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kingkatsuki · 2 years

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Cherry Bomb | Eddie Munson x Reader

This man is taking over my life and I can’t stop it- RIP to all my other WIPs. Thanks to Kitten for enabling me as always💕

Summary: College is becoming far too stressful and you just need to find a way to relax- luckily for you the local dealer has the perfect solution.

Warnings: 18+, PWP, mentions of underage drugs, weed, shotgunning, dry humping, cunnilingus, premature ejaculation (Eddie cums in his pants), dirty talk, multiple orgasms, praise praise praise, Eddie talks too much during sex, panty theft. Spoiler free!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!reader.

Word Count: 6.5k.

For as long as you could remember, you always seemed to struggle the closer it got to the end of a school year. College was getting harder to manage in between deadlines, your part-time job, sleep and attempting some sense of normality by seeing your friends. The harder you seemed to work to clear off the coursework you had due, the more that seemed to funnel in right behind it, and truly you felt as though you were sinking. The bags beneath your eyes now evidence that the time you should’ve been sleeping was now spent lying awake thinking about how fucked you truly were for the end of the school year. And the more you thought about it, the more you began to panic.

You just needed to relax, and this seemed like the perfect solution.

You’d met Eddie Munsen in the hall before your afternoon class together, surprised that he’d actually managed to be punctual for the lecture instead of strolling in twenty minutes late like usual. Ignoring the perplexed look on his face that you’d called his name before class as he broke into a wide grin.

“Hey,” You tried to ignore how your name sounded coming from his lips, his eyes looking you up and down.

Never once had you even given Eddie Munsen a second glance, the pair of you running in completely different social circles. Sure you saw him around the campus frequently, and you shared two classes together but that was the extent of your relationship. Your friends had bought drugs from him on a couple of occasions when their usual dealers fell through, so at least you knew the gear would be safe for the most part- not that you had the first idea about what you were doing.

“I was wondering if I could get a hookup?” You cringed at how weird you probably sounded with your attempt at sounding knowledgeable. Is that what you called it when you were buying drugs from a dealer?

“A hookup?” He grinned, raising a brow at you.

That probably sounded like you wanted sex from him, ugh. Why did you sound so pathetic?

“Uh- like a deal? Gear?” You were certainly digging yourself a hole as the smile on Eddie’s face fell.

“Is this a joke?” He looked uneasy as he leaned towards you, his head turning to scan the hallway to see if anyone was lingering nearby.

“What do you mean?” You were perplexed- he probably did at least five deals a day, some of those people surely lacked experience too- why was this any different?

“Don’t think I don’t know how this works, sweetheart.” He scoffed, “Arranging a deal with a pretty girl, get to the meeting point and her boyfriend and his friends jump me and steal my stash?”

“No-” You replied a bit too loudly, looking around to see if anyone had directed their attention to you, “That’s not what this is.”

“I can give you the contact of another guy if you want, I-”

The thought of going to another dealer, one you didn’t know, scared you more than this one. It was one thing going to the local metalhead for a pickup, but a random stranger? In a strange location? There’s no way you’d do something like that, no matter how desperate you were.

“Please, Eddie.” You cut him off pleadingly, “I need it.”

He seemed to ponder the answer, shifting his feet as he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Shit,” He murmured beneath his breath, a husky rasp to it before he straightened his back, “You know I can’t disappoint a fair maiden.” He grinned, giving an elaborate flick of his wrist, “So what was it you were looking for?”

“I—” You took a deep breath. You really didn’t have the first idea about drugs, and you definitely didn’t want to sound stupid. He already seemed like he didn’t believe that you wanted to buy anything from him as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and began to sway slightly, “I just want something to take the edge off.”

“Well, there’s a lot of shit that can do that, sweetheart.” He gave you a charming smile, “But what I’m saying is you could take a trip to bag end if you wanted something like that-”

“Bag end?” Your nose scrunched in confusion as you stared up at him.

“Oh come on, Lord of the Rings?” You’d heard of it, even thought about checking it out at the library but you certainly hadn’t read it, “Grab a few drinks at a bar, bottle of whisky at the liquor store?”

“I was kinda hoping for something else.” You murmured.

“Oh yeah?” He hummed, “Well then, sweetheart. I’ll see what I can do.” He winked at you, “Meet me after your final lecture in the woods by the back of the building, picnic table in the middle. Can’t miss it.”

He gave you a toothy grin as you thanked him, making your way into the classroom as he followed behind, sliding into his seat a few rows back from yours. But the entire rest of the class was spent with his eyes on you, you could feel them burning as you tried to focus on the lesson. The words from the teacher in one ear and out the other as you began to think about all the deadlines that you had coming up, and how unprepared you were. The fear and panic began to set in once more as the pit in your stomach grew, you just needed to take the edge off.

The irony is that this illicit drug deal was doing the opposite of helping you relax, instead completely exasperating your anxiety. Checking your watch even though you knew only a few minutes had passed as you waited for the end of the day. Your heart racing and there were still two hours left of your class, ignoring the lecture as you began to doodle mindlessly in the column of your lined notepad. Willing time to move faster so you could get this over and done with, grab the goods and get home.

“Hi?” You walked up to the picnic table to find Eddie sitting on one side with his lunch box, his thigh bouncing as he waited for you.

His frown immediately turned into a smile when he spotted you, beckoning you closer as he offered you a seat.

“Hey, you made it.” He exclaimed as though he hadn’t expected you to actually show up, “Find it alright?”

“Yeah,” Your heart was racing a mile a minute as you sat down opposite Eddie, sitting your bag on the bench beside you as you clasped your hands together nervously.

“So what’ll it be?” Eddie grinned as he opened his lunchbox, rifling inside it, “I’m all out of oxys but I dunno if you want a ben-”

“Just marijuana.” You cringed internally at the sound of your voice, you couldn’t have sounded more uncool if you tried, “Maybe? I don’t know.”

“First time?” Eddie grinned, rubbing his palms on his jean-clad thighs as he grinned across the table at you.

You swallowed thickly at the implication of his words.

“Uh- what gave it away?” You smiled.

“Just a feeling, but honestly?” He dragged out the but, tilting his head slightly, “I’d be heartbroken someone as pretty as you had a different dealer.”

You felt flush from the compliment, a heat rising inside you as Eddie leaned a forearm on the table, his brown eyes staring directly at you.

“I can give you a good deal on this since it's your first time and I’m a sucker for a pretty face.” He grinned.

“Uh- okay. Thanks,” You watched as he pulled a bag out of the box, closing it after.

“This is good shit, I promise. Probably more than enough to last you, and for you pretty girl? Fifteen bucks.”

“Sure,” You began fussing with your bag to try and find your purse to distract yourself from the embarrassment of the situation as Eddie watched with a smile.

“Have you got papers?”

“Papers?” You turned your face to look up at him in confusion, you had plenty of papers in your bag from various classes. But that couldn’t be what he meant, could it?

“Yeah, papers sweetheart. Rollies?” He shook the baggie for emphasis as he smiled at you, “Unless you were plannin’ on baking a cake?”

“Oh- oh, no.” You shook your head, “I don’t have papers.”

This was becoming too much, far too embarrassing as you felt like a complete idiot in front of Eddie Munson.

“Don’t worry, I came prepared.” He grinned. Patting his leather jacket down as he pulled out a pack of rolling papers, flicking it open to pull a thin sheet out as he lay it flat on the picnic table.

Trying to ignore the thought of how dirty the surface probably was as Eddie grabbed the baggie and opened it up to pull some of the weed out, dropping it onto the paper as he let his fingers slowly pull it apart to reach each end.

You watched the way his ringed fingers moved swiftly, obviously movements perfected from experience as his thumbs flicked up the length of the paper. Lifting it from the table as he rolled your joint, his tongue poking out from between his pink lips as he concentrated on rolling the joint without losing any product out of either side of it. Something that had your heart hammering against your ribcage as you stopped watching him work and instead began to shamelessly stare at him.

Eddie Munson really was quite pretty, there was no denying it. Kind eyes that always seemed to find yours whenever he’d stumble into class late, walking by your desk to take a seat at the back of the room as the lecture continued. He’d been so proud to be the first of his family to go to college, something that was often overshadowed by the small-minded people in Hawkins that still saw him as a freak. His bold personality built up to mask the insecurities that ebbed away at him, not that he should have anything to be insecure about.

But there was only so far the bravado would take him before he was completely out of his depth, especially with you. Watching as you leaned forward across the table to lick the rollie he was still holding in his hands. Your pretty pink tongue slips out from between those glossy lips as you let the tip run along the top of the paper, brushing against the tips of his fingers as you wet it just enough to stick.

Eddie swallowed thickly as he watched the way your lips moved against the rollie, the sensation of your tongue against his fingers lingering as he began to roll the joint between his fingers to secure the paper. Trying to ignore the tightness building in his pants as he took a deep breath, the more he stared at you the more he found himself becoming delirious. There was no way, no fucking way a girl like you would ever like him. Trying to calm his raging boner as he held the stick up in a ‘tada’ fashion, giving you a toothy grin as he held it out to you.

“And there she is.” You shuddered when his fingers brushed against yours as he handed you the joint, “See, it’s not that hard, I mean I can do it so-”

He laughed at his self-deprecating joke as you looked down at the stick, feeling it between your fingers before you held it up to your lips.

“Can I try it now?”

“Uh, sure. But are you gonna be alright gettin’ home?-”

“I’ll be fine.” Truthfully you had absolutely no idea if you’d be able to get home high, you had no indications of what the drug might do to you, but you were so eager to finally let off some steam and relax that you didn’t want to wait any longer.

Pouting your lips as you placed the stick between them Eddie pulled a worn silver zippo from his jacket pocket. Leaning forward slightly as he thumbed the light, a small flame appeared as he used the other to cup around the joint, protecting it from the cool evening breeze as he lit it for you. You took a long, hard inhale and immediately started coughing as you pulled it away from your lips. Eddie was quick to grab it from you to prevent it from dropping to the leafy ground as you tried to ignore the burning in your lungs from the sharp inhale of smoke.

“You good, sweetheart?”

You nodded, thick tears clinging to your lashes as the coughing finally subsided, embarrassed that you already looked like such an amateur and proceeded to do that with your first toke.

“Believe it or not, I was like that my first time too, granted I was fourteen.” He grinned, “You just gotta take it slow at first, you’ll get used to it.” He spoke with the stick hanging out the side of his lips, but Eddie was certain he could taste the faintest taste of cherry.

Grabbing the joint between his thumb and index finger as he pulled it from his lips, and that’s when he saw it.

The white bottom of the stick was now a crimson hue, glitter from your gloss sparkling beneath the light as he tilted it. Gnawing at his gums to stop himself from groaning at the sight, his thoughts immediately raced to how that same lipgloss ring would look on other parts of his body. Eddie felt like he’d kissed you, tasted you. The artificial sweetness was still on his taste buds as he held the stick up to his lips to take another toke, inhaling deeper this time as he held the smoke inside his mouth for a moment. His semi-hard cock throbbed beneath his jeans as he stared directly at you, depraved thoughts running through his mind. He felt like such a creep but he couldn’t help it, just the thought of your lips wrapped around his cock, leaving those same pretty marks had him feral.

“Let me try again,” You murmured, leaning forward to take the joint out of his hands as your fingers brushed his, placing it between your lips. Taking a smaller hit this time, you felt the smoke slowly enter your lungs as you exhaled.

“There you go, you got it.” Eddie smiled, accepting the joint back from you as he took another hit, inhaling deeply as the smoke began to leave through his nose, “So?”

“S’good.” You slurred, hazy eyes letting the smoke finally settle you. Already feeling more serene, or maybe it was the company? You felt so comfortable around Eddie, his friendly personality helped relax you despite the sheer number of times you’d embarrassed yourself in front of him today.

“Want some more, angel?”

The pet name had you swooning, leaning forward to grab the joint from Eddie but he moved the stick away from your reach. Placing it back between his lips with a glint in his eye as he took a large toke, his lips curled in a lopsided smile as he placed his forearms back on the picnic table, sitting up off the bench to bring his face close to yours. Capturing your chin between his finger and thumb as he gently prised your mouth open, slowly parting his lips as he let the smoke seep out and into your mouth.

Goosebumps began to appear against your skin as he held you like you were the most delicate porcelain, but his actions were anything but. A salacious undertone as he watched intently through half-lidded eyes as you inhaled the smoke he’d breathed into you.

“Holy shit,” He watched the way your tongue slipped out to swipe at your lips, thick lashes fluttering as wisps of smoke began to swirl towards the sky. Shocked that you’d allowed him to do something so lecherous. The ache between his thighs only amplified from your reaction, committing the sight to memory as he was certain that if nothing else he’d have some perfect material to jack off to when this was over.

You really thought Eddie was going to kiss you, the anticipation building inside you as you imagined his lips against your own. Your gaze flickered down to them as you noted how soft they appeared to be, nothing like you would’ve imagined- but if only you could prove your theory.

“You’re pure sin, sweetheart.” He whispers as his warm breath fans against your skin, his lips dangerously close to yours now as you watch the smoke slowly drift from his nostrils and disappear into the evening air, “Downright deadly.”

“Me?” You hum innocently, watching his eyes drift down to your cherry lips and back to your half-lidded eyes.

“Yeah, you.” He grinned, “Always walkin’ round in those cute little dresses lookin’ all pretty. How can anyone not see how pretty you are? I mean it- shot through the heart.”

Eddie’s certain he can smell your lipgloss now, the fruity scent overpowering as it mixes with your perfume. A smell he now wants all over him as his cock throbs in his jeans, the denim tightening around the crotch as he spreads his thighs in a feeble attempt to try and give him some sweet relief.

“You think I’m pretty?” You smiled, feeling that familiar tingle beginning to flutter inside you.

“Are you kiddin’? I may be stupid, but I’m not blind.” He scoffed, “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.”

He was close enough for you to smell him now, a mixture of cheap cologne, engine oil and cigarette smoke. It mixed with the scent of weed and made you woozy. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you, a look of complete adoration.

You couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across your cheeks, leaning forward to close the gap and press a soft kiss to his lips. The moment you tried to pull away Eddie was already back on you, closing the gap as he pulled you back into a deeper kiss, your eyes immediately closing as you fell into him.

Your hand reached up to cup his jaw as you feel the day-old stubble against his cheek, the desperation in him evident as his nose clashes with yours as he tilts his head to make more room. His tongue swipes against your glossed lips as he tastes the artificial cherry flavour of your gloss, a large palm reaching up to the base of your skull to hold you in place as he commits this to memory, so even if you were to pull away a second later he can say with conviction that he was the lucky son of a bitch that got to kiss you.

The kiss had your mind going hazy, or maybe it was the drugs, as your lips parted to deepen it, Eddie lifting himself off his side of the bench as he hovered over you, his tongue delving deeper as he explored the new territory. Mimicking his movements, your tongue swipes against his teeth as you capture the low groan that leaves his lips, rubbing your legs together to try and satiate the throb between your thighs.

“Fuck,” You gasped when he reluctantly broke the kiss for air, a subtle sheen of glittery gloss now stained his pale skin as you smiled up at him.

“Fuck,” He repeated with a grin, his tongue shamelessly coming out to lick his lips as he tasted you on them, “God, you’re so fucking pretty. You know that right? Did I say that already?”

“You did,” You smiled, “But I like hearing you say it.”

“Oh yeah?” He matched your smile, “Then I guess I should say it more, huh?”

Eddie put out the end of the joint against the flat metal of the table, not wanting to waste any more of the drug as he left it on the surface. Taking one of your hands in his as he beckoned you closer.

You stood from the bench as you came around the table to his side, Eddie already swinging a thigh over to stand beside you as his hands immediately moved to your hips. The hard metal of his rings dug into your sides as he held you tight, your clit throbbing at the sensation as your arms reached around his shoulders to bring him down into another sultry kiss, this time it was far more desperate, more intense. As though you’d both been separated for far too long as you felt his tongue immediately searching for yours, your chest pressed against his and you were certain he could probably feel your heart beating against your ribcage. Now uncertain whether this was an effect of intoxication, or whether it was all Eddie Munson– and if it was you were addicted.

You rolled your hips against him as he groaned into the kiss, the feeling of his bulge pressed against you had a fire burning inside you. Everything felt hot. Grinding yourself against him again as you craved more of those sweet sounds spilling from Eddie’s lips.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He spoke through kisses, emphasising each word.

Eddie walked you back until your thighs hit the cool edge of the picnic table, his hands reaching beneath your legs to help you onto the surface. Instantly slotting himself between your parted thighs without breaking the kiss, the skirt of your pretty summer dress riding up much like it had in class as he shamelessly stroked along the exposed skin. Feeling your calves wrapping around his legs to keep him pressed against you, his covered crotch now grinding against your own as you whined into the kiss.

He reluctantly broke away from you, pupils blown, as he stared down at your face. Pushing his hips forward again to press his hard bulge against your clothed cunt, making you cry out for him again as he cherished the sound. A sound that should be reserved for angels sitting and waiting at those pearly gates, not mere mortals like him down on earth. His lips began to map a path along your jawline, leaving searing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck as you felt his teeth graze your pulse point.

Gasping as you bucked your hips against his, feeling his hardness pressing between your thighs as you ran a hand down his chest, along the picture of his Hellfire Club shirt to press against his abdomen, moving to cup his bulge but Eddie was quick to catch your wrist in his palm.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” He mumbled.

“Why?” You pouted, your fingers now tracing a path along his inner thighs, nails scratching against the denim as his chest tightened in anticipation the closer you got to his crotch.

“Cause-” He caught your wandering hands again, both his palms wrapped around both your wrists as he held you back from his bulge, “You just tried weed for the first time. It affects everyone differently and I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret.”

“Why would I regret it?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“Fuck- don’t do that, sweetheart.” He groaned, “You look way too fuckin’ cute.” He muttered, more to himself than anything as he moved a hand up to pinch the space between his eyes.

“Eddie, why would I regret it?”

Fuck, and there you went saying his name like that. You sounded so adorable, his cock was throbbing between his thighs. Screaming at him for being so foolish to not worshipping you already, but he couldn’t. Not like this-

“Well, I can think of a few reasons.” He trailed off.

“I won’t regret it,” You reached out to palm his crotch, feeling how hard he was beneath the rough denim. Inquisitive fingers squeezed around his girth as a crude groan rumbled from deep in his chest, every single second he spent in your presence had more of his willpower crumbling away.

“I’m trying so hard to be a gentleman right now, angel.” He whispered but made no effort to move your hand from his crotch as he leaned forward to press himself into your touch.

“But what if I don’t want you to be a gentleman, Eddie?” You pouted, your fingers trying to press against his balls as he felt any resolve he had disappear into nothing.

“You had to go and say my name like that, didn’t you?” He groaned, “Fuck, you little minx.”

There was a deep snarl to his voice before he moved forwards, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss. His crotch pressed against your clothed slit as your whines were silenced by his mouth. Hands palmed your thighs as his fingers dipped into the plush skin, holding you tight before they slid under the curve of your knees, pulling your ass until it was sitting right at the edge of the table. You gasped as you wrapped your thighs around his slender waist, squeezing tight for stability as you felt his bulge give your clit the friction it coveted. Your hands carded through his messy curls as you held him against you, preventing him from moving away as his tongue lashed against yours. Eddie’s hands became bolder the more you eased into his touch, sliding up your thighs and towards the curve of your ass as he squeezed the soft skin roughly.

The denim of his jeans created delicious friction as you leaned into the sensation, dragging the soft cotton of your panties against your puffy clit as you let out a salacious whine. Thankful that the woods were desolate so no one could hear just how desperate and needy you sounded dry humping Eddie Munsen, embarrassed just how much of an effect he’d had without even touching you.

“Eddie-” You gasped when his hips jerked forward, his forehead pressed against yours as he sucked in air through his teeth. Eyes clenched shut as he tried to calm his overstimulated body down, trying his best to stave off his impending climax, but this- you, felt too good.

“Wait- I- shit,” Eddie continued to mumble as you kept him pinned against you with your thighs, his ringed fingers digging into the curve of your ass as you ground yourself against his crotch, “Jesus H Christ.”

You were shameless now, bruised lips parted in a constant moan as you tightened your grip on his shoulders, using him for leverage as you chased your own release. Feeling the coil inside you dangerously close to snapping as you focused on the throb of pleasure between your thighs.

“Fuck, Eddie. ‘m gonna cum.” You gasped, shamelessly using him for your own pleasure as your hands moved to his shoulders to get a better grip as you sought your release.

“Shit, you gonna cum sweetheart?” He groaned, moving his head back slightly to get the perfect view of your face, “Gonna show me how pretty you look when you’re creamin’ your cute little panties for me?”

“I- oh, fuck.”

“Holy shit,” He choked back a groan as his hips began to stutter, erratically knocking into you as it only served to preserve your climax. Knocking against your clit as he let his forehead drop to your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck as he felt pleasure overtake his body.

“Holy shit,” He groaned, his grip on your ass bruising as he tried to calm his body down. A wetness now seeping through his boxers and against the rough denim of his jeans, making the fabric stick to his crotch uncomfortably as he felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, sweetheart.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your collarbone as you leaned back slightly.

“For what?”

“Uh, man down.” He gave you a cute smile as he pulled his face from your neck. His cheeks tinged a light pink colour as he tried to avoid your gaze, “I swear I can normally go way longer- but you just looked so pretty and felt so good I-”

“Eddie,” You laughed, cutting him off with a sweet kiss on his lips, “I don’t mind. The fact that I made you do that? It’s so hot.”

“Yeah?” He gave you a small smile.

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m sorry sweetheart, but there ain’t no fuckin’ way I’m going out like that.” He gave you a devious smirk as his tongue slipped out to wet his lips, “Can’t have you thinking I’m a one pump chump or something.”

“Wha- Eddie, oh my god.” You squealed as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, lifting them as you fell back onto the picnic table, legs spread wide as your dress began to bunch around your hips.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Eddie groaned as he looked at the damp patch against the crotch of your panties, his palms splayed on your inner thighs as one of his thumbs stroked against the soft cotton. Feeling the dampness of it beneath his touch as you gasped in surprise, immediately bucking your hips as he tightened his grip to hold you down.

“Ah, ah, ah.” His brown eyes stared down at you, “It’s my turn now, remember?”

He gave you a playful smile as his hands trailed higher, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your panties as he slowly pulled them down your thighs, groaning at the sight of silvery strings of your slick connecting the garment to you and breaking off in glistening lines against your inner thighs, his spent cock already throbbing at the sight as he tried to ignore the uncomfortable wetness in his boxers.

Carefully slipping your panties over your white tennis shoes as he slipped them into his back pocket with a grin, dropping to his knees on the cold forest floor as the leaves crunched beneath him, leaving him eye to eye with your dripping cunt.

“Shit, you got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever fucking seen-” Eddie began, almost going crosseyed as he shamelessly ogled your naked slit, “I mean, it’s the only pussy I’ve seen. Well, not the only one- I’ve watched pornos, I mean. Classy ones though, really well done- I just meant that this is the-”

“Eddie,” You cut him off with a feeble whine, “Please touch me.”

“Anything for the fair maiden.” He smiled mischievously, his cheeks a soft pink as he leaned forward, disappearing beneath the bottom of your summer dress.

Your entire body jolted as you felt him lick from your drooling hole up to your clit, his groans vibrating against your skin as he tasted you for the first time. Your hands immediately tugged the fabric of your dress up around your hips so you could watch him, and nothing could compare to the sight of his pretty eyes staring up at you from between your thighs.

“Fuck, Eddie.” You groaned when you felt his lips wrap around your clit, his tongue lashing against it as he sucked hard, “Feels so fucking good.”

“Such a nasty mouth on such a pretty girl.” He teased, running his tongue back through your slit as he came towards your tight entrance. Prodding the tip of it inside you as you rolled your hips into his touch, shamelessly trying to get him deeper, to have more of him. Whatever he gave it would never be enough, you wanted all of him.

You wanted all of Eddie Munson.

“Eddie, don’t tease-” You pouted those cherry lips and suddenly he was smitten.

“‘m sorry, baby. ‘m sorry.” He cooed, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your throbbing clit, “I promised I’d make it up to you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” You whispered breathlessly as you felt one of his calloused fingertips graze your tight hole, fluttering around it.

“Eddie’s gonna make you feel real fucking good, don’t you worry.” Before you had a chance to tease him for referring to himself in the third person he’d already dived back in. His lips immediately wrapped around your clit as he sucked hard, one of his fingers pushing inside your tight walls as you felt the metal of his ring at the bottom. Curling the digit as though he was searching for something, unsure what he was looking for until you cried out for him. Now focusing on that same spot as he began to pump his finger in and out of you, stretching you out enough to add a second.

Your hands felt lost, palming at your clothed breasts through the thin material of your summer dress before venturing lower to fist the hem, rolling your hips into his touch to try and match his movements before your fingers finally threaded through his curly hair. Nails scratching against his scalp as you tugged, making Eddie moan into your cunt as you pressed him impossibly deeper into you.

The metal chains at the bottom of his leather jacket sleeve clanked against the picnic table with each flick of his wrist as he fucked his fingers into your sloppy hole, spit drooling from his lips as he sucked your clit, the moisture running down to his hand as it soaked his fingers and rings but he could care less.

If he could do this for the rest of his mediocre existence, he would.

“Eddie, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” He pulled away with a cocky grin, his fingers continuing to pump inside your tightening walls, “You wanna cum all over my face?”

“Do it, sweetheart.” He hummed against your clit, “Show me how pretty you look cummin’ all over me.”

Eddie locked eyes with you between your thighs and it was all it took to have you coming undone, the coil inside you snapping as you felt your climax wash over you, white spots blanking your vision as you cried out his name.

“Fuck,” You cried out, your thighs clamping down on either side of his head as you tried to push him away from your overstimulated cunt, but Eddie wouldn’t move. Groaning as he continued to suck your sensitive clit, fingers now wiggling inside you as you restricted him from moving them in and out of your sloppy sex.

“Nu-uh,” His brown eyes stared up at you from between your thighs, “I know you got one more in there for me, sweetheart. I can feel it.”

“Eddie, I can’t.” Eddie’s eyes stayed locked on yours, making sure that he wasn’t going too far, as he shamelessly slurped at your slit.

“Yeah, you can.” His nose bumped your clit as his tongue pressed against his fingers inside your hole, a lewd squelch filling the air, “See- at least your pretty pussy's honest.”

“Oh, god.” You cried out, your legs trembling from the intense sensation as you were vaulted into your climax. Lips parted in a constant whine as your greedy walls clamped around Eddie’s fingers.

“That’s it- there you go-” Eddie coaxed you as he felt you succumb to your bliss, pressing a final lingering kiss to your clit as he pulled his fingers out of your trembling pussy.

Standing up between your thighs as he gave you a smug grin, his chin glistening from your essence as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His body hovered over you as he stared down into your eyes, grinning at how dazed you looked as you stared up at the darkening sky, the trees hiding you from the final rays of evening sun before sunset.

Sitting up from the picnic table as Eddie circled his arms around your waist, letting you snuggle into his chest as your arms circled around his waist beneath his leather jacket, breathing in the scent of him. Both of you basking in the afterglow as he gently swayed side to side.

“So, do you feel more relaxed now?” Eddie grinned as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Mhm, but I’m not sure if it was you or the weed.” You laughed, squeezing his waist as he let his hand slide down to give your ass a playful swat.

“Oh, it’s definitely the weed.” He scoffed, “I’m way too annoying to be relaxing.”

You leaned back from his arms, playfully smacking his chest as he pretended to be in pain, holding the spot that you hit as you laughed.

“You know, I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time.” He whispered, his tone serious as he moved his hands to your hips.

“So why didn’t you say anything?” You mumbled, tilting your head to look into his eyes.

“Like I said, ain’t no way a girl like you would ever like a guy like me.” He leaned his face back slightly to meet your gaze.

“Well, I do.” You smiled, tipping your head back and pouting your lips for him to kiss you softly.

“Don’t know why,” Eddie scoffed against your lips, “But I feel pretty lucky right now.”

“Me too,” You smiled, pushing some of the curly hair away from his eyes.

“I can’t believe you made me cum in my fuckin’ pants like a teenager.” He groaned, his wet boxers sticking to his skin uncomfortably as he wiggled his hips, “I’ll make it up to you next time.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah,” Eddie chewed his gum nervously, “Unless you don’t want there to be..”

“What other pretty boy with curly hair is gonna help me relax?”

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #tw:drugs #trigger:drugs

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abouttofillhisshoes · 13 days

Text

I'll take it one day at a time - M.H x Reader // pt.7

A/N: this took a while to write soz my loves TW: hard drugs especially in this one, please take care of yourself! Also very NSFW minors do not interact. I had a fun time writing it and an even better time listening to @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff (absolute cunt) tell me i'm evil❤️ Enjoy yourself my loves!!

wc: 5k

part eight

It hurts

Everything hurts. This impossible pain that was eating you alive from the inside out. You missed him, it was like a part of you had been ripped out of you. Since the day you met you hadn't spent more than two or three days apart, and even that was by force of either his parents or yours.

You kept replaying that day in your mind. The way he had looked at you, his eyes wide and teary, begging you to let him explain. Maybe you should have stayed, made him tell you exactly what had happened. What made it all worse was that Ruby was a part of all this. She had given it to him in the first place, the thought made your stomach churn.

The past few days had been spent laying in your bed, curled up in a ball under dirty covers. He had lied to you. The lights were dim, barely illuminating the numerous piles of plates that littered the surfaces in your room. Your mother had tried multiple times to get you out of bed, but you just ignored her, not being able to find the strength.

Hann had come over, meeting your mother in the process. She had directed him to your room, saying something about your boyfriend leaving you. Completely false, since you hadn't said anything to her. She liked to assume things, taking on whatever narrative helped her feel better.

The door creaked open, light flooding the otherwise dark room.

His hand brushed against your arm as he sat down at the foot of your bed, his eyes filled with worry. You didn't speak at first, refusing to make eye contact. It hurt too much.

“Darling, where is Matty?” The pet name made your heart wrench, reminding you of him. The pit in your stomach just dug itself deeper, and it felt like a thousand knives were stabbing into you always.

You shrug your shoulders, honestly not knowing where he was. Matty had called and called, texting you hundreds of times begging you to talk to him. By the second day, you had already switched off your phone, chucking into a corner, forgotten.

“No one knows where he is, George is having a proper meltdown.” he continues, his voice slightly shaky, the anxiety in it evident. He tells you how they had tried his house, and it turning up empty. Mattys parents were away, and nobody knew how to get ahold of them.

“Adam.” was all you could muster, not having spoken in days. The creak of the bed is deafening as you turn around to face him, looking up. “He..” your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes.

“...he did something. Heroin.” you manage to finish your sentence before breaking out into tears again, clutching his arm. “He promised he wouldnt do it again.” the sound of Mattys voice filled your mind, broken promises and lies.

“I believed him.” you force out, your eyes pleading with Hann to say something.

“Jesus Christ, are you serious?” The question is rhetorical. He knows.

The day is spent with Adam comforting you through crying fits and feelings of blame, even bringing you water and food.

You ask for a spliff, that being the only thing you knew would calm your nerves. Not having done anything else since your fight with Matty, you were starting to feel small symptoms of withdrawal. Cold sweat, dizziness, you had even thrown up once or twice into the bin next to your desk.

Hann, like the angel he is, pulls out a baggie of weed, rolling you a spliff. You ask him to open the window to let the smoke out, not quite in the mood for a hotbox. He obliges, and the warm air that is let into the room feels nice. The light helps too, letting you see the absolute state your room was in.

The haze of the weed calms you down, your crying down to only silent tears rolling down your face as Adam tries to speak to you. You don't listen, his voice sounds distorted and far away. At some point, he gets up to leave, telling you to switch on your phone. When you don't react, he searches for it, finding it underneath a pile of clothes. Turning it on, he sets it onto the nightstand, pressing a comforting kiss to your forehead as the door closes behind him.

You were alone.

With the spliff almost down to the filter, you chuck it into the rubbish, noticing Adam had cleared the vomit from it. It dwindles out, burning a small whole into the plastic of the fresh bin bag. Staring at the wall for what felt like an eternity, you hear your phone start to ring.

You think it's Adam calling, making sure you were eating the sandwich he had made you, so you pick up, not bothering to look at the ID. The receiver picks up only silence for the first few seconds of the call, then heavy breaths fill your ears. Matty.

Your heart jumps at the sound of him breathing on the other end of the line, dread filling you instantly. Something was wrong, you could feel it.

“I-'' he cuts himself off, a laboured groan leaving his lips. “I don't..”

Something starts in you, and you jump to your feet. Eyes darting around the room to locate your keys, you tug your shoes on while holding the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Where are you?” you say, trying to remain calm. “Matty, where the fuck are you.” you repeat, your voice sounding more urgent.

His answer is barely audible, but you understand.

“I'm at Carolines..- please- I can't..” the line goes dead, the dial tone as loud as sirens in your head.

You push past your mother, ignoring her requests to know where you're going. This wasn't the time, you had to get to him, now.

You were never particularly athletic, always opting to cut P.E in favour of smoking a spliff behind the bushes with one George or Matty. Breathing heavily, you sprint down the street towards the old paper factory, dodging cars and people like it was an olympic sport.

Out of breath and sweaty, the last bolt up the flight of stairs leading to the terrace was difficult, your legs almost giving out on you multiple times. The door to the platform was already open when you finally made it to the top.

Your heart stops when you see curls peeking out from the side of the sofa, falling limply over the material of the armrest. A soft groan echoes through the air, pained and tired.

The sight of him will be burned into your mind until the day you die. Matty is half laying half sitting on the cushions, an old pillow holding him up, his skin deathly pale, even more so than usual. Tears run down his face, track marks littering the inside of his forearms.

“I’m- i’m s-so sorry, I didn't-” his words are weak, still coming from a very bad high. You start to take care of him, just like you did in that bathroom all those weeks ago. The needle is still in his arm, dirty and used, he winces when you pull it out, chucking it off of the balcony.

“We need to- you need help, Matty, I'm serious.” His eyes widen at your statement, his free hand reaching up to grab you. “P-please, don't call anyone.” he starts, visibly shaking. “I dont- i just want you.. no one else.” he’s scared. You've never seen him scared before, the fear visible on his face.

“Just hold still, let me-” You have no experience in cleaning wounds of any kind, but you try your best, finding a pack of tissues in your bag, wiping down his arm.

His hands are still shaking, and they feel cold to the touch. It breaks your heart to see him like this, scared and cold, not knowing what to do.

“Please don't tell anyone.'' He forces the words out of his mouth, making eye contact with you.

“I won't. But this is the last time.” you answer, stroking his upper arm comfortingly. He looks wrecked, dark circles under his eyes, hair obviously unwashed. He was wearing the same clothes he was when you last saw him

“Do you have anything else on you?” you ask, holding out your hand. You weren't letting him do this again. Never again.

He nods, taking a kit out of his pocket. Inside, another needle, a spoon, and a small baggie. Taking it out of his hands, you walk over to the edge of the terrace, shaking the sandy coloured substance out onto the street, letting it fly into the wind to disappear.

The needle was broken in two, also thrown over the edge of the terrace. Gone

Matty let out soft groans as he moved to properly lay down, asking you to sit with him. You do, lowering yourself onto the ground next to the sofa, your hand reaching up to stroke his face. His tears still stream down his face, and you wipe them away, smiling at him.

“I'm moving in with you.”

“I missed you.”

Both of you spoke at the same time, your voices overlapping. He raises his eyebrows at you, words forming in his mouth before dying.

“Okay.” he nods, accepting your decision.

“I’ve told Hann. We’re getting you clean, I don't care if you want to or not.”

“Okay.”

Silence

“I love you.” the words slip out of your mouth, hitting him just as hard as they did you. He squeezes your hand, leaning down for a kiss. He doesn't say it back. The two of you sit there, staring into each other's eyes. Mattys breathing becomes more regular, and so do his pupils.

“Don't do that ever again, please.” your voice is small, audibly shaking.

“I won't.” a wave of deja vu washes over you

He won't.

What are we?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck you are! You're not going anywhere” your mothers shrill voice pierces your ears, and you shake your head. Packing your things, you walked around grabbing the remaining clothes out of your wardrobe, stuffing them into a suitcase.

Your mother had tried to stop you, but she couldn't. Having turned 18 a while ago, you were free to go wherever you pleased. Mattys house was already filled with a bunch of your stuff, and you had been sleeping over there more often than in your own bed. What was the difference?

“If you leave now, you're not my daughter anymore.” she said quietly, almost expectantly.

You roll your eyes.

“Never really was, was I?” that was all you needed to say. All you've been wanting to say for years. Her eyes widen, and you turn around as the hurt spreads onto her face.

The door shuts with a loud bang, the sound echoing through the neighbourhood.

—-------------------------------------------------------

The days dragged by as Matty became more and more restless, making it entirely your problem. No amount of weed could calm him down, jittery and shaking. The itch was there for you as well, albeit not as strong as Mattys, who was close to crying by the looks of it.

But he had promised you, and was intending to keep said promise even if it was extremely uncomfortable, the headache that was spread throughout his head wasn't helping either.

The two of you had spent the day in each other's arms, a blanket draped over you. The TV was quiet, the lights flickering over Mattys face softly as he pulled your lips into a firm kiss.

‘What are we?’

You push the thought out of your head, letting yourself be kissed. His hand drew small circles onto the side of your arm, ever so often stopping to lightly pinch at the skin, making you jump. You felt his smile against your lips, the feeling only comparable to some sort of divinity. It was soft moments like these that made you forget everything else. The fighting, the drugs, the others.

You had called Hann, letting him know that you and Matty needed space. Withholding most details, like the state you had found him in, you assure him of Mattys wellbeing, stating “He’s going through it, but I've got it under control. Denise doesn't know, and don't tell her when she comes back.” His mother was set to make a return sometime in the next couple months, you overheard her tell Matty on the phone.

The kiss deepens, with Matty attempting to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you let him. Since this started happening, it had always been you that had control of the situation, not letting him even get a taste of power before pushing him down, telling him to “Be good for me, yeah? I'll give you what you want, just…”

His hand threads itself in your hair, and you gasp at the slight tug he gives it. The look in his eye when you finally glance up makes your breath hitch. Pupils completely blown out, he looks at you with an expression that can only be described as pure lust.

He pulls away for a split second, his eyes asking you a silent question. You nod.

Immediately, his hands are occupied with pushing your shirt up, hands palming your tits, and you feel rough calluses against your skin, making you moan. It seems like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room when he pressed a searing hot kiss onto your ribs, slowly working his way to run his tongue across your peaked nipple, making your back arch back into him.

He lets out a low, almost animalistic groan as you grind against him, your hips rolling onto his steadily growing erection. A flicker of pride flashed through you at the thought of you being the reason he was worked up after a few kisses and a look. You smile, raking a hand through his hair as he kisses down your stomach, quickly stopping him before he could go and lower.

“Can we switch?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, a faux innocent expression. He nods vigorously, letting you climb on top of him.

The look he gave you when you started to grind down onto him is priceless, wide eyes and parted lips staring back at you. You kiss down his neck, leaving aggressive hickeys in your wake, marking him up. He adjusts underneath you, and you reach a hand up to his chest, raking your hand over the expanse of it. The nipple piercing catches your eye, the black metal almost shimmering in the light.

“O-oh my go- fuckk-” his moans fill the air when you tug on it, a sharp pain reverberating through his body, and you feel him twitch against your leg. Your teeth find the piercing, biting down and pulling again, drinking in the noises he makes in response. Hands find his sides, thumbing at his ribs, trying to distract from the pain coming from his chest.

“You want me?” you ask, smugly, seeing his expression rapidly change. He looks blissed out, and you haven't even properly touched him yet. The next words to come out of your mouth make his breath hitch and his hips buck upwards in desperation.

“Want me to suck you off? I promise I'm good.” you mock his words, grinning at him in the same manner he did. The sight of you perched on top of him and your question almost made him cum in his pants, again.

“P-please, i promise i won't touch- just.. please” his voice cracks as he says the last word, morphing into a drawn out moan, the sound going straight to your core.

“But- i want you to get off first.” he never ceases to surprise you, his statement making you perk up, raising an eyebrow at him. “You can, you know..” he vaguely gestures at his thigh, eyes avoiding yours. A laugh escapes you when you realise what he meant, an extremely unsexy snort leaving your lips.

“You want me to.. Seriously? Grind on your thigh?” he cringes at the way you say it, flexing his legs under you. “Well, yeah, you're pretty and I like to.. watch you?” he sounds unsure, like you're about to laugh at him again. The compliment takes you by surprise, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You don't speak anymore, instead sitting up straight, towering over him. Mattys breathing becomes even more irregular than it already was, his chest rising and falling up and down rapidly. “Okay, i'll do it.'' Your voice is breathless and small, but his reaction is thankful, hands finding your hips comfortingly.

Your fingers toy with the hem of Mattys shirt, which was now pulled back down. He nods, giving you permission to take it off of him, softly moaning as it brushes against his nipple, still sensitive and raw from your previous attack on his chest.

Your lack of pants in the first place helped you settle onto his thigh comfortably, the shirt you had on covering most of you. You could feel his gaze on you, watching your every move. An experimental grind onto his jean-clad thigh made a spark of pleasure lick up your spine, a soft moan leaving your lips as you make eye contact with Matty. He urges you on, hands creeping up to cup your tits again, softer this time.

You grind down harder, feeling a dull pleasure spread throughout your body. Matty lets out a quiet groan at the sight of you using him to get off, getting even harder than he thought possible. Speeding up, you settle into a distinct rhythm, your hips ever so slightly guided by Mattys hands resting on them.

“You look so pretty like this.”

He sounds genuine, his eyes raking over your body with a look of adoration. You smile, letting out a moan as he tensed his thigh slightly, upping the pressure against your clit. Lowering down to catch his lips in a desperate kiss, you can feel yourself get closer to the edge, Mattys tongue licking into your mouth only spurring you on.

“Fuck- Matty.” you look down, seeing Mattys eyes still on you makes something ignite within you, the rubber band in your core tightening even more. His hands play with your nipples, thumbing at the skin, leaving light kisses on the back of your hand. His expression is sickly sweet, almost cocky. You cup his face, kissing him roughly as you feel yourself throttling towards your orgasm.

A hand finds his cock, firmly palming him through his jeans, making him groan into your mouth. You can feel a wet patch forming on the front of his pants, soaking them with precum. A particularly pathetic moan and skilled twist of your nipple from Matty makes you fall apart on his thigh, legs shaking as you grind your way through your climax.

Your breathing is heavy when you finally start to come down from your high, Matty jumpy and twitchy underneath you, watching you collect yourself. There's a wet patch on the front of his jeans where you had just been, perfectly matching the one he had caused all by himself.

“Is this all f’me?” you ask, your hand stroking him through the material of his pants, watching him clench his fists at his side. You bat your eyelashes at him again, and he lets out a short string of please’s and begging. The sight in front of you is absolutely delicious, Matty panting and squirming, his curls sticking to his forehead.

“Relax for me baby, let me take care of you.” you coo, watching his reactions closely. He throws his head back, hitting the pillows as he lets out another loud groan. Your hand moves to the zipper of his jeans, slowly unbuttoning them. The tent in his boxers is obvious, his cock straining against the thin material.

Your nails graze his thigh, digging into the skin. You knew he liked a bit of pain to his pleasure, and you were going to give him just that.

His hand finds your hair as you pull down his boxers, letting his erection spring out. Precum dribbled down the side, coating his cock in a layer of shine. Your hand wraps around him, giving him a light squeeze. The moan he lets out is heavenly, and you stroke up and down the length of him, thumbing his slit. He shudders, his hand tightening in your hair.

“Please- do something.” you listen to him, reaching down to drag your tongue up the underside of his cock. Sputtering and moaning, he mutters out “T-thank you, fuck, thats so good.”

You do the same again, taking him into your mouth. He feels heavy on your tongue, precum spilling out of the tip.

“I’m not gonna last- i’m sorry I-” you cut him off with a graze of your teeth along the inside of his thigh. His thighs tense as your hand grasps the base of his cock, stroking what your mouth can't take. You bob your head, groans of pleasure leaving his lips as he bucks up into your mouth. He tries to apologise, and you tell him you’ll stop if he does that again.

Nodding, he watches as your hand tugs at him, your bright nails a stark contrast to the leaking head of his cock. The sight is erotic, the way your red-rimmed mouth moves up and down his length, taking him deeper each time.

“I can’t- i’m going to-” he tries to pull you off of him, but you resist, instead speeding up your movements, desperately trying to bring him to the edge. Your eyes are watering and you can feel spit dripping down the side of your chin, but that didn't matter to you. You needed to feel Matty come undone in your mouth, and you were so close.

He whined, bucking up into your mouth, biting back yet another apology.

“F-fuck-” is your only warning before he spills into yor mouth, hot ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. His hand never left your hair, gripping onto it for dear life as you worked him through his orgasm.

Sticking out your tongue to show off what he had done, Matty screws his eyes shut at the sight, a groan leaving his parted lips. You swallow.

“That was.. So fucking good.” you giggle at the praise, crawling up to kiss him deeply. He can taste himself on your tongue, moaning softly into the kiss. You reach down to play with the piercing on his chest. The sounds he made were too heavenly to make you stop.

The hickeys you had sucked into the skin of his neck and chest made you gawk at him, admiring your work.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he smirks at you, cocky. You take out the camera you kept in your bag, which was conveniently sitting on the glass table adjacent to the sofa. Angling the camera so you could capture everything, the flash goes off three separate times. It blinds him the first time, making his eyes shut at the light.

The second picture is better, with Matty looking at you instead of the camera, a provocative grin spread onto his face. He was always a sucker for attention, absolutely relishing in it. The picture perfectly caught the deep purple of the marks you had left on him, contrasting his pale skin perfectly.

The third picture though, was your favourite. Your hand had made its way to his nipple, pulling at the piercing right before snapping the photo. His face contorted in a mix of pain and pleasure, mouth slightly open with his eyes almost fully closed. He sure was a sight for sore eyes, the expression igniting a fire in you.

Leaning down to kiss him, you chuck the camera somewhere behind you, hearing it hit cushions on the other end of the sofa. The moment was soft, tender, like a fond memory.

One thing ruined it all. A nagging feeling at the back of your mind you just couldn't calm.

"What are we?"

—-------------------------------------------------------

It had taken days of convincing to get Matty to go with you. Ross and Adam had invited you to dinner, and George was also going to be there. He was reluctant to go, not wanting to face any of them. After hours of pleading and a makeout session, you stood by the door and watched as he put his shoes on.

You both walked hand in hand down the street, taking a shortcut through an old junkyard. Hann was probably just as nervous as Matty was to see him again, and you told him as much. Matty just shrugged, eyes glued to the ground in front of him.

The ring of the doorbell as you pressed it made him finally look up. Ross answered, eyes softening and he saw you both. He pulled you in for a hug, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Matty was twitchy and frankly, scared, to see everyone again. The way he had acted made him cringe inwardly.

“Hey Matty.” Ross spoke as he pulled him in for one of his big man hugs. Matty hugged him back, finally smiling. It was okay, everything was going to be okay.

The conversation had been hard at first, with Hann going on his ‘drugs are bad for you’ rant again. Matty sat and listened, and so did you, squeezing his hand under the table when Adam finally finished, getting up to put on the kettle.

George was sitting on the couch, eyeing you as you went to plop next to him. Everything seemed normal, except for Hann’s incessant rambling and checking if everything was alright, which was pretty regular now that you really thought about it.

The night was spent laughing and watching Pulp Fiction on the telly. It felt like old times, before everything had gone to shit. You smile fondly at the memories of Matty and Ross almost killing each other over trivial games of FIFA, clawing at each other until Hann finally pulled them apart.

You watch the others, absolutely engrossed in the movie, with soft munching coming from the direction of Ross and his bag of prawn cocktail crisps. He had an obsession with the flavour, reluctant to try anything else. George had even offered him a tenner to swap with him his cheese flavoured ones, and he flat out refused.

The night was calm, with you leaning against Mattys chest for the majority of the movie. You felt his breathing and heartbeat in his chest, it calmed you. Everything felt alright, and you could feel your eyes droop closed. The last thing you remember was Mattys hand stroking your hip lightly as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, breathing in the scent of his cologne.

#the 1975 #matty healy #adam hann #ross macdonald #george daniel #matty healy smut #matty healy angst #tw:drugs #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x y/n #matty x you #the 1975 smut #matty healy fic #drive like i do

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leviismybby · 8 days

Note

Hey Klara ^^

I just read a oneshot the other day where it was mentioned that Levi was involved in drug deals in the underground. Considering his criminal record do you think there would be a possibility he did this? 🤔

Oh that's a very interesting question anon!

I believe that he did what he had to do to survive, so yeah, it is most likely that Levi was invloved in drug deals. Now, I don't think that he did drugs himself ever, but if he managed to get his hands on some, he sold it for money or trated it for something more valuable. Levi has a mind for those things, he was a thug afterall and I feel like it came helpful later too.

#levi #levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot levi #captain levi #levi attack on titan #tw:drugs #tw: drugs #anonymous asks

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arvandus · 1 year

Text

Touch Pt. 13 - Relapse

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

**18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI**

OVERALL FIC WARNINGS: Soft!Dabi, F!Reader with a fictional backstory, fanon version of past events (I started this before the canon stuff dropped), manga spoilers, canon deviation, drug abuse/withdrawal (with inaccuracies since it’s outside of my experience and relies on research and imagination), violence, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, hurt/comfort, pining, slow burn, eventual emotionally charged SMUT, all characters will be written with complexity (i.e., no one-dimensional/hateful representations). *please pay attention to specific warning tags within each chapter!*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Explicit 18+ themes, drug use (opioids, weed, alcohol, smoking), drug dealing, drug withdrawal, chronic pain. Primarily a Dabi POV chapter, Reader is minimally present.

Chapter Song: Go Easy On Me (Stripped) by Matt Maeson

Part 1 Part 12

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Chapter 13: Relapse

He was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, but he didn’t care. It was the only way he could have you, the only way he could satisfy that deep, devouring desire that threatened to consume him and shred him to pieces.

Your soft lips locked over his, your hands on his jaw as he opened his mouth hungrily to welcome your wet tongue. Your body was pressed against his as you straddled his lap, your soft thighs framing him. His hands roamed your sweaty skin, deft fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, exposing your cotton-clad breasts to his gaze. The bra you wore was strangely familiar, its simplicity echoing like a forgotten memory in his mind, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was you, the feel of you, the heat of you, the taste of you... he buried his face between your breasts, his tongue flicking out to lick the sweat there, and you moaned against him, your fingers tangling in his hair as your hips ground down into his lap, desperate to feel his firmness.

This. This was all he wanted. He wanted to bury himself in this place, bury himself in you until he forgot who he was. He wanted to freeze himself into this moment and let the rest of the world fall away.

But he knew any minute now it would change. This moment would vanish, this wanton picture of you bursting into an explosion of blue flames beneath his sweating palms only to be replaced by nightmares.

His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into flesh as if it had the power to change fate, to change the inevitable rising of the sun.

Any minute now.

You whispered his name desperately against his lips, the heat of your breath like warm honey, before trapping his lips with your own again, your body moving against him.

He wanted to close his dreaming eyes, to let himself sink into the feeling of you, and yet he couldn’t – if he did, then you’d be ripped away from him, taken hostage by the monsters in his mind.

‘Not yet.’ He thought. ‘Don’t go.’

But you didn’t go. Not this time. Your skin still felt warm against him, the touch of your flesh soft and familiar. So familiar, and yet... something was different this time.

It felt real. Too real...

Dabi’s eyes shot open, and the first thing he saw was the back of your head. His breath stopped in his throat while his chest pounded, bewilderment locking his body in a frozen panic. His eyes darted around the room, taking in what he could see as he slowly began to make sense of what his eyes were showing him.

He was in your room. The early grey light of morning seeped in through a crack in the curtains, stretching across the lower half of your bed to end at the closed bathroom door. It wasn’t as bright as his room in the morning, your bedroom facing west instead of east. But it was enough to allow him to see the details of your space draped in a monotone hue.

The memories of the previous night bubbled forth like flotsam. Compress, you, your sensory overload, Dabi fighting to carry you, the waiting, the darkness, the conversations, your hand on his shoulder...

Dabi’s pulse slowed, and he once again took in where he was and what he was feeling, his gaze shifting around slightly.

He felt warm, and he realized he was pressed up against your back with his right arm trapped under your head. His left hand was resting on your hip, his thumb tucked beneath your shirt where it rested against your bare skin.

No wonder it felt so real...

You were so warm. The scent of your hair tickled his nose, and he fought the urge to inhale, his muscles tensing against the instinct to pull you even tighter against him and bury his face into your neck.

Instead, he watched you silently, taking in the steady rise and fall of your breathing. You were still asleep – that much he was grateful for. He wasn’t sure how you’d react to waking up with him wrapped around you the way he was. To make matters worse, the dream he’d been having was still very much present in the forefront of his mind, and his pants felt uncomfortably tight against the pressure that had made itself at home within his black jeans.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, your rear rubbing against his groin, and his fingers tensed on your skin. A part of him wanted to push you away, the other part wanted to pull you closer and-

You shifted again, blissfully deep in dreamland, unaware of your actions, as you pressed further against him. This time, Dabi’s entire body stiffened as he clenched his jaw.

God damn it. You weren’t even awake and you were torturing him.

He wondered what you were dreaming about but before his imagination could go too far, your head moved slightly, a soft, innocent moan coming from your dreaming lips. The sound alone sent an electric jolt through his body right down to his jeans and ignited a war in his brain between his arousal and his common sense. How quickly his body wanted to respond on instinct, to see if he could pull that sound from your lips again, this time with more... intention.

But the fantasy of that thought was in stark contrast to the reality of the situation, and the deep thrumming of his pulse shifted like a pendulum from arousal to panic. If you woke up right now, to the touch of his hand on your side and his hard-on pressed against your ass through no fault of his own... Dabi imagined the slap you would deliver to his face. Maybe even take a couple more staples out of his cheek while you were at it.

Dabi removed his hand from your body and rolled to his back before he did something incredibly stupid. You were still pressed against his side, his right arm still trapped beneath your neck. The touch of you felt like fire against his skin, every undamaged nerve on high alert, but at least it was manageable. And most importantly, you stopped moving. Deep sleep had claimed you once again, and Dabi was mentally thanking whatever deities granted his silent plea.

Silence stretched, long and painful as he laid there, still as a stone, forcing steady breaths in and out of his lungs. His dream of you still had its grip on him, and Dabi struggled to think of things that weren’t you in an effort to cool the hot desire that still coursed through his blood. But it was in vain. You were everywhere – your scent, your warmth, the weight of your neck on his arm, your ass nestled into the crook of his hip and looking awfully cute in your pajama pants that he’d personally selected for you last night. His blue eyes caught the shape of your bra on the floor, abandoned and forgotten, and it immediately brought forth the dream he’d been having, with your legs straddled across his lap, and your breasts-

Shit.

This obviously wasn’t working, and now the binding pressure in his pants was beginning to get uncomfortable. He adjusted himself outside of his jeans in an effort to relieve some of the discomfort, to find a position within the dark denim that didn’t feel like being bound in a torture device, but all it did it was make it worse.

Dabi needed to get out of here. He needed the privacy of his own room so he could handle the problem in his pants and finally have his first rational thought of the day.

He began scanning for his things. His shoes were on. His wallet was in his back pocket. His phone- where the fuck was his phone? He was holding it last night when he fell asleep...

His free hand tried to search the covers, his head tilting slightly to look over the edge of the bed. Finally, he spotted it, on your nightstand next to your own. You’d plugged it in for him, your own phone left uncharged.

His chest constricted slightly.

Dabi carefully reached over your sleeping form and grabbed it, making every effort to not touch you more than he had to as he deftly unplugged it with one hand. He paused when his face was mere inches from your cheek thanks to the angle of his reach, hesitating for just a fraction of a moment to drink in your features.

Fuck, you were pretty.

Then the moment passed, and he averted his gaze and retreated carefully back to his side of the bed. The device was safely in his fingers, and he laid back down before finally releasing the breath that he’d been holding.

Time froze as Dabi noticed a text message notification from Giran. His pulse spiked as he unlocked his phone and opened the message.

Hey, kid. I found someone who has what you need. Lemme know if you’re still interested, and I’ll give you their contact info. It’ll cost ya, though. Prices are up right now. This guy ain’t cheap, but his stock is legit. Lemme know if ya need a loan.

Dabi’s eyes widened, and instantly, everything shifted. What had started as an awkward morning of silent suffering now shifted to a single-minded focus.

He could get his drugs. Today.

A wave of relief washed over Dabi, transforming into giddy excitement. He could almost remember the feel of them, the low hum of constant peace. It was so very different from what you gave him. Your pills and your quirk helped, but it wasn’t the same. The pain was always too quick to return every time they wore off, and mentally, well...

Something was always missing, something important. Something vital. Something he needed more than anything.

Silence.

His life had been so much simpler with his own pills. They kept the pain within his heart buried deep under a constant stream of artificial chemicals, and hid away the old, dusty memories, the ones that used to make him smile when he was young. In its place it left an empty space, a residual footprint of old things lost, those rooms of his mind abandoned and locked. Joy was a figment of the imagination, a secondhand experience lived by a stranger. Sorrow was a small footnote, the undertone that set the tempo for his rage to thrum against, transforming tears into spiteful laughter. With everything else buried deep, it’d allowed him to focus on his anger, his bitter need for justice, giving him the strength to pursue his mission with single-minded focus at the cost of everything else.

His drugs were the double-edged sword that would bring him both victory and destruction. They were a necessity that allowed him to transcend his limits so that he could see his work done. Then he could vanish like the ghost he was, let his quirk take him like it was meant to. Maybe then it’d finally be over, and he’d finally have the peace in death that he’d never been able to find in life.

That was what he always believed, at least.

‘Promise.’

The word echoed in his mind like a faint whisper, a reminder of something that should have never been said, hastily spoken from an immature, inexperienced heart. Dabi pushed the thought away swiftly before it could worm its way deeper into his mind.

Still, he couldn’t help but look at you. You looked so peaceful right now, content, even. The steady rise and fall of your breaths, every muscle of your body relaxed and loose in perfect comfort. The corners of Dabi’s lips pulled down in a frown, his brows drawing together slightly.

You wouldn’t like it. Dabi knew that. You’d try to talk him out of it, telling him that he didn’t need to do this. You’d say that you were already working on it, that his pills would be ready for pick up any day now. That if he’d just hold out a little longer...

Dabi rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he began to feel the dull throbbing of a headache. Irritation simmered and he stared at the text message again.

He didn’t want to wait any longer. He didn’t want to be held back from getting what he needed. Even if you did manage to get his pills for him, you’d want to control his access, out of concern for his safety. Your intentions were pure, but the thought soured his mind. He didn’t need a babysitter. And he didn’t want to delay what he was owed. He respected you, and valued his growing bond with you, but he’d be damned if he let anything get in the way of his purpose, even you. He’d already wasted enough time. Endeavor was ripe for the picking now that he was the number one hero, and Dabi was on borrowed time.

And yet, even so, in this moment with his phone hot in his hand and the thin black line blinking in the text message box, he hesitated. It left him feeling bewildered and frustrated at his own inaction; he’d never hesitated, not once. Not for this. But now, here he was, deliberating as if one wrong move would cost him more than he was willing to pay.

Discomfort tightened in his chest like a coiled snake.

If this had happened before last night, he would have left the instant he got the message without a second thought. But now...

Now it felt like he was being ripped in two, pulled in different directions.

Something was different, a shift in his world that had happened right beneath his feet. Dabi couldn’t quite put words to it and what it meant and that irritated him more than anything. Yes, he felt closer to you. Yes, he could finally admit to himself that he cared about you, although to what extent, he couldn’t quite say; there were things he felt that he didn’t yet have words for, and he wasn’t ready to define them. But his goals hadn’t changed. His focus hadn’t changed. No matter how he felt about you, taking down his father took priority.

And yet, all he could picture in this moment was the disappointment on your face and the hurt in your eyes once you’d learn what he’d done. Because you would find out. As soon as you woke up and he was gone without receiving your help, you’d know.

Dabi stared at you again, long and hard in the silence of the morning as he absently tongued at the wound in his cheek from where you’d ripped out his staple the night before. He could feel the pain there now that your quirk was starting to wear off, throbbing in tandem with his growing migraine as last night’s pills burned from his system. The ache made his jaw stiff and his teeth felt like they had needles shoved into them.

It was a pain you’d given him, the consequence of your generosity. The crying, the screaming, the agony you’d suffered as your quirk turned on you because of him... And before that, it was the bruises on your arms, the fear in your eyes, the constant state of exhaustion that hung on you like a shroud...

So, this was probably for the best, right? He’d be back on his own pills, with his own supply, and you’d be free of him, free of his constant need of you. No more sensory overload. No more late nights dealing with his bullshit.

But even with that obvious fact, Dabi felt a resistance within himself, a selfish stubbornness. He knew that doing this would drive a wedge between you that could not be undone. It’d be the highest betrayal, undoing everything you’d sacrificed for him, everything you’d worked for. There would be no forgiveness after this. It would erase every heartfelt conversation, tarnish every vulnerable moment.

The thought tasted bitter on his tongue. He’d just finally allowed himself to tear down the wall he’d built against you, for the first time allowing himself to connect with another person. That act alone had cost him more than he’d expected, opening up a vulnerability within himself that he was still grappling with. And you’d met his vulnerability with grace and kindness, which was far more than he deserved. He didn’t want to give you up. He didn’t want to lose you over this. He’d grown accustomed to having you around, always there when he needed you. Always being checked on, always being seen. He liked it. The way you made him feel... your smile, your touch, your quirk-

Your quirk...?

Something intangible tightened around Dabi’s throat, cold and hard. It took him a long moment to be able to put a name to it.

Fear.

Because the fear of losing your quirk and how it made him feel had nothing to do with feelings. It had everything to do with addiction. And he knew better than most how addiction preyed on the mind, warping and twisting lies and illusions into false truth.

Maybe all of this... whatever this was... these feelings he felt, this attraction that consumed him... maybe it was just because of your quirk and your pills. Was he really attached to you? Or was he attached to his addiction of you? Did he just trade one drug for another?

Was none of this real?

You. You were real. Your words and your hand on his shoulder last night were real. Your kindness and friendship towards him were real.

But that didn’t mean that his feelings were real. It could just be his addiction, a monster in sheep’s clothing, a leech looking to attach itself to whatever will feed it. Dabi was familiar with it, had watched with dulled, detached interest as it had drained liquor bottles and gone through opioid medication like they were candy. But this time was different. Because this wasn’t alcohol or pills. This was you, a person. A person that, for better or worse, Dabi gave a shit about.

Dabi rubbed his hand down his face, stopping over his mouth as his fingers tightened around his clenched jaw. He stared at the message again. The chasm of conflicting desires sewed shut, two roads coalescing into only one option.

He was going to get his drugs. Today.

It was the only option that made any sense. You’d stop suffering because of him, and he’d get back to his mission of taking down Endeavor. And then maybe he’d finally be able to figure out what was real and what wasn’t.

Dabi slowly slipped his arm out from under your neck. You shifted slightly but stayed deep in slumber. His body ached all over, a combination of lingering exhaustion and the downward spiral of his withdrawal beginning to sink its teeth into his bones. As he stood up, a fiery zap shot up his leg, and he nearly buckled back down onto the mattress. His teeth bared as he sucked air into his lungs.

Shit, shit, shit. That desperate need filled him again, and he immediately felt the pull of you and all you offered. He needed your pills, your quirk. Anything to take away the pain.

He loathed it. He loathed his dependency and the way it controlled him and sapped him of his strength. How the hell was he supposed to meet up with Giran’s source when he could barely even make it to his room?

He’d have to wake you. You hid your pills from him, after all. It wasn’t like he could just help himself to your bag and leave you a note.

An idea lit up his pain-addled mind. If he woke you up now, then you wouldn’t suspect anything once he left. He could get his drugs and you’d be none the wiser. Maybe he could get away with it... maybe he could keep it secret... maybe things wouldn’t have to change...

All he had to do was wake you up. Ask for your pills. Let you use your quirk.

Dabi looked at you again. The wound in his cheek throbbed, a warning. The night before flashed again in his mind. His hands clenched into tight fists as he stood rooted to the floor.

He couldn’t.

He refused.

He’d have to figure it out on his own. He had cigarettes, he had alcohol, and he had weed. All of them were poor substitutes for what he really needed. But a deep hit of a joint and a couple of quick shots of cheap whiskey would be better than nothing, and he could keep a pack of cigarettes on him to help with the jitters until he met up with the dealer. Besides, once he got his pills, the problem would fix itself.

He just had to survive long enough. He could do that; he’d done it before when his bottles had run dry. Only before, the drought he’d experienced had been mere hours instead of days.

With a final glance at your sleeping form, Dabi left, careful to make as little noise as possible as he opened and closed the old door.

Once he’d crossed the hall and made it safely into his own room without being seen, Dabi took a deep breath of relief. Another arrow of fire laced between his shoulder blades, and he buckled, crouching down to sit on his heels against his closed door. A second wave came soon after, this time igniting up his neck, blending into the ache of his wound on his cheek. It made his vision blur, and he shut his eyes against it, letting it wash over him, helpless.

Once the pain subsided, he settled down and leaned his head against the cold wood, his breathing ragged. He could already feel his body begin to sweat.

Shower. He needed a shower.

Dabi pulled himself up and made his way into the bathroom where he turned on the shower faucet. As the water ran, he pulled out his phone and texted his response to Giran. He declined the offer for the loan; he knew better. A loan from Giran was a loan that never got paid back. He’d have to find his cash in other ways.

Then, he stripped down and entered.

Dabi cursed as soon as the cold water hit his body and he leaned forward to prop his forehead on his fist against the cold tile as the icy tendrils ran rivers down his skin.

For minutes he stayed that way, letting the cold compete with the frayed nerves and aching muscles. As he stood there, he kept glancing at his phone resting on the counter, waiting to see it light up, to hear the buzz. Panic began to fill him as he waited, staring, silently begging for Giran to respond.

What if he missed his chance? Did he wait too long? What if you wake up before he can leave?

But then he saw it – the familiar screen of a new text message, the phone vibrating on the countertop. Dabi snatched it immediately, careful not to get the phone too wet from the stray shower drops. He quickly opened up the message, and there it was...

An address. A time.

And a note of urgency – the seller had another buy lined up but was willing to meet Dabi first to see what he offered at the behest of Giran, thanks to Giran’s good reputation.

Dabi frowned at the information. The meetup time meant he had to leave. Now. Which didn’t give him much time to put together enough funds for what he was about to do.

Still, he had to try. Dabi shot back a quick confirmation text.

Then he finished his shower and dressed himself. He threw on his hoodie, sunglasses, and stuffed his face mask in his pocket. Where he was going, he wasn’t anticipating being seen by any heroes who might know his description, but with his current weak condition, it was better safe than sorry.

Also, his hoodie made it easier to hide stolen wallets.

Dabi downed whiskey straight from the bottle and found an old joint inside one of his jacket pockets. He lit it with his finger, taking a long drag of it into his lungs. As he waited for the effects to kick in, he began scrounging his drawers and his pockets for every single wad of cash in his possession. It didn’t take long until he’d overturned nearly every pants pocket, every cubby and hidey hole. He frowned at the pitiful amount crumpled into the palm of his hand. His gap in his medication had left him unable to find work doing seedy jobs for hire, or even just simple pickpocketing or robbery. Between the two weeks of no work and the money he’d spent on ramen and junk food, his savings was severely dwindled.

Would it be enough?

Maybe he could borrow some cash from the other League members. After all, they were able to go out and steal whenever they needed to. Surely they had something they could give him...

But the longer he lingered here, the smaller his chances of leaving before you woke up. Not to mention there’d be questions, and prodding, and each conversation would steal precious minutes from an already tight schedule. He could end up missing his appointment entirely.

Well, that obviously wasn’t an option. He’d just have to find ways to line his pockets during his commute.

Dabi took another long drag of his joint, the smoke swirling out of his nostrils on the exhale.

He'd have to be careful about it, nothing too showy or noticeable. No flames. No dead bodies. He didn’t want to make himself noticeable to heroes. In his current state, there was no guarantee he’d be able to fight or escape if he got caught.

Pain curled itself along his neck and a wave of nausea followed soon after, twisting his gut. Dabi sucked air through his teeth before forcing a few quick breaths through his nostrils, fighting back the impending sickness watering his mouth. His vision blurred. His entire body tensed, waiting for it to pass. After a moment of intense focus, it subsided, vanishing back to blend into the dull hum of suffering that was beginning to shroud him like an invisible cloak. His vision refocused and he stared at the crumpled joint that was now clutched tight into his fist, its ashes littering the floor.

Fuck. He didn’t even get to finish it.

His pain was getting more unbearable, the withdrawal creeping up like a swiftly rolling fog.

Borrowed time...

Decision made, Dabi stuffed the cash into his pockets. He grabbed the whiskey bottle one more time and took a quick swig from the neck. Then he grabbed his dented pack of cigarettes and stuffed them in his jacket pocket as he headed downstairs, careful not to make too much noise past your door. He could only hope the stench of his self-medication didn’t wake you.

He left quickly, forcing himself out in the bright daylight before any of the league members could ask about his whereabouts. Once he’d put sufficient distance between himself and the hideout, he pulled out his phone and entered the address into the navigation.

------------

You were unpleasantly woken up by the all-too-familiar skunky smell that seeped beneath your door, invading your space. Your senses were still a little on edge from last night, and the odor assaulted you, causing you to scrunch up your nose and pull your covers over the lower half of your face.

You stirred and rolled to your back, your hand reaching out next to you to meet only empty space and cold sheets. He was gone.

You sat up quickly, your brain swiftly putting the pieces together. The stench of weed, his absence, and the very obvious fact that it was morning and you hadn’t treated him yet.

Maybe he was self-medicating in his room, biding his time as much as he could to let you rest. Maybe he was just having a smoke and nursing a bottle of whiskey until you showed up.

‘That idiot, why didn’t he just wake me?’

You threw the covers off and slipped your feet into your shoes before leaving your room. You crossed the hall and knocked on Dabi’s door, and you held your breath as you fidgeted and bounced nervously.

Surely, he’s in there. Any minute now, he’ll answer the door, giving you one of his half smirks as a wall of smoke hits your face.

But nothing but silence greeted you.

You knocked again, banging harder this time. Maybe he was really fucking high and napping, or in the shower...

He had to be here. He had to be.

He wouldn’t leave, right? Not in his condition, not without receiving your help. You had everything he needed here. You had a system, a plan in place. It wasn’t ideal, but it was enough. It was working.

Unless...

Unless he found something better.

You pounded on his door again, this time letting out your frustration, panic rising from your chest to your throat.

“He’s not there.” Grumbled Shigaraki’s voice. You spun to face him as he stood a few feet away, drying his hair with a towel.

You swallowed. “Where did he go?”

“Dunno. I heard him leave a few minutes ago. It’s not my job to keep tabs on you guys.” Then his red eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem?”

You hesitated. “No.”

Then another entirely different thought came into your mind just as Shigaraki turned to leave.

“Wait!”

Shigaraki paused and half-turned to face you, the towel now draped over his shoulders.

“What happened to Compress?” you asked. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll live.” Shigaraki replied. “He’s still recovering with Giraki.”

Elation filled you as you inhaled and released a deep breath in relief. “Thank God...”

“God had nothing to do with it.” Shigaraki replied casually. “ Garaki said your quick thinking probably saved his life.”

You felt your skin flush at the praise. “Thank you.”

Shigaraki stared at you a brief moment before turning and retreating to his room. Once you felt free of his scrutinizing ruby eyes, you turned and hurried towards the stairs.

You stumbled into the common area to see Toga, Spinner, and Twice playing cards.

“Have you guys seen Dabi?” you asked.

“He left.” Toga answered.

“When?”

“I dunno, like five minutes ago?”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No? He never tells us anything,” Toga pouted. “He stunk to high heavens, though.”

Spinner scoffed. “That’s nothing new. He always seems to be on something one way or another.” You froze at Spinner’s casually astute observation, but kept silent.

“He’s probably back to recruiting members for the League. It’s all he cares about.” Twice said. “Guy’s gotta get a life.”

You ran for the door. Five minutes. Surely, he couldn’t have gotten far in five minutes...

You stumbled outside, your eyes squinting hard against the daylight as you covered your brow with your hand. You scanned up and down the street, looking for his familiar form, his dark sweater or swirling jacket.

But there was nothing. Dabi was gone.

“Shit.” You muttered.

You went back into the hideout before too many people started to notice you standing out in your pajamas.

Three sets of eyes stared at you as you closed the door behind you. “Does anyone have Dabi’s phone number?”

----------

The bus was fuller than Dabi thought it would be, and it was working in his favor. He’d already managed to snatch two wallets, one from when he stood waiting for people to step off the bus, and another as everyone shuffled in to find their seats. All of the seats were taken now, with a few people forced to stand. Dabi stood as well, positioning himself to be conveniently in the way of anyone who opted to leave before he reached his designated stop.

An old woman stood next to him, her metal rolling cart in front of her, its handle held in her gnarled fingers. She was short, barely coming up to his chest thanks to the hunch in her back. He stared down at her through his dark sunglasses, taking in the look of her clothes, her belongings. She’d gone to the market evidenced by the bok choy sticking out of the bag in her cart. Its green leaves drooped in the heat of the bus, surrounded by all of the warm bodies and closed windows. Her other hand held the vertical bar, and she swayed like a leave on the wind with each bump and jolt. It was obvious that she didn’t have much of value on her. Nothing but a simple gold band on her finger, its surface scuffed and worn as if it had sat there for decades.

Still, the elderly were more likely to carry cash on them then the younger generations, who relied more on credit cards. With her purse bag zipper already open, it had taken just a quick dip of his fingers to snatch the worn leather wallet and tuck it up his sleeve.

Dabi’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t have to look at it to know it was you, but he did anyway. He stared at the number with no name attached, a strange awareness leaking through his muddled, inebriated mind. Now he had your number. You’d offered it to him before, and he’d declined. What a shitty way to finally get it.

“Someone special?” the old lady asked.

Dabi turned the phone to silent and shoved it back into his pocket. “No,” he replied.

Just then the bus hit an especially deep pothole. The old woman to stumbled, tripping over her cart and landing on the man sitting in front of her. His coffee spilled all over his cheap suit, and he cursed.

“What the hell!” he shouted. He shoved the old woman off of him, and Dabi subtly positioned himself to catch her body against his to keep her from falling back.

Others stared at the man in reproach, but no one spoke up as the old lady stammered an apology, pulling out her kerchief to wipe away at the stains on his clothes. He batted her hands away from him. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he demanded.

The man pulled the string above the window and grabbed his things in a huff as he made his way to leave. “Clumsy old hag...” he muttered under his breath.

Dabi’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.

The man made his way to leave, and Dabi blocked him just enough to bump shoulders with him, which earned him a glare. “Outta my way, jackass,” the man huffed.

As the man exited the bus, Dabi felt the weight of the new wallet now held snuggly in his hand within the sleeve of his hoodie. He wasn’t sure if it had much in it, but even so, a twisted sense of pride lit up his veins just the slightest. Dabi wasn’t very picky on who he stole from, but this one felt especially good.

Once the man was gone, the old woman wiped away the remnants of coffee from the now open seat and sat down. On the next stop, the seat next to her opened up and Dabi gladly took it, his head swimming from the constant motion. His headache was worsening again, the numbing fog he’d induced earlier through alcohol and weed starting to dissipate. He was grateful for the sunglasses, but the heat of the bus was stifling. He forced open the window latch and inhaled as soon as the crisp air hit his lungs.

“Thank you,” said the old woman.

It took Dabi a moment to realize she was talking to him. “For what?”

“Opening the window. It’s gets so hot on these buses sometimes, and my old hands can’t open the latches anymore.”

Dabi grunted. He hunched himself over as his stomach twisted uncomfortably and his leg began to bob up and down. His phone buzzed again, and once again, he pulled it out and stared at the number. Again, he silenced the call, sending it directly to voicemail.

A sharp jagged pain cut across his back and his muscles tensed as he braced himself against it until it passed, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Whoever it is must be worried about you.” She commented, her voice cutting through his haze.

Dabi kept his eyes closed and didn’t respond, hoping she would stop talking to him. He didn’t like when strangers started talking to him, especially nice old ladies that he’d just stolen from.

He heard a panicked gasp, and he opened one eye to see the old woman desperately rummaging through the contents of her purse.

“Where is it?” she asked herself. She looked at Dabi, her wrinkled eyes desperate. “Have you seen a wallet? It’s brown leather, torn on the edge...” she returned to rummaging through her things. “I know I had it, I paid my bus fare, and...” her expression fell with each passing moment, and she looked on the verge of tears. “Oh, no no no...”

Dabi sighed inwardly and snuck the wallet from his sleeve before pulling it out from behind him as if he’d sat on it.

“Is this it?”

Her face lit up instantly as she took it from his hand. “Oh, bless you! Thank you, I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost it... It must have fallen out of my purse earlier...”

Before Dabi could close his eyes again to wallow in his failure, she’d opened the worn leather to show him a picture of an old man with glasses. “This is my late husband. It’s my favorite picture of him and it’s the only copy I have.”

Dabi stared longingly at the yen notes that were poking out of the top edge, his eyes barely registering the photograph she was showing him. He gave another brief grunt and went back to closing his eyes.

She continued talking. “I take it with me everywhere I go. Makes me feel like he’s still with me.”

Dabi shifted uncomfortably, leaning his head back against the window as his leg continued to bob.

Silence fell again and he listened to the sound of her once again rummaging through her purse.

Then Dabi felt a small nudge against his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see a folded 1000 yen note.

“For your help,” she explained.

Dabi hesitated for a moment before taking the cash and pocketing it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He stared ahead of himself at the person across from him reading the newspaper, Endeavor’s face plastered across the front. His hands balled into fists and he felt his temperature rise slightly. If he could just go one day without seeing his damn face...

The old woman’s voice cut in again. “...You look like you’re having a rough day,” she commented.

“Not for long,” he replied curtly.

She took out a bottle of aspirin and opened it, popping a couple of the contents into her wrinkled, frail palm. She held them out to him in offering.

Dabi let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, lady, I’m fine.”

“Hm... maybe something stronger...” she muttered. She put the pills away back into the bottle and began to rummage through her purse again. Dabi leaned his head back and contemplated getting off the bus early. He just wanted some damn peace and quiet while he suffered on his commute...

Another tap on his shoulder got Dabi’s attention, and he turned to see an open tin canister with a single rolled joint inside as the old woman gave him a knowing smile. It took him by surprise, and he stared at the offer dumbly.

“What’s that?”

“You know what it is,” she chided. “Just take it. I can see you need it.”

Dabi took it. “You’re not what I expected...” he replied.

“I use it for my joints. Arthritis, you know,” she explained.

“What if you get caught?”

The old lady laughed. “What’re they gonna do? Throw me in jail?” she laughed again. “No, they’re too busy catching real villains to deal with an old lady like me. Besides, on this side of town, no one cares. You could light that right now and the bus driver won’t say a thing.”

Dabi was tempted as he stared at the joint now resting between his fingers.

He glanced at her purse. “Why not get a prescription for pain meds? It’s legal and stronger.”

“Ah, no.” she replied. “Nasty stuff, those opioids... seen one too many old friends get lost to it. This works just fine for me.”

Dabi’s gut sank in disappointment.

He stared at the joint in his hand then back at the empty canister. He handed it back to her.

“I’m fine.” He replied.

“I have more at home, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I don’t need it,” he said.

He’d had enough charity and pity from others to last him a lifetime.

The old lady gave a small laugh. “I’ve been around a long time. I know withdrawal when I see it.”

Dabi’s mouth pulled into a frown behind his mask and he took the joint back begrudgingly. He put it in his pocket, to save for when he reached his stop.

“Are you trying to get clean?” she asked.

Dabi glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his blue eye locking with hers behind his sunglasses. “Not really.”

“Hm, you should.” She replied.

Dabi’s mood soured at the unwelcome critique.

“Not really an option,” he replied. To make his point, Dabi pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie just enough to give her a glimpse of his scars. Her wrinkled eyes widened slightly.

“I see,” she replied. “That’s unfortunate luck.”

“Yeah.” Dabi replied. The next stop was his, so he stood and pulled the string by the window. “Thanks for the joint.”

“You’re welcome.” She replied.

He turned to leave but she called to him one more time.

“Call her. Don’t let her worry.”

It was just a lucky guess on her part, but when Dabi looked back at her, he could see a hint of pain in her eyes. For the first time since she came onto the bus, he wondered about her, about her life and her experiences. Did she lose someone close? A child? A friend? A spouse? He glanced at the old wedding band on her finger and he tried for a moment to recall the face in the photo she’d shown. It cut through Dabi’s sickness enough for him to hesitate.

Call you... he couldn’t do that. Not now. If he heard your voice, he might...

Pain danced along his sweaty skin causing a wave of nausea and he forced himself forward. Without answering, he looked away and stepped off the bus.

----------

He was screening your calls. You knew it. It would ring a couple times then go straight to voicemail.

‘ Leave a message.’ *BEEP*

“Dabi... please call me back. Please. This is important,” you said as you struggled to keep your voice from shaking.

Please don’t do this...

Mental images of Dabi passed out, overdosed in an unknown alleyway flitted through your mind.

Please come back to me...

----------

A short walk and one joint later, Dabi found himself within eyesight of an uneventful building in a poverty-stricken neighborhood without a hero in sight. He looked at the address number on the map, and identified it as an old hole-in-the-wall eatery. Its windows were frosted over in yellowish tones from years of sun damage to its laminated surface and it was marred by so much graffiti that he couldn’t even see inside.

He ducked into an alleyway a couple of shops down and pulled the stolen wallets from his pockets and sleeves. One by one he checked each of them for cash, pulling what value he could out of them before incinerating them in his hands.

Once all the cash was gathered, including the yen note the old woman had given him and what he’d started off with before he’d set out this morning, Dabi’s total cash amount was around 10,000 yen. While that amount would have fetched him a half a bottle of pills before, he had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be nearly enough this time around.

Dabi slipped a couple of the coins in his back pocket, enough for the bus fare home. The small bit of change wouldn’t make much difference in the deal anyway, and he didn’t want to get stranded so far from the hideout.

The joint the old lady gave him helped a little, but it wasn’t nearly enough. His booze had worn off, leaving his headache worse than before, the weed making him foggier than ever. And the pain... the pain hummed along, unforgiving and relentless. His gut felt twisted and on fire, his legs ached miserably.

He knew it was going to be a rough meeting. Offer too little to start, and the dealer would laugh in his face. Offer everything up front, and the dealer would take advantage and inflate the price, banking on his desperation.

There was nothing else he could do about it. He’d just have to try to get whatever he could. Maybe he’d be able to get just enough to last him until your source pulled through. Either way, he needed this.

Dabi left the alleyway, the cash stuffed deep into his pockets.

Dabi stared at the door handle, his hands clutching the hidden bills and coins in a death grip. That uncharacteristic hesitation took hold again and your face flashed in his mind again. His phone felt hot and heavy in his pocket. He wondered how many messages you’d left. He wondered what they said. Were you angry? Crying? Telling him to go fuck himself and that you hated his guts?

Dabi clenched his sore jaw. You wouldn’t understand.

He was doing this for you.

It was what he wanted to believe at least, even as his fingers twitched, dreaming of the feeling of the yellow bottle in his hands, of the weight of the pills resting on his tongue.

He opened the door.

The smell of food hit his nose, making his burning stomach churn. He hadn’t eaten anything all day, but he knew in this state, nothing would stay down anyway. To his right sat the only other person in the small food joint. He didn’t look up when Dabi entered, his eyes busy with the folded newspaper in his hand, but Dabi knew it was the man he was looking for. A magazine sat next to his half-eaten plate, a picture of All Might across the cover.

Without so much as a word, Dabi sat down at his table. The man didn’t bother to look up, his eyes still on the paper.

“Not even gonna order something to eat?” he chided.

Dabi stared at the untouchable spread of food in front of him as the man took a bite. Dabi’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Not hungry,” he replied.

Already, Dabi was being put at a disadvantage, cornered into showing some of his own hand by the simple choice of eating or not eating. He was either too poor to afford food, or too far into withdrawal to want to eat. Either way, his choice communicated desperation.

The man finally looked over his paper, his dark green eyes locking with Dabi’s through salt and pepper bangs. This guy was good, and had likely been doing this for years, maybe decades. The man returned to his meal without a word.

Dabi hated men like this, men who got cocky on their ability to lord their goods over the needy, the poor, the desperate. And Dabi hated being all of those things. It was a cold reminder of how far he’d fallen from grace, from how far he’d landed from his birthright.

If they had met in an alleyway, Dabi could have taught him a lesson about arrogance. It was his favorite lesson to teach, after all...

But the man was smart, and now doubt was experienced in dealing with men like Dabi. There was a reason he chose an eatery rather than a more secluded meeting place. And there was no telling what sort of quirk this man may have in retaliation.

So, Dabi resigned himself to waiting, each minute ticking by slower than the last. The migraine tightened its chokehold on his senses, making the daylight coming into the establishment brighten, dark spots starting to float in his vision. The itchy irritation of his healing burn began to grate on him, and he fought the urge to move his body within his hoodie to provide some semblance of relief, knowing you’d scold him if he reopened the healing tissue.

“Are we gonna wait here all day?” Dabi finally snipped. “I got shit to do. If you’re just here to waste my damn time-“

“I’m here as a courtesy to Giran.” The man wiped his mouth and put down the newspaper. He eyed Dabi up and down, his eyes narrowed in judgement. “Hm. Look at you. Let me guess. Fire quirk? You look like you’re already on death’s door, probably be dead in a year. I don’t know what he sees in you that makes you think you’re worth my time or my resources.”

“I have money.” Dabi replied.

“Not very much, apparently.” The man replied, his eyes on Dabi’s clothes. “And for how high in demand my resources are, I’m afraid you may be below my price range. I have to maintain a respectable business, and if word gets out that I’m giving handouts to street rats, then every rat will come knocking.”

“Then why bother meeting?” Dabi’s limited patience fraying. He did not run out here, risking everything, just to be told no. “Why waste my fuckin’ time?”

“You misunderstand me. I’m not wasting your time. You’re wasting mine.” The man picked up his newspaper again, but Dabi’s hand stopped it from blocking his view of his face.

“Giran said you were willing to make a deal,” he hissed. The paper beneath his hand started to smoke.

“HEY!” interrupted a deep voice. Dabi turned to see the store owner glaring at him. “No fucking quirks in here, got it? Take it outside if you have to.”

Dabi suppressed his rage and crumpled the burning paper in his palm, snuffing out the fresh embers before they could cause more damage.

The store owner held his glare a moment longer, his mustache bristling, then turned away to return to cleaning his grill, muttering, “Fire quirks. I fucking hate fire quirks...”

The man stared at his ruined newspaper for a moment before setting it on his now empty plate. “Giran gave you false information. I said I was willing to meet. The deal depended on this meeting, and I must say, it’s not going well for you.”

Dabi’s jaw clenched tight and the pain from his torn staple blossomed. It flooded his brain, sweeping away the rage only to replace it the fresh memories of how he’d gotten the wound. It helped him refocus his temper... barely.

Besides, killing the dealer certainly wouldn’t look good for Giran’s image. Impact Giran’s reputation, and you lose Giran’s support. And Dabi couldn’t afford to lose that, even as a member of the League.

The pain throbbed, and Dabi forced his wounded ego aside.

“I’m willing to pay,” he grumbled.

“How much?” the man asked.

Dabi pulled out the cash he had in his pocket and put it on table, papers laid out and yen coins ringing. It didn’t matter that the owner was there, able to see it. He was sure this wasn’t the first deal to go down under his roof.

The man stared at the money before he began to pick them up one by one and straighten them as he counted. Dabi watched silently. When the man was done counting, he set the money back down onto the table and pursed his lips.

“Is this some kind of joke?” the man finally asked.

“The hell you talking about? This would get me at least half a bottle.”

“Not in this economy it won’t. Did you hear about the shipment that got intercepted? Feds and heroes were all over it. They’re still following leads and plucking up users, dealers and cartel throughout the city. Half the dealers aren’t even selling right now, waiting for this whole thing to blow over.”

“It’s all I got.” Dabi muttered.

The man eyed him for a long moment, before finally speaking. “It’s not enough.”

Dabi scowled and reached for his cash, but the dealer’s hand got to it first, sliding the bills and coins back towards himself.

“However... I am willing to be generous today.” He replied. “It’s not enough for the whole bottle, but it can cover some of the pills.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

Dabi’s jaw dropped. “Five??” he shouted angrily.

The owner slammed down a clear plastic bin filled with vegetables and gave Dabi a hard glare. Dabi clenched his teeth and his fists and lowered his voice.

“Five??” he repeated. “That’s extortion and you fucking know it.”

“It’s business. Supply and demand and all that,” the man replied with a casual wave of his hand. “And if you can’t play by the rules, then maybe you shouldn’t be in the game.”

Dabi pursed his lips again as he struggled to hide another sharp snake of pain that laced along his arm. “What’s the dosage?”

The man pulled the bottle out of the inner pocket of his jacket and showed it to him before hiding the bottle away again.

“That’s it?? That’s half than what I was getting before.”

“Like I said... hard times. You should feel lucky that there’s any still on the market at all.”

Dabi’s leg began bouncing vigorously under the table as he weighed his options, but his options were limited. He had no more money, and he had nothing else to barter with.

“Let me see one.” Dabi ordered.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“To make sure it’s legit. You can’t just raise the price that high and not expect me to check.”

The man silently pulled out the bottle again and showed Dabi the pill between his thumb and forefinger. Dabi leaned forward and stared at it with narrow eyes. It had the right color, and there… the stamp of authenticity, proof that it was made in a pharmaceutical lab.

Still....

Dabi held out his hand. “Let me hold it.”

The man pulled the pill back out of his reach, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Then he slowly handed it over. “Don’t try to take it.”

“I’m not a fucking idiot.”

Dabi held the pill in his hand, checking the weight, the shine of it, and once again looking over the details of the number stamped on the side. It was legit. Dabi felt the loss of it as soon as he handed it back to the dealer.

“Fine.”

“What was that?”

This fucking asshole...

“I said fine. I’ll take the five pills.”

The man grinned, and Dabi fantasized about knocking out his perfect teeth before setting his face on fire.

“A wise choice.” The man took a small dime bag out of his coat pocket. Then he opened up a clean napkin and counted out the pills in front of Dabi. Once Dabi nodded his approval of the five pills, the man put them into the small baggy and handed it over, pocketing Dabi’s cash with his other hand.

Dabi took the bag and carefully put it in his hoodie pocket.

“Don’t lose them.” The man commented sardonically. Then he stood up and went over to the owner, slipping him some of the cash Dabi had paid him. The man gave a curt nod and pocketed the bills. The dealer turned around and winked. “Cost of doing business, am I right? Pleasure doing business, kid.” And with that, he left.

Dabi sat for a few minutes, staring at the half empty plate and burned newspaper. The magazine was gone, to be used as a way to discretely hand over the rest of that bottle to someone with more money.

A wave of self-loathing and hatred washed over Dabi, but he stuffed it down before he let it consume him. If he dwelled on it much longer, he’d burn this whole building to the ground.

With a stubborn set of his jaw, Dabi grabbed what remained of the food on the plate and ate it quickly, the taste like ash on his tongue. Then he pulled out the small bag and grabbed a pill, downing it with what remained of the dealer’s water glass.

He had to eat something if he wanted to keep the medication down, and there was no point in letting food go to waste. Especially when his own pockets were now empty.

Dabi stared at the rest of the pills, debated swallowing another, but decided against it. He had to make it last. He had to make it worth it. The guilt crept up again, unwelcome and intrusive. He forced it down again and pocketed the little bag back into his jacket.

Then he stood up and left.

Dabi eyed the street up and down for the dealer, but he was already long gone, no trace of him anywhere. Dabi kicked an empty soda can in frustration. How he would have loved to have cornered him...

Probably a teleportation quirk... Dabi thought. It was the only possibility that made any sense, why he’d be willing to meet in broad daylight with the risk being as high as he made it out to be.

Begrudgingly, Dabi made his way toward the bus stop, his hands in his pockets.

The bus back was less packed than the one he came in on; he found a seat towards the back where he could watch people come and go in solitude. He knew he should stand again, wait for opportunities to pick more pockets in order to line his own empty ones. But at this point, the combination of sleep deprivation, withdrawal, dehydration, and starvation were all beginning to take a toll on his weak body. All he wanted was to sit and wait for the opioid to take effect, to feel that high that he’d missed for so long. All he wanted was a reprieve from life.

Ten minutes in and it hit him like a wave, washing over him, cleansing of him of his discomforts. A part of him wanted to cry at how good it felt. The blissful blanket of pleasure surrounded him, cradling him like an infant as the beast of addiction purred contently in his veins. Euphoria warmed his blood until he was floating, protected and safe from the harsh pain of his body and the world around him. It hit harder than he’d expected, but then he realized he’d been without them for two weeks, even with your pills to offset his withdrawal. His body had already started to forget, resetting years of carefully laid out neural synapses.

Either way, he didn’t mind. If anything, he was glad it was working as well as it was; he’d been afraid the pills would be useless at their lower dose. But now he was grateful – so, so grateful – that he’d managed to negotiate for at least some of them. He’d forgotten how good it really felt, and he let himself soak in the bliss as he sat on the bus. People came and left in a hazy blur. Dabi stared out the window, the motion of the bus lulling him into a half sleep as he finally began to surrender to the exhaustion of his broken body.

But the smaller dosage had its own small consequences, its effectiveness wearing off faster than he’d hoped. It seemed like he’d barely closed his eyes before being woken up again by the throbbing pain in his head and aching limbs. What had it been? A few minutes? His eyes noted the shift in the shadows and daylight within the bus, the rays now coming through the opposite side. No, hours had passed. How many? The nausea was awakening in his gut. His awareness began to sharpen, jagged and cutting, unwanted emotions beginning to bubble to the surface like black tar. Not enough. He needed this, for just a little bit longer. He pulled the small bag out of his pocket and swallowed another pill. His phone buzzed in his pocket but he didn’t feel it.

A few minutes later, he sank back under, safely nestled in the pill’s effects. Time lost its meaning. Business signs and streetlights lit up, one by one in the late afternoon that steadily faded to twilight. They blurred as they passed, like watercolor across a page that made the faces on the billboards blur and fade into a sunset palette of oranges and blues.

Dabi missed his bus stop. And the one after that, and the one after that. It wasn’t until he saw the harbor spread out before him that he realized he’d reached the end of the bus route. The sight of the water called to him, and he quietly he got off, his feet never quite touching the ground.

He walked to the edge and stared out into the water as stars began to awaken and twinkle. Storm clouds hugged the horizon, and the cold, damp gust of wind across the water brought the promise of night-time rain. The bridge crossing the bay was lit up in white lights, the low distant hum of traffic floating over the lapping waters at the base of the wall.

Dabi felt content. For the first time, his world was quiet, the struggles he’d been grappling with faded and disconnected. The memories of his troubles were softened around the edges, blurring into the hazy background until nothing was left. Nothing left but you. Your voice, your gentle laugh, your soft touch. Memories of happy moments drifted forth. You throwing a napkin at him. Eating ramen in your room. Laying on your bed as you treated him in the late hours. Your feet stretched out across his lap as you slept.

Holding you in his arms after he’d caught you.

Waking up next to you.

He stood there as time passed, and all that kept coming up in his mind was you. You, you, you. He felt warm despite the cold, and he knew it wasn’t because of his quirk.

So maybe it wasn’t just addiction after all.

A sinking feeling began to grow in his chest, its weight an ache that he couldn’t quite name.

‘Promise.’

His own word echoed in his head, the hazy memory drifting up like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. The weight of it stifled his lingering high, pulling his thoughts back closer to the present.

What did he promise again...?

He struggled to remember, but the details were slippery, fading in and out of his mind. All he could remember was your face in the dark, the feel of your chin between his fingers. You were sad about something...

BZZ BZZ BZZ

Dabi pulled his phone from his pocket to see a series of text messages.

Are you okay?

Where are you?

Please call me.

Dabi, I need to know you’re okay.

He could hear your voice in the words, and with it he finally remembered.

‘I don’t want to end up alone again...’

Reality sharpened around him as his senses began to return – the chill of the damp cold night air soaking through his clothes, the itching on his back, the ache in his legs. The pulsing in his temples began to throb, and he closed his eyes against it, pressing his fingers against his closed eyelids.

The medication was finally wearing off, and now Dabi realized how much time must have actually passed. Twilight was long gone, the dark of night in full swing.

When he opened his eyes again, your words blared bright in the backlight of his phone screen.

I need to know you’re okay.

You were worried.

Of course you were. You always worried over him.

‘I don’t want to be alone again...’

You were alone now, stuck back at the hideout, desperately sending messages into the void and hearing nothing in return. And it was his fault, his choice. He left you alone.

But he’d promised...

I did it for you, he thought.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours...

You did it for yourself, a voice in his head answered back.

Anger welled up in his chest.

“GODDAMN IT!!!” the curse ripped from his lips, and his fist collided with the wooden telephone post next to him. The pain of the punch erupted across his knuckles and his wrist, but he didn’t care. He punched it again, with his other hand. Then he did it again. And again. Blue flames licked and teased off his knuckles, little dancing demons that left scorch marks on the damp wood before being snuffed out on the next hit.

Over and over Dabi punched, as if the pain could erase his mistake, could erase the mental picture of the look on your face that you’d give him once he returned. But it didn’t do any of those things, and he kept punching until his knuckles were raw and bleeding, littered with splinters.

He didn’t stop until the familiar sharp pain of his damaged nerves lit a streak of agony up his leg, just as it had that morning. He buckled, collapsing to his knees before falling to his haunches until he was leaning against the post, his breaths heavy. His hand instantly went to his pocket, eager for relief. Just as he pulled out the last three pills from the little bag, he froze. He stared at them, his hand shaking from the adrenaline and the withdrawal. They were small, harmless looking things, but they felt heavy, filled with guilt, accusation, and dependency. They drew his attention like the gravity a dead star threatening to suck him in until there was nothing left.

He recalled all of the ways he’d convinced himself it was worth it. How it would free you from his clutches, how he’d be able to get himself back on track if he could just get some. They had promised relief, freedom. But Dabi knew it was fake, knew it was a temporary fix. They’d be used up by morning, and then he’d be back where he’d started. And you... you would never trust him again.

Yet he still wanted. He craved. He stared at the pills and licked his chapped lips. He picked one and brought it to his lips.

‘Promise.’

Dabi hesitated, his hand shaking.

Then with a frustrated yell, he threw the pill into the harbor, followed quickly by the remaining two, still tucked into their little bag.

And just like that, they were gone, swallowed up by the night, their contents lost to the lapping waters. Dabi stared at the black water dumbfounded at himself as regret settled in the form of aching limbs and a pounding head.

Stupid fucking idiot, he told himself. Why did you do that?

The voices in his head didn’t respond, the answer buried too deep for him to find.

A raindrop touched his head, and then a moment later, another landed on his hand. More and more began to fall, speckling his hoodie, his head, the ground around him. A flash of lightning lit the sky, followed a moment later by the loud boom of thunder. The drizzles instantly turned into a downpour, and Dabi sat in the rain, letting the cold wash over him as the raindrops sizzled on his hot skin. If only it could wash away his mistakes.

But it wouldn’t. He’d have to go back eventually and face what he’d done.

He’d just gotten you back. The one person who gave a damn about him, and the first person to truly see him for who he was. And now he was going to lose you - all over five, measly, stupid little pills.

Dabi forced himself up and walked away from the water’s edge. He held his phone inside his pocket. He should respond to you. Let you know he was okay. But it was pouring buckets now. He needed a safe place. He made his way back to the bus stop, where the awning that covered the bench from the elements gave him the protection he needed. It certainly wasn’t perfect, with the wind blowing the rainwater sideways with each gust, but it was enough for Dabi to pull his phone out and hunch over it against the elements.

He found another missed message from you, time timestamp on it from fifteen minutes ago.

Please come home.

Dabi tapped the message box, and the little text bar blinked, waiting. Dabi stared at it, his fingers frozen.

As if you had sensed his hesitation, your number popped up, his phone buzzing with each silent ring. His thumb hovered over the red button before switching to the green and tapping it.

He put the phone to his ear and waited, his mouth dry, tongue stuck.

“Dabi?? Dabi, are you there?” your voice came through, slightly choppy from the interference of the weather and the poor cell phone service. But it was there, panicked, and shaky with worry. It grounded him instantly, and he finally found his voice.

“Yeah. I’m here.” He finally said, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Oh, thank God,” you breathed. “Are you okay?”

Dabi hesitated a moment, before answering. “No.” He was far, far from okay, he realized. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been okay in his entire life.

“Are you hurt??”

Another pause. “No.”

A half lie he realized as he inspected his knuckles on his free hand.

“Okay. Are you close by? Are you able to come home?”

Home...

Dabi felt a stone form in his throat and his eyes began to burn. He rubbed at them with his thumb and forefinger, refusing to cry so many times in a single week. He cried all the time when he was younger and weaker. He wasn’t weak anymore.

He cleared his throat.

“I don’t have any bus money.”

“It’s okay, Kurogiri get you. Where are you?”

Dabi looked at the map next to him, encased in plastic on the inside of the bus stop.

“I’m at bus stop 23, at the harbor.”

“Okay, stay there. I’ll let Kurogiri know. Do you want him to transport you to your room?”

“Yeah.”

“Dabi, don’t hang up.” You ordered.

Dabi didn’t answer, but he didn’t hang up either. He could hear you on the other end of the line, opening and closing a door, the sound of footsteps, your muffled voice talking.

A moment later, the familiar black portal opened up to his left. Dabi hesitated then stepped through.

-----------------------------------

Chapter 14

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#dabi x reader #dabi x you #soft!dabi #tw:drugs #tw:alcohol #tw:smoking #tw:drug withdrawal #tw:drug addiction #angst #pining #touch #Touch chapter 13

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maxismade · 1 year

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#sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 gameplay #tw:drugs #save:sharp #charlotte #yan #isabella #ellis #miley

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scopophobia-polaris · 1 year

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Remembered the newgrounds Zelda dating Sim I played as a minor, got played with friends last night, worse than I remember but you CAN have 3 weed smoking girlfriends so Malon is now a stoner

Wait I forgot the image from the collection

#and it was already really funny bad but its downright BROKEN #tw:drugs #idk man tagging that for benry #if any of you bitches from stream see this start posting your fanart

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ltwilliammowett · 1 year

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The drugs and stimulants of the Sailor

* Triggerwarning*

The following text is about alcohol and drug use.

The history of seafaring shows that stimulants such as alcohol, tobacco and drugs played a major role. Of course, there were also those who kept their consumption in moderation, but at the same time there were also those who were happy to indulge in them, as they had nothing to lose in their lives, had been torn from their real lives and were now trying to endure the new life with these means. The hard life on board also made it impossible to escape addiction, because if a sailor had been badly wounded, they drowned the pain in painkillers, which led to addiction, or the men tried to get to sleep with alcohol or to numb the pain of everyday life, which never ended well. But let's take a look at the most common stimulants and intoxicants, which were most likely to be found on board or in the harbour.

Drunken Pirates (x)

The number one stimulant was, of course, alcohol, which was always available at sea because it was served daily. Rum was always available in the form of grog, and not only in the Royal Navy. But also in other navies. After that came schnapps, gin, whisky and brandy. Cognac, on the other hand, was considered taboo in the Royal Navy, as it was the drink of the arch-enemy France (but at the same time the officers and nobles on land liked to drink champagne, so the arch-enemy was forgotten). Rum had been a constant companion for 300 years and was sometimes even more important than food, because if it was going to be this strenuous work, then at least something to numb the senses. And if there wasn't enough, there could be a mutiny.

The number two stimulant was tobacco. For this, the tobacco leaves were dried and twisted into long strands and sold as such rolls. This allowed the sailor to cut off the amount he needed, chop it up with a knife or a tobacco mill and stuff it into his pipe, which he was only allowed to consume at the smoking lamp (sometimes also on deck). This circumstance made many men chew or snuff their tobacco. This stimulant was also said to calm the nerves and make one forget the aches and pains of everyday life.

Portsmouth Point, by Thomas Rowlandson 1814 (x)

The next stimulant was absinthe. The Green Fairy, as it was also called, was developed in the 18th century in Switzerland from herbs. Absinthe is a brandy made from wormwood oil, alcohol and aniseed. And consumed in the form of a ceremony, for which the absinthe was poured onto a teaspoon of sugar and lit. This was then dripped into a glass of iced water. The danger with absinthe was the essential oil containing thujone, which could cause hallucinations and attack the central nervous system if consumed regularly. From the middle of the 19th century, the drink became known as the drink of artists, but many sailors also drowned their sorrows in it in cheap bars on the harbour. The Green Fairy was very dangerous and made many addicted. These then behaved like Herion addicts and provided an increased agression potential. This made sailing with such men very dangerous, as they were unpredictable. And this ensured that many ended up in prison or in mental institutions or died prematurely and thus ensured fewer Sailors on board, which was a problem for the navies in general, as they already had enough problems getting enough men.

(x)

Also to be found in these establishments was the ether. The normal sailor was often not used to this, which led to him falling into a deep sleep and then being robbed by outsiders and prostitutes. Therefore, this was rather avoided. However, the surgeons soon took a liking to it, as it had a narcotic effect and was therefore used as an anaesthetic. But it could also have unpleasant side effects, such as hysteria and addiction, which meant that those who wanted it also raided the ship's pharmacy to get their dose. The surgeons had the same problem with laudanum, an alcoholic solution of opium. The popular painkiller, anaesthetic and depressant was always on board and, like ether, could lead to great addiction. Which is why many tried to either pretend to be sick to get their dose or steal it to get high. This was often punished with flogging, which did not help the addict much.

There was often no real solution, the affected sailors were usually left to their own devices or sent to hospitals where they were simply locked away because of their insane state. It was not until the late 19th century, when access to and distribution of these intoxicants and stimulants began to be reduced or stopped altogether, that the condition of the crews on board improved. Until then, many sailors had an alcohol or even drug problem that they took on board and usually died with.

#naval history #tw: alcohol #tw:drugs #16th-19th century #age of sail

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hannahssimblr · 3 months

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Chapter Eight

A much anticipated box arrives in the post one chilly November morning, and Simon attacks the brown tape with a stanley knife as soon as it hits his desk. I hover behind him vibrating with nervous anticipation as he peels open the flaps to reveal blocks of white card, vacuum packaged into individual piles. He lifts the first one out and drops it into my hands. “Have a look at those.”

I jam my thumbnail into the plastic and rip it away with a fervour to reveal my first Christmas card design. Merry Christmas is printed across the front with a jaunty, diagonal tilt. Every centimetre of space around it is taken up by stylistic holly leaves and bright red berries, and in between those are the little gold stars and dots I spent far too long drawing in with meticulous detail on the drawing tablet that I borrowed from Gabriel. Here it is, my hard word manifest. I smooth my hand over the top card and sigh with satisfaction. They look good.

“Nice.” Simon comments. “No print errors so far.”

“Yeah, great.” I say. “How are the rest?”

He shuffles through the box to pull out five more stacks. Five more designs I slaved over, and each one of them is perfect. If he thinks it’s odd that I sink to my knees onto the floor and hold the cards like they’re my children he doesn’t say so. He just starts clearing up the rubbish around me, mercifully ignoring the proud tears that have sprung to my eyes. I pull out my phone and take a picture for Claire, for Shane and for Jude.

I did it!

Their excited responses are just starting to come in when Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He has an annoying ringtone that distracts me far too much from my excitement. He picks it up.

“Hey Shell what’s up?

I bring the cards over to my desk and start unpacking them, sorting them into stacks with the correct envelopes as he has his loud conversation.

“Hang on what- really? Oh shit, what- okay but who-” Simon makes moves towards the stairs, and the urgency of his movements makes me snap to attention. “Do you know where she is exactly?” He disappears out of earshot, and I’m left staring at the staircase where he was only a moment before. I catch Izzy’s eye. She’s frowning with concern, a deep line carved between her brows. “Do you think it’s something about Jen?” she asks me, and I shrug. “I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on with her.”

“Oh.”

Simon comes back into the studio about five minutes later without saying a word. He hunches over his desk and yanks his sketchbook out in front of him. I listen to the sound of him tapping a pencil on the pages, drawing nothing, but I pretend not to notice. It’s minutes before his phone rings again, and he doesn’t move from his desk to answer it this time.

“Yeah? Oh, she did. Where did she say she was then?” A hassled sigh. “What? Like, how did she even- well no it’s not like you can just get a bus there, can you? …And your dad? …No, okay, obviously. Well, look… yeah but like, the taxi will cost a bloody fortune, I mean like a fortune. Surely you know someone with a licence?”

I continue sorting out the envelopes, trying very hard not to eavesdrop on Simon, but even with his hushed tones he’s making it impossible not to.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ll ask.” He’s saying now, doubtfully. “Y-yeah I know. Fine, yeah, okay it makes sense.” He hangs up after another minute and from the side of my gaze I watch him get up from his seat and make his way across the room to where Izzy is working at the press. He speaks to her in a low voice, but I’m close enough to hear every word.

“Izzy, I’m so sorry to ask, but you’re able to drive, aren’t you?”

She hesitates. “Yeah, I can.”

“Look, there’s just this thing with Jen, Michelle is really worried about her, she’s way out in some house in Wicklow somewhere and it sounds dodgy, I-”

“I don’t own a car, Simon.”

“Right but you could borrow Michelle’s dad’s car. I hate to ask because I know you’re flat out busy this week, but-”

“I’ll do it.” I hear myself saying, and they both whirl around to stare at me. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be eavesdropping or anything but I’ll do it. I have nothing important to do today,” I quickly eye the mess around Gabriel’s desk. “I can drive, and I know Jen.” There’s silence. “Seriously. I’ll do it.”

“You have a licence?”

“Do I look like I don’t have one?”

Simon looks a bit resigned, but he nods anyway. “Alright, fine, works for me.”

We take the bus across the city and into Clontarf together, not saying much despite being smushed together into the cramped seats on the upper level. I stare out over the sea as we move along the coast. It’s been years since I’ve been here, and the autumn has turned it duller, sparser than I remember it being that late summer when I visited. I can’t resist a glance up Jude’s avenue as we clamber off the bus and head down the main street towards Michelle’s house. I can’t see the beautiful Georgian house from the seafront like this, and I know he’s not there, but still, for a moment I let a shiver pass through me, briefly transported to another time.

Michelle lives in a solid, 1930s red brick house with the trees that line the edges of St Anne’s park within view of the front door. It’s an old, leafy suburb with neat piles of raked leaves on the narrow strips of lawn that separate the footpaths from the road. She’s waiting at the door when we arrive, her thumbnail lodged between her teeth.

Simon gently lifts her hand away and kisses her forehead. “All good, Shell?” She nods. “Youse took ages.”

“I know, it was just the bus.”

I raise a limp hand to wave at her from where I stand awkwardly by the bins, and she waves back. “God, thanks so much for doing this, Evie. I know it’s a bit crazy.”

“It isn’t. I don’t mind. I just hope that Jen is alright.”

“Yeah, same.”

“What happened?”

“Ugh!” She rolls her eyes and pulls the door closed behind her. “It’s Pamela again, it was hard to tell exactly what happened because Jen was so upset on the phone, but I think they had a fight while at a party at this weird house out in the back arse of Wicklow and Pamela drove off and left her there.”

“Oh my god what?”

Michelle tosses the car keys to me and I barely manage to catch them, jingling around as I scramble to pluck them out of the air. “Yeah, Pamela is a fucking bitch. It’s not the first time she’s done something like this.”

“Does Jen even know the people at the house?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t care either. I just want to go and get her, she didn’t sound good at all.”

I nod at that and we all climb into Michelle’s dad’s car. I have to adjust the seat to give myself more leg room. He must be a very small man. Simon takes the passenger seat on account of his long legs, and Michelle climbs into the back. It takes me a few minutes to get used to it, accustomed to the specific way that my dad’s car works. Where his car needed a knack to start it, this one roars to life smoothly. Where his car has a sticky gear stick, squeaky windscreen wipers and moss growing on the window rubber, this one is clean and sleek and easy. The glove compartment even has both hinges intact and there aren’t any ancient stains, but still, I struggle with the sensitivity of it, the altered position of the reverse gear, and we sputter and start all the way from the driveway to the estate exit. My face burns up, but neither Simon nor Michelle say anything in acknowledgement.

When we’re out on the open road it’s easier. I don’t mention that I’ve never driven in Dublin before, but I doubt there is a need to. It’s probably all over my face, with every wince when a cyclist wobbles into my lane, or a hassled sigh when other cars refuse to let me merge, but once we hit the motorway I relax. Still, I feel very small in this big car, like a little girl behind the wheel, doing something too big and too important to be appropriate.

Michelle has the address of the house on her phone, and she directs the whole way, as dual carriageway becomes a singular lane, and as a slip road takes us from narrow road to narrower, until the road is flanked with a canopy of rust coloured trees, dappled late morning sun on the hood of the car. We drive for an hour without the radio on. Just quiet, until eventually we reach a small town with grey buildings on both sides of the road. There is an internet café and a pizza takeaway with a cartoonish Italian man painted on the window.

“There ought to be an estate up here.” Michelle pipes up from behind me. “On the right.”

“That’s where she is?”

“I hope so. She stopped responding to my messages half an hour ago.” Her voice cracks a little there, and Simon reaches back to comfort her. “She’s fine, Shell. Don’t worry about it. Where could she have gone?”

It’s a large estate. There is a hill that rises high over the town, and I swing around a labyrinth of roundabouts and side roads, sure that without sat-nav I would never find my way out of here again. I mount the curb outside a house that looks exactly like all the others, save for the overgrown lawn. Simon gets out of the car and bangs on the door.

“Should we get out?” I say.

“Probably not” Replies Michelle. “Simon will handle it.” We both watch him wait there. There is a lump beneath my ribs that grows with every passing second, unable to take my eyes off the door, trying to ward off any unhelpful thoughts for the sake of Michelle, and then the door swings open, and Jen is there.

I can’t hear their conversation, but I can see Jen wringing her hands and nodding at him. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since Izzy’s gig, and she seems even smaller now than she did then, even in the way that she holds herself, hands clutched around her body, shoulders hunched forward like she’s trying to turn herself into the tiniest woman alive. Simon comes back to open up the back door for her and the moment she climbs inside Michelle has her arms around her neck and is stroking the back of her hair.

“Jen.” She says hoarsely. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry.” Jen says in a voice just above a whisper. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She sniffs loudly. “It’s Pamela who should be.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Simon climbs into the passenger seat next to me, very quietly so as to not disturb them, and we sit there stoically, staring straight ahead. Jen is crying now too, swiping her face with her sleeves and whimpering. I watch Michelle in the rear view mirror, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands and helping, makeup dried onto her best friend’s face in grey streams.

“Maybe we should get going.” Simon says to me in a low voice, and I nod, staring up the engine and gingerly pulling away from the curb.

“Oh, God. Evie.” Jen says, noticing me for the first time. “You drove all the way out here? What-”

“It’s alright, nobody else has a licence. I’m happy to do it. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“God, this is bonkers. I can’t believe you had to do this.” She bursts into tears again, causing Michelle to cluck over her, gently shushing her, pulling her wet face into her shoulder.

“Jen.” She’s saying softly. “This can’t keep happening. Pamela doesn’t treat you nicely. Someone who loves you like she says she does, she’d never drive away and leave you in a house full of strangers like that.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You have to think about what’s best for you, the happiness that you deserve. She doesn’t deserve you. She doesn’t treat you nicely.”

“I know, I know.” Jen says in a voice that makes me wonder how many times they’ve had this very conversation before. “You’re right.”

“Who are those people?”

“Her friends from somewhere. I don’t know. Or maybe not her friends, even. She buys drugs from them.”

“And what,” Michelle says carefully, calmly. “That’s what you were doing these last two days? Just partying and doing drugs?”

Jen makes a small sound of agreement.

“And then?”

“I pissed her off. I said something stupid, and she got annoyed with me. She thinks I embarrassed her in front of everyone else. We argued, and then she eventually left. I probably was annoying. I can be that way.”

My palms tighten on the steering wheel and my heart suddenly palpitates in my chest. I try to take a deep, steadying breath and focus as we pass through the grey village and back onto the country roads.

“No matter what you said, Jen, you didn’t deserve to be left alone with strangers.” Michelle continues soothingly. She’s good at this, I realise, good at hiding her true fury at Pamela and showing up as the supportive, reasonable best friend instead. “Can’t you see that? Nobody deserves that. What time did she leave you?”

“Last night, around midnight maybe.”

A pause. “So you were there all night?”

“Yeah, but it was fine. I’m sure she would have come back eventually, once she cooled down, I just got a bit overwrought, I had a panic attack, that’s why I called you. Actually, it’s not as big of a deal as I made it out to be.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and take a shuddering inhale. My hands are so tight around the wheel that they’re starting to hurt. Simon glances at me. “You alright, Evie?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

I let my breath out slowly and say as quietly as I can: “It’s just… it’s hard for me to hear that.”

“What? About Pamela?”

“About how Jen explains it away.”

He stares at me, and then looks away. One small nod of understanding, and he doesn’t ask any more. “If you need to stop the car and get some air, it’s alright, you know.”

“Thanks.”

I drive on.

I don’t think about Dean if I can help it, but still, sometimes those putrid memories resurface and leave me feeling sick to my stomach. Even now, when I’m so far from that place I taste bile in my throat, remembering the dim haze I existed in when he was there, casually tearing me apart with his searing words each time I saw him, the terror that slowly grew in me like mould, insidious, worsening day by day until I was afraid to say anything at all. Afraid to do anything wrong, to even touch him in a way that he suddenly decided that he didn’t like.

“You’re no fun at all.” He said one morning as I headed for the shower. “You just lie there quietly. I’d have a better time with my hand.”

“Okay.” I said. “I’m sorry about that.” and I went to wash him off me.

The memory scorches me. Tears spring to the corners of my eyes and begin to blur the motorway ahead, and I blink them away fiercely. I can’t think about this.

I can’t think about this.

“Evie.” Simon’s voice reaches me, and to my surprise his hand is bridging the distance between us and laying on my shoulder. “We can stop. You look a bit unwell.”

I glance in the mirror at Jen, falling asleep on Michelle’s shoulder now, pale and wan and thin and worse than I am. I shake my head. “It’s fine. Let’s just… can we stick on the radio?”

“Yeah, no bother.” He flicks on some golden oldies station and we coast onwards towards the city to the sound of Neil Young’s guitar.

“If you feel like lying down, mam has your room made up.” Michelle says as we bring Jen inside. It’s only the early afternoon. Her parents are still at work and the house is empty, and neat, and ordered and the kind of place that makes me feel like taking my shoes off, but everybody else leaves them on, so I do too.

“Thanks. Maybe in a while.” Jen says, and shuffles into the living room. As she brushes past me I get the scent of her clothes. Tobacco, that strong, overpowering smell that can only be from a place where smoking is allowed indoors. I follow her and sit with her on the couch while Michelle heads for the kitchen to make something for us all to eat. Simon hovers between rooms for a few moments before deciding to follow his girlfriend, leaving Jen and I alone.

“Thanks so much for coming to get me, Evie.” She says. “Honestly, I’m so embarrassed that you had to get involved at all. I feel like a fool.”

“Don’t.” I insist. “I would have never left you there.”

“Well, I think it’s obvious enough that I shouldn’t have even been there. It was so stupid.”

“It wasn’t, I get it.”

She lets out a long, enervated sigh and sinks into the sofa, and her eyes flutter shut, and it’s peaceful and completely quiet save for the birds outside and the occasional sound of dry leaves scraping across the driveway. She must be utterly exhausted. As I look at her face, pale and wan, I imagine her all alone in that strange house, up all night waiting for Pamela to come back. Sure that she would, then not quite so sure anymore, realising that she was stuck, and the inevitable dread that must have accompanied her.

When I don’t think she’ll speak again she says to me gently. “I’m sorry we fell out of touch. I didn’t know how to talk to you.”

“Oh, God, Jen no. Please don’t even worry about that now. It doesn’t matter at all, and it was my fault anyway, I was going through a weird phase.”

“I should have been there more, but I just… I didn’t really know if I had any right to intervene.”

“I was alright, Jen. I worked it all out.”

“I always liked you a lot. You’re a nice girl.”

I smile. “I liked you a lot too.”

“We should have been friends.”

“I know.”

She tilts her head and looks at me, and her mouth curves into a humorous little smirk. “I’ve always been sorry that it wasn’t easier with us. I have this friend, you see, and he has this long habit of complicating things with the girls I want to befriend.”

I huff out a laugh. “I have no idea who you mean.”

“Mmm, I’m sure you don’t.”

“I didn’t think you still called him your friend.” I say.

“He’s changed his tune lately, and has started complicating things with me instead, I suppose you could say, but,” A shrug. “I’d say we’re… well, it’s all a bit up in the air. Ask me again in another while. I don’t know.”

“Oh right.”

“You were talking to him at Izzy’s gig.” She says, curiosity in her eyes. “Are you back on speaking terms again?”

“Yeah, we are. A little bit.”

“Has he mentioned me?”

“Not really.”

“Ah. Is he still with Astrid?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” And she reaches for my hand to place it into her lap and turns it face up. She pulls my fingers so they’re stretched out flat and then traces the lines of my palm.

“I can’t read palms.” She says. “But if I could, yours would say, hm, unless you go out and ask for the things that you want, you can’t expect the universe to give them to you.”

I laugh. “That’s specific.”

“Wow, yeah, crazy.” She says as she pretends to examine me further. “That’s the same line that Jude has.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, his palm also tells him to cop on for once and be honest with himself, but I’d be surprised if he did. For a smart boy he’s so unbelievably stupid sometimes.”

I draw my hand away and rest it in my lap again, and this joke scenario doesn’t feel quite so funny all of a sudden. Jen knows, but she’s calm beside me, and her gaze is steady and insistent. “He doesn’t make good choices, he’s just like that, he probably won’t get his head screwed on right until he’s in his thirties. It’s nothing to do with you. He’ll keep choosing girls that are wrong for him.”

“You think Astrid is wrong for him?”

“Astrid’s completely gorgeous, but have you ever spoken to her?”

I shake my head.

“She’s not funny. She’s nice, and she’s very clever and capable and mature and all of that, but in all of the time I’ve spent with her over the last three years, not once has she ever told a joke, or a funny story or said something in an even slightly funny way. She’s dull, Evie. I honestly never got what the appeal was.”

“I’m sure there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

“You mean she’s good in bed or something?”

Heat flares in my cheeks. “Well I didn’t mean that, but I suppose maybe. He must be going out with her for legitimate reasons that outweigh her non-existent sense of humour.”

“We all know, love, all of his friends know why, and it because he’s literally not able to be on his own. He hates being single, he always said that it made him feel uncomfortable to be by himself. Astrid was just there.”

“I’m sure he’s crazy in love with her too, though.” I don’t know why I’m choosing to defend a woman who was nothing short of blatantly unpleasant to me outside the café on one of the only occasions that I met her, but I simply can’t fathom the Jude that I know making a shallow choice based on convenience.

“Yeah, as much as you can be in love with a person who you’re completely incompatible with. She’s Leo.” Jen stares at me as if this proves everything, but I shrug. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means they can’t understand one another fundamentally, Leo can’t date Scorpio, it just never works out, but you, you’re Pisces. You’re both sensitive, artistic little water signs. You’re perfect for each other. It’s legitimately written in the stars.”

“I think he and I have probably moved past the possibility of anything happening.”

“Do you want it to?”

I hesitate, because I do. Of course I do, it feels like in my whole life I’ve never really wanted anyone or anything as badly as I’ve wanted him, the boy who made every other crush I’ve had in my life seem completely laughable, conjuring up feelings inside me that I only thought existed in movies, but I am terrified of my feelings for him, and terrified of finding out that he might return them.

“He’s still with her.” I say.

“I think he’ll figure out what he really wants sooner or later.”

“Well I think it’s silly to talk about this.”

“Whatever, chick.” Her eyes slide away from mine and she tilts her head to gaze out the window, through the venetian blinds out to the suburban scene, and I meet eyes with a porcelain dog on the mantelpiece, next to a dutch clock with a rotating pendulum that twists back and forth, back and forth in centrifugal motion. Jen checks her phone to find no new messages.

“I know how it feels to care a lot about a person who doesn’t treat you very nicely.” I say in sympathy, and she doesn’t move, or look at me, and her hands, with nails chewed down to the quick, tighten around her phone. “I know.” she says. “But sometimes it feels like a miracle to be wanted by anybody at all.”

A lump forms in my throat and my heart flutters. “Yeah, I get that.” I swallow convulsively. “But feeling like that doesn’t make it true.”

“But things are different when you aren’t beautiful and you can’t just have what you want.”

Something clatters loudly in the kitchen and we both snap around to look in the direction of the french doors.

“Sorry.” Michelle calls out. “Dropped a tray in the sink.” and Simon’s shadow moves across the frosted glass as he reaches for the handle.

“Evie.” Jen says suddenly, soberly, and my eyes flick to hers again. “Don’t tell Jude about what happened today. Don’t tell him where I was or what you had to do to help me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, please, just like, as a favour.”

I hesitate. “I suppose.”

“I can’t handle it if he knows. He gets too emotional. He’ll call me, and I can’t talk to him right now.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll keep it between us.”

She visibly relaxes again. “Okay, good. Thank you.”

“No problem” I’m saying, just as Michelle and Simon come back into the room with a tray laden down with our lunch.

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#lucky girl part 3 #tw: abuse #tw:drugs #tw: mental health

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thehuntison · 1 year

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Celebration || NYE Group Para

@sebastianmartinsmythe

Catie happened to be looking over Hunter's shoulder while he was talking about Sebastian finding his own happiness. She said wisely, "Maybe, but he's probably also put his happiness on hold because he's been too scared to go after it. I know about that from experience." She gave Hunter’s hand a squeeze before she was tugged over to meet more New Directions.

He patted Marc’s strong jaw and said sweetly, “You’re a sight for sore eyes. What are you doing in town?”

“Hopefully you, Legs,” Marc said with a grin.

Sebastian waggled his eyebrows at him, warming at the old nickname. “You’re gonna have to get in line, GQ.”

Marc leaned in with his dazzling smile, but in a voice just low enough for only the two of them to hear. “I’m here to pick up the pieces of your broken heart, Babyface. Public breakups never go without some collateral damage.”

He stood straighter again and said, with a wink at Karen, “But first, bring me some shots so I can catch up!” While Sebastian signaled for a waiter, Marc reached down to shake hands. “Rob Dean, you look well, sir! When are you guys going to take down Barnes and Noble once and for all?” He moved to kiss Karen’s cheek. “Hello, beautiful. I loved your last book.” She stood up to give him a hug.

"Where’s the dearly departed Mr. Clarington?” he asked next, and everyone looked around. “I think he’s dancing,” Karen said, pointing at the crowded dance floor.

Marc sat down to catch up with everyone. Their group expanded and dwindled again as people left for food, drink and dancing before others came and took their place. At one point Quinn and Puck came over and she bent down to ask in Sebastian’s ear. “Where’s Hunter?”

“I thought he was dancing with you,” Sebastian said his brow furrowing as he turned to face her.

”He was, but then he left. I assumed he was going to come be with you guys.” Quinn looked concerned. Sebastian felt an uneasy feeling, the hairs on his neck were bristling and cutting through his buzz. This wasn’t an unheard of check-in between them at parties. There was never a formal plan or specific procedures to hand off Hunter, but sometimes if Hunter was going through an anxious period it would more or less happen because of this unspoken understanding between Quinn and Sebastian.

Marc, seeing the expression on Sebastian’s face, asked, “Are you okay?”

Sebastian stood up, not answering him. He bumped past a party guest and flashed Rob an urgent look before striding away in the direction of the balcony. Quinn and Puck followed, hurrying to keep up with his long legs. “Check his room,” Sebastian said to Quinn. “Puck, check the powder room.” Puck nodded and the three sped off. Santana saw Sebastian fly past her and she looked around, catching Quinn’s eye. Quinn waved her off with a manicured hand but her expression said, ‘No, it’s okay. Not yet, anyway.”

Quinn burst into the room without knocking and let out a big sign of relief. “There you are!” she said, trying to act natural. “What are you up to in here? Just need a break?” she offered.

Rob stood up and shook Marc’s hand. “Hello Marc. It’s good to see you. You’re likewise, looking well. How have you been since your last visit?” He chuckled at the question about Barnes and Noble. “That is something still on the books I believe, but there are some other plans, personally and professionally, for this year. So Barnes and Noble might get a bit of a reprieve.” He sat back down and enjoyed the company and conversation; being as supportive as he could of Sebastian.

When Quinn appeared at Sebastian’s side though, Rob’s gaze drifted to the dance floor, looking for Hunter. When Sebastian didn’t answer Marc and instead stood up and fled towards the balcony, with an urgent glance thrown his way. Rob leaned into his wife, grateful for her constant steadying presence in his life. “So Marc, what are you up to these days?”

Hunter was still pacing the floor in his room, the first martini done, and the second in his hand. The bottle of pills were also still in his hand. He thought about Marc and Sebastian. He didn’t know how Sebastian had handled the last several weeks of he and Jay, when just seeing Marc sent him into a frenzy. He was thinking that maybe he should just leave, but he’d barely spent anytime with Quinn and he really didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, goodnight, to Seb. But he was not going to go near Sebastian as long as Marc was around.

He startled when Quinn burst into his room. “Hey,” Hunter smiled, pocketing the pills quickly. “Yeah. I needed a bit of a break. I knew it was going to be difficult, but I didn’t realize some of the ways it would be. I was just thinking about you though,” Hunter said, coming over to kiss each cheek. “How I haven’t really gotten to see you yet. And how sad that was. Because I should probably leave soon.” He looked around the room. “Is it weird that I feel like I don’t belong here anymore?” Hunter asked. “And Puck, where’s your lone wolf?” He spoke quickly, almost rapid-fire, his speech and facial expressions both betraying his anxiety.

#para:celebration #para:group #all:group #//it wouldn't let me reblog so I started new #tw: substance abuse #tw:drugs

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inkykeiji · 7 months

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character: bonten!mikey x fem!reader notes: a day or two ago teddy and i were daydreaming about sucking on our Daddies’ fingers and i genuinely haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since!!!! warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, hair pulling, oral fixation (finger sucking), somnophilia + minimal prep, mention of drugs words: 1.3k

If he’s being truthful, Mikey doesn’t really mind when you suck on his fingers—kind of likes it, actually; likes feeling useful, likes the way your tongue pulses and jumps just a bit as you draw him in a little further, suck around him a little harder, likes to pacify you—provided that it’s feasible.

You know when to ask, know that if Daddy’s busy cleaning his guns or cutting his drugs that he needs both hands, that his pretty girl can’t be greedy, now, just because she needs something to suck on. No, on those days you can usually be patient enough, can usually wait until Daddy’s finished with whatever important business he has to take care of. But sometimes, if you’re really needy, and you’ve been extra good, you might get lucky—he might let you stick his cock down your throat, let it sit all heavy and hard on your tongue as you kneel sloppily between his spread thighs, chin on the edge of his chair, hands planted between your folded knees and palms pressed flat to the floor, all conscious and intentional, since Daddy has a rule against touching during times like these, claims it distracts him, and we can’t have that, now, can we, sweetheart?

No, Daddy. Of course not, Daddy.

Daddy has a rule against sucking at times like these as well—this isn’t about getting him off or making him feel good, after all, he had told you. This is just about giving his whiny little baby something to fill her mouth with, something to fill her mouth up, to keep her occupied and quiet while Daddy works. If he feels your tongue start to curl around his shaft, if he feels your lips begin to pucker and your cheeks begin to hollow, he’ll be yanking you off his cock in one harsh, swift motion, with his knuckles rooted at your scalp and a growled curse spit through his teeth—and then you’ll be in real trouble, and you definitely don’t want that!

But it’s when Daddy’s sifting through boring paperwork and poring over mind-numbing files and notes—full of gruesome photographs and disturbing details—that the perfect opportunity arises to lend you his hand, to let you wrap both palms around his slim wrist and take his fingers into your mouth.

He knows that’s exactly what you want when you curl up next to him on his plush office couch, gazing at him with glittering eyes and your bottom lip siphoned between your teeth, but he won’t give it to you; not until you say it, of course, not until you explicitly ask for it—because good girls ask for what they want, don't they?—keen stare veiled by feathery lashes and voice trembling with a desperate sort of humiliation.

But he’s sweet as syrup when he nods and allows you to suck two of his fingers into your eager, waiting mouth, silky praises falling from between smirking lips. Because you’re so good for him, swallow so well for him, take his index and ring finger all the way in for him, right to the third knuckle, the edges of your teeth gently scraping the sharp protruding bones.

The metal of his rings clacks against the back of your teeth, platinum and white gold warming in the heat of your mouth as your tongue coils and curves around the bony digits, laves over the bumps and ridges of each knuckle and joint. Foamy saliva pools in all of the dips and crevices of the jewellery, coats the surfaces all slick and slimy and leaves the gems encrusted in the metal gleaming.

The underside of the rings feel smooth on your tongue, tip tracing around the arc of each one, slow and studious, almost as if committing them to memory. The metal has a slight tang to it, smearing the zest of sweat across your tastebuds, bitter and salty with a hint of the rusted blood still caked beneath his nails and lining his cuticles.

The pads of his fingers stroke your tongue in slow, rhythmic motions, petting the slippery little muscle in a tender caress—mindless, soothing, habitual—as tired onyx eyes skim the pages crumpled in his free hand. Delicate fingers hook around the bangles encircling his wrist and tug, begging for more and whimpering nonsensically around his flesh—more, Daddy, more, more, gimme more, pretty please.

And he does, of course, his sweet, greedy little girl, permits you to draw him further down your throat, copious amounts of drool oozing from the corners of your mouth as your lips tighten and your tongue squeezes—so much so that it’s trickling down your chin and dripping off your jaw in heavy, viscous cords, drizzling all over your chest and clavicle.

It leaves behind the prettiest streaks of shimmering spit, and Mikey can’t help but press down on the back of your tongue, enraptured as another tiny torrent of saliva seeps past his fingers to spill down his hand and collect in the lines of his palms.

The action earns him a pitchy yelp, sound vibrating around the tips of his fingers, and he snorts a little, fingers rubbing your tongue in a crude sort of apology.

Sorry, baby, sorry, he’s murmuring in response, though that smug, sadistic little smirk toying with the corners of his lips tells you that he’s not sorry at all.

His fingertips are pruned by the time he’s finished shuffling through his documents, soaked and soggy with your saliva. Your mouth’s finally gone slack, a telltale indicator that you’ve fallen asleep, dribbles of drool rolling down the side of his hand and his wrist as you breathe, calm and even and soft, around the digits lodged down your throat.

Your teeth have left cute little indents in his knuckles and the underside of his fingers, but he doesn’t mind, running the tip of his own tongue over the jagged little craters carved into his skin and humming softly to himself.

It always has his cock twitching in his trousers, straining against the thin material, and on the nights where he really needs it—when the day has been abundantly challenging, excruciatingly exhausting, full of collecting debts and deaths—he’ll rearrange your pliant body, push your head down and hips up and panties aside and use his already sopping hand to wet you just enough to comfortably take his cock, burying himself to the fucking hilt in one swift, sharp thrust and revelling in the gorgeous little gasp of surprise that claws its way past your sleepy lips.

Stay sleeping, sweetheart, he always tells you, murmured into the skin behind your ear and punctuated with a chaste kiss. Just let Daddy take what he needs.

And so you do, every single time, ever his good girl, his best girl, nodding into the corduroy couch cushions and mumbling out some garbled sentiment of affirmation.

It’s never graceful, always shameful, lacking his usual skill and subtlety as he pathetically ruts into your sweet cunt, flush hips grinding into your thighs gone sticky and slippery with desperation, humping away unevenly at you until his cock is pulsing viciously and he’s breathing out a curse against the damp nape of your neck, filling you with thick cream.

He always takes a moment to admire you after, too; to admire the mess he’s made of you, the masterpiece he’s made of you, calloused thumbs spreading your fucked-raw lips and watching as his cum cascades out of you slow and sticky, using the hardened pad to smear it across your cunt—glazing your clit and your slit and your inner thighs; painting you in him, pressing into the splotches of navy and grey those sharp hipbones carved into soft flesh—before he hoists you up, collects your boneless body in a heap in his arms and decides it’s time for bed, finally, for the both of you.

#mikey x reader #mikey smut #bonten mikey smut #bonten mikey x reader #bonten mikey x you #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro smut #mikey sano x reader #mikey sano smut #mikey x you #tw:daddy kink #tw:drugs #tw:somnophilia #inky.mikey #inky.tr

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kingkatsuki · 2 years

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Temptation | Eddie Munson x Reader

Hihihi! Please heed the warnings, and if its not for you please don’t read! Eddie’s a little bit of a perv in this, but honestly he just proper fancies reader (And reader proper fancies him!)💕

Summary: Your friend is determined to drag you to a basketball squad house party, hoping that you’ll finally score a date with a member of the team, but unfortunately for her you only have eyes for Eddie Munson. Spoiler free!

Warnings: 18+, non/dubcon (reader passes out for a bit, but wakes up), intoxication, drugs (weed), dry humping, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, tiny bit of degradation, multiple orgasms, praise praise praise, Eddie talks too much during sex, creampie, not proof-read! If I’m missing anything lemme know!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!reader.

Word Count: 8.3k.

The houses in this area of Hawkins were nice, too nice for such an unassuming town. A blatant display of wealth, showing clearly how the other half lived. Expensive enough it could probably send every senior in Hawkins High to college and fund their entire tuition. But there was one good thing about those houses on the nice side of Hawkins— they made the perfect location for those weekend parties when parents were away.

A loud thrum of bass reverberated in the background as you weaved your way through the crowds of people inside the huge house, careful not to trip over your own feet as you struggled in your heels. The baseball team commanded an audience as they huddled around the dining table to play beer pong, stray white ping pong balls soaring across the room as the girls they were playing with were completely off centre. A mixture of people swayed to the music in the middle of the room, right by the speakers, with a few couples cuddled together on plush leather couches. Your eyes scanned the room for the only reason you’d bothered coming to this stupid party in the first place, but you couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Come on, please?” Your best friend nudged your shoulder in the cafeteria as you picked at your lunch. Resting your head on one of your palms as you shook your head, glaring at her through the side of your eye.

“No.” This must be the twelfth? No thirteenth time she’d asked you to this party this week.

“Pretty please?” Fourteenth.

“Still no.”

“Oh come on, you never come to these parties with me.” There was a reason for that. Too many people crammed into the tightest of spaces, your friend would often ditch you in the first twenty minutes and you’d be left fending off the advances of Chance from the basketball team who for whatever reason decided to set his sights on you rather than the multiple cheerleaders he had to pick from. Cringing as you remember the last house party you agreed to go to, grateful that Nancy Wheeler had been able to get you out just in time before you had the chance to go insane.

“Hello- are you even listening to me?” Your friend followed your line of sight to see what you were staring at, seeing Eddie Munson sitting at the end of his table.

“Ugh, of course.” She shoved your shoulder to bring your attention back to her as your chin fell from your palm, “You’re disgusting, you know that right?”

“Why?” You turned to face your friend with a frown.

“I can’t believe you’re still crushing on the freak-”

“Don’t call him that,” You tried to cut her off but she was quick to continue.

“When Chance asked you out again the other day you said no, why the fuck would you do that? It would set you up here for the rest of the year. You’d be so popular, and I as your best friend would be right there with you.” She put her hand on her chest as she gave you a big smile.

You rolled your eyes as you chanced a final look over at Eddie who was laughing with his friends, throwing a piece of food across the table at the other members of his Hellfire club as you put your fork down. You had it bad.

“I don’t need to be popular, and I don’t want to date Chance. I’m pretty sure he’s slept with half the cheerleading squad.”

“So let's find you someone you do want to date- at the party this weekend.”

You groaned as you shifted in your chair, dropping your water bottle back into your bag as you made to leave the room.

“You can’t spend the rest of your life alone.”

“There’s literally no one at that party I’d be interested in.” You rolled your eyes, standing up from the table.

“He’ll be there.” You stopped in your tracks as you looked at where your best friend was looking.

“Eddie?” You raised a brow, “Why would he be at a basketball game party?”

“Where do you think they get their drugs?”

You supposed she was right, it was no secret that Eddie Munson sold drugs and a big party had to be a lucrative evening for him. The irony that those same teenagers that bullied him were the same ones that were happy to give him money for drugs at these parties wasn’t lost on you as you slung your bag over your shoulder before grabbing your tray from the table to return it.

“Well?” Your friend called out to your retreating back.

“Fine, I’ll go.” You replied, tossing your trash before placing the tray back in place.

Her squeal was loud enough to disrupt the few tables in the surrounding area as you shook your head with a smile, waving her goodbye as you walked out of the cafeteria to make it to your next class.

So now you found yourself in this huge house all alone because your friend had snuck off with Andy from the basketball team and after almost an hour you still hadn’t managed to find the one person you’d come to this stupid party for.

Narrowly avoiding a guy who almost fell into you when his friend shoved him a little too boisterously as you made your way towards the kitchen– you needed a drink. Whether it was liquid courage to steel your nerves or just a way to cope with the incessant throb of music and cheering in the background you couldn’t tell. Reaching out to grab a paper cup from the pile as you poured half a cup of beer from the keg sat in the corner, not trusting the vibrant red punch that sat on the kitchen counter in case it had been spiked with god knows what.

The kitchen was quieter than the main parts of the house, the swinging doors often shut and blocked a great deal of the music which meant people could actually have a conversation at normal volume. Leaning back on the counter as you sipped your beer, overhearing the cutesy conversations that the couples inside were having. Some of them just whispering to each other, others sucking face in front of you. It shouldn’t have bothered you, people minding their own business. But it filled you with a fit of burning jealousy because they were all doing this and you were pathetically alone. Chucking back your beer you moved to pour yourself another cup, this time filling it to the brim as you sipped at the head of foam. Weaving back out through the swinging door back into the throng of people, your eyes looking out for anyone doing weed so you could ask where they got it. Hoping that you wouldn’t seem like a narc, but then at least you could try to find where Eddie was.

Eddie.

The thought of him alone made your nerves bubble to the surface again as you knocked back more of your beer. Hoping it would do something to subdue your racing heart as you stumbled through the lavish house, narrowly avoiding a side table as you regretted your choice of footwear. Heels and alcohol would be a deadly combination, deciding to go upstairs for a few moments to try and find a bathroom to give yourself a few seconds of peace before you worked up enough courage to start asking around for Eddie Munson.

Downing the final dregs of your beer as you made it to the top of the stairs, taking a sharp turn around the corner as you collided headfirst into someone's chest, dropping the empty paper cup with a surprised squeak.

“Oh, shit.” A voice said as you looked at the chest of the person you’d run into, a black t-shirt with ‘Dio’ printed across the front of it, “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t see ya there.”

His hands held your arms to keep you steady as though he was nervous he’d have you toppling over, bending his knees slightly to come down a little more to your level.

“I was looking for you-” You blurted out without thinking, excited that in this sea of people you’d finally found the man you’d been looking for all night.

“You were?” His brown eyes lit up with a toothy grin as he pointed a ringed finger at himself, “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ looking for little old me?”

He had no fucking clue what he was doing to you, but his words had you squealing inside. Trying to hide the elation on your face over the fact that Eddie Munson had just called you pretty as you smiled up at him, “I wanna buy drugs.”

“Shh, sweetheart.” His eyes looked around the room playfully, squeezing your arms, “Not so loud.”

“Sorry,” You mumbled, unsure whether it was the alcohol making your mind fuzzy or the object of your affections in front of you

“Well, how about we go somewhere a little quieter and I’ll get you whatever you need, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You repeated with a smile as he led you down the corridor.

He turned back to see if you were still following him, watching you weave between the people who were mingling upstairs as he held his arm back to you, offering you his hand as he helped guide you through the crowds of people. His hand felt warm and slightly sweaty in your own, your fingers lacing together as he opened random doors- accidentally walking in on a girl between her knees giving one of the basketball team a blowjob as he shouted to close the door. Eddie shouted out a “Sorry, man.” before closing it and continuing further down, finally finding a room that was vacant as he opened the door. Standing to the side to motion for you to go in first, giving a slight bow of his head as he did so.

“M’lady-”

You held your breath to try and ease your racing heart, your fingers still tingling from his touch as you stood still in the empty bedroom, arms crossed across your chest as you tried your best to look natural. But you were so fucking nervous-

Eddie flopped down onto the edge of the bed as he fumbled in his worn jacket pockets, searching for the joint he’d rolled earlier as he pulled it out with a smile.

“You can sit down, sweetheart. I don’t bite-” He smiled, his head tilting to motion to the spot beside him as your heeled feet made their way across the carpet to sit beside him. Facing the door as you daren't look at him, still trying to calm your racing heart, “There we go.”

He was patting himself down to try and find where he’d placed his lighter as he held the joint between his lips, holding it at the side of his mouth as he looked towards you.

“I hope you don’t mind me sayin’-” His voice slightly muffled as he kept his lips closed around the filter, “But you don’t really look like the type to be smoking, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t saying that bad for business?” You weren’t sure whether you should be offended or not— whether he was mocking your experience or how you looked, but you supposed he was right. You’d never smoked before in your life.

“Shit, you’re right.” He grinned, holding his hand up to cup around the end of the joint as flicked the zippo to light it. Keeping the stick in his mouth as he inhaled softly, “I’m all for people trying it for the first time anyway, it’s good shit I promise.”

“How’d you know it was my first time?” You raised a brow.

“Just a gut feeling.” He grinned, “I can roll you one just to see if you like it? On me, of course.”

“You always offer people free weed?”

“Nah, only if they’re real pretty.” There he went again calling you pretty, the word had your throat going dry as you tried desperately to calm down.

The alcohol in your system made it easier as you reached over to grab the joint from between his lips, brows furrowed as you held the stick to your lips. Taking a large toke as you tried to hold the smoke in your mouth to push it into your lungs, but your body had other ideas as you began to choke on the smoke. Leaning forward as your throat burned, coughing up the smoke you’d just inhaled as Eddie leaned over to rub soothing circles against your back, his other hand grabbing the stick from between your fingers so you didn’t drop it onto the soft carpet.

“Shit, do you want me to get you a drink, sweetheart?” Eddie moved to stand from the bed, but you reached out to lay your palm flat on his thigh, shaking your head no.

“Please don’t go-” Your voice croaked, “Let me try again.”

“You sure?” Eddie wasn’t so sure, but he’d seen plenty of people who were inexperienced their first time buying so this wasn’t any different- not really.

“Please,” The soft desperate tone to your voice had his soft cock throbbing between his thighs, brown eyes skirting down to your lips before meeting your gaze again as he nodded.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He held the joint up to his lips, “Watch me,” inhaling softly as you watched his adam’s apple bob, the smoke disappearing into his lungs as he held it there for a moment before slowly parting his lips. The dark wisps of smoke began to seep from his mouth and swirl into the air, filling the room with the potent scent of marijuana as you felt yourself becoming woozy from the secondhand smoke.

“You got it?” You nodded as you took the joint back from him, your fingers tingling as they brushed his as you held the stick back to your lips. Closing your eyes to avoid his gaze as you tried again, taking a smaller hit this time as you felt the smoke enter your body. Your chest heaving as it filled your senses, biting on your tongue to fight the urge to cough, not wanting to embarrass yourself again as you felt it slowly flow through your body.

“There you go, I knew you could do it.” Holding it inside you for so long that the vapour began to slowly seep from your nostrils, your brain going cloudy, or maybe it was the smoke in the room as Eddie gave you a big grin.

“So what made you decide to try out my services today?” Eddie grinned as you took another hit of the joint, whether it was to calm your nerves or to mask your awkward silence you weren’t sure.

“Why not?” You replied with a shrug. There was no way you could tell him the real reason- that you had absolutely no interest in trying drugs for the first time, you were just completely smitten with the man in front of you.

Absolutely not.

“Fair enough.” Eddie had no fucking clue why a girl as pretty as you was asking him to buy drugs, not that he was complaining. But it was clear you’d never attempted them before, so it had him wondering why now, why him–

“Shit, baby.” He mumbled as your body fell back onto the bed, your lashes fluttering, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” You slurred, “‘m okay.”

“You come here with friends, sweetheart?” He squeezed your forearm to try and keep your attention, “Boyfriend? Tell me who and I’ll go get ‘em-”

“No,” You scrunched your nose in distaste, not wanting this moment with him to end so soon. You’d been dreaming about being this close to Eddie Munson, and it was finally happening, “Don’t go.”

Eddie watched the way your glossed lips jutted out into a pout as he hovered over you, trying to ignore the heat rising inside him. He was in an empty bedroom with a pretty woman who didn’t want him to leave, and it was you of all people. He was certain you were going steady with one of the guys from the basketball team, or at least that's how it sounded whenever he’d hear them talking about you at their lockers in the morning. But here you were now, wanting him to stay with you?

“Okay, okay. I’m not goin’ anywhere, see?” He squeezed your hand gently as you felt your lashes begin to flutter as your eyes closed, the mixture of drugs and alcohol coaxing you into slumber as you felt yourself beginning to pass out.

“I really like you, Eddie Munson.” You slurred and Eddie felt his heart swell in his chest. You liked him?!

“I didn’t even wanna try stupid drugs, I just wanted to talk to you- but now I’m being all embarrassing.”

“You’re not embarrassing- seriously. The furthest from.” Eddie brought the back of his hand up to stroke against your cheek as you continued to slur your words, the metal of his rings brushing against your skin as you leaned into his touch.

“I didn’t even wanna come to this party, but my friend said you’d be here-”

“Yeah?” Eddie whispered breathlessly, hanging on your every word.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like you too, one of his favourite parts of his day were the times he’d be sitting at the end of his table in the cafeteria that gave him the perfect vantage point of you. Picking your face out of the crowd and sneaking glances over at you when he thought no one was looking, quickly shifting his gaze if it ever met yours. But you were leaps and bounds out of his league, so there was no way he thought you’d ever like him back.

“I picked out this dress and everything for you.”

“All for me?” God, you were so fucking cute.

“Yeah,” You yawned, “All for you, Eddie.” He continued stroking your cheek as your breathing began to shallow, the effects of the drugs taking over. Unsure how much you’d had to drink before you tried weed for the first time as he lay beside you on the queen bed.

Eddie felt like a creep, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when you looked so pretty splayed out for him like this, your glossed lips parted in a delicious pout as he lay on the bed beside you, smoking the final tokes of his joint as he stubbed it out against the expensive-looking bed frame leaving a dark stain against the wood. Turning his attention towards you as he lay a hand on your hip, squeezing softly as he hovered over you. Curly, brown hair framing your face as your hazy eyes glanced up at him

“‘want you,” You slurred, trying to reach up to touch his cheek but instead you tugged at the worn leather of his jacket.

“Yeah? You do?” Eddie replied with a coyness to his voice as he leaned closer, surrounding you with the musky scent of sweat and weed as he let his lips graze yours slightly. Smirking when you tried to lift your head from the soft pillows to meet him and deepen the kiss.

“Please,” You whined, trying feebly to use your grip on his jacket to pull him back down to you and kiss you harder, but to no avail.

“We can’t sweetheart, you’re high.” His eyes softened at the sight of you beneath him as he watched your brows furrow in annoyance.

“I don’t care.” You scoffed, using all your strength to tug his jacket roughly to try and get his lips back on yours.

“Well, I do.” Eddie hated himself for those words leaving his mouth, he was a saint for not giving in immediately and taking everything from you. Eddie the fucking saint. Your needy whines doing nothing to satiate the throb between his thighs, his cock already semi-hard and leaking pre against his boxers. You had no idea what you were doing to him every time you begged him to touch you, to make you feel good. It was taking every single ounce of resolve he had not to pull your panties to the side and slide home. Were you even wearing panties? Your dress had ridden up so much on the bed he could lean back slightly and see for himself—

God, he needed to stop being such a creep.

Your eyes fluttered shut and Eddie stayed beside you biting his bottom lip between his teeth, what the fuck was he supposed to do now?

He didn’t want to leave you on your own to find your friend, he knew exactly who to look for. The loudmouth girl that you were always hanging around with at Hawkins, the one that would pull your attention away from him. But leaving you alone meant leaving you unattended, and that meant anyone could come in and do anything to you.

But there’s no way he could allow that, it was his job— wait. Was it?

He groaned at the thought of touching you like that. Sick, depraved and twisted while you lay there blissfully unaware of anything. His cock throbbing with desire as it begged to be freed from its confines, the thought of your pretty glossed lips wrapped around him had him shamelessly rutting himself against your hip, creating a delicious friction that had him groaning for you.

The other option was staying with you until you woke up, which wouldn’t be so bad– The effects of the weed hopefully wouldn’t last much longer, and he could help you find your way home that way. See, he really was a fucking gentleman staying here. Chivalry at its finest.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He hummed softly, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear, “Gonna stay here 'til you wake up, okay? Gonna take good care of you.”

Your only reply to him were soft breaths as he chanced smoothing his hand along your side, letting it stroke up to the curve of your breasts as his thumb brushed the underside of one. A deep groan rumbled from deep in his chest at the feeling, pushing harder before it moved over your mound to stroke against your soft nipple. Watching as it pebbled under his touch and began to show through the fabric of the dress you were wearing– were you not wearing a bra?

Oh, you minx.

“What were you planning dressed like this pretty girl, hmm?” His eyes rolled as he gave another, harder rut of his hips into your side. Giving his cock some relief as he palmed your breast, fingers dipping into the plush skin as he massaged it beneath his hand. Watching your face intently in case you woke up, your lips now parted in a silent moan, almost like you were enjoying this even though you weren’t coherent.

Eddie was trying his best to be good, trying to lay there patiently beside you until you came to, but your perfume invaded his senses and made it difficult to think, his eyes focused on the way your chest moved in time with your heartbeat, his hand grazing your sternum to feel it beating gently.

“Fuck it,” He mumbled, leaning forward to brush his lips against yours again, tasting your gloss on his tongue as he licked his lips.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty- shit.” He groaned as one of the straps to your dress fell from your shoulder, Eddie’s hand moving to pull the other one down so he could move the fabric down your body and reveal your naked breasts. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of them as he tried to blink back the hazy fog in his eyes from the weed so he could commit this sight to memory, trying to ingrain it into his brain so he could fuck his fist to the thought of it later.

He reached out to pinch one of your perky nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the peak gently as he tugged at it. Another airy sigh sounded as he moved closer, wrapping his lips around the other one as his tongue swirled around your darkened areola, flicking against the sensitive nub as teeth grazed it. Pulling away as the silvery sheen of his spit glistened in the glow of the bedroom. The light above illuminated your body perfectly as he switched breasts, giving the other one the same attention as you made more pretty sounds that flew directly to his cock.

“Always see you starin’ at me you know, every damn day and I didn’t do shit about it.” He scoffed, pulling away from your chest to look up at your face, “Look at what I was missing out on, huh? Eddie the freak? More like Eddie the fool- didn’t realise it was because you fuckin’ liked me. Me?!”

He kept talking as he leaned forward to press his lips against yours, tasting your lip gloss as his tongue slipped inside your mouth, exploring the new territory as his hands ventured lower. Skimming the soft skin of your inner thigh as it travelled beneath the hem of your skirt.

You’d been smoking weed with him moments earlier on a bed at a random house party. He was virtually a complete stranger, and yet you didn’t seem to mind. Maybe stranger was a stretch though because Eddie Munson knew who you were– seeing you walking around in all those pretty skirts that had him going crazy, fucking his fist to the thought of you more times than he could count. Oh, he definitely knew who you were. But he’d spent so long thinking about you that he’d finally resigned himself to the fact that he was completely out of your league. This is why having you here with him now in such a debauched state had his cock soaking his boxers and his heart beating a mile a minute.

His thumb brushed against the crotch of your panties, sucking a hiss through his teeth when he felt just how wet you were, cupping your sex to feel you through your panties. You were so warm. His filthy mind instantly going to how you would feel wrapped around his cock, your tight little pussy clamping down around him and trying to milk him of his release— and god, he’d give it to you. He’d give you everything.

Biting back a groan as he ran his thumb along the heat of your slit through the thin fabric as he found your hole. Pressing down against it through your panties as he felt the way your body reacted to him, your walls greedily trying to suck him into your depths as the tip of his thumb went as deep as it could through the material barrier.

“So needy,” He grinned, pushing the hem of your dress up to bunch around your hips so he could see you. The cute cotton panties you wore were a stark contrast to the dress you’d chosen for the party, making you seem far more innocent than you appeared. Your thighs shifted as Eddie paused his movements, his hands pulling back from you in an instant as his brown eyes remained trained on your face– looking for any signs you were waking up.

“Look at what you’re doin’ to me, sweetheart.” He groaned, taking one of your hands to press your palm against his crotch, panting as he felt your hand against his hard length, “This is all your fault.”

Eddie leaned forward, wrapping his fingers beneath the hem of your panties as he dragged them down your thighs. Slipping them over the heels you were wearing as he took the opportunity to look at the stained fabric, the sheen of your slick glistening against the crotch as he hummed in appreciation. Unable to resist raising them to his nose to inhale the scent of you, his eyes almost rolling back at the smell as his hips jerked, his cock finding subtle friction against the denim of his jeans. Stuffing the pair into his back pocket as he turned his attention back to you, brown eyes focused on your bare pussy as he moved a hand beneath your knee to spread you further. Seeing the silvery lines of your slick that stuck to your outer labia, before he immediately shifted onto his stomach between your thighs to get a closer look.

“Gotta be the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” He mumbled, leaning forward to lick a long, languid swipe along your slit.

So what if it was the only pussy he’d ever seen? He’d watched enough seedy pornos and read enough dirty magazines to know that you were gorgeous. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you here beneath him right now, and you’d been looking for him too?

Eddie moaned at the taste of you, savouring it before he repeated the movement, this time lingering on your clit as he let the flat pad of his tongue swipe against you. Your taste did nothing but fuel the fire that burned deep inside him, crude, messy slurping sounds filling the room as he began to feast on your cunt. Eddie could’ve sworn you were moaning, even in your intoxicated state. Practically purring for him as he kept his eyes fixed on you from between your thighs, salving his tongue against your clit before moving to dip the tip of it into your tight little hole, crudely slurping at your essence as he followed the trail of it as it dribbled down towards your ass, letting his tongue shamelessly press against your asshole as his tongue circled the tight rim.

“Gonna take every single one of your little holes and make them mine, sweetheart. Make you all mine.” He growled, his hips rutting against the bed to try and give his cock some stimulation as he moved his hands to the apex of your thighs, thumbs reaching out to spread you open for him as he moved back up your slit. His nose bumped your clit before his lips wrapped around it, pulling it into his mouth as he sucked hard. Eddie was practically drooling as a mixture of his spit and your slick dribbled down his chin, fingers slipping between your thighs to join him as he slipped his middle finger inside your tight heat to the thick ring that sat at the base. Immediately curling it as he began to pump it in and out of your tight heat while sucking your clit.

Bullying his index finger in beside his middle one as he felt your tightness begin to stretch around his fingers, his rings clanging together as he set a slow, steady pace. Deliberately flicking his wrist to try and find that spongy place inside you that he knew would have you seeing stars, wondering if you could feel this in your slumber, if it felt good– Wishing you were awake so that he could see your pretty eyes and hear your reactions, but Eddie Munson wasn’t a greedy man. He’d take what he could get, and for now? This was more than enough.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Eddie groaned as he felt your walls beginning to clench around his fingers as he began to scissor them inside you, stretching you out to try and prepare you for his cock. You had absolutely no idea in your drunken state the effect you were having on him, his hips jerking against the mattress to give himself some stimulation to his neglected cock, your slick dribbling down his fingers and sticking to his rings. The metal clinked together with each pump as he increased the pace, wondering if he’d be able to make you cum like this– when you were in such a compromising position. The sight of your pretty lips parted in a near-constant moan spurred him on further, pressing the calloused pads of his fingers against the spot inside you that he knew would have you coming undone in moments.

“Come on, baby.” He goaded, “Wanna feel you cum on my face.”

Eddie felt your inner walls begin to flutter around his digits, his tongue still lashing at your clit as he increased his pace. Your thighs shook as your orgasm began to surge through you, your walls clenching around his fingers as you came undone. A large palm moved up to press against your abdomen to stop you from writhing away from him as he continued pumping his digits in and out of your pulsing sex, moving his lips back from your clit so he could look up at your face as he languidly pumped his digits inside your heat.

“Fuck, yeah.” He grunted, slipping his fingers from your tight heat as he watched your little hole flutter around nothing in the aftershocks of your climax. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand before greedily slipping his fingers coated with your slick into his mouth to clean them off as he stared down at you. Giving his hips a final rut against the mattress before he couldn’t wait any longer, he had to have you.

All of you.

Fiddling with his belt he unbuckled it and let it stay in the loops of his jeans, leaving it hanging as he unbuttoned the stiff denim. Dipping his fingers into the hem of his boxers to pull them down with his jeans until the material sat around the curve of his ass. Just enough to free his aching cock, the heavy weight of it hanging down towards his thigh as he exhaled at the relief of finally freeing it from its confines.

Taking a deep breath as he wrapped a calloused palm around himself, giving it a teasing pump as he rolled his wrist around the tip of his cock to smear his pre-cum down his length. Leaning forward to drag the swollen, reddened head through your folds. Coating himself with your slick as the tip brushed against your puffy clit, a breathless moan escaping your lips at the sensation.

“Bet you’ve got no idea how pretty you are, huh?” Eddie groaned as the tip of his cock caught against your tight hole, even in your intoxicated state your body was still eagerly trying to drag him in, “That why you here with me, hm?”

He let the weight of his cock drop against your pelvis as he repositioned your thighs, raising them up to lay over the top of his as he angled your hips. Nostrils flaring at the sight of his length on top of you as it indicated just how deep he’d end up inside your pretty pussy.

Manoeuvring you, he pressed the tip of his cock back against your entrance. Taking a deep breath to calm himself before slowly beginning to ease his hips forward, brown eyes looking down at where your bodies were connected as he watched himself slowly disappear inside your silky depths.

“Get it together, Munson.” He groaned as he felt your walls beginning to constrict around him, so much tighter than his fist would ever be as he tried to steady his breathing, not wanting things to end before they’d even begun.

Eddie didn’t know if he’d ever have this opportunity with you ever again, wondering if you’d wake up sober and regret flirting with him in the first place. It wasn’t every day that he had a girl— especially one as pretty as you, thinking about him. He had to make the most of this moment as it presented itself to him, and at least if anything he’d have the cherished memories of you.

What the fuck did you see in him anyway?

Eddie clenched his teeth as he canted his hips forward, burying more of his thick cock inside your tight cunt. Feeling your walls clenching around him as he leaned forward, edging deeper inside you as his hands fisted the sheets beneath you.

“‘m gonna fuckin’ ruin you, sweetheart.” He goaded, his balls snug against your ass as he buried himself inside you to the hilt. Choking back a groan as he felt every inch of his cock surrounded by your slick heat, cherishing the sensation for a moment as he felt the subtle tremble of your walls around him.

Languidly pulling his hips back as his cock left your depths, your slick coating him and leaving a glistening sheen against his length as he looked down between your bodies. Moving his hands to your thighs as he kept you spread open, adjusting himself as he drove forward, setting a steady pace, “Look at you- your greedy little pussy just suckin’ me in.”

As he thrust his hips forward he heard you exhale softly, your lashes fluttering as you opened your eyes to squint up at him, the bright bedroom lights obscuring your vision as you tried to blink to adjust to it. The blunt head of his cock was the only part buried inside you as he stopped his movements, frozen at first as he waited with bated breath for your reaction. Heart thumping against his ribcage as he tried to think of an excuse for why he’d been balls deep seconds earlier.

“Ed?” You mumbled, hands reaching out for him as he smiled down at you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He cooed, “There you are.”

“What’s? What are you doing-” You shifted your hips and accidentally pushed more of his cock inside you, making a husky whine leave your lips. Voice laced with sleep as you felt pressure in your pelvis.

“You said you wanted me, baby. Remember?” He smiled softly, petting your cheek as you tried to remember your conversation.

You’d been lying on the bed beside him, his hand on your hip as you smoked a joint for the first time. You remembered telling him that you’d been looking for him all night, and he’d leaned forward to kiss you. Of course, you’d told him you wanted him—

“‘m sorry I fell asleep,” You mumbled with a pout.

“It’s okay, angel. You’re here with me now, aren’tcha?”

“Yeah- oh, Eddie.” You slurred, feeling the weeping head of his cock begin to breach your tightness as he shifted his hips, your body jolting as he pushed himself inside. Staying still to give you a moment to adjust before moving his hips forward to give you more, burying more of his length inside your wet heat, “Hurts.” You scrunched your nose at the sensation.

“I know, baby. I know.” He cooed down at you sympathetically, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your thighs, “You’re doing so good though, such a good girl for me.”

You keened at the praise, Eddie feeling your walls clenching around him at his words as he lazily rocked his hips into you. Feeling the heat of your slit against his pelvis as he let you adjust to his size.

“You feel so good, sweetheart.” Eddie groaned, your thighs locked on either side of his hips as he splayed his hands against your sides, just beneath the swell of your breasts. Giving a quick, sharp thrust as he watched them bounce from the momentum, pulling more pretty sounds from your throat, “You okay if I move now, yeah?”

You nodded in response, your hands wrapping around his forearms as he began a quick pace. The crude squelch of him slipping in and out of your tight cunt filled the room as you felt your entire body heat up in embarrassment.

“You hear that? How wet your sloppy pussy is for me?” Eddie grinned as he deliberately gave slow thrusts so you could hear the lewd noises that were coming from your body. Your hands moved to try and cover your face from embarrassment as he hovered over you to pull your hands away.

“Don’t do that, pretty girl. Let me see you-” Pulling your hands away as your flushed face stared up at him, pearly tears clinging to your thick lashes as you tried to blink them back to clear your vision. But everything just felt so intense-

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He continued, listening to the mumbled “uh-huh” that left your lips as he continued his ministrations, “That’s it- show me how good Eddie makes you feel, yeah?”

You whined when you felt the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, the angle he had your body at was perfect to piston into it with each forward rut of his hips. The bulging veins running along the length of his cock dragged against your inner walls perfectly as you cried out for him, touching you in places that your fingers could never hope to reach, making you feel so full.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” He continued talking, his voice doing nothing to satiate the ache between your thighs, “Sucking me in so good, sweetheart. Feel me nice and deep, yeah?”

Your only answer was a moan as you tried to fight the fatigue that was begging to set in, trying to coax you back to slumber as Eddie continued fucking into your sloppy pussy.

“How many guys you done this with, huh?” Eddie asked, trying to keep it sounding casual, but really he wanted to know how many other men had the pleasure of being balls deep inside your perfect pussy.

“None-” You gasped as you felt him hit that special spot inside you with the tip of his cock, “Just you, Eddie.”

There you went again, saying his name like that. His chest swelling with pride that he was the only one that had been inside you, the only one to feel you like this. You were like the perfect little cocksleeve, made to take his cock.

“That’s right, you’re all mine, aren’t you?” He grinned, his hand moving to wrap around your neck as he squeezed softly. Your eyes rolled back at the motion as he moved his hand lower, stroking against your sternum before palming a handful of your bouncing breasts. Trying to commit everything to memory. Every time his hips pulled back it was as though you were trying to suck him back in, your pussy desperate to be filled with his fat cock.

“You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?” He continued, the question had your heart racing. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d touched yourself to the thought of Eddie Munson.

“Yeah,” You breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“You got toys, or do you use these pretty fingers?” He grinned, lifting your hand to press a kiss against your four fingers, squeezing gently as he eagerly awaited your answer.

“I- just my fingers.” You gasped.

“Bet my cock feels better than your fingers, huh?” He grinned, “Your pussy seems to think so.”

It did, it felt so much better than you could've ever imagined. Each night you touched yourself to the thought of him never compared to the pleasure you were feeling right now in this moment, the scorching heat between your thighs was overwhelming, as he managed to touch places inside you that you’d never felt before. Certain you’d never be able to pleasure yourself again without him, you’d become entirely dependent on Eddie Munson.

��You feel that? Your pussy's suckin’ me back in every time,” He grunted, “Such a slut.”

You whined at the name, biting onto one of your glossed lips as he hovered over you, his curly hair tickling your bare skin as he fucked you into the shape of his cock, “You my slutty girl?”

“Yes,” You gasped, exhaling harshly as he hit the same spot inside you again. The room felt hot, your skin clammy as you surrounded yourself with the scent of him, the scent of musky sweat paired with cheap cologne and the smoke from weed and cigarettes filled your senses as your back arched from the bed.

“Say it-” He growled, his hands travelling lower as they settled on your hips.

“I’m your slutty girl.” You slurred, your thighs squeezing around him as you felt yourself approaching your release, certain you wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer. Especially at the pace that Eddie had set, every single cant of his hips had him filling you to the brim.

“Yeah, you are.” He grinned, each word punctuated with a harsh rut of his hips, “I can feel you getting tighter, angel. You gonna cum for me?”

“Fuck, Eddie.” You bit down on your lower lip hard, the coil inside you tightening as he continued his rough pace, reaching out for something to hold onto as your hands fisted in the soft fabric of his shirt, wrinkling it beneath your fingers as he continued rutting his hips into you.

White spots began to blanket your vision as a loud cry of his name left your lips, suddenly thankful for the loud bass of the music downstairs that would hopefully muffle your cries. Not wanting anyone to walk in and see you in such a compromising position. Eddie’s pace was unrelenting as he fucked you through your climax, feeling the way your walls trembled around him as you rode out your orgasm.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty when you cum,” He snarled, shifting his hips to change the angle of his thrusts for his benefit, chasing his own release as he fucked into your spent body. Feeling him throb inside you as his fingers dug into your hips bruisingly, definitely leaving marks. The crude sound of skin slapping against skin continued to reverberate around the bedroom as Eddie’s thrusts became sloppier, teetering on the edge of his own climax.

Catching you off guard as he slipped his fingers between your connected bodies to press messy circles against your clit, your hands instantly moving to his wrist to try and pull him away, the sensation too much– too overwhelming as you began to wriggle beneath him.

“Eddie, please. I can’t-” You warbled, feeling fresh tears beginning to pool in your lash line as he smirked down at you.

“Just gimme one more, sweetheart. I know you can do it- wanna feel you when I cum.” He goaded you, his fingers unrelenting against your puffy clit.

“- s’too much.” You whined, your body betraying you as you felt yourself skirting on the edge of your climax, your toes curling in your heels as Eddie drove you towards another orgasm.

“That’s not what your pussy's saying, sweetheart. Can feel her squeezin’ me.” He laughed, “Come on, sweet girl. Just let go-”

“Oh my- god,” You cried out, your legs trembled as they clenched around his hips, your body thrashing against the bed as Eddie sent you into another climax, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to find a second to catch your breath. Everything felt so visceral, too intense-

“Fuck, that’s it. Good girl.” He growled, his hand moving from your clit to slip beneath the curve of your knee, pushing your legs up towards your chest as he shamelessly looked down at where your bodies were connected. Watching his cock disappear inside your sloppy pussy as he noticed the milky rings of slick around the base of his length, matted into his dark pubes as he let out a low groan of your name, “Gonna fill this sloppy pussy with my cum-”

It was then you realised that Eddie wasn’t wearing a condom, your eyes snapping open as you tried to push back on his chest, “Eddie, a condom- not inside- please.” You stumbled over your words as the pleasure made it difficult to think.

“I- fuck, jesus-” His jaw dropped open as a fierce groan vibrated from deep in his chest, spilling wet, hot ropes of cum into your pulsing cunt. Continuing a sloppy pace as he rode out his release, each roll of his hips fucked his cum deeper inside your spasming hole. Pressing a soft kiss to the side of your knee as he came to a stop, preserving the final throbs of your cunt as you continued fluttering around him in the aftershocks of your climax.

“Sorry. I was gonna pull out, but you felt so good.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before he began to slowly pull himself out of your warmth. The mixture of yours and his cum began to seep out of you and dripped onto the ruined sheets beneath you. His cock glistened in the light of the room with your release as he used the tip of his softening cock to push some of the mixture back inside your sensitive hole. A soft whine left your lips as you tried hard to stay awake, sleep doing its best to captivate you as Eddie continued to look at your dripping pussy, watching his cum begin to trickle down towards your asshole.

“Eddie, don’t stare.” You mumbled, feeling embarrassment swirling inside you.

“How can I not when you look like this, sweetheart.” His ringed fingers moved down to play with the mixture, catching it as it dribbled down your slit and pushing it back into your quivering hole as your body pushed it back out again.

“You sleepin’ again, angel?” He hummed, moving back from the bed to start tugging his pants back up as he tucked his soft cock back inside his boxers.

“No,” You replied, but your eyelids became heavy. Feeling them beginning to droop shut as Eddie’s hands began to pull the straps of your dress back up to cover your naked chest, tugging the hem down as he shrugged his jacket off to wrap it around your shoulders.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home-”

#Eddie Munson x reader #dark!eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #stranger things smut #tw:noncon #tw:dubcon #trigger:noncon #trigger:dubcon #tw:drugs #trigger:drugs

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abouttofillhisshoes · 17 days

Text

If you're all I need - M.H x Reader // pt.5

A/N: this is genuinely my first time writing anything let alone smut (if you can even call it that, it's just Matty being pathetic for about 4 thousand words) TW: for hard drugs, please take care of yourselves! Its angsty and sad, i had a hard time writing some of it. Ily @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading this monstrosity. I'm dedicating this fic to @sugar-coat-it for being an absolute legend and the sweetest person ever. Enjoy yourselves my loves ❤️

wc: 4.5k

part six

The Sound was like your second home. The flashing lights and too loud music enveloping you in a sort of warm, comforting hug. You were friendly with the staff, never rowdy or disturbing the peace. They knew about you and Mattys' habit, but then again, the whole club was on some substance or other.

Tobias, the bartender, had told you multiple times to “Please, be careful,” and to “Always check over it, make sure it's not laced,” you took his words to heart, and Matty always assured you his dealer was straight.

You trusted him with your life, so you took his words at face value.

Generic club music filled your ears, your drink was already sloshing in your hand, spilling onto the person in front of you. You apologize profusely, and are met with a scoff and an insult. Typical. Not caring, you turn around to dance with Matty. George was somewhere in the crowd, shouting song requests at the DJ like an absolute knobhead. Too many drinks turned him into a club music connoisseur, always knowing better. It was a miracle he hadn't been kicked out yet.

Matty stopped dancing, tapping your shoulder three times in a pattern. Bathroom. Nodding your head, you laugh giddily in anticipation, making your way towards the edge of the crowd. The neon sign glowed, illuminating your face as you walked past it, Matty following close behind.

Jess, one of the waitresses, saw you heading toward the bathroom.

She was your mate from school, being only two years older than you. You saw her mouth something along the lines of ‘be safe’. She nodded at you before going back to taking drink orders from the VIP tables.

The bathroom was always colder than the dance floor, more comfortable. As you turn the corner to go inside, you spot a familiar face. Ruby. The girl from that night. She looks different, exhausted.

You embrace, her hands shaking against your back. Offering her a line in return, she eagerly agrees. Matty takes out the baggie from the breast pocket of his suit jacket (yes, he had worn a suit jacket to the club), cutting three lines. Patrons walking in and out of the bathroom stopped to stare, eventually walking off muttering “fucking junkies,” under their breaths. You could care less, snorting your line first.

Time slowed as you lifted your head up in the direction of the entrance, to see a tall figure standing there. George. Fuck.

Matty was already doing his line when you tapped him on the back, gesturing to the door. You’d been caught. His eyes were wide, switching between you, Matty, and Ruby, who was still hunched over the sink.

“What the fuck are you lot doing,” He starts, storming toward the three of you. Ruby whispered into your ear, telling you she had to leave. You nod, as calm as possible, giving her a kiss farewell. She smiled her toothy smile, eye bags under her eyes prominent.

George had grabbed Mattys face, inspecting the faint traces of white powder under his nose, muttering some along the lines of “Jesus Christ mate, what are you doing?”

His eyes made their way to you, the expression on his face a look of pure disappointment.

“Oh fuck off! It's just a bit of blow, what's the big deal? Loads of people do it,” Matty laughs, avoiding George's gaze. You nod your head in agreement. At the end of the day, what was so wrong about wanting to feel good for a few hours? It's not like you were addicted.

“You cant say shit like that Matty, it fucking scares me,” his voice quivers, shaken up. “Youre fucking enabling each other, how can you not see that?” You roll your eyes, and Matty grabs your wrist, tugging you behind him. George tries to shout after you.

“Bugger off, George, you're not my mother,” you spit that last word at him, turning around to make eye contact before losing yourself in the crowd. Mattys hand grips yours with such an intensity you’d think he'd want to rip it off of you. You're both heading for the exit, the warm air of the summer night hitting your skin.

Matty looks at you, his pupils massive. He's sweating, the powder still sticking to his nose. You reach out, brushing it off. It clings to your fingers. You tap his lips, signaling for him to open his mouth, He obliges, parting his pink, rose lined lips. Your finger feels hot in his mouth as you rub it onto his gums. A whimper escapes him, and he looks down at you, eyes filled with one thing and one thing only. Lust.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. Your eyes narrow, and you bring your other hand up to stroke his face.

“What do you want, Matthew?” your voice is steady. You felt in control.

Another pathetic whine, his legs buckle beneath him as you trailed your hand down his jaw, stopping at his throat. Your fingers wrapped around it, and you could feel his erratic pulse thrumming in his neck. This felt wrong. Very, very wrong. But you don't stop, you never stop.

Your lips finally connect. The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue. His breathing quickens, and you tug off his jacket, revealing his bare chest. The faint light of the alley didn't do him justice, but he looked beautiful. Your breath hitches when he loses a hand in your hair, his fingers weaving through it.

You can hear faint sirens in the background, as well the sound of cars speeding down the highway.

“George is a tosser, he doesn't know anything,” Matty murmurs against your mouth, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. His left hand rests on your waist, drawing endless circles onto your lower back.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I hope Ruby’s okay though, she looked proper rough.” Matty shakes his head, pushing your face into his chest. The two of you stand there like that, breathing in each other's essence. A strange sense of unease clouds your mind, interrupted by Mattys lips crashing against yours.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

“Can I pierce you?”

“No fucking chance you’re going near my body with a needle,” Matty laughs, taking a swig from the bottle of champagne in his hand. You wanted to practice, and Rome wouldn't let you do any more on him. You sigh, laying back on your elbows, staring at the ceiling.

“D’you even have the proper supplies or anything? Let me guess, Rome has converted you.” You nod, confirming his suspicion of Rome’s involvement. You plead with him further, and he inevitably gives in.

“If you fuck it up, i will never forgive you.” you laugh at him, slightly tipsy but still in control of yourself. “You have to chill, mate, it's just me shoving a needle into your body.”

“What do you wanna do? I was thinking maybe a second ear piercing or-” you cut him off

“I wanna pierce your nipples, that's the one i haven't done yet” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. Truthfully, your heart was racing at the thought of doing it. His was too.

“Are you sure? I don't want my nipples to disintegrate. It's quite a turn off, y’know? Not having any.” you roll your eyes at him, turning around to get the piercing kit Rome had given you as a late birthday present.

It contained various needles, disinfectant wipes and starter jewelry. Matty had already laid down onto the bed, unbuttoning his shirt.

Tearing the wipe open with your teeth, you turn around to face him. His breathing is unsteady, you can tell

“Calm down, it'll just be a pinch. I know what I'm doing,” he grins, brushing his hair out of his face. “We both know that's not true, but I trust you.” I trust you. The words reverberate through your skull, making you smile.

You wipe the needle first, then his chest. Using a pen, you mark where you want the jewelry to go. He had picked out a black, circular barbell. Fitting.

“Ok, just like, take a deep breath. You can't move” your voice is low, your hands trailing up his chest. It felt intimate, seeing him like this.

“Just do it, I'll be alright,” he shuffles slightly against the sheets of the bed, gripping them between his fingers. You know he thinks you won't notice, but he's nervous. You press a kiss next to his mouth, your eyes never leaving his.

Taking a breath to steady your hands, you push through the bud. You expect him to wince, maybe even cry. They were supposed to be quite painful.

Instead, he moans. Oh? You cock an eyebrow at him, noticing he’s beat red. The sight makes you giddy. He’s enjoying this.

A small tear rolls down his cheek as he twitches against the mattress. The look on his face is clear. Desperation.

His hands relax slightly, and you push the jewelry through.

“G-god dammit, fuck.” The noise is like music to your ears. He grew redder, if that was even possible. His eyes lock with yours. He's embarrassed. A grin spreads onto your face as you flick the jewelry, looking to elicit another reaction.

Your experiment proves correct, and he lets out a pathetic whimper, slapping his hand over his mouth to stifle it. Too late.

“Do you like it when I hurt you?” you ask, taking in the sight before you. Matty was sprawled across your bed, panting like a dog, skin flushed a light pinkish hue. His chest moved up and down rapidly, his hand covering half of his face.

His response is a slight nod, eyes searching yours for your reaction. You offer him a smile, your heart full of love. He trusted you that much. He trusted you enough to hurt him.

“We’ll do one today, save the other for later?” you suggest, your hand playing with his curls. He blinks back tears, nodding at you. His arms reach out for you, pulling you on top of him. Your chests press together, and he winces at the pressure on his piercing. Your lips move against each other, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. You moan at the intrusion, he props himself up on his elbows, looking for leverage. You don't give it to him, pushing him down.

He pulls away, eyes raking over your frame. Grinning, he bites his lip provocatively. Your fingers move to his eyes, smearing his eyeliner down his face. He laughs, the sound morphing into a moan as you grind down onto him. Only slightly, never giving him what he really wants.

He looks fucked out, raw. You still, getting off him with a wink. He looks at you puzzled, wondering if he did something wrong. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“I know what you want, and I'm not going to give it to you. Not until you earn it.” He sits up, eyes silently pleading with you. Pleasepleasepleaseplease. He begged, you could see it on his face.

“Let's go out, I'm bored,” he shuddered at your words, getting up from his position. Walking over to your wardrobe, he pulled out a shirt of yours to wear. He was going to play your game.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Let's do something fun! Lets go decorate plates or something,” you suggest, your words being met with an eye roll from Matty.

“You're taking the piss, I'd be torn apart if I was seen decorating plates” He laughs, pushing you off to the side. You were walking down an empty street, the sun shining slightly between the clouds. It was fairly warm.

You neared a hobby shop, dragging Matty in with you, filtering out his groans of protest “Oh for fucks sake, let me go!” he huffs, pulling his arm out of your grasp. You raise your eyebrows at him, a slight smile creeping into your face. He smiles back at you, reluctantly turning towards the large selection of rhinestones in front of him.

You picked out your favorite colors, giddily holding them as Matty selects a pack of white ones. On the way out, you grab a pack of lighters, one white, one a dark hue of grey. The cashier hands you your change, wishing you a nice rest of your day. With a wide grin on your face, you do the same.

Matty fidgets with the hem of his shirt as the both of you leave the shop. Walking aimlessly, you eventually settle on a park bench, spreading out your supplies. He groans, trying to pick the rhinestones off to glue them on, clearly struggling. You help him, your fingers ghosting over his as you take the plastic sheet out of his hands.

He had taken the black lighter out of the pack, and was now gluing stones onto it with laser-focus, not wanting to mess up. You took the grey one, paring it with pink rhinestones. Your initials brandished the side once you finished.

Matty had done the same, even if the letters were a bit crooked. M.H was glued hastily onto the side of his, some of the rhinestones barely hanging on. He smiled at you as you swapped lighters, now holding his.

It looked exactly like the one you had destroyed. A shiver crept up your spine, memories of that night flashing into your mind. The pure rage you had felt, watching the plastic splinter off onto the pavement. The images of Matty plaguing you.

But that was before. Before he had kissed you. You felt differently now, but still, a feeling of unease spread through your body as you flicked it on and off, watching the flame dissipate.

His hand was touching your, he was saying your name

You look up, your eyes meeting his. He smiles.

“Do you like it? I tried my best to make it not look like shit,” his voice was timid, a hint of insecurity could be heard. “I love it,” you assure him, putting the lighter into your pocket.

“Do you like yours? I know they are not the manliest of colors, but-”

“I love it because you made it, that's all that matters,” he cut you off, his thumb tracing the back of your hand.

You feel your heart flutter at his words, doing backflips in your chest.

He pulled out his red cigarette case, pulling out a baggie filled with weed. The two of you had promised to stay sober today, but you nodded as he asked you if you wanted to smoke. You get out your papes and filters, rolling it for him.

He had stopped making comments, instead watching you lick the spliff closed with such an intensity, you thought you would catch on fire. His eyes bore into you as you lit up, and you hand it to him to take the first drag. How the tables have turned

His lips wrap around the filter, breathing in deeply, letting the sensation take over his body. He hands it to you, his hands shaking slightly. Your lipstick rubs off on the spliff, painting the filter with a red rim.

You hold each other, sitting on the park bench, passing the joint back and forth for what felt like hours, until it dwindled out. The streetlamps had come on, one flickering on and off in the distance. The moon peaked out though the clouds, the blue light only making him look more beautiful.

You observed his face, his eyes drooping slightly as the high took over him. He let out deep breaths, his chest rising and falling slowly. Your fingers were intertwined, his hands felt warm against your skin. Every so often, he would twitch slightly against you.

The sun had almost set, barely even there as night took over the sky. The people in the park had gone home, only the occasional dog walker passing by you, quietly saying hello.

“What are we?” his voice pierced through your heart, making it bleed into your chest.

“I dont know.” you answer, pulling him closer. You stayed like that, your bodies melding together until you both fell asleep, his soft snores filling the empty park

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I just got off the phone with Ross, he wants to hang at their place.” you shout up the stairs. Matty was in the shower, the hot water steaming up the glass of the mirror.

“Sure, we haven't been over there in a while, innit? It’d be nice to have us all in one place again,” he answers, his voice amplified through the echo of the shower.

You were draped across his couch, watching the news. The TV spokesperson droned on, boring you half to death with stock market statistics. You switch it off, sighing as you got up. Opening the door to the bathroom, you see Matty standing in front of you. A grey towel hung low on his waist, barely hanging on. Your breath hitches at the sight.

“Yeah?” he asks, shaving cream covering his face and neck. Jesus Christ.

“I need to do my makeup, move.” you shove him out of the way, riffling through his bathroom drawer, looking for the makeup bag you had left there. Sure enough, you find it, the red material sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the towels and colognes filling the space.

You start doing your eyes, lining your waterline with a deep blue. Matty continues shaving next to you, nearly nicking his skin more than once. You make eye contact in the mirror multiple times, blushing as you look away. God, you're so pathetic.

He scoots past you and makes his way towards his room, presumably to go and change. The urge to follow him is strong, but you stay in your current position, looking at him as he walks away. You hear the bedroom door close, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Finishing up your routine, you go back downstairs and sit on the couch, waiting for Matty. He takes an oddly long time, and you can hear him shuffling around in his room. You wonder what he's doing, absentmindedly playing with the posh table decor his mother had set on the table.

Eventually, deciding he's taking too long, you walk over to the window located in his kitchen and crack it open. Lighting your cigarette, your eyes travel up and down the street. Children ride by on their bikes, their older siblings chasing after them. The occasional family walks by, waving hello at you before returning to their conversation. You ash into the sink.

A little girl makes eye contact with you. She reminds you of yourself, eyes full of innocence and naïveté, her rose colored dress blowing in the wind. You take a drag of your cigarette, watching as she walks by.

“You ready?” a voice says behind you, making you jump, almost banging your head against the wall you were leaning against. You turn around, seeing Matty in front of you. He has your jumper on, the red one. It's freshly washed and pressed, paired with a blue pair of loose fitting jeans. His hair is messy as always, the blonde highlights sticking out, framing his face.

“You need to start giving me my clothes back,” you say, gesturing to his top.

“Only if you cough up mine,” he says with a laugh, pointing at your pants. They were, in fact, his.

“Touché.” you shrug, walking past him, grabbing his wrist to pull him after you. Throwing your cigarette into the trash, the both of you put on your shoes.

It's sunny outside, and you can see Matty sweating in his your jumper, but you don't say anything. You stop by the corner shop on your way there, buying a pack of fags for Matty.

The cashier tucks her hair behind her ears as the both of you walk up to the counter to pay. He asks for parliaments, and she hands them to him

“That’ll be 6 quid,” leaving the sentence open “and your number?” she asks him, batting her eyelashes. The question makes you freeze, eyes on Matty. It seems to take him by surprise, he sucks in a deep breath before opening his mouth to speak:

“Nah, that's alright, this is my girl right here,” he takes your hand, lifting it up. His girl. You nod timidly, and the girl apologizes. “You're so cute together,” she comments, giving you the fakest smile you've ever seen. You shoot one back.

“Jesus, sorry mate, didn't want to let her down too hard. Soz for using you as a cover.” A cover? Was that what that was?

“No big thing, glad my gender could be of service,” you try to sound unbothered, grinning at him the best you can. Your heart deflated in your chest, a weight crushing down on it. You were his mate, not his girl. That was clear now.

The rest of the walk is spent with headphones in your ears. Micheal Jackson's “Bad” played, drowning out your thoughts.

The hallway leading to the flat is cold, the white marble almost too white, like it had been recently cleaned. Matty bangs on the door, yelling at Ross to open up. He does.

“Jesus Matty, there's this thing called a doorbell-” “Stop fucking me off and let us in,” Matty pushes past a very offended Ross, stalking into the livingroom. You trail behind him, seeing George come into your line of sight.

Your breath hitches. This is the first time you’ve seen him since that night. He looked uncomfortable, eyes darting around the room. It smells clean in the flat, and you assume Hann had had another one of his cleaning frenzies.

Adam’s sitting on the sofa, and so was george. They looked tense. Matty was in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea. You sit down next to Hann, watching Ross make himself comfortable on the giant sofa chair. The air is thick, full of something you can't recognise.

“Matty, can you maybe sit down?” Adam says, his voice deep and tired. He obliges, sitting down on the edge of the sofa chair next to Ross. Mattys hand holds the mug of tea, tapping his fingers against the ceramic. George is fidgety next to you, rolling and unrolling his sleeves, letting out uncomfortable coughs every few seconds. You narrow your eyes, cocking your eyebrow at him. He shakes his head.

“We know you’ve been using,” Hann’s voice cuts through the silence. Mattys head perks up.

“Blow? Seriously?”

“What about it?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Fuck. Matty clears his throat before speaking.

“What she said– what does it matter? It's just blow, nothing special. Everyones on it, y’know.” His voice comes out rough, deep.

“Its fucking horrible, how can you do that to yourselves?” The question comes from George. He told them

“You fucking told them? Are you taking the absolute piss?” you sound harsh, he looks at you with wide eyes. Matty laughs maniacally, setting down his mug on the coffee table. The tea sloshes onto the glass, dirtying it.

“Ohh- I get what this is-” he looks at you, shaking his head. “This, my love,” he gestures to the three men sitting around you “Is their pathetic attempt at an intervention.” You scoff, looking at Ross, who confirms his statement.

“We’re worried about you two, just– “ Matty walks over to you, cutting him off. You get up, nodding at him in silent agreement. You needed to get the fuck out of here. Now.

“Youre all a bunch of fucking tossers, what do you care what we do? It doesn't affect you!”

George speaks up: “Of course it affects us, you're our best mates, for fucks sake.” His voice trails off, seeing you ignore him made his heart hurt. What did they know? They shouldn't fucking talk about things they had no clue about.

“Fuck you guys, honestly,” Matty spat, his eyes full of hatred “C’mon love, they probably don’t want two dirty junkies in their living room, hm?” You're already at the door, pushing it open. Hann yells after you, but you ignore him. Absolute asshole, staging an intervention like you were lost addicts. Fuck him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

You're back at Mattys place. You don't talk about what happened in the flat, you just hold each other. He had switched both of your phones off on the walk back. Adam was calling both of you like a crazy ex, begging you to come back and talk. You ignore him.

The curtains are drawn closed, painting the room in darkness. The only light is coming from the TV neither of you is paying attention to.

“D’you fancy a line?” he asks, grinning down at you. You agree, getting off of him. He cuts two lines, letting you snort yours as he watches. It hits you like a truck, the feeling of pure euphoria. How can something that was ‘bad for you’ be this good? It made no sense. You mentally curse at Adam for trying to act like your parent. He had no fucking right.

Matty started deeply into your eyes as you climbed back on top of him, straddling his lap. Once again, there's purple glitter around his eyes, shimmering in the light of the TV. He smirks at you provocatively, locking your lips with his. He kisses you with passion, moving his lips in sync with yours. He pulls away.

“You,” he starts, punctuating the word with a kiss to the edge of your mouth “are a work of art.”

You smile at his words, threading your hand into his hair, tugging hard. He whimpers into your mouth, twitching beneath you.

“You're hard.” you state, pressing a kiss to his jaw, biting down. He moans again, arching his back.

“I–,” he starts, interrupted by your hand reaching down and squeezing him through his pants. He pulses in your hand, begging. Another pathetic whine, his hips buck into your hand.

An idea pops into your head, and you slowly get off of him. He protests, his eyes watching you stand up next to him. He looks so beautiful like this, breathing heavily and painfully hard.

“I want you to touch yourself for me, Matthew." You can see him twitch as the words leave your lips.

"Go on, give me a show.”

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