryupdates Harry just followed this account on Instagram ! We’re not sure who she is and the account is private👀

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harryfan1 OH?

harryfan2 who is that omfg she’s so pretty

harryfan3 everyone be normal

harryfan4 weird

harryfan5 oh gemma also follows them

FANS VIA TWITTER

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yourinstagram this is a… how do you guys call it again? a hard launch ?

i can’t wait to travel europe with you this summer, lover boy 🥺 @harrystyles

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yourmom 👏🏻👏🏻💖

friend1 I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GOING ON

gemmastyles Have fun kiiiids and see you in London 🫶

harrystyles This is going to be the best summer ever x

↳ yourinstagram 🥹

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Horsens I. May, 2023.

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harryfan1 BABYYYY

harryfan2 baby is backkk

yourinstagram summer of dreams 💕

↳ harryfan3 this is the priv acc harry followed 👀

alessandro_michele 🍒

harryfan3 the beginning of the end

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harryupdates Harry out in Paris with a crew member today !

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harryfan1 BABYYYY

harryfan2 how do u know she’s a crew member ?

harryfan3 i hate to break it out to you but that looks like a date

↳ harryfan4 no don’t say that

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yourinstagram i made my pit debut last night in paris, definitely want to do it again

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madidiaz Gorgeous gorgeous girl

yourbestie i can’t wait for my turn

harrystyles Look at you, a proper fan ❤️

↳ yourinstagram look at you, a proper smartphone user with emojis and all

harry__lambert Outfit on point 👏🏻🎀

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Paris I. June, 2023.

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harryfan1 BUB

harris_reed our little space cowboy

yourinstagram like we were in paris 💕

harrystyles liked this comment

harryfan2 do you have a gf yes or no

FANS VIA TWITTER

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yourinstagram amsterdam was a whole lotta love (on tour) 💛

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yourmom 💕

jefezoff Can I third wheel next time?

annetwist See you soon lovelies !

harrystyles Not to be corny, but you were the prettiest work of art in the gallery x

↳ yourinstagram HARRYYYY😩

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Amsterdam II. June, 2023.

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harryfan1 GO BABYYYY

harris_reed 🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍

mtv i love arm

harryfan2 slay

yourinstagram 🥺

↳ harryfan3 who are YOU

jefezoff 🔥🔥🔥

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theharrytea What do you guys think about this?

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harryfan1 i don’t know how to feel

harryfan2 lol that’s definitely fake

harryfan3 DONT ENGAGE WITH THE TWEET !!

harryfan4 if it’s true i feel so bad people are leaking his stuff for interactions

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harryupdates Harry out in London today !

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harryfan1 ahhh bub

harryfan2 he looks PISSED

harryfan3 i can’t help but feel like he looks upset bc of the leak

harryfan4 WHO WRONGED HIM

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yourinstagram when you want to go on a walk with your boyfriend but paparazzi are around so you have to walk a mile behind

wouldn’t change it for the world tho

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yourbestie rockstar girlfriend diaries

jefezoff 🥺

harrystyles I love you, thanks for being patient

↳ yourinstagram i love you <3

gemmastyles girlfriend of the year

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theharrytea Anne and YN, Harry’s rumored girlfriend hugging tonight 😳

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harryfan1 OH?

harryfan2 isn’t that gemma?

harryfan3 is getting real

harryfan4 MAN

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harrystyles Love On Tour. London IV. June, 2023.

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harryfan1 BEST SHOOOOWW

paulithepsm 🎥🍿

yourinstagram london boy 💕

↳ harryfan2 accept my follow request please

lloyddddddddddddd 💃

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celebrityleaks HARRY STYLES COZIES UP WITH NEW GIRLFRIEND IN LONDON

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harryfan1 OH

harryfan2 yeah i don’t like this at all she can go

harryfan3 YIKESSSSSS i hope she goes away soon

harryfan4 omfg this comment section

harryfan5 WH*REEEEE

bradgouldtraining Disappointed to see media outlets invite someone else’s private lives for clicks, but more disappointed to see this vile comments.

↳ harryfan1 wtf brad???

↳ harryfan4 y’all are going to hell

gifs by @sue <;33

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theharrytea OKAY A LOT OF SPECULATION ABOUT THIS MOMENT LAST NIGHT !!!

some fans say that he was reacting to a sign, while others who were close by yn and brad in the pit claim that he was actually interacting with her, since they saw her mouthing stuff to him.

THOUGHTS?

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harryfan1 harry is unhinged that’s all i’ll say

harryfan2 im crumbling over here

harryfan3 looks like she asked him to make out or something 😭

harryfan4 HE WAS DEFINITELY FLIRTING OMFG

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Cardiff I. June, 2023.

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harryfan1 LOVIEEE

musicariza 🐉🐉🐉

harryfan2 come online and address the rumors

yourinstagram 🕺 ily

↳ harryfan2 OH

↳ harryfan3 MISS OPEN YOUR DOORS

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yourinstagram another day, another country, another love on tour fit 💕

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yourmom My pretty girl ❤️

bradgouldtraining The queen 🕺

jefezoff Slay bestie.

yourinstagram i love my fans

harrystyles Gorgeous x

↳ yourinstagram like i said, my fans 🥰

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harryupdates “NO! No more trying to shoot your shot with me! I’m taken! I’m taken! My girlfriend is here and this is a family show” Harry confirming he’s in a relationship on stage tonight 😳

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harryfan1 WTFFFFF

harryfan2 I MEAN WE ALREADY KNEW BUT

harryfan3 man he’s insane

harryfan4 TWITTER COLLAPSED

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yourinstagram my honest reaction to harry hard launching us tonight lol

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annetwist 😂😂😂❤️

paulithepsm I mean it was about damn time

↳ harry__lambert Word

harrystyles I love you. That’s all x

↳ yourinstagram ily more sappy boy

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Düsseldorf II. June, 2023.

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harryfan1 BABYYYY

paulithepsm 💙

harryfan2 that’s boyfriendrry i can’t

yourinstagram best show 🤍

↳ harryfan3 i’m so jealous of you right now

iheartradio i am in fact harry’s girlfriend

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @waitingroomharry y @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily

tell me if you want to be added <3

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year ago

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pls pls write Luke Danes smut with a petite reader. size difference and stomach bulge pls. also praising if you want to

hi, wow it feels like I haven't written anything in forever and I hope I brought your request to life!

summary - growing up small came with some disadvantages but not when it came to having luke in your life.

warning - smut, swearing, creampie, dirty talk, praising, stomach bulge.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by the user on my other stories who I think sadly deactivated.

You were tiny compared to everyone else, you had been since high school where you would always be constantly teased. The one highlight though was having a somewhat protector, a boy older than you by the name of Luke Danes would always stand up for you and fight those who’d make you cry. The sad part was catching feelings for him and knowing he’d never return them.

So, a few years later. All grown up (but still ridiculously small), you head towards the diner. The only way to start your day was with one of Luke’s coffees, you just didn’t know how different the day would end. The little bell went off, signalling that you had entered, causing Luke to look in your direction. His eyes brush over you before turning back to a customer, until his head whips around and he glares at your shirt. You give him a soft smile before practically skipping over to one of the free stools, pouting slightly as it feels as though you must climb it just to sit on it.

After Luke is done with the customer, he storms over and behind the counter before leaning over, his face nearly touching yours as he growls and glares. “What do you think you’re doing walking out in public wearing a shirt like that?!”

You frown, not understanding what he’s talking about until you look down and realise the shirt you had thrown on. There you sit, wearing a small denim skirt and a tight pink shirt that reads ‘I bet she bangs like a fairy on acid.’ You look back up at Luke and pout, “I didn’t mean to… This was the only clean shirt I could find, a–and…” You huff, wondering why you felt the need to explain yourself to him, you were a grown woman but the way he towered over you caused all your brain cells to fly out the window. Your arms cross over your chest, “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You aren’t my father!”

Luke rolls his eyes before walking around the counter and practically lifting you from your seat, his beefy tanned arms bulging slightly as he carries you past the curtain and up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I’m not your father, but I’m sure as hell not going to let you walk around dressed like a slut.” You gape at him, wondering why you could feel yourself clench around nothing, tingles set aflame on your puffy clit. He places you down gently after you both enter his place, before walking over to his closet and pulling out one of his flannel shirts. “You are going to put this on, and I don’t want to hear a peep from you about it, understood?” His glare causes your thighs to squeeze together, and you know he’s noticed it.

You squeak as you back into the door, Luke slowly making his way over to you. Each step, each thud his footsteps make cause your pussy to clench, slick gathering between your thighs. He looks like a predator, and you are his prey. “Are you seriously getting turned on by this?” You let out a whimper, lashes batting up at him as he towers over you again. His hand grips your jaw gently, making sure all your attention is on him and unknowingly causing your knees to buckle. “I knew you were a little slut ever since I stood up for you. You couldn’t hide the way you felt.” He leans closer. “You want to know how I know?”

You whine, nodding and looking up at him with hooded eyes. “Because I walked in on you during the game, you thought everyone was too busy watching, but I had taken a short break. Imagine my surprise when I hear your soft little whimpers, and an even bigger one. You kept calling out my name, while you gripped one of my shirts and humped your pretty little hand.” You gasp when you feel him pressed himself against you, your eyes widening when you imagine how you are possibly supposed to take him. You squeal when you are suddenly lifted from the ground, flung like a ragdoll onto the bed, too dazed to notice him crawling on top of you.

“Are you going to be a good little girl for me?” His bulge rubs against you while his hand moves up to grip your chin. You blink, his words sound as though they are underwater because all you can focus on is the tingles running throughout your body and how pretty his eyes look. You feel yourself clench as he slaps your cheek softly, repeating himself causing you to nod. A dumb look accompanying your face.

Everything moves so fast, or it could’ve happened slow… You didn’t know, everything felt good and fuzzy. One second you had clothes on and the next you were completely naked in front of your crush, your mind was exploding. Luke groans, gripping the base of his cock and rubbing the tip through your folds. “You’re so wet already, baby. You think you can take me?” You nod, need erupts throughout your body as your dream is finally coming true.

“P–please, Luke.” You whine, wiggling your hips as you try and press yourself closer to him. Your walls becoming slicker at the sheer size you feel against you. “I’ll be good!” Your eyes roll into the back of your head, back arching off the bed as Luke slowly pushes in. Groans fall from his lips as he thrusts through your tight hole, your walls gripping him and pulling him deeper.

“Holy fuck…” His eyes rest upon your stomach, noticing how your stomach bulges from how deep he is. “You’re doing so good, baby. You’re such a good girl.” His hands grip your hips as he begins to thrust hard and fast, splitting you open and fucking you dumb. “My good girl. So good you’ll wobble back down to the diner with my cum dripping down your legs.” He growls, lying flat against you as his hips frantically move.

“U–uhhh, mmm.” You try to speak but can’t. Your mind feels a thousand miles away and the only thing you can think about is how good Luke feels thrusting in and out of you. You can feel the veins on his cock throb with each movement, his thick tip pounding into your sweet spot. Your hands fly up and grip onto him, burying your face into his neck as you feel your orgasm approaching embarrassingly fast.

“You going to cum, little baby?” His thick voice rumbles throughout your body, sending shivers directly to your core causing you to clench around him. “Fuck. Be a good girl and cum for me.” Your eyes disappear as he fucks into you, causing your orgasm to rip out of you, covering him. Luke groans, his head rolling back as his cock throbs and twitches, balls tightening before he releases deep inside of you, thick ropes of cum covering your tiny walls until he softens. He moves slowly, making sure not to harm you as he pulls out and receives a cloth that he uses to clean you with. “You, okay?”

You hum, eyes slipping closed as your body tingles. Luke smiles as he watches you before lying next to you. Screw the diner, Caesar can take care of it for now.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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matildaanymore · 7 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : billie eilish x fem!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : Claire is best friends with billie eilish but what happens when she finds out she has a song written about their complicated relationship

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : alcohol

Billie was Claire’s best friend. She’s been by her side through thick and thin since birth. Finneas has watched the two grow up together and become closer each year. The girl has been there ever since Billie first released music in her bedroom. From her first song ‘Six Feet Under’ to her third album ‘Hit Me Hard And Soft’ coming out May 17th. Claire couldn’t be prouder.

She was currently getting ready to go to the release party for the album hosted by Interscope Records. She’s heard a few snippets of songs but Billie wanted her to hear the album in full along with everyone else. It wasn't like Billie to do that but Claire pushed it aside and it’s understandable since she’s not releasing any singles. The brunette was currently blow drying her hair while blasting Mac Miller from her speaker wondering about what the new music is going to sound like. After about 30 minutes and doing makeup she walked into her closet. The girl grabbed a basic tee along with some denim washed baggy skater jeans and finished off with a leather jacket and yellow lensed glasses. She grabbed her bag checking to see if she had everything with her (keys, makeup and other essentials) before heading to the friends and family listening party in LA.

Liked by billieeilish, dominicfike, sza and 256,000 others

claire: Bae’s listening party is tonite.

billieeilish : ahhh so excited!

➥ claire: ily

User : so jealous! What’s ur fav?

➥ claire : i haven’t heard any yet!

User : tell billie i said hi

dominicfike: see you there

➥ claire : see ya

tarayummyy : midnight!!

It was a pain to find a place to park, she didn’t realize how many people were invited. Anxiety rushed through the girls body. So many thoughts were buzzing around ‘Who’s going to be there’ ‘How many people are there’ ‘What if I'm late’.

Her thoughts were broken as soon as she walked into the room. Billie stood there waiting to greet the girl, screaming with excitement.

“Oh my god you made it” she screeched making peoples heads turn towards them as she pulled Claire into a hug.

“I did! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” it was the truth. Anything Billie did the girl had her full support. “Are you excited to hear the album” pulling away from the hug she stared at the girls face for 10 seconds before replying. “Of course I am! It better be good because I didn’t get an input this time" "It’s amazing! I’m going to go speak to more people. I was waiting for you to get here before I spoke to everyone else” with that Billie walked off but not before winking at the girl and flashing her a smile.

Claire looked around and spotted a bar automatically wandering over to it to grab herself a drink before going around to say hi to everyone else. She spotted Finneas talking with Claudia and one other girl who she didn’t recognise.

“Hey Claire!” The strawberry blonde boy shouted out towards her. Walking over with a drink in hand she side hugged the boy as well as Claudia. She awkwardly stood there while the other conversed in conversation before her eyes landed on Billie again watching her every move and the way she interacted with people. She was so caring and so accepting towards everyone. Claire always knew that the girl would go far with music everything about her screamed rockstar. That's what she loved about her. Everything.

The girls would both say that over time their relationship has become complicated. The two grew up spending so much time together that their friendship became more. No one knew apart from the both of them of what happened behind closed doors. However tonight that changed...

Her thoughts got cut short after hearing the feedback from the mic indicating that Billie was about to start playing her album. Finneas no longer stood next to her but instead up on the stage with his younger sister. There were blue velvet couches to match the theme of the album cover color on the floor and one on the stage which was for the two O’Connells.

“Thank you all so much for being here, this album means a lot to me. It’s different to most of the stuff I've released but this is to my third album and a new era” the girl held up her drink which was echoed by everyone else in the crowd.

The first song ‘Skinny’ played and to say Claire was in tears is an understatement. She was bawling her eyes out listening carefully to each lyric that blasted through the speaks. She related to this song more than she wanted to. Her and Billie talk about everything and she knew this one hinted to the chats you've had together late at night.

It wasn’t long until LUNCH blasted through the speakers. This was one she’s not heard before nor even been mentioned.

“I can eat that girl for lunch, yeah, she dances on my tongue, tastes like she might be the one’

Claire’s mouth was hung open. She was not expecting that opening but all she could think about was who “She” was. The girl felt jealous and she didn’t know why. Afterall her and Billie never had a label on anything.

‘Call me when you’re there, Said I bought you something rare and I left it under… Claire’

If her jaw wasn’t already touching the floor it sure is now. Some random girl sat next to her shaking her shoulders in shock. She had no idea who it was but all she could focus on was those blue eyes which were staring right back at her smirks forming on both of their lips.

‘Taste like she might be the one’ The rest of the album they didn't take their eyes off of eachother. Something felt different after hearing that song. Something clicked. Billie watched her carefully analyzing her for each song she heard. This didn’t go unnoticed by her brother who was sitting back and watching everything fall into place.

Blue was the last song on the album. Claire obviously knew this one as she was in the room when Billie first wrote it years ago. It made her feel so proud that she put this on the album knowing everyone was waiting for her. And with that the album ended. People started getting up to get more drinks from the bar and to also congratulate the 22 year old on her new release.

The curly haired girl finally found the girl after an hour giving her the biggest hug ever. Everything she did Claire admired her. In her eyes she was perfect. She always looked up to her.

“Billie… What was that?” The girl cupped the singer's face. “What was what!” Billie grabbed the other girl's hands resting on her face and dropped them down between them still holding hands. “It sounded amazing! I loved it so much, it's definitely my favorite album you’ve ever made.” The girl giggled. “AND LUNCH! C’MON NOW” Claire almost shouted which caused Billie to shush her to quiet down. “We can talk about that later at the afterparty” and with that the girl disappeared again.

Liked by billieeilish, oliviarodrigo and 506,503 others

Claire: if anyone asks. The album is a work of art.

User: IM SO EXCITED! 2 HOURS NOW!

➥User: WHAT? IT’S OUT FOR ME NOW

➥User: timezones…

Oliviarodirgo : If anyone asks. I’m not okay.

➥Claire: me neither bae

User: I CANT WAIT ANY LONGER

billieeilish : whos that hottie

➥Claire: idk you tell me xoxo

➥Billeeilish : its you xoxo

Claire was stumbling around Billie’s house after a few drinks talking to random people with the new confidence buzz. As always Billie threw a party after every release to celebrate properly.

People are going round saying how good her album was, even though they weren’t at the listening party but listened at midnight.

That’s when Claire felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around a bit too quickly, stumbling around everywhere before grabbing ahold of the person's arms in front of her. She soon realized who it was. Billie stood there asking to pull her for a chat.

“Hey” this time Billie seemed nervous to talk. Claire turned her full body towards Billie before saying “Hey.” They both just stared into eachothers eyes trying to figure out what to say until Claire broke the silence. “Is the song ‘Lunch’ about me”. All the brunette did was look at the floor. Speechless. “Obviously it is…” she then rambled on about everything until she got shut up with a kiss…

A/N : Let me know if you want part 2. I think my writing is improving. lol, let me know! Also feel free to give me plot ideas! This one is over the place. AND THIS IS BILLIES BEST ALBUM. IF ANYONE WANTS TO GET ME TICKETS TO EVERY SHOW FEEL FREE TOO. I've listened to Billie since 2017 and not seen her once but its ok. NEXT YEAR IS MY YEAR TO SEE HER.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fanfic #hit me hard and soft #album #billie #eilish #wherestheavacados #billie eilish story #wlw

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cupiidk1lls · 1 month ago

Text

⋆｡° 𝐒𝐊𝟖𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐈 .ᐟ

this is my first blurb EVER so don’t expect some shakespeare type shit 😭

let me know if you wanna see more ! always open for requests, just might take a while to get done . .

i’m probably gonna dedicate most of my blurbs/moodboards/headcannons too my bots. ➪ for example, this one is based off my sk8er boi one!

… this was way longer than it intended to be.

⚠︎︎ teensy weensy content warning : swearing, suggestive word choices, users a bitch.

chris watched as you and your little minions walked down the hall, your little hips swaying after every single movement, causing his eyes to automatically dart there — because christ, you’re not subtle in the way you move, are you? it’s like it’s on purpose, like you know your a tease, that nobody can steal a taste of you.

because he knows that he can’t get a taste of you. him? the loser skater boy of the whole grade? the mere thought of you even talking to him is laughable in his eyes, and he’s sure it would be amusing to everyone else. there’s no chance in hell that you’d give him the time of day, unless he plays his cards right.

but you know his reputation, or lack of. he’s a sore loser, really. a sore, sore loser. keeps a small bubble of people around him, always carrying that damn, worn out skateboard.. the way the aroma of cigarettes all of a sudden fill the room when he walks in, as if it’s an announcement — well, a warning, that he’s there.

but he intrigued you, to say the least. nobody else is like him. this school is full of frat-boner losers who only care about getting in your pants. which, to be completely honest, you can’t really complain. but you’re getting sick of the same lousy hook ups, you want real love. but with your reputation, your supposed to be the slut that just wants to be in a different boys bed every night. the thought of you wanting something real is something people would find amusing and unrealistic.

and you intrigued him. not just because of your body. don’t get him wrong, your body is killer. but your face is beautiful, that heart though? it’s ugly. sometimes he wonders if you’re always a bitch or if it’s a daily facade you put on just so people either like you, or are scared of you. he wants to know the real you. even if that fire in you gets him riled up intensely or not.

he watches you as you boss your minions, clearly you’re not in a good mood for whatever reason. maybe you’re makeup went wrong today? some girly shit like that, but fuck you look incredible. you always do, don’t you? with that little denim skirt as you walk around the school and sway that ass of yours like nobody’s business.

he needed to speak to you, urgently. he planned it all out in his head. yeah, he knows, the last time he spoke to you in class, you said, word for word, ‘if you speak to me again, christopher, i swear to god, i’ll knock your teeth out so you won’t speak to, like, anyone again. period.’ that shit was scary. but he can’t say it didn’t turn him on, because it definitely did. he needed a trip to the bathroom after that lesson. a long trip. he knows that’s, like, absurd. he shouldn’t get off from you talking to him like he’s a useless piece of shit. but, you can insult him any day and he’d allow it. he’d let you stomp on him in them pretty little heels.

so, totally not on purpose, he looks around obliviously and steps in your way, stuffing both his hands into his hoodie pockets as he rolls his gum around his mouth with his tongue. and since you’re not paying attention to your surroundings either, you bump into him and drop your books.

when you gasp, he turns to you and feigns a shocked look, though his smirk destroys his surprised expression. before you can go on a tangent, he speaks up. “ah, shi— sorry, mama. wasn’t watchin’ where i was going.” he speaks, his hand patting your shoulder as you regain your posture, even though he’s totally just using that to grab a feel of your skin — wow, shits soft.

you scoff, crossing your arms as you look up at him. typical christopher, you think to yourself as you roll your eyes somewhat dramatically, shifting your weight onto one foot as you look directly into his eyes, then up and down at him as if finding a sense of approval. his lips curl into a tight lipped smile, suddenly feeling a little awkward, what’s he supposed to say now? “or.. or maybe you, should watch where you going? y’know..” he clears his throat, watching your expression of disapproval, your tongue running over your teeth for a moment.

“this is, like, the second time this week you’ve pulled this shit on me, christopher. seriously? watch where you’re fucking going! this dress ain’t cheap!” you complain as you groan softly and smoothen the creases in the dress, your hands running down your body. chris can swear he can feel his shorts already tightening, as he watches your curves become more pronounced.

he clears his throat, snapping out of it and casually putting his skateboard over his lap, his fingers tapping against it as he looks around the hallway then back at you, “won’t happen again, promise.” it definitely will. he watches as you lean down to grab your books, and he bites his inner cheek. “here— lemme..” he bends down, grabbing your books with his free hand then passing them over to you.

with a scoff, you grab your books and ever so quickly walk away, praying to god that nobody saw that interaction between you and little skater boy. you know everybody would talk about it, shit spreads like wildfire here.

but, with regained confidence, he smirks and walks behind you. “hey!” he calls out, jogging a little in order to catch up to you as you ignore him and walk even faster, “why in such a hurry? y’got somewhere to be?” he mocks, holding his skateboard casually in his left hand as he walks beside you, both your paces slowing down.

“nope. just pretending i don’t know .. you exist.” you say bluntly, your lips curling into a tight lipped smile as you look down at the ground, your arms crossing over your stomach with your books pressed up to your chest, his eyes being brought to the sight of your perky tits in your little tanktop. jesus motherfucking christ.

“yeah? not even a thankyou? wow, that’s..” he shakes his head slowly, feigning a demeanour of disappointment, “that’s low, y/n.” the guy says, a boy-ish grin on his face as he so clearly teases you, his tone sarcastic as he tilts his head, trying to catch your eyes. with a fustrated grunt, you look over at him, “yeah, thanks.” you mutter, half-assed.

he narrows his eyes, the smirk still present on his face as he gently shoves your shoulder with his own. “nuh-uh, gonna need some more enthusiasm than that, princess.” chris comments, giggling under his breath at your oh, so obvious fustration. this is so amusing, on his part. the way you bite your tongue, probably holding back a line of insults. but why? you never hold back with anybody else? why him? “fine!! fine. thankyou, christopher. im sure it was such a hard task, thats my fault.”

you’re lost for words, as you look away, feeling that really unfamiliar feeling of your stomach fluttering, your chest feeling warm. you find yourself liking the interaction, but you can’t. you need to keep your reputation, this facade. you need to stay uninterested, you can’t lose your shit over a skater boy!!..

oh, wait.. nah, because you already have.

jesus fuck

I HOPE YALL ACTUALLY ENJOY THIS CAUSE THIS TOOK ME AGES AND I JUST YAPPED.

lmk if you wanna see more! <33

1𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 . . .

#𓉸ྀི kami’stumblrrr .˳˳.⋅ॱ #₊ 𐙚 𓂃 ࣪ cupiidk1llsbotz.#chris sturniolo fluff #christopher owen sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo blurb #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #loser!chris #IF THIS FLOPS IM GONNA FLOP MYSELF OFF A BUILDING.

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battydora · 2 years ago

Note

Fabric Father

for some reason i imagined tsunagu dressed as a priest

wait

OMG SHIT WAIT—

#my mind went wild for a sec #i think i saw an artist making a priest au with tsunagu and shinya involved #can't remember their user rn #but it was cool #i should draw that too #he would look so pretty #asks. –☼#: ̗̀➛ | denim lover ♡👖

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nymphomatique · 10 months ago

Note

doing the TikTok couple outfit trend with nerd!miguel

this just sent me to my early grave btw

cw: none! fluff with barely one instance of suggestive language. also maybe angst if you squint. gn!reader with a fem outfit!

wc: ~ 600

❤︎ a/n: this was so cute im :(((. if you haven’t see the trend nonnie was referencing, here is an example! proofread today yippee!! happy reading <3

*all pictures are just for scene setting! reader has no specific race, genitals, body type, or pronouns mentioned!*

put the timer on before you press play,” you laugh, watching miguel fiddle with your phone. as tech savvy as he is, you find it endearing that he can’t operate tiktok properly.

the two of you were on a park date, picnic basket in hand as the sun shines overcast, warming your skin, matching the warmth you’ve been feeling all day. after a rough week, miguel had offered to cheer you up, by way of picnic, and you agreed, albeit with reluctance.

it had been your idea to match, of course. the small unspoken ways you feel comfortable giving affection towards him without outwardly saying the three words that stir and uneasy feeling in you.

naturally for a picnic, you opted for gingham, red of course, sporting by way of a long sleeved off the shoulder crop top with lace trim, and a denim mini skirt to match. the shoes were less understated with the farmers look you had going on, your steve madden platform sandals bringing your more than necessary edge to your outfit. miguel, still hunched down finicking with your phone, matched with you, wearing a red gingham shirt, unbuttoned with a white tee underneath. his light-wash blue jeans sat well on his hips, held up by a black leather belt, the same color as the loafers on his feet.

you had seen an influx of videos of couples on vacations and regular outings matching outfits and chronicling it in form of tiktoks, and some part of you felt like it would make you feel all the more conflicted in your feelings, but the other part of you wanted to hold hands with miguel and show off your matching outfits to the world, and the former part of you won.

bringing you back to now, where miguel finally has managed to set up the timer for your tiktok, but not without muttering, “the user interface is stupid. anyone could have trouble with it.” you can only laugh, admiring his clean shaven face, pouted lips, strong nose and soft eyes as he looks at you and asks if he can press play yet. you fix his hair, looping the little piece in the front around your finger to fix the curl and look at him in the eyes, his face red.

“yes.”

“miguel, you cross your legs, and then clap. not the other way around. this is the second time!”

“that’s not what they did in the video i saw..”

“that’s because it’s not the one i sent you. i suggested this, so we’re doing it my way, not yours.”

after three takes of miguel either crossing his legs the wrong way or completely missing his cue, you were sure this take would be it.

so when he presses play and the timer goes off, you watch the minuscule versions him and you in your phones screen, and by some high power, you’re both in sync. and can help but laugh and exclaim your joy, pull him in for a kiss at his success. a kiss in which miguel gladly returns, lipstick marks be damned.

you look away shyly when you pull away. “knew you could do it,” you say, gaze lowered to the gold chain hanging from miguel’s thick neck.

“only cause i listened to you, my love,” he returns, bringing your gaze to his by pushing your head up with his index finger at your chin.

you give him a light pec before slapping his chest softly. “should have been listening to me the whole damn time. i’ve been too nice to you lately.”

“teach me a lesson later,” he says, the look of mischief in his eyes not unnoticed by you. “first, we eat. c’mom.”

with his hand in yours, you stroll through the park. together, and happy.

#miguel o’hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel atsv #atsv miguel #gn!reader x miguel o’hara #fem!reader x miguel o’hara #male!reader x miguel o’hara #you’ve got mail💌#<nerd!miguel3 #barbie dreams💌

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steviewashere · 5 months ago

Text

Stay Away

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Implied Major Character Death, Ambiguous Ending, Canon Injuries/Gore Tags: Pre-Season 4, Season 4, Angst, Time Travel AU, Injured Steve Harrington, Traumatized Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Saves Eddie Munson, Stubborn Eddie Munson, Confused Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Lives, Plot Twist That I Can't Tag Because It Would Spoil The Plot, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart For @steddieangstyaugust Day 6 Prompt: "Who did this?"

⌛️—————⌛️ The last thing Eddie’s expecting on his Saturday night is to open the trailer’s front door to see Steve Harrington with a filthy face and even worse body. He’s standing like a weeping willow, hunched into himself, holding his own elbows. His usually styled hair is a stringy, wet mop atop his head—what must’ve resulted from the heavy rainstorm that just ended a few minutes ago. Considering his usual appearances, his outfit is out of the ordinary: grey pleated pants that look similar to sweats, bare feet that are equally as filthy as his face—possibly even more, that typical brown watch of his now with a cracked face, bandages around his middle that look more like t-shirt scraps, and a denim vest with pins and patches that are identical to the ones Eddie wears on his own—in fact, it honestly looks like his, which is impossible considering it’s on his dresser. There’s dirt caked around his hairline, lips, and cheeks. Red rash that spreads on the backs of his arms, just barely visible on the sides for Eddie to spot. And then there’s blood seeping through the scraps.

He’s unsettled, to say the least.

“Wha—Harrington? What in the actual fucking hell is happening right now? Who…Who did this?” He asks, gesturing vaguely at Steve’s outline. There’s something to say, too about his face. That it’s seemingly older. Aged in all these terrible ways—not smile lines and cute crows feet. No, Steve Harrington has dark shadows under his eyes and etches between his eyebrows from furrowing them, a tight bite in his jaw, and impossible to place little white scars. Nothing of what Eddie knows of pristine, well-off, douchebag Steve Harrington from the Family Video counter.

They don’t run in circles close to each other at all. But Eddie’s heard rumors. Heard about Steve’s asshole, overbearing parents—the lengths they take for that perfect “All-American” image of the modern family. About Steve and his prissy habits: positioning strands of hair with spray and gel in the men’s restrooms around town, reapplying sprits of cologne whenever he so damn well feels like it, and plucking every little fiber off his clothes.

The Steve Harrington in front of him looks like he was dished and served by fucking Mohammad Ali. He stands with a frightful panic in his limbs that typically belongs to somebody like Wayne, a veteran soldier. And…god, he absolutely reeks. Like sewer and metal and rot.

Rot.

Eddie takes a step closer, the screen door smacking his backside, but stops abruptly when Steve flinches and his eyes gain a level of clarity that Eddie only sees in psychedelics users. He stops. Gauging. Waiting.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes. “Eddie,” he says like he’s relieved.

He leans his weight away from Steve, putting it all on his back foot. Eyes wide and surely full of apprehension. Why would somebody like Steve Harrington be relieved to see him? “That’s me,” Eddie mutters skeptically, “what do you want? Who did this?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve brushes off. He takes a confident step forward, bypassing any movement Eddie makes to block him from entering the trailer. He’s standing in the center of the living room by the time Eddie actually turns around in the doorway and comes back inside. Eyes roaming around the entire room. Catching on the Garfield mug and the empty carpet below his disgusting feet and the huge water leak stain on the ceiling. Then, he looks back at Eddie. Wide eyes. Tears glazing them. A slight trembling working through all his limbs—not like he’s cold, more like a crash of adrenaline.

At a closer look, at a better look in the glow of light from the living space, Steve’s exhausted.

“You sell ketamine,” Steve states, “and you…you keep it here. In the trailer.”

“How do you”—

“This Friday, March 21st, you’re going to conduct a drug deal with the blonde girl on the cheer squad, Chrissy Cunningham. She…she meets you at your picnic table in the woods. And she’s jumpy, a very unusual thing for her. She’s startled by your presence and you’re going to be skeptical about her state of mind. You’re apprehensive about selling to her, but she insists that she’s okay. You”—

Eddie takes a striding step towards Steve, meeting him toe to socked feet on the carpet. His face hot and his eyebrows heavy above his eyes. He holds out a hand to stop Steve. “Are you fucking spying on me? What kind of prank is this? This isn’t fucking funny, man. Even coming from a clown like you.”

“I…I’m not messing around, man,” Steve quietly says. His voice takes on a timid quality. He holds onto his elbows tighter, fingernails clearly digging into his already fragile skin. The blood on his bandages is getting darker and messier, but he pays no mind to it. Eddie doesn’t really want to touch that topic either, even if he may have to help with whatever…butt ugly thing has happened.

A moment later, Steve takes a deep breath and continues, “She wanted weed from you. You weren’t sure why she’d associate with you, but you guys would fall into a quick and polite conversation. You invite her to a gig at the Hideout to watch you and the rest of Corroded Coffin play. But she…” Steve trails at that. Swallows hard, eyes going far away. His skin gaining a movie-made green tint.

“Woah,” Eddie murmurs, placing his hands carefully on Steve’s shoulders, dodging any exposed injuries he can see. He turns Steve around and begins to direct him towards the sofa—trying, with all his might, to ignore the Dio patch on the back of his vest. And to also ride-by the bright red marring on Steve’s arms, the blood prickling through the denim. He instead gingerly sits Steve down on one of the cushions, leaning him back to rest his head atop the back of the sofa. “Take it easy, Harrington. Don’t need you spilling your guts and passing out in my home.”

Steve closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose. Gives a quick, short nod. But he doesn’t completely relax into his position. Still holding his arms and rigid through the rest of his body.

Eddie swallows, and in a gentler tone, asks again, “Who did this? What are you doing here?”

“You won’t believe me,” Steve murmurs, “and I don’t want to tell you.”

“Well, I sorta want to know…considering you seem to know everything about my drug deal appointments. Did somebody set you up to this? Are there goonies waiting outside to fucking jump my bones?”

He shakes his head, damp hair sticking to the fabric of the couch. Sadly, he utters, “I’m trying to keep you safe. And I don’t have a lot of time. I just need you to hear me out, okay?”

Taking in that stillness to Steve’s whole body and the graveness in his tone, Eddie finally agrees. “Okay,” he says, “but for the record, if this is your way of making friends or whatever, you’re doing a piss poor job at it.”

Some of the tension in Steve’s shoulders melts away, a snort in response to what Eddie said. But then he forces himself to be serious again. Continuing in a terribly soft, weak voice, “She ends up wanting something stronger than what you have. Because she feels like she’s losing her mind. So you postpone the deal. You go to school. You finish the day. You have your Hellfire campaign—the curse of Vecna or whatever—with Dustin, Mike, Lucas’s little sister, Erica, Gareth, Jeff, and Freak. When you’re done, you drive Chrissy back here. You make her wait in the living room. You try and find where you put the ketamine.

“You find it in your bedroom. And when you come back from your room…” Steve visibly shudders at this point in his explanation. His chest seizes with his breath and he seems to swallow a golfball. Then, “She’s going to die in here. And you’re going to get scared and you’re going to run. Because you…you didn’t know what to do. So you get in your van and then you abandon it and then you stay in this boathouse…

“Long story short, you’re going to be wanted for murder. You’ll be on the run for several days. Before you eventually…You die.”

And the way Steve says that, of all things, finally sinks a stone in Eddie’s stomach. Something in that last sentence says it all.

Steve Harrington is not here for shits and giggles. He knows of something darker, stronger, and more evil than this world can comprehend. And this, in itself, is the warning of a life time. Because he knows. First hand.

“You know that…how do you know that?”

“There’s these creatures that fucking chew you up, like they did to me”—he states, while gesturing at himself—“but they get you worse. You run at them. You try and kill them. There’s too many. You die.

“I almost died, too,” he tacks on a second later. “But you’re going to die in Dustin’s arms. And he’s going to be so fucking distraught with you. And you don’t graduate high school, even though you kept claiming it was your year. And you don’t survive. You…Fuck. You’ve never survived.

“This is my last shot at stopping you. I’ve tried going to different iterations of you. Tried to get you to fucking slow your roll and look at the world in a bigger picture, but you always betray me—I mean, you always betray us. You always die. And I can’t let that happen.

“So here I am, before the storm.”

With that, Steve finally goes completely silent. Wheezing breaths through his nose, yes. But he melts into the couch. Eyes open and far away as they continue to eye that wretched water stain on the ceiling. There are tears ready to pour down his face. And sobs that threaten to crack from his still seizing chest. His cheeks are ruddy and still dirty, though a bit sunken and pasty. Like maybe it’s been a little while since he’s had a proper meal, proper sleep, a proper break.

And though this whole story sounds sort of like an excellent D&D campaign, Eddie knows it to be non-fiction, not fable. Because Steve Harrington has never been one to excel in the art of storytelling, as apparent by the fact that he nearly failed his senior English class alongside Eddie the one year they had together. Also because he can’t make a reference even if it was the thing to end all bad.

But knowing about Hellfire? Knowing the exact names of Eddie’s close friends, outside of Mike and Dustin and Lucas—who, admittedly, all talk about Steve like he’s some norse god. Him knowing the exact date and customer Eddie had planned to meet with, despite that being extremely disclosed information…Well, it’s hard to discount whatever Steve has said.

One thing sticks out to him, though.

The fact that Steve has tried and tried and tried to save Eddie. Even through his stubbornness. Even through his refusal to follow orders. Even though, considering who he is as a person, Eddie’s never thought of himself worth saving. But to Steve? The efforts he’s seemingly had to go to, make Eddie seem like some treacherous, tragic lover straight from a Shakespeare play.

Steve Harrington can’t quote Shakespeare to save his fucking life, Eddie knows this firsthand—English class, again, was very unkind to the both of them.

Fuck, Eddie finally thinks, he’s serious.

“Okay,” Eddie says slowly, absorbing, “you’re here to save me, supposedly. What should I do to help you?” He leans forward a little, looking at the front of Steve’s face, hoping that maybe he can get a little eye contact. Though, it’s sort of pointless, Steve won’t take his eyes off of that stupid stain. He isn’t judging it though, almost considering it as the monster that Wayne joked it was. “Because, I’ll be honest,” he quickly adds, “seeing you like this on my couch was not on the top of my fantasies list. This is uh…very alarming, if I may say. And I’d like it if you were not bleeding out and turning into some weird green goblin creature on my couch.”

“Gee, thanks,” Steve croaks dryly. It doesn’t really land as a sarcastic joke, though. More like a pathetic little thing. An almost hopeless endeavor.

Steve finally sits up a bit. Head lolled back down. Eyes still distant and foggy and glistening. But they’re looking at Eddie now, so he’ll take that as something. He opens his mouth, the inside blood red and noticeably dry. Murmurs, “Don’t sell drugs to Chrissy Cunningham this week. Don’t ever sell her anything. Pull her aside on Friday morning and tell her that the deal is off. Make up some excuse, doesn’t matter what, I don’t care what you say. But you have to keep her away. When you’re done with the Hellfire campaign, you come straight home. No ifs, ands, or buts. You come home. And you wait for Wayne. And you enjoy your weekend, okay?”

When he’s done, eyes imploring and wide, he reaches out for Eddie’s hands. Takes them in his own without asking. His skin is dry, sticky with something, and warm. There’s dirt caked under his fingernails. Blood on his knuckles, in the webs connecting his fingers. There’s blood and dirt all over him. And, yeah really up close, he’s about ready to drop off the face of the planet, fall into some dreamland and never wake up. Maybe, even, cry until his eyelids are red raw and sore.

He knows he can’t be the reason for Steve’s destruction, not like this, anyway.

Eddie breathes, “Yeah, okay.”

“Promise, Eds,” Steve states, straining and choked, “promise that you’ll be safe. I can’t—You can’t die on me again, please.”

Why couldn’t he just listen the first time Steve asked? He could upchuck at any minute from the desperation in Steve’s voice. He can’t deny him this.

He squeezes Steve’s hands tightly, so hard he fears he may break the bones. Fiercely, “I promise, Steve. I’ll stay safe. No drug dealing for me. You won’t need to worry.”

Another sharp, short nod. And then Steve is completely removing himself from the couch. Standing tall and looming, wincing in pain from whatever marks lay beyond those scraps of shirt on his torso. He doesn’t say anything else. Tracks Eddie’s eyes for a second longer. Then, in speeds too quick to really catch, he’s walking out the door.

The last thing Eddie sees of Steve Harrington that night is the denim vest slowly fade from his back, the rashes on his arms giving way to a more disgusting, bloody, deeper mess. The bandages disappearing, no longer existing, as if they weren’t there in the first place. Blood on his back. And his skin pale, translucent nearly.

It’s almost like…

Like the Steve Harrington that left him is dead.

⌛️—————⌛️

#steddieangstyaugust #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst #implied major character death #ambiguous ending

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