votel4dybird
french kiss the abyss
☆ 18+ / aspiring writer or something ☆
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Stevie’s Candles
“I can't believe it. They fucking forgot my birthday.”
summary: It's now April 29, 1987; One year after the earthquakes and everyone in the group is trying to resume a sense of normalcy, going to school and work, just trying to live their lives through the calm before the storm. Steve’s parents, however, had no trouble at all resuming normalcy, still taking spontaneous trips and vacations on a whim- of all weeks, too! Leaving their only son at home, despite today being his twenty-first birthday! That's where you come in and save the day: You and Steve have known each other for years, but only recently have you started dating. His parents won't be home for a few days, so you take this opportunity of alone time in his parent’s big empty house (and his parent's big empty bed) to get back at them and remind the birthday boy just how special he really is. (As well as granting one of his secret wishes...)
word count: 12.5k
warnings: 18+ MATURE CONTENT (minors dni) SMUT. no use of y/n, afab!reader has two outfits, Sad n’Soft Steve wears his glasses, depression, trauma, crying, hurt/comfort, food and alcohol mention, drug use (weed), handjob, choking, nipple play, Steve cums… like a lot lol, pet names, praises, body worship, reader’s a bit hesitant at first about amature restraints and wax play, penetration (wrap it up irl), cockwarming, and sweet aftercare
A/N: (get it? Like Sixteen Candles?)I'm still on my writing break for finals but I just had to post this draft I’ve been holding onto for our big boy's birthday. ALSO- PLEASE- this is a work of FICTION NOT A GUIDE. Please do your own thorough research and be careful when playing with fire ❤️🔥
Steve Harrington woke up to find that the day had finally arrived,
the day all young men look forward to.
For today, he can finally, legally buy alcohol.
It was his twenty-first birthday; ready to take on his day as he woke up early, hopped into a hot shower, and sang that one Journey song, (the song that was annoyingly stuck in his head all week, but today sounded like the best song ever) as he washed his hair with that brand new eucalyptus and mint shampoo and conditioner he just bought.
Bopping his head to Any Way You Want It, he felt good about today, singing out with the dense steam that filled his personal bathroom,
" Oh, she said any way you want it!
That's the way you need it!
Any way you want it! "
Steve was feeling good about himself… until some of the soap trickled into his eye and the invigorating sensation meant for his scalp stung and irritated his left eye bright red.
Too irritated for his contacts, he had to search in a blur for his old glasses he felt were way out of style. The metal around big round, square-ish lenses were thin, there’s a bar that goes across his brow. He thinks aviators are cool in Top Gun, but these made him feel like an outright dork.
And then his hair dryer decided to die on him, leaving him with flat hair that ended up getting ruined anyway, as he forgot where he put his new compact umbrella when the downpour from all week didn’t make the exception like the cute weather girl predicted earlier this week for his special day.
He was supposed to have a sunset picnic with his friends, then have Eddie take him out to the bar he had a year headstart patronage at.
Today was the one day their schedules didn’t collide, so that obviously had to be pushed until their next opportunity they could have a belated celebration.
His prescription on his glasses were old, but he needed them to see the board in his statistics lecture at the community college he recently started taking classes at.
The only other time he smiled today was when you came in through the door, scanning the packed classroom until you caught sight of him already with seats picked out. (It took you a minute, not used to seeing him in glasses)
He moved his bag and his coat that he accidentally got the plastic seat wet with, quickly wiping away with his hand to make it as dry as possible, not to ruin the cute outfits you wore every time he saw you
Long flowy skirt that bellows each time you took a step, it was like you were floating, not being able to see your beloved shiny pair of dark cherry mary janes.
The closer you got to him, the more he could see the ensemble you put together, a floral low cut blouse under a dark, thick knitted button up cardigan sweater, your current fashion inspirations coming from current “it girl” Molly Ringwald, combined with the silent Filmstar “it girl” of the 20s, Clara Bow.
The sounds of your multiple necklaces clanking, hitting your antique opal brooch as you bent down to greet him with a kiss as he pulled out the chair for you, “Hi, Stevie,” you smile, setting your things to the side and pulling out your materials, “ready for a whole hour of fun and quantitative data analysis?” You sarcastically quip, hating this class as much as he did.
You then do a double take, focusing on his face that looked like he was waiting to hear something from you, something special about today.
He watches the teeniest bit of your tongue poke out to touch that blackberry lip balm before speaking, recollecting the different texture your lips felt just now.
You tilt your head slightly before averting your attention back to the notebook in front of you,
“I’m loving the whole mustache and glasses look, by the way, how French.”
Mustache, you were being nice, it looked more like dried chocolate milk left on his upper lip.
His finger brushed over the coarse hair, more than his usual shadow. Steve had to look for his glasses after that blinding shower situation, meaning he forgot to shave this morning.
Nonchalantly, as the class went on, he reached his arm over the back of your chair, seemingly like a regular gesture, as he was your current beau, to then try and lower his nose into his shoulder, checking to see, just in case, if he remembered to swipe on deodorant.
(Thankfully, yes, he remembered that)
Luckily you brought your umbrella, though it was made for one person, needing to stay close as you walked together. Even though the wires in the frame kept pulling at his unstyled hair, it was nice to be close enough to you, smelling the rain hit the soil and your lovely perfume.
His classes were done for the day, but like a high school sweetheart, he walked you to your next class, even though the building was across campus from the parking lot where he parked.
“See you tonight?” Steve asks, seeing you off to your next lecture as you shake out your umbrella on the wet mats.
“Tonight?” You look at him, like this was all news to you. He watches as you suck your teeth, “sorry, Stevie, not tonight. I have that group project meeting at the library then Mrs.Morris asked me to babysit the twins tonight.
Steve’s face drops, not a playful pout, but in a slight demure.
You immediately caught on this change of mood, biting the insides of your cheek,
“But I’ll see you tomorrow?” You sway on the balls of your feet, “ We’ll watch that new River Phoenix movie playing at the Hawk, okay? My treat,” you wink at him, another lingering kiss as he stands in the doorway.
“Sure. Sounds good.” He exhales, forcing a sweet smile just for you. “Have a good class.” He goes to walk off, hand nearly reaching the lobby door, when your warm voice floats over with the sound of your wet squeaky shoes,
“Oh, hold on! Steve, wait!” He turns around, face lifting like the sun beaming through the gray clouds that covered the sky outside, watching you scurry over to him, searching through your bag.
A gift, perhaps?
“I can’t believe I almost forgot,” you go on, taking an item out of your bag, his face radiating even more as you stand before him, “Sorry, my brain has just been everywhere with finals coming up.”
“It’s okay,” Steve smiles, only for it to twitch slightly, at the sight of you handing him the item from your bag:
His compact umbrella that he had misplaced.
“You left it in my car yesterday, silly.” You scrunch up your nose, giving him a kiss on the cheek to see him off again.
“I’ll call you tonight, yeah? Be a good boy now.” You tease, a twinkling wave of your fingers as you head back around the corner to your class that was just about to start.
Like any good boy, this dog unfortunately had his day, exhaling through his nose a deep chestful sigh as he pushed open the heavy doors and embraced the walk back to the other side of campus.
At least he had an umbrella this time.
-
Coming home to an empty house, he didn’t bother turning on the lights, leaving his shoes, coat, and bag at the door, a trail behind him with slipped off acid washed jeans and a pulled over sweatshirt.
Whatever. He thought to himself.
It’s my birthday, after all. I’ll pick it up later.
The rain continued on, thunder now shaking the windows of his house that echoed rattles through the halls. He stood in the kitchen, standing in socks, boxers, and an old red lifeguard hoodie he grabbed from his closet. It was customized, all lifeguards were able to order one, but the pool ordered the wrong size for him, ending up with one that was too big for his preferred casual wear.
So he wore it only on days like this, which lately, had felt like it’s become a staple piece in his wardrobe.
Steve wasn’t bothered enough to make a full meal, taking a big spoonfuls from the glass jar of Smucker’s Goober grape.
He stood in front of the fridge, sock covered feet protecting his toes as all the cold let out, licking his spoon clean, seeing what other sweets he could possibly mindlessly snack on.
It was dark now, the rain still went on, and there was only so much MTV and late night talk show he could handle before boredom became the death of him.
He glanced over to the big grandfather clock, whose ticks and tocks were his only company to the birthday pity party. You were probably home by now, though, Mrs. Morris couldn’t have kept you this late, when usually she had you put the twins down by seven thirty.
So why haven’t you called yet?
He reaches over to the phone just on the other side of the couch, punching in your numbers on the keypad, then another dog-like sigh as he listens in on the ringing.
He reaches three, then the doorbell rings.
And again.
And again.
That makes him slam down the phone and jump off the couch, who could it be at this late hour? Robin and Nancy were away at university with finals of their own right now- the party? No, it was past their curfew. Eddie? Maybe he stopped by for birthday bar hopping? But his van was in the shop.
“What are you doing here?” He asks in a mumble, opening the door to see you standing there, contrasting the big grin on your face with an umbrella over your head, and a pink paper box tucked under the same arm.
“Did you really think I would forget your birthday?”
Steve’s eyes widen, frantically scanning over your appearance. Your dress was short, your hair was done up, and most importantly, Steve could smell chocolate.
His fingers try to lift open the lid but you tut and turn away, “May I come in first? There’s practically a monsoon out here; I’m freezing in this little black dress.”
Little black dress indeed it was, his favorite black dress you owned. He could see the short bottom of the dress just above your mid thigh, the inch of skin exposed from your opaque thigh highs that gave the pillowy flesh a small squish of an indent that made him want to drop to his knees and worship.
He knows this dress, knowing how easy it was to remove with a simple pull of thin crossed straps in the back hidden away by your jacket.
Steve’s jacket, his old gray Members Only jacket you stole borrowed from him the other week
“Right -sorry,” he chuckles, still staring at how pretty, polished, and seductive you’ve made yourself- just for him.
“Make yourself at home,” he steps aside, taking your umbrella to shake out dry for you as you remove your shoes, making your way to the kitchen to set down your bag and the pink box.
“I see you got the party started without me,” you call over your shoulder, noting the six pack on the counter and the single opened can that was surprisingly still full.
“Feel free to take one,” he offers, joining you in the kitchen.
“I’m good, thanks.” You smile at him over your shoulder, making room for what you have in store for him.
“You shouldn’t be drinking this cheap stuff by the way, you know it makes you gassy.”
It’s been all smiles from the young man since he saw you at his doorstep, watching you move around his kitchen with your dangling pearl and chain earrings, swinging in every direction as you put the rest of the beers in the fridge (for Eddie, maybe, as to not waste it) and dump out the can knowing full well he did not like this brand and accidentally bought it in an impulse purchase to practice his new ability to buy alcohol.
There’s then a change in Steve’s tone that wafts across the kitchen, as he stands with self-comforting arms crossed, an uplifted pinch in his brows,
“You really remembered?”
You’re caught mid-peel of Steve’s jacket, only removing it from one shoulder as you turn your head slowly to return with the same tender expression,
“Of course I did.” is exhaled, an octave higher than your usual tone, as you set the jacket aside and smooth down the front of your dress, walking to Steve with arms raised, their destination over his strong shoulders as you bring him in for a hug.
A hug that he gladly receives, arms untucking under elbows and going under yours to wrap around your waist as he hides his nose into your neck, welcomed by the smell of freshly applied perfume.
His favorite perfume you wore, a blend of crisp citrus, white florals that remind him of wedding bouquets, and rich and deep patchouli. It perfectly matched your black orchid appearance that made his brain all fuzzy, absorbing the seductive femme fatale look.
You feel his wrap tighten as your hand decorated with dainty rings rubs his back, following a small sniffle from him that pulled at your heart strings. He still had on his glasses from earlier today, the thin wire and lenses pressing against you, not caring they were crooked on the bridge of his nose, as his eyesight started to blur from the obstruction of tears anyways.
Steve didn’t know what came over him suddenly. It’s a feeling he’s been suppressing all day, knowing usually by the new day’s dawn he’ll start a new, leaving behind that built up emotion, stuffing it deep down and hiding it away.
Out of sight, out of mind.
But what can you do when the only place you can hide those feelings are in the back of your mind?
It’s been a year since the events, his messiah complex his distraction from his own problems. As long as everyone was safe, he was doing his job.
A job no one assigned Steve but himself.
Still hugging your white knight, keeping him there as long as he needed, there’s then a feeling of tiny droplets falling onto your exposed back.
You’ve never seen Steve cry before, even before everything he’s been through these past four years. From the smell of chlorine and coconut sunscreen from his days in the pool, squeaky sneakers that rang in your ears from running up and down basketball courts, Steve had now crawled through hell and back, took hits to the head that left a different ringing in his ears, and barely escaped the fangs of death with his sunkissed skin covered in dirt and grime.
The forever burned image in your memory of his dreamy cupid’s bow split, spitting out mouthfuls of blood- his own and not his own.
He’s had to take on the dangers of the unknown and deal with life threatening decisions, not for only his sake, but for those close friends he now considered family.
This wasn’t the first time you’ve stood in this lingering embrace, burying your faces in the other, needing to be so close that you just want to fuse into the others skin and interlock the bones of your rib cages as you’re pressing hard, chest to chest, feeling the other’s breath, letting you know that they’re still here.
We’re still here.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, ” Your nose presses into his soft, sagging red hood, now starting to feel absolutely horrible you made him think you forgot. You knew that his parents were out of town, the others busy with their own rainy day plans, needing to reschedule everything.
Clenching your fists that were resting on your forearms, you continue, “It looked like you needed some cheering up a-and I just wanted it to be a fun little surprise.” You swallow thickly, the hot rush of regret spreading over your limbs as you hold your boy, feeling the incoming of build up of tears, too.
“I’m sorry -I didn’t realize it -y-you-”
“I know.” Steve mumbles into your skin with a sniffle, pulling your warmth closer to his body,“It’s- I know, sweet girl, I know you didn’t mean any harm.”
Little whimpers into his oversized hoodie make him lift himself from your neck, sensing you were now crying too, tiny heaves that he didn’t want ruining the makeup you worked so hard on.
“Hey,” Steve looks into your eyes as a single droplet sticks to his pointed bottom lash as he mirrored your current weeping state. His thumb wipes away the small tear that carried away your dark inky mascara down a rouged cheekbone,
“It’s okay, honey. You’re here now,” Steve reiterates, his big palm smoothing down a trail from the nape of your neck to between your shoulders before keeping it there as you try to calm down from the warmth on your spine.
“-with me, and that’s what really matters.”
He gives you a smile after helping you wipe away more tears, you doing the same for him before you pressing up on toes to kiss him.
Truly, deeply showing him how much you cared while tasting how sweet his lips were, giggling at the flavor reminding you of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you ate all the time as kids.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed for me?” you then break away, noses touching, as mouths hover over the other’s.
“Why?” Steve purrs, “You’re just gonna take em off for me later.”
“Oh, really?” you chuckle through a slightly stuffy nose, “Is that so?”
He gives you that pout, that pout he should’ve given you earlier when you said “not tonight” earlier today on campus.
“C’mon,” you urge with a tiny push, “Go put on something nice for me. We’re celebrating after all!
And… I think it’s time to wash the hoodie, Stevie.
I love you, but that thing reeks.”
Steve sucks his teeth at the comment, but you were right, so he complies, and earns himself a kiss on the cheek that leaves a lipstick stain right next to his dual beauty marks next to his nose.
He goes to the stairs, hand on the railing when he suddenly realizes something, making his steps slow as he plays back what you just said.
‘I love you’
She loves me, he blushes to himself, hearing those three words from you for the first time.
She really, really loves me.
There’s now a lovesick grin plastered on his face as he climbs the flight of stairs to his room with a pep in his step as he snaps his fingers, that Journey song from this morning returning for an encore.
" Any way you want it
That's the way you need it
Any way you want it "
He takes a seat in the living room, following another instruction you gave him. Steve sits in clean jeans and an half-tucked white button up that had been hanging in the back of his closet for a while.
He’s rolling up his sleeves, leg bouncing as he then hears you call out from the kitchen,
“Hey, where do you keep the matches? Wait, no, hold on, I have a lighter in my purse. Okay, almost done!”
“Need any help?” Steve calls back, antsy in his seat, desperately wanting to stand up and help after hearing you hiss and grunt,
“Shit. Ouch. Stupid candle, c’mon.”
Steve jumps to his feet but the sudden darkness that filled the room told him to sit back down.
The time had come. You were ready.
Happy Birthday to you,
He hears you start to sweetly sing, trying not to laugh into your shoulder as you turn the corner of the kitchen, carefully carrying the homemade dark chocolate mousse cake with a circle of lit candles along the edge.
Happy Birthday to you,
Your melody has Steve hiding his blushing face in his hand before running it back through his hair (that he quickly tried styling upstairs) adjusting his seat as you make your way over to his spot in the dark.
Happy Birthday, dear Steeeviee
You place the only source of light in the living room on the glass coffee table, knees dropping to the rug as you also giggle and blush, but continue on just for him, as you watch the twinkle in the reflection of his glasses shine from the flickering flames.
Happy Birthday to youuuu.
As you sit side saddle now, your core flurries from the sight of the apples of his cheeks glowing radiantly from all the love he was feeling right now. He bites his bottom lip with sparkling pearly whites, absolutely speechless.
“Well,” you nod to the cake, the comical number of candles making the gray glitter eyeshadow on your smokey lids shimmer, “go on.”
With a tender smile for you, not needing to think of a wish, he then leans over for a sweeping blow with a puff of his cheeks to extinguish the flames.
Of course you clap, the only other person at the birthday party of two.
“What’d you wish for?” You speak up in the dark, voice accompanied by the sound of persistent downpour hitting the nearby sliding glass doors.
“Well if I tell you my wish it won’t come true, right?” Steve replies, the glimmer of his silver wire like flashes of lightning.
“But, I guess… that doesn’t really matter.”
“Why not?” You tilt your head.
He joins you on his knees, the cake and coffee table a barrier between your bodies, not needing a light to know where your hand was, engulfing it with his, weaving fingers between fingers as he holds it tight.
“-Because it already did.”
-
Steve watches as you lightly bounce on toes with another sweet singsong, returning to the now dimly lit living room, getting a gift out of your purse,
“Present time!” You announce, now taking a seat with him on the couch. Handing over the ribbon tied box the young man, he holds it for a moment, admiring the neat packaging, then brings it up to his ear, a small shake wondering what could be inside.
“Wait-” You giggle, “Maybe don’t shake it too hard? It’s sort of fragile.”
“Ohp- sorry.” Steve chuckles, a little too excited about what’s inside now. He pulls the ribbon and removes the top, knowing you were watching with anticipation, your smile widening as he looks upon the items.
He opened the box and a strong earthy smell instantly hit his nose.
For his birthday, you bought Steve a new pipe,
and weed.
Good weed, too.
“Wait, is this-” Steve holds the pipe up, scanning over the colored glass similar to transparent blue-green coca-cola bottle.
“It’s exactly like that pipe your dad threw out!” You declare, again with another giddy clap,
“I knew it was your favorite- it was really, really pretty. I was at my dealer’s place doing a pick up and she mentioned last week that she had something that really helped her migraines, and then I saw that she had the exact same one.
I already spent all my cash on the pot so…
I… traded my opal brooch for it.”
“Your brooch?” Steve looks at you with a softened expression, recalling the gold rimmed oval stone you always pinned to your sweaters, jackets, and blazers, “-that’s your favorite, though.”
“It’s alright,” you shrug, knowing it was all worth it to see the look on Steve’s face tonight.
“Probably wasn’t real opal anyway.”
Real or not, Steve made a note to get you a brand new one. A better, shinier one. A set even, opal earrings and a matching bracelet.
You were already wearing a necklace tonight that he gifted you at the beginning of your courtship.
Anything for his precious stone that brought hope, peace, and truth into his life.
He sets the gift down next to the cake, thanking you as big arms now go over yours, giving you a kiss before bring you close to his chest, beating hearts reuniting as your arms tuck under his in the embrace. You could just melt into his hold like the candles on his cake.
“I love you.” he then proclaims, his voice just as soft as the rubs on your back that made you feel as if you were weightless, floaty, with your head like it was in the clouds.
Steve had just said those three words to you for the first time.
-
Hovering over the island counter in the kitchen, after a quick sparking session with Steve’s birthday gift, the two of you are now leaning on elbows with forks in hand, high as balls, digging in to the layers of mousse and cake.
“I’m just,” Steve speaks through a chipmunk cheek full of chocolate “Like, I wanna be so mad at them, y’know?”
He was shoveling it into his gob, compared to your regular pace savoring the rich sweetness while actively listening (as much as you could) with slow nods of your head.
“It’s like- varsity swim meets, basketball games- whatever those are things you can easily forget.”
“Are they really?” You add, interrupting, speaking with your own full mouth, too,
“N-No…” Steve gulps, the smooth dessert going down hard like a rock as his throat feels tight again. “but, I mean -fuck- how can you forget your only child’s goddamn birthday?”
You stop chewing, looking at Steve as you both have heavy limbs and heavy hearts.
“Shitty thing about it?” He mutters, stabbing the cake for double the bite,
“It’s not the first time.”
Inhibitions are lowered as you can only focus on how amazing each bite tastes as it hits your tongue, proud of yourself, while also going with the impulse to suggest a revenge plot.
“You just need a way to get back at them.”
He reaches for his soda to wash down the homemade chocolate cake, eyes sending a message: Right?
You watch as the fizzy drink is chugged, his head tilted back as puffy lips press against the aluminum can. The bobbing of his sharp Adam’s Apple, the slurping, his chest hair that’s peeking out from the three undone buttons sans undershirt…
It might be the pot, but you snort, dropping your head in a snicker at the idea that just popped to mind.
“Wanna fuck on their bed?” You plainly suggest.
Steve brings a clenched fist over his mouth to cough, clearing his throat from tickling soda bubbles going down the wrong pipe, “What?”
You heard me, you smirk, saying nothing as eye brows wiggle then look down to grab more cake.
You look back up and see Steve’s staring at you over the wire of his glasses with half lidded eyes, bloodshot red that matches yours.
“You’re joking.” He says, letting out a big blech that you ignore. Steve was a gentleman with you, yes, but he was still a man.
You shrug, sucking off the fluffy mousse that got onto your finger as an ear rests on the thin dress strap on your shoulder, “I mean, they’re not coming back until next week, right?”
It only takes him a moment to think it over, though with the pot it might’ve been more, deciding to just say “fuck it.” and walk over to your side of the island, cupping your face and colliding lips with yours before you can swallow your current bite. Steve’s kiss is even sweeter than before, making you giggle as his sharp nose presses into the side of yours.
Tips of fingers graze up your back exposed in the low cut, sending arching shivers as his destination was the two udangling black strings off the nape of your neck to pull and undo like the ribbon on his gift as you’re undoing his belt, the loud zip that has the waist loosen around his hips to reveal navy blue boxer briefs.
A moan into your mouth from your hand brushing against his crotch, you break away from the kiss.
The whole point of having sex was to have it on his parent’s bed.
“Race you upstairs.” You laugh with turn on your heel after playfully tugging down his acid washed jeans to his hairy thighs.
“Aw, c’mon! You’re playing dirty!”
Grabbing the bannister and zooming upstairs, Steve’s surprisingly fast, even when he’s buckled at the knees.
He’s right behind you, heart pumping from the sprint as if you’re childishly playing a game of tag, stomping across the landing to the far end of the hallway. Steve catches up as you’re turning the knob to the double doors to the master bedroom that both swing wide open.
“Gotcha!” He wraps his arms around your waist, a small lift that has you kicking with giggles and squeals as you’re brought to the bed after creating a trail of discarded clothes behind you as you climb on the high bed, tossing aside decorative embroidered throw pillows as he climbs on top of you.
His knee between your legs, the only barrier between skin the thin fabric over your mound, another gift for the birthday boy, also decorated with a tiny bow for him to remove.
Steve always takes you like this, on your back, hands at the sides of your head to pin you down as his fingers interlock with yours. Your pretty head lays back on the pillow, right where his dad rests his head at night.
“Hey.” He exhales your name against your neck, speaking to you from the spot he was currently trying to leave behind a lovely bruise.
“Yeah?” a breathy reply escapes as your chest rises and falls to the beat of your loud drumming heart. Fingernails dig into his knuckles as doesn’t reply yet, his mouth still giving attention to the spot, this time with nibbles that cause a squirm of your lower half to grind against his firmly planted knee.
Steve’s tongue quickly drags a line upwards across the area he just worked on, a kiss upon the wet surface that has him exhaling a cooling wind as he finally speaks again.
“Thank you.”
“You’re thanking me now?” You chuckle through the purring in your throat.
“-We didn’t do anything yet”
Steve lifts himself off your front in a push up, missing the feel of his weight on top of yours as you watch how genuine his flickering eyes shift, dark centers scanning the map of your face. He doesn’t need his glasses to know every curve, pore, and angle. He could find your face in the dark.
“I mean, for everything.” Steve slowly blinks.
“Yeah -no problem,” you delicately try to shrug off the sudden center of attention, warmth creeping up your neck from the way he’s staring at you, making the front half of your body burn underneath him.
“Look at me.” His voice was thick as one hand let go to now hold you from under your chin to keep you locked in his eyes.
“I really…. really mean it.” He emphasizes, “The cake, the weed, coming over. You didn’t have to do all that for me.”
Your breath hitches, feeling his thumb ghost over your bottom lip, not wanting to ruin your pretty lipstick just yet.
“I wanted to,” you say, giving a kiss to the pad of his thumb, “Today is your day.”
You then slowly go to sit up, continuing with a proposition that Steve listens to, “-in fact,
Because it’s your day, let me take care of you.”
You’ve been eyeing a certain piece of furniture since you came into his parents room, just tucked away in the corner, it stands vertically tall, ornate, and reflective of everything in the dim lighting.
“I have an idea.” You grin, as Steve watches you get up off the bed, chuckling at your mismatched underwear and the quick finger that hooked under your thong to adjust the little wedgie you had, to watch closely as you bring over the standing mirror in the corner closer to the foot of the bed. You position it just so, right as he sees himself looking over his shoulder, the dim lighting casting shadows across the muscles of his toned back, constellations he’s forgotten he had, and healed road rashes he wish he could forget.
You go to sit near the edge, leaving enough space for another body between your legs,
“C’mere.” You motion, with a sway of your head and a rolling wrist, waving him over.
“What are you up to?”
“Just come here, please. You’ll like it. I promise.”
You’ve sat in his lap plenty of times, being in your position before with his hand reaching around, pushing aside your panties to dip his fingers into your needy core.
This was new, but you said you were going to take care of him, and like any only child, he’s ready to be spoiled.
He situates himself, more naked than you were, a birthday boy in his birthday suit as you still in your bra and underwear and thigh high stockings that were hidden under your dress that now draped over the plush carpet.
Steve watches in the mirror as his chest greatly expands and deflates, your hands slowly roaming up and down his front.
You graze over the discoloration and scars that now covered his body, some keloid and puffy from areas where the wounds were deeper. His eyelashes flutter, hearing the sounds of your lips sweetly loving on the scars on his back. Steve looked as though he was an angel with torn off wings, thankful at least that he can’t see these reminders of being dragged along the ground, scared for his young life.
“Beautiful, beautiful boy.” He then hears your whispering praises with each peck, more and more soft and gentle doting against his back before tucking your chin into the curve of his neck,
“m gonna take care of you now, yeah?”
You exhale into his ear,
“Gonna remind the birthday boy just how special he really is.”
His stomach tightens as freshly manicured nails drag down his abdomen, down past his twitching cock he’s watching in the mirror as you rake the hairs on his upper thighs
“Just relax for me, m’kay?”
“Mhm.” Steve nods, overcome with such devotion you had for him, fighting off that returning pressure in his tear ducts as he tries to relax his tensed muscles as fingertips and palm smooth and feather all over his hardening length.
“Open your eyes, Stevie, watch yourself.”
While one hand stays over his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart, the other starts to grasp his cock, slowly massaging it over, feeling it harden in your hands until his tip leaking with precum that you spread over his aching cock, allowing more slick, vigor movements
“Oh, god,” Steve drawls, His lower jaw dropping in lax, heavy breaths escaping past pillowy lips at your sudden increase of pace.
“Yeah? Feel good, baby?” You give a breathy coo, watching the reflection of your two bodies, attention switching between your hand and Steve’s parted lips, mouth agape as he mewls from your touch.
“S’good, feels so good”
“Yeah? Look, Stevie, look how big your cock is in my hand.”
Steve watches with half lidded eyes, both of your hands in the mirror, and like always, loving how your fist looks wrapped around him, how you switch from long, tightening strokes, to fingers focusing on his shiny red tip.
“Still good?” You ask, smiling at the purring coming from your boyfriend, “want me to do more?”
“Mhm,” he hums, “jus’ -just choke me, maybe?”
“Hard?” You kiss his shoulder, hand creeping up from his stomach to the bottom of his neck, settling just below the line of lightened skin that crossed his neck, giving tender and small rubs to continue traveling upwards under his clenched jaw as your fingers find their proper place points.
“N-no,” he swallows, “a little bit.”
“As you wish.”
Ankles hooked over his legs, keeping him open for you, as your hand gently applies pressure to the sides. His head is thrown back resting on your shoulder, making grunts directly made into your ear as he wants to tuck himself into you, smelling perfume in your hair from the radiating heat, but still with eyes locked on the looking glass.
“H-Harder.” You then feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear, “-choke me harder.”
How the moans he releases directly into your ear rattle your brain, sending chills down your spine that make you squirm and drag in a small spot along the bed for some sort of friction.
Making eye intense contact with Steve’s reflection, you part your lips to speak, letting out your own moans, “-fuck- my pretty boy likes being choked?” You gasp, “Gotta remember that now. Gotta keep that in mind the next time he sits in my lap like this.”
You then hear a puppy-like sound, a vibration on your palm that was tickled by his adam’s apple , making you instantly respond to Steve’s whines, “What is it, baby? Tell me what else you want me to do.”
“M-my nipples,” he stutters. You’re still pumping his cock as you conversed.
“Play with them too, p-please”
“So sweet with your manners,” is said through a giggle in your throat, slowly releasing your tight hold on his pulse, you tilt your head to rest upon his face in a small nuzzle, still using that low voice that curls his toes. Your palm slides down his chest until fingertips lightly touch over the sensitive bumps on his pecs.
“Like this?” You give one of them a small tweak between your thumb and index, rolling the hardening bud between your finger pads that then lead to tiny tugs.
“Y-yes, fuck, just like that. Fuck,” his chin points up, beautiful hazel eyes rolling back as he’s arching, loving the dual stimulation of pinches and flicks.
“Keep watching the mirror, baby,” gently you push, making his heavy spinning head drop forward with the motion,
“Keep watching yourself fuck my hand.”
“M’sorry.” Steve whimpers, chin now to his chest, glasses sliding to the tip of his nose as glossy eyes watch through dark lashes.
“It’s okay, baby,” you lovingly hush, “Didn’t do anything wrong. You’re a good boy. My good boy, yeah?”
He pulls his head up straight, though slight wobbles and teeters follow as he proudly nods,
“Yes, yes, m’your good boy -f-fuck, yes. Yes.”
“Grab my” He then grunts, “-grab my balls. m’gonna- gonna cum soon. Feel it. feels s’good.”
With a squeeze of the velvety sack to give attention below his shaft, your other hand still pumping vigorously, you speak to the side of Steve’s head, his soft hair making your eyes close for a minute as his heavy head rests upon yours. Encouraging words make him feel like he’s swimming, his entire body growing heavy as he’s washed over with crashing waves of pleasure.
“Do it, baby, make a mess all over my hand, I wanna see it. Wanna watch yourself spill all over the sheets, too. You deserve it.”
His hands that were gripping your thighs behind him tighten, nails digging into your stocking covered soft flesh as he bites his lower lip. Steve’s dark brows furrow, as both of you watch as pearly strings shoot from the aching tip of his cock and splay all over the mattress, even getting on the mirror
“Oh, good boy,” You encouragingly gasp, cooing him through his release as you watch him spill all over the expensive linen. One hand petting his happy trail of dark curls while the other keeps at the attention to his cock with milking strokes that were slow and easy as he rides out his climax, hips stuttering until it finally seems like he's finished.
“Oh my goodness, Stevie, you made such a big mess.” you giggle, leaving more and more lipstick stamps that match his red face.
Letting him lay back, still seated between your legs, you remove his glasses with your clean hand, gently placing them on the side table drawer, and crawling back attack with kisses all over his slowly relaxing contorted face, eyes now closed as he's panting, trying to come back to himself.
“Your parents are going to be pissed.”
“Good.” Is all he can manage to reply out of breath. Steve gives you a floaty smile, eyes slowly opening to then swear he could nearly pass out again, watching you lick back of your palm clean like a kitten.
“-but we’re not done here yet.”
-
Returning to his parent’s bedroom with a glass of iced water for him, letting Steve have a minute to bask on the warmth that spread over his body, you smile at each other in the dim light, the rain still coming down filling the room with soft pitter patters and rumbling in the very far distance. You also brought along the birthday cake; candles and forks still stabbed into the chocolate ganache, just in case he wanted a snack, too.
Resting on the king sized bed, Steve’s on his back, his head on his forearm with the his cheek and nose against his bicep. His fingers are slowly combing through the hair on his stomach, awaiting your return.
He slowly sits up as you hand the tall glass to him, taking a big gulp as he watches you prop your leg up, carefully removing your stockings and drape them over the back of his mother’s vanity chair. Steve loves taking them off for you at any chance he gets, but right now, he was just enjoying the show, sucking the sweet off his finger he just poked into the cake instead of using a fork.
You bring the time to his attention, reaching behind to unhook your bra, not needing to be as careful as you were with the stocking,
“Okay, birthday boy, you have an hour and twenty seven minutes ‘till midnight.”
A toss of the undergarment to him, he catches it with ease, still facing you as you continue to make your proposition.
“So we can still do whatever you want.” You wink, now bending over to slide down your panties.
Folding the bra, cup in cup, he places it aside with such delicate handling before his hand combs back unstyled hair that’s fallen out of place, “Whatever I want, eh?” He smiles a little crooked grin, showing half of his upper set of pearly whites
“Mhm.” You nod with a bite of your bottom lip, approaching the bed with your head going fuzzy as you see his eyes flickering, his mind a spinning Roladex of ideas.
He liked the idea earlier of you being in control, trusting you immensely with his levels of pain and pleasure.
Steve then shuffles off the bed, looking around the or something in mind, not telling you just yet. Curious, you prop yourself up on your elbows laid back, eyes focusing on each muscle on his tan freckled back as he reaches behind the door for the object he was looking for.
Well, close to the object he desires. In his parents room, the only thing close to what he desires, the soft fuzzy belt from the bath robe hanging nearby. He grabs it, pulls it from its loops, then checks it against his wingsoan to see if it would do the trick
“Wowww.” You sarcastically guffaw, defending your sudden nerves with humor, “Who knew Steve Harrington was into S&M?”
Steve bites his inner cheek at the light prod, his thumbs rubbing against the plush fabric as he goes to sit back only a few feet away from the cum spot.
“It’s- It’s not like that,” He nervously chuckles “It’s not that extreme.”
Extreme? How that makes warmth creep up your thighs and cheeks, still blurting out nonsense- “Leather teddy, chains and whips? Yeah right, hurt me, hurt me, daddy.” You continue to deflect as your thighs start to quiver, “You wanna use the birthday candles too, while we’re at it? The pouring of hot wax all over the nipples?"
You continue to prod, but you see your mocking gets a little out of hand, seeing in his face turn to slight demure with pressed lips as you you were retracting your ;Any Way You Want It' offer.
“Steve?” You look at him, voice now realizing you might’ve took it too far with the teasing.
“It’s okay, baby. Never mind, it's fine. If you’re not comfortable then I don’t want to do it.”
“No, no, hey,” you crawl over to Steve, gently cupping his face so he looks at you during your apology, “I’m sorry. It’s okay that you’re into that. No judgment at all.
I’m just-
I've never been tied up during sex? So this is all kind of a shocker. ‘M sorry, Steve.”
“Sweet girl,” He nuzzles into your palm, “it’s alright. I know it’s different than what we usually do but… you don’t need to worry about that because it's….
for… me, actually.”
"You?" Your eyes nearly pop as you watch him nod his head.
"Mhm." His voice then gets deliciously thick and raspy on the edges to persuade you, making your body tingle with the drawn out request.
"Honey- for my birthday,
I want you.
To tie my hands together."
You’re still trying to wrap your head around with it. At this point, you’ve been very vanilla in your sexual ventures with Steve. Maybe a slap to your ass a few times during sex, getting together in the backseat of his roomy BMW.
But if this is what he really wants, then you just want to make him happy tonight in every way you could. Even if it meant he couldn't touch you tonight.
I'm not allowed to touch you, Steve reasons, I just want to see what it feels like.
It's gonna be like hell not to touch you tonight, he knows damn sure, but the feeling of you using him, just watching you come undone on his cock, there was curiosity door that was opened, and he's having a hard time pushing it shut.
A few more bites of chocolate cake and talking things out a bit more, you confess that it would be something you'd be interested in practicing with him.
Your hesitation just came from a place of concern; Not from the exciting anxieties of trying something new, but on account of what happened to him that summer after graduation with the mall fire. It wasn't just a fire, there was no way he could escape a fire with bruises around his wrists that looked as if they were from cuffs, seeing swollen purple face from interrogating fists.
His parents were out of town that fourth of July, too.
The independence day celebrations were over, booming fireworks leaving chemical clouds of smoke in the indigo sky. As soon as you got the call you were slamming the door of your car to run across the Starcourt parking lot in your huarache sandals to the spread out emergency response vehicles, out of breath, poking your head in the backs of ambulances for Steve.
The blood and puke on his work uniform, how he hung his beyond weary head full of honey highlights from hours spent in the sun and pool with you between work shifts.
Your opal brooch clinking with his grimey Scoops Ahoy name tag as you welcomed him into your arms.
How he immediately tucked himself into the crook of your neck, saying nothing yet, just finding comfort in your tender hold as you joined him in the crinkly foil emergency blanket that was offered to him and a few of the others.
You smelled of sunscreen, smoke from a barbeque grill, popcorn from the fair, and most memorably, citrus, white florals, and patchouli. You weren't dating yet, but he still found such solace in your company.
Would the feeling of being restrained bring up those horrible memories that everyone, including Steve, try to ignore?
Looking at Steve now in this dim lighting, completely bare with you on the high bed, the sounds of rain fill in the cracks between conversation. His lips were slightly parted, a deep push and pull of breaths as he tells you it will all be okay.
He trusts you.
-
Patient as you wrapped the robe belt, Steve’s tone was calm, instructing you with knot techniques that would work best for this experiment.
“Alright, now pass the end through- yes. Pull both sides to adjust the- yes, perfect.”
“How do you know how to do this?” You ask,
“Boy Scouts.” Steve shrugged nonchalantly, but his gaze rested on you thoughtfully.
You bite the little bit of tongue that pokes out. Oh, the jokes you want to make. Oh, imagining Steve now in those tight khaki shorts, knee high socks and cute little ascot
Sitting criss cross for now with his tied hands cupping your pretty face as kisses turn to wrestling tongues before Steve readies himself to lay back,
“So, um,” he starts, speaking in a hush to you as you give one last upwards lick of his upper lip, “I know you were joking about those candles but-“
The most dumbstruck face you’ve ever given Steve forms a mere inches away from his nose, followed with a snort that makes you tuck into his collarbone releasing a humming sound to hype yourself up.
“You serious? That’s really want you want?”
“Maybe I wanna try it. I saw it in a por-“
You stop him, head coming up, finger over his puffy lips, knowing where his curiosity sprouted from.
“Steve, it’s either you want to try it- or you don’t. I’m already indulging you in one of your fantasies tonight, so speak up now.”
Speak up now, how he gulps at your tone, but in a way that curls his toes after the tops of gif thighs felt warm.
He recapitulates his request, watching you take the candles from the cake and giving them a quick rinse in the bathroom that was connected to his parents room.
“Oh, um. Safe word?” He calls from the bed, watching the curve of your ass slightly jiggle when you shake off the few candles in hand.
“Safe word?” You look at him, and if he could see without his glasses, he’d see the sudden faze in your expression as you make your way back to the bed, refilling that cup of water and grabbing a medium sized wet towel just in case.
“Yes- for when it gets to be too much.”
Closer now, Steve can now see the slight worry on your face as you set the things aside. He jumps to his knees and shuffles over to where you are, “Hey, it’s fine. We don’t have to. I'm fine with just my hands tied, baby, honest. This is already way more than I was expecting tonight.”
Holding the nape of his neck, you put your forehead to his, letting out a deep sigh and giving him an even deeper kiss as you run your hands through his hair.
“I want to try. For you.
What’s the safe word?” You restate, and Steve’s eyes shift for just a second, trying to find a the word. He licks his lips, then gives you a nod.
“Butterscotch.”
-
Claws with feather like pressure start to run over Steve’s body as you sit between his legs, watching his cock twitch in a revival. Like electricity running through his veins, making him slightly jerk the closer you got to his sensitive area, each groan saying he needs you to touch him again.
But you’re not paying attention to that area yet, as your hands graze over his sides, kissing and loving on ashamed areas that needed a little more first as hands reach up to rake through chest hair.
He keeps his hands above his head, now allowed to close his eyes and focus on each sloppy kiss, suckle, and most certainly, bite you placed upon his physique.
The hums coming from you, ass in the air as you crawl over Steve like a big pawed feline toying with her prey, sharp claws grazing lines straight down his torso that stop just under his navel, under the arch of his cock that jumped to his stomach.
Hands above his head, already he squirms, resisting the urge to touch you, push back that hair that fell from your updo hairstyle that tickled his stomach.
“Doing good?”
“Mhm-“ Steve hums, “so good.”
“Yeah? Even when I touch you like this?” You coo, giving a gentle tap to his twitching erection that makes it bounce against his stomach.
Already he grunts, elbows jerking, wanting to put his hands down but you keep him there with a single hand as you hover over, his eyes full of your breasts in his face, as you tell him be a good boy now.
You grab the candles, leaving them in a little pile next to where your knees push into the comforter covered mattress. Lips part to ask if he’s ready now, but he beats you to it
“Hey,” Steve opens his eyes, looking at you with a shy smile as he sees the lighter and candle in hand.
“Yeah, baby?” You coo, and his cheeks rush with warmth, from how calm your voice sounded.
“You think… you think I could be inside you when you… when you drip the wax?”
How you sarcastically chuckle, nearly dropping your head again.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing- it’s just. You’re such a Taurus, you know that?
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” You begin to explain, slowly straddling over his thighs as one hand goes under, grabbing his half hard erection that was still a bit sensitive from earlier, and holding it against your sopping wet cunt. How he bucks his hip up slight from the contact of your heat against him, wanting more. “You’re such a glutton, Stevie.”
“But… you’re also generous,” You exhale, aligning his big cock to your core that craved attention since he sat between your legs earlier in front of the mirror.
Just the tip of his angry mushroom cap is inserted as you already start to moan from the stretch, slowly, gently taking him in.
“You’re patient.”
How each sinking feeling sends a jolt to your thighs. You release a shudder after the first inch, both of you now with mouths agape as you continue. God, he was always such a big stretch for you.
“You’re determined, l-loving,”
As he keeps his hands above his head, his stomach clenches in a curl, knowing that about this far down on his shaft he helps hold you open to split on his cock.
“But you’re most certainly -ah-!” You let out a small yelp as you sink down, a little quicker than intended. Already he hits so deep, not even fully hard, you breathing starting to rapidly increase from the stretch.
“You’re -Mm- possessive.. but in the best way possible.”
Feeling wonderfully full, eyelashes fluttering, Steve feels your fingernails dig into his stomach.
“You okay, baby?” He grunts, lifting his head to see if you were alright with a hitch in his breath as heels dig into the mattress.
“Yeah, I’m,” You begin to whimper through a smile. “ You’re just.”
“Big.” you giggle, Steve being able to feel your laughter as he drops his head back down, hair falling back to fan over the pillow as he snorts,
“Second time you’ve mentioned it tonight, sweet girl. You’re not just sayin’ that because it’s my birthday are you?”
“Oh?” You sarcastically gasp, starting to roll your hips ever so slightly to mess with that cocky grin on Steve’s face,
“It’s your birthday? I didn’t know that”
“Mm-” Steve starts to moan, “My pretty girl baked me a cake, now she’s saying I have a big dick?”
Looking down between your colliding bodies, you look back up, hands on his stomach still as you nod, “and big balls too.”
How he throws his head back in laughter, wrists together resting on his chest.
Steve’s not touching you, so you allow it. For now.
A few more moments just sitting on Steve’s cock, trying to centralize on the next task at hand (because face it, you’re both so impulsive. You could ride him now and forget about the whole candle thing.) you tell him to put his hands back up now, you’re both ready to start.
With your hand on the restraints, you keep him there as you give a few more worshiping kisses to his neck. The other cups his cheek, your thumb brushing over his pillowy lips that open as yours does from the feeling of his wet tongue underneath your thumb pad.
Steve lets go, his quick, sexy, way of another thank you for doing this, as he watches you that to light the candle.
This first one was yellow, like that sweater he looked so good in. (When you didn’t steal it from him)
The lighter sparks, catching the wick, and you drop a few splats on your arm to test the intensity
Higher? Better.
Lower? Fuck, that burned. But… only for a second.
Now you know what you’re working with
“Are you ready?”
The young man closes his eyes, exhaling clearly, “Yes.”
“Steve-” you call, grabbing his attention again.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he gives you a tender smile, before his head is thrown back suddenly from the thin candle accidentally already spilled a few drops onto him-
“Shit.” He hisses, his stomach muscles tightly clench.
A hand over your mouth as you’re holding the candle back upright “O-oh, I’m sorry- I’m sorry!”
A high pitched gasp follows, “Stevie- do you want me to stop?”
“N-no” he grunts “You’re good, baby. Felt good.”
“Yeah?” You look at him, your voice sweet and soft that soothes his quick moment of new intensity.
“Didn’t say butterscotch, right?” He assures you, a giggle at the name as you kiss him, candle away from his body (and not caring that it dripped on the sheets)
“Okay, I’m trying again” You coo, lovingly rubbing over the surface of his skin before you tilt the small candle at an angle, different heights off his torso until the first candle runs out.
His open mouthed moans, chin pointed at the ceiling, letting you admire how sharp and chiseled his strong jaw becomes through each clench and seethe through his molars,
“Fuck, baby- s’so good.” How his moans turn higher in pitch, coinciding the small little rolls you give, making him drone and whimper. “Oh, god.”
Candle after candle of what was left in the box. It wasn’t enough to make pillars of wax, just enough that it lightly freckled pretty pinks, greens, whites, and blues amongst his moles
Each time you light a candle, it’s a prayer for his sweet release from aching pained pleasure.
“Please, sweet girl, more, ”Steve begs
This pain he could handle. This pain was only temporary, controlled by the hands of the person he loves most.
He’s loud, more vocal than you’ve ever had him before.
This quick second pain reminded him he was alive, combined with the closeness he felt with you, deep inside you, making you more connected than before.
From the pile, there’s only one candle left. You see how across his thighs and stomach, his body is decorated with pretty waxy polka dots, and you sort of feel… left out.
“Baby,” you look at him from where you sit, currently sweating from how you’ve had to focus this whole time while his hard cock is still nestled deep inside you.
“I want to try too.”
“Oh?” Steve looks at you with glossy eyes, his curiosity rubbing off on you. “Y-you need help?”
You bite your lower lip and slowly start to shake your head, giving Steve a cheeky grin.
“You just sit and watch.
No touching, remember?”
Adjusting Steve from under you, small quivers in your thighs and lower belly make your brows furrow as you light the last rosy pink candle.
How you admire the pretty flame, Steve watching with closely as you then start to let the wax drop onto your thigh. It’s quick, the shot to the nerves making you clench around Steve’s cock that just wants to fuck upwards.
From drips to both thighs, your soft stomach, Steve gets dizzy from the sight of you moving on to letting candle drip the last of its life onto your bare breasts.
Each little gasping “Oh.” you release from your contorted face, how he wishes he’ll never forget how beautiful you look in this moment.
All the candles used, you lay down on Steve’s warm chest to collect yourself, with hands on his chest that turn to claws digging into the skin.
“Steve,” You look at him with with lustful, desperate eyes, his blown inky centers matching yours as perspiring skin stick to the other person.
“I need to fuck you now- I can’t-” how your whimpers turn to growls, how hungry you’ve been for sweet release this whole time, feeling the complete puddle you’ve created from just sitting on his upward curving cock that rubbed against all the spots that usually set your brain to shut off, only thinking about one thing, and one thing alone.
“I need you to fuck me now. N-Need to you to touch me.”
From his chest, hands move to Steve’s restrained hands over his head, one above the other, fingers starting to interlock.
With each moan that bounces off the walls of his parents bedroom, it fills the house, echoing down halls, as you shake the upstairs with headboard percussion to match your dual exclaimed moans.
The mirror still by the bed, he watches himself pound upwards from behind you, the way your ass splits on his cock that he watches become creamy, coated with your mixed arousal as you continue to ride him even as he’s spent.
“N-need to touch M-my.” You then stutter as you pant and whine, not finishing your sentence with words but instead removing one of the hands that pinned him down to reach down to start touching yourself with dancing circles that have you clenching around Steve’s cock.
Behind the dangling golden “S” initial, hanging off a dainty chain from your neck, Steve watches as you rub your swollen bud next to his cock that inched in and out.
“Lemme help,” he groans, watching your arm above him start to tremble, “Baby, please, let me touch you. Help you cum.”
You shake your head, eyes closed, following his set rules. Denying him while not seeing the way Steve’s eyes look up at you, wet, pathetic, and sparkly smitten.
He starts in a demand, your eyes opening at his grunt, seeing how painful it’s become to still have you ride his aching cock even after he’s spent, your completely walls coated with combined arousal that dribble onto the bed below,
“I want to touch you. -shit- Gotta help my sweet girl, make her cum on this cock she loves so much. ”
How you early drool from how rough he sounds, head to fuzzy to enforce any more of Steve’s torturous “no touching” rule.
You sit back up, no longer leaning over the young man, and his hands instantly find their way to your hot core, spreading you slightly with his fingers pushing up the plush of your pussy, his thick thumb beginning to rub counterclockwise circles that send jolts to your thighs.
“Fuhck- Ah, fuck!” He listens to your whining curses under your breath, loving the mewling of his name over and over. Your hands find placement on his restricted wrists, clasping the soft fabric as keep his hands there.
He watches you bite your bottom lip to try and keep quiet, holding onto moans in your throat to silence your pleasured exclaims.
Why were you trying to keep quiet?
Steve then calls up from under you,
“It’s just us here, remember? Don’t gotta hide those pretty sounds. -fuck- wanna hear you scream.”
Louder and louder, you let go of the volume restriction at his reminder. Your moans like another birthday tune, sung only for him through more short breathy panting between possessed-like screams until you finally, blissfully, reach that top bell and cum. Pulsing around his cock that already spilled inside you, his chest serves as a landing pad once more, falling into Steve as his tied hands coming over, holding you close to him in an entrapment. Steve kept you there, the two of you breathing that dense, thick air surrounding your melting bodies. The combined mess dribbles down onto his parents sheets, it felt almost unnatural now to not have him inside you. An ache from the emptiness, your hands move from on his chest to under his arms, hooking under his shoulders and holding each other as you listen to the harsh weather outside still crash onto the windows.
Your bodies were still, quiet. Listening to the rolling thunder that moved in closer with each shortening mile.
Steve’s exhausted voice breaks the silence, as even now, he still needed to be closer.
“I love you.”
-
Later when you could sit up, head dizzy and airy as he just lovingly fucked you dumb, no complete sentences come from you yet, but you give him kisses aplenty, undoing the knot for him and finally freeing him.
“Did so good, Stevie.” Your rumbly, parched voice coos, bringing his hands to your lowered head, kissing those hands you love so much, reunites with their touch as naked lovers now sit across from each other with crossed legs. Knees gently brush the others, his leg hair tickling your skin.
A kiss to the reddened areas, your lips hover over the soft skin of his inner wrists, his twitching fingers tickling on the soft underpart of your chin you continue to speak, “Thank you for trusting me.”
Steve’s hands raise from your hold, arms now opening, taking you in an embrace for hugs and cuddles.
“I love you.” You return the sentiment in a sigh.
Helping him pick the wax off his torso, him doing the same those yours were fewer, you find yourselves in the jacuzzi-like tub in his parents bathroom, using the scented oils and bath pearls with mountains of plush bubbles.
You’re using his new shampoo, fetched from his bathroom, smiling at Steve’s pleased hums as you massage across his scalp with the eucalyptus and mint, loving the invigorating feeling on his scalp now that it wasn’t in his eyes.
Steve then uses one of the mini towels that hung in his parent’s bathroom, that was solely for decoration, to gently wipe away your makeup. Wrapping the warm cloth around his finger, your eyes are closed, hearing only the sounds of trickling water from Steve wringing out the excess water to start on the other eye.
Thinking to yourself why you haven’t done an intimate soak like this sooner, relishing in how you were able to sit in such comfortable silence.
Steve was there for you after the the earth cracked open across your once sleepy town. The things you’ve seen together, leaving you with nightmares that lead to bouts of insomnia, ebbing flows of depression that unfortunately lead to a unsalvageable knot at the back of your head that you trusted Steve with a pair of kitchen scissors to cut out for you.
Let’s get out of bed and brush our teeth for once- together.
When was the last time you did laundry? Maybe you want to throw some clothes into my load?
Did you eat today? Me neither. Let’s split a pizza.
-
Now in his parents’ robes, eating the rest of the cake, the night ends back where it started, cuddling on the couch, leaving behind the mess upstairs.
Watching Weird Science together, using Steve’s gift again tonight, you chuckle during some parts, but only keep them in your throat. Bodies too exhausted and mellow to let out actual chuckles from the asinine plot.
“Baby?” You speak into his warm hair that you’ve been smelling this whole time.
“Mhm?” Steve hums from your chest, currently being used for his pillows as his eyes were growing heavy. His hand was in your robe, cupping your breast. Nothing sexual, just feeling the squish of the globe that fit perfectly in his big hand that was feeling a little empty as you watched the movie together.
“When did you make this discovery of yours?” You ask, forming a coherent sentence for once.
“It’s… a long story.” his voice is deliciously thick, raspy on the edges as his words are drawn out from exhaustion
“Eddie returned a tape late, forgot to rewind. Turns out, instead of House of Wax, y’know, that Vincent Price one?”
“Mmm,” you deliciously hum with a giggle in your throat “-Vincent Price.”
“Really?” He snorts, head coming up to look at you with curved questioning eyebrows.
“That guy does it for you?”
“It’s the schnozz, baby.” You give him a floaty smile as your finger comes up to tap his nose. “Can’t help it”
An amused push of air from Steve’s nose before nuzzling back under your chin.
“Yeah, so apparently, Munson must’ve mixed up his private collection with the tape he rented. So I had to sit in the back and… watch it.”
“Did you give the porno back to him?” You then bluntly ask.
The young man stays silent and you laugh out loud, feeling it in your sore belly as you give his head a playful squeeze, nuzzling your nose into his crown, “Oh, Stevie, who knew you were so impressionable?”
“How come you’re not surprised he’s into it?” he mumbles in light defense and feels you shrug underneath him.
“I mean. It’s not a big surprise. Coming from him. -You’re just, I don’t know... You’ve always been such a gentle lover.”
Gentle lover, you recall, as most of the time beforehand, Steve always wanted to hold hands during missionary.
Gentle lover, Steve snorts, the screams that just came from his parents’ bedroom tonight may beg to differ.
“He’s gonna be so jealous.” Steve starts to smirk, not realizing he just said that out loud, only to start off in a panic that lifts his head again,
“I mean, I won’t- if it’s okay that I tell him I mean. I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
You lightly brush the side of his face with the back of your knuckle, all your rings and jewelry left on the counter of the master bathroom upstairs.
(All except your necklace of course)
“When’s the next time your parents out of town?” You start to snicker, “Invite Eddie to over drink up that beer and I’ll pour hot wax on both of you.”
Steve’s shiny bottom lip drops, a blink as he tries to comprehend another one of your giggly, stoney brained ideas.
“Oh, the monster I have created!” Steve playfully growls as tucks himself back into your neck and brings his knees to your hips, keeping you still as he makes you giggle from more mustache kisses against sensitive skin, his fingers starting to tickle your sides
“She’s alive! Alive!” He throws his head back to announce into the night like Colin Clive, the sounds of rain and thunder mixing in with your howling laughter as you try to escape Steve’s prods, pokes, and squeezes.
“Who knew my girlfriend was a secret dominatrix all along?”
“I’m not! I’m not!!” You laugh, no where near such a title, “I just thought you’d want to share the fun!”
Steve smooths over the areas he relentlessly tickled, letting you have a breather, and one for himself. Shit, you were strong.
You look up at him as he pushes back soft, washed hair that ends up falling to its original place anyways, hands running up his hips mindlessly, just loving the warmth, the feel of plush fabric, and just Steve.
He tucks himself back into his original spot, hand in your robe and everything, now being able to feel your thumping head beat from all that lovely exertion.
And as your hand rubs his back after throwing over the huge crocheted blanket over your intertwined limbs,
no way, Steve thinks to himself.
There’s no way I’m sharing you after this.
-
By the morning, the rain finally stopped. The surrounded woods in the backyard of his home is calm, no pushing winds or rolling thunder. The ground still cupped puddles, but by noon they’d be gone.
The house is quiet. The only sounds Steve Harrington can hear are the faint coos of mourning doves and the soft snores and low moans coming from your head as you were shuffling under Steve’s chin, changing positions in your sleep as he holds you close, still snuggling on the couch.
There’s a new sound, a strange sound like someone was forcefully clearing their throat.
It annoys you, but you keep your eyes shut. Maybe Steve was coming down with something after going without an umbrella all day yesterday. A head full of dreams start to turn from deep slumber to thoughts of another day of taking care of Steve. He was always such a whiner when he got sick. Clingy, needy, even when it’s just a tickle in his throat.
Licking your lips before you go to speak, suggesting a glass of water so he can sleep a little bit more, you then feel a sudden panic- Steve’s body became tense underneath you. Eyes jolt awake as his strong arms wrap around you tightly, keeping you to his chest with a hand on the back of your head that keeps you hidden away, not to turn around.
“M-Mom, Dad-“ his raspy morning voice cracks,
“-you’re home early.”
comments and reblogs are very much encouraged, appreciated, and cherished ♡
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Did you like The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins? Well you'll love....
Peeta's Games by igsygrace on AO3!
No but seriously this fanfic feels so incredibly canon because not only does the author clearly respect and reference the source material, they're also just an incredible writer! The third part is definitely a rough read due to the hijacking and torture scenes but my god if it wasn't one of the most incredible pieces of fiction I've read. I literally read through The Mutt (The Mockingjay) in the span of a day and ended up holding back sobs at work.
If you love Peeta, Everlark, or just hunger games in general I highly recommend this fanfiction. It reignited my love for the books and let me see some scenes in a whole new light. It's haunting, it's beautiful, it's heart wrenching. And more people should read it.
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THANK YOU SUZANNE
no one is doing it like katniss everdeen and peeta mellark. they have it ALL. fake dating. enemies to lovers. rivals to lovers. friends to lovers. star-crossed lovers. opposites attract. hurt-comfort. nightmare induced bed sharing. shared trauma. guy falls first. sunshine & grumpy. childhood crush.
everyone say thank you suzanne.
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Ayo shout-out to Lucas Sinclair for being literally the only member of the party to not have massive boulder sized daddy issues, and therefore is the only one out of all six of them that is capable of consistently owning up to his own actions with more than just one specific person if anyone at all 🫡
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8+ hrs of kate bush later….teehehehe
edit: thanks for all the kind feedback guys! :)
edit2: to clear confusion this was photoshop, i dont want yall thinking i drew everything. also i dont feel like explaining what i did have to draw anyways
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when eleven finds out abt byler i don’t want a sad revelation about how her boyfriend didn’t love her or a pissed off attitude due to hurt.
i want to see this face as she starts planning the wedding, family pet, and amount of children.
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Y/N: Sorry, Eds, but I think I had an allergic reaction to that new bubble bath we used last night. (You make a vague gesture downwards) Everything is kinda... inflamed at the moment.
Eddie: The shire is burning, so backdoor it is.
Y/N: ....
Y/N: ....
Y/N: You're sleeping on the couch tonight.
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I’m Being Harassed.
For the past month, I’ve been being harassed by a girl I met on Tumblr who I’m not naming.
It started with uncomfortable messages, which I let slide. But it quickly turned into pushing my boundaries, which I clearly laid out. I told her that if she continued to push my boundaries, I would block her. She then tried to gaslight and manipulate me, and make me think it was all in my head and that I’m basically crazy. So, in response to boundary pushing and that manipulation, I blocked. She also became 5+ of my emoji anons, which is why I am not accepting more at this time. Which is unfair to actual anons.
Since then, this girl has created 10+ accounts to try to interact with me. I have blocked every single one. She has harassed me via anon, as well. It is not fair that I have to screen every single follower & every single interaction. Even after all of this, she is trying to paint me as a bully and victimize herself.
I have tried ignoring this, and not giving her the attention she wants, but after a month this has turned from harassment into basically stalking and I’m not sure what else to do.
So - to the girl harassing me, if you’re reading this, I am asking you nicely one more time to stop. If you don’t, I will be forced to take action.
Sorry to those who want a drama-free feed. I try to keep my blog a safe space for all, but it also needs to be a safe space for me.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a nice day.
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AHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO GOOD OMFG GHOST I CANT ANYMORE. ❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰
in which graves are dug up, walls are built, and nobody knows what happened in the bathroom that night.
→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn
→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni
→ wc: 4.6k+
masterlist.
spotify playlist.
◁ previous part, next part▷
8:00 ────ㅇ────────────── 24:00
DINGUS: hey, do you guys remember the first night they met?
BIRDIE: you mean when we took her to the bar to meet everyone and they very clearly fell in love at first sight? no, doesn’t ring a bell.
DINGUS: stop being such a fucking smart ass
NANCE: @DINGUS What about it?
DINGUS: she just called me asking me about it. said eddie was nice until you guys went to the bathroom. apparently he acted differently when you guys came back, but i can’t remember anything about what was said?? did eddie actually start acting differently???
BIRDIE: i remember that! thought it was weird or eddie just started overthinking? i dunno. i was in the bathroom obviously.
ARGYLE 😎: oh i remember that night very clearly brochacho
ARGYLE 😎: kind of surprised you don’t, dude
JOHNNY: Oh God yeah @DINGUS you’re living up to your namesake dude
NANCE: You really don’t remember, do you?
DINGUS: @NANCE and how the fuck do YOU remember? you weren’t even there, nance. you were in the bathroom as robs put it.
NANCE: Best friend privileges. You really might want to remember, Dingus.
BIRDIE: @NANCE message me real quick?
DINGUS: hey! no fucking whispering! that’s not fucking helpful! @JOHNNY @ARGYLE 😎 what did i say?
NANCE: @BIRDIE I will. Let me call Eddie first.
—
HOUR EIGHT - 11:00 PM
You weren’t trying to eavesdrop - you were trying to sleep. If anyone asked you, you could have honestly defended yourself. The couch was uncomfortable, your back aching as you repeatedly twisted back and forth to just try and find a minute of rest. Your mind was reeling, still replaying all of your moments with Eddie leading up to this night. Suddenly, you were overthinking it all. You couldn’t differentiate between things that really happened, or things that you’d simply blown out of proportion due to your innate need to spin the narrative of Eddie being the villain.
“Yeah, I… I think she’s sleeping.”
You hadn’t even heard Eddie opening his door finally, your back facing the hallway as you stayed curled up tightly. His footsteps are heavy as he gets closer to you.
“She’s… uh, she’s on the couch.”
Immediately, you can hear a shrill voice shouting over the line. It’s hard to miss. You can imagine the way he’s wincing, holding the phone out from his ear in an attempt to not let her scolding damage his ear drums.
“I didn’t think she went to bed!” he hisses, trying to stay quiet, under the impression you’re still asleep, “I- Jesus H. Christ, Nance! Calm down, calm do-” he’s cut off as the anger over the line still leaks into the calm air of the room, “No. No, I wasn’t- I was going to let- Nance. Please, can I get a fucking word in?”
You hold your breath during his pause, and the clear scolding, Nancy’s scolding, finally ceases.
“I wasn’t going to let her sleep on the couch,” he says slowly. You almost turn over, almost face him and show him you’re very much awake and not sleeping. “I didn’t think she’d go to bed while I was in there. I thought… I thought- Jesus, I thought at worst, she’d snoop through my shit. Maybe go for a walk or something. I didn’t- I just… Fuck, I needed space. It’s just been a long night.”
Nancy’s voice is no longer audible, but it’s clear he’s listening to what she has to say. You’re nearly overcome with guilt; you’ve done plenty of things wrong, but to eavesdrop on a private conversation? It might be your worst crime against Eddie yet.
Suddenly, he says, “It’s just been a lot.”
Something in his tone has changed. It’s gone soft, whispering from his lips in sudden muted blue. It’s a type of sadness you can’t quite place – it’s the kind of mourning you’d seen in his eyes in the photo.
Nancy must say something, because he hums in response. It’s obviously not good enough of an answer for Nancy over the phone, because her voice grows back to audible levels, less shrill, more stern.
Eddie answers with words this time. “I… I think I do.”
He thinks he does what?
“I do. I really fuckin’ do.”
He’s more sure in his answer the second time around to the unknown question. The guilt grows. Inflating, turbulating, ready to crack your ribs. The vines are no longer there to hold you together.
You’re put out of your misery when Eddie murmurs out a bye, Nance and you can hear his phone snap shut. If it were just a mere few hours ago, one hour ago, you would have made a comment about it - you would have joked again about what year it was, how maybe the two of you should get to sleep so first thing in the morning, you could drag him down to the Apple store to get a normal phone like the rest of you. But you’re not a time traveler, and Eddie is still an ocean away from you.
And you’re not a strong swimmer. The water’s were rocky, were vicious, and if you dared to try and backstroke to his side of the water, you’d surely drown. He had to come to you.
You’re praying he comes to you. Eyes tightly screwed shut, still resembling a ball on his old couch.
Please reach out for me, your mind screams, please wake me up. Please tell me to come back to bed with you. Please tell me we can forget all the words said in the kitchen. Please, please, please.
You don’t know where the pleading comes from. But whatever gods and goddesses may exist, whatever higher power in the Universe that would normally ignore you, hears out your silent pleas.
His hand is warm when he first grabs your shoulder.
It’s not rough, surprisingly gentle as fingertips press into your clothed skin and the first shake comes. It’s hardly enough to rouse a truly sleeping person. And Eddie realizes this as the second shake is a bit more firm, moving you a little more with a soft whisper of, “Hey, wake up.”
The command isn’t as harsh as you’re used to from him. It’s crushed velvet, smoothing over your skin like the blanket you’d previously pondered for, making the guilt begin to deflate. A slow release of air and the accompanying feelings of dishonesty and disloyalty leaves your chest weathered when his next whisper comes not only louder, but closer.
“C’mon, you’ve gotta get up,” he insists, but all you care about is his cologne. He never changed it from that first night. Always something warm, always something spiced. And you hate it, because it’s still the feeling of coming home from a long week, “You’re not sleeping on the couch. I’ll carry you if I have to.”
That makes your sleeping facade crack. Your lips betray you - one twitch, and Eddie knows you’re awake, pressing you to roll onto your back.
“I know you’re awake now. Let’s go,” you can hear the dimples in his tone. You can picture the lazy smile, the shining eyes. With your eyes closed, you can pretend you never had to meet mean Eddie. When you’re not looking at him, it’s almost as if the man you initially met still exists, to have and to hold, to make inside jokes with as you let the scenery around the two of you fade to black.
You crack your eyes back open to find him looking down at you just as you’d expected, but not nearly with as much mischief or mirth as you had craved.
The Eddie you first met is gone. He’s not coming back, and you can’t live with your eyes closed. Hell, maybe he had drowned in that ocean between you two as well.
Maybe if you took the leap, just attempted to take on the waves, you’d meet him somewhere at the bottom of it all.
“I thought you said you’d carry me?” you tease.
His hand. His hand is still on your shoulder, and his palm is still searing you. You couldn’t pull away from its burn if you tried.
“I’d carry you if I had to,” he corrects, “You’re awake, therefore, I don’t have to.”
“I don’t know. I think my legs may be broken.”
Eddie says your name firmly. It takes you off guard, momentarily distracts you from the way he squeezes your shoulder, “Let’s go before I change my mind and leave you out here.”
You decide against putting up any further fight. You’re just happy he’s talking to you again. How odd and peculiar that feeling is.
You rise from the couch and take him in. He’s no longer in his jeans, having traded out his earlier day clothes for something more comfortable. A pair of comfortable grey sweatpants, one or two sizes too big with the drawn string pulled to its limit and tied into a knot. He’s wearing a faded band shirt, loved in every way possible: it’s been cut along the bottom to shorten it in length, several holes torn along the torso and in the neck hole, the once black fabric now a stormy shade of grey far darker than the sweatpants. There’s a logo across the chest, peeling away at the edges.
“Deftones?” you ask, squinting to make out the words written amongst the logo, “What is that? A band?”
He chuckles, almost in disbelief, before he realizes you’re serious, “Wait, you’ve really never heard of them?”
You shake your head, “No, are they any good?”
You’re still making no move to stand, Eddie towering over you as you tilt back to meet his gaze. The disbelief is morphing, ever changing, pulling in and out of his features like the sea against sand. Like the waves of his self-imposed ocean that taunts you. You only dig your toes into the sand, you only stand at a far enough distance to not get your feet wet yet. You’re not ready to dive in. You’re not brave enough yet.
His chuckle this time isn’t in disbelief.
“Yeah, yeah. They’re great. I can show you them later, if you just come to bed.”
The game of teasing and begging is over, and you refuse to push your luck. He’s talking to you. Normally. You finally stand and shrug off that hand on your shoulder, finally trying to get your wits and not glance down at the waistband of his boxers.
“Okay, lead the way,” you gesture before spinning your upper body around with your feet planted in place, a soft crack coming from your back.
There’s no words exchanged in that brief walk to the bedroom; there’s nothing else to really say. The fight happened, Eddie locked you out, you’re both having to start from square one. The ocean still calls to you, and there’s nothing you can change about it.
His room is the same as it was hours ago, when you’d locked yourself into it. A little messy, a little boyish, but comforting all the same.
“A couple ground rules,” he finally breaks the silence. Oh, this oughta be good. “One, no more looking through my shit for…. Uh, magazines.”
“Trust me,” you hold up a hand in defeat, “Learned my lesson the first time. You can keep your gross Playboys.”
His brows wrinkle in minute irritation, “Gross? They’re not gro- You know what? Whatever. Yeah. Stay away from my gross playboys. Second rule, I have enough pillows we can make a… wall, I guess?”
You have to bite back your amusement, you have to remind yourself of the roar of an ocean. Maybe if you taste the salt on your lips again, you’ll remember that this is all temporary.
“Sounds good to me,” you agree.
“Obviously that means staying on your side of the bed. And it’s not a big bed, obviously, so-”
“What side of the bed do you prefer?”
“Excuse me?”
He’s dumbfounded despite the question not being a hard one. “The bed – which side do you prefer?”
“I, uh, I-” he brings a hand up to the back of his neck, a nervous habit as he rubs his curls that are matted at the nape, “The left, I guess? Or I mean, if we’re looking down at it, it’d be the right, but…” he waves his hand in the general direction of the side he’s referring to, the one closest to the wall, “You know.”
A nervous Eddie is a sight to behold. The fidgeting, the flush of his neck and cheeks, the stuttering sentences. He’s nervous about sharing a bed with you.
“Perfect,” you offer a smile, although you don’t think it does much for him considering he’s looking down at the ground in bashfulness, “I prefer the right side. I just refer to them by left or right when you’re laying down, by the way.”
You don’t have to add that tidbit – you don’t need to reassure him that your mind works in the same way as his in the slightest. But you do, and the red of his cheeks lightens.
“Cool,” he murmurs.
“Cool,” you echo.
The awkwardness can be afforded as the two of you straighten out the comforter, not needing to focus on shaking hands or fluttering chests as Eddie climbs in first and begins to rearrange his spare pillows as a barrier. His sweatpants slip down a bit lower as he does this, and you catch sight of the band of his boxers.
The band of his boxers pressing into the jut of his hips. The streak of alabaster, soft and unmarked unlike his arms, and the coarse patch of hair that interrupts the center of it all.
“Have you ever considered getting hip tattoos?” you blurt out, and immediately, you both freeze.
You really need to learn to think before you speak.
“Uh… what?” Eddie chuckles nervously, presenting an opportunity to redeem yourself.
He didn’t even have to catch you staring. You’d outed yourself.
And yet, you choose to double down, to take the embarrassment in stride as if it doesn’t phase you, “Hip tattoos. Have you ever thought about getting some? I think they’d be pretty sick.”
Your self-destruction pays off when Eddie smiles up genuinely at you. Sugar coated sweetness, a bit of authentic amusement.
“You’re right. They would be pretty sick.”
He should have mocked you for staring at his hips. He should have taken the opportunity to embarrass you and run, but the tides are shifting between you two, and you keep taking two steps closer to his ocean. The sand only grows colder and colder the closer you get to the edge, and it has your mind reaming with the possibility of what it would feel like to recklessly dive in.
“I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to say that again, this time into the microphone,” you make a fist, an invisible microphone in your grasp as you thrust it out towards Eddie.
He laughs. He laughs, and its reverb travels through the caverns of your chest. Suddenly, you’re sipping a watered down Amaretto Sour and his breath smells of Jack & Coke, and the lowlights of the room have become treacherous bar lighting as you lean into his shoulder, sitting side by side on bar stools.
The echoes still carry as he swats away your hand, eyes squinted with the mirth you’d be seeking out since he ‘woke’ you up, “Jesus Christ, you’re an idiot.”
“Yeah, a funny idiot.”
“Oh, now you’re just pushing it too far.”
“Too far? I don’t think I’ve gone far enough.”
Why don’t we ever hang out? Why don’t we ever banter like this when out with the others?
It’s so easy, easy to continue to giggle as you turn out the bedroom light before crawling into bed with him, feeling his warmth radiating even through the pillows between the two of you. Pillows, oceans – they all have started to feel the same.
Once the two of you have settled, you on your side and Eddie on his back, a nicer sort of silence blankets you. It’s almost as soft as his voice when he woke you, almost the same type of crushed velvet if you don’t reach out to it. But if you were to touch it, brush your fingertips over the material with intention and inhibition, you’d find the roughness. Roughness that mimics sand amongst an ocean’s waves, a roughness that says there’s more to be spoken about.
“The bed’s nicer than the couch,” you speak out loud rhetorically, not necessarily to him, but to the coarseness. To the sand and to the fake velvet, “More comfortable.”
“I know,” he answers to fill the space. I know, meaning he’s slept on his couch.
It makes sense. It’s his couch. But your mind runs rampant with the scenarios. Did he discover this through afternoon naps after hard shifts? Or maybe after one too many night outs that ended in collapsing face first into the cushions because he was too drunk to make it to his bedroom?
You jump when he sits up suddenly, “Fuck.”
“What’s your problem?” you twist from your position of your back facing him, squinting into the darkness.
“The photo.”
“What photo?”
“Photo evidence, you idiot! We have to send a photo to those fuckers.”
You had nearly forgotten that this is what this is; your friends and a bet are the pushing force behind this all. It’s not fate, it’s not the moon bringing two tides together. You didn’t happen upon his beach because you two decided to give this, whatever this was, a fighting chance.
You sit up next to him, crinkling your nose, “My phone’s in the living room, I think.”
“I can go get it.”
An offer of chivalry you didn’t even have to ask for.
Same as him sharing the bed. Same as him paying for your meal when you forget your wallet, or catching you when you trip up steps outside a bar. You really wish the list would stop growing.
He’s shuffling out of the bed, down the line of pillows and off the end of it, before you can even protest. You didn’t even tell him where the godforsaken phone might be besides that it’s in the living room. That doesn’t stop him.
It feels like an eternity, but is probably no more than a full minute, before he’s returning back to the room. He’s looking down at the phone, your screen lit up and basking his face in the only light in the room.
“What is it?” you can only assume the chat is messaging for a photo, by the scrunch of his brows and the small part of his lips.
“Nothing.”
That was the first thing that made your stomach drop.
The second comes when he returns to the bed, fighting his way up into his original position, handing the phone over to you as you glance at the notifications.
A notification from Steve. A private message, not sent in the groupchat.
STEVE-O: i’m sorry, i really don’t know what happened that night. the others won’t tell me either so they’re kind of useless. whatever it was, i don’t think it was you, though, honey.
Honey. Mother fucking Steve Harrington, and his need to use nicknames.
“All good?” Eddie asks, as if he didn’t just have access to this message, as if he doesn’t know what Steve’s said. You don’t know why the thought of Eddie seeing Steve’s careless nickname throws you over the edge. You just assume he’ll take it out of context, that he’ll spin it as a weapon against you.
“Fine,” you curtly reply, opening your phone and ignoring the message, going straight to the group chat and opening your camera. Your heart is still racing in terrible inconvenience as you glance over your shoulder at him, “How do we wanna take it this time?”
“I don’t know about you, but I personally just love to take it laying down-”
“Are you trying to make a sexual innuendo right now? Because if so, stop. It’s terrible.”
More giggles, more chuckles, more taunting waves of a daunting ocean that is scaring you less and less. Maybe the jump is worth it. Maybe the initial chill will break and show you warmth. Maybe it would never be cold to begin with.
At least he’s teasing you, which is a good sign. You lay down in the same position as earlier, this time Eddie propping himself up to peek over the wall of pillows so his face is in the picture.
It’s too dark to really see your faces very clearly. You can still make them out, to be fair, but it’s hard. You have to strain your eyes quite a bit to make out the mess of your hair and the indents of Eddie’s dimples.
Eddie’s dimples. His dimples. Oh God, he’s smiling.
“Turn on the flash,” he reaches over, invades your space with boy and spice and nostalgia to tap on the screen himself and do as he had just requested.
“What was the point of telling me to do it, if you were just going to do it yourself,” you grumble, trying to yank the phone out of his reach. He only leans further, pressing into the boundary of pillows, his collarbone knocking against the back of your shoulder.
Warmth. So, so much warmth. It occurs to you that it’s not just the smell of his cologne that feels like a long week’s homecoming; his touch and presence can manage to do the same, when he’s not being a pest of course.
“Shut up and take the photo,” he bickers before giving up and settling back into his pose. He even adds to it, throwing up a peace sign with the hand not holding him up.
You can’t help but tease him for it, mimicking the motion with your own hand and failing at holding back your tittering. When you tap the button to take the photo, the screen flashes white and you both immediately groan before rubbing your eyes.
“Fuck.”
“Wow, bright idea.”
“Was that a pun?” Eddie stops mid eye rub, side-eyeing you, “Fuck off. That was a terrible pun.”
“I never said my puns were good!” you try to defend yourself, blinking to bring relief to your scorned irises and focus on the photo of the two of you, “I said my jokes were good.”
“Puns are jokes.”
You completely ignore him, and instead sigh deeply when you see the photo, “We need to retake it. No flash, this time. They can adjust brightness on their own time.”
The photo is terrible, truly. The photo captures the moment somewhere between your enjoyment of copying Eddie and the pain the two of you had brought upon yourselves. Squinty eyes, coiled lips. Two peace signs of two drastically differently sized hands.
Don’t you dare, you scorn your mind at that trail of thought, don’t even start that comparison.
“Why?” Eddie protests, once again beginning to lean over and take a closer look at your phone, chest brushing your shoulder again, “Oh, c’mon, it’s fine – just send it so we can sleep before they bother us again.”
You just shake your head, already reopening the camera app and being sure to adjust the settings. No blinding this photo.
“Say cheese, pretty boy.”
It’s not until you’ve tapped to take the photo that you both realize what you’ve said.
Pretty boy.
Eddie is leaning in still, just as he is in the photo you’ve taken, and both of you look far too happy to be sharing a bed. The words – the nickname, the compliment – are still formed on your lips in it. If the flash was on again, you’d see the blush of his reaction.
Neither comment on it. You won’t lean into your embarrassment for a second time tonight, and Eddie isn’t in the business of teasing you cruelly anymore, it seems.
You can hear him swallow hard before he asks, “Is that one good?”
“Fine,” you squeak before clearing your throat, “Um, yeah, it’s good. I sent it.”
“Okay, good.”
“Good.”
The awkwardness is stifling. Heavy and drowning and goddamn stifling.
You toss your phone far too quickly onto his nightstand, wishing the bed would swallow you whole.
If you two were friends, it would have been mindless teasing. The same as when Steve calls you honey, or Robin rambles about how hot you look on a night out. But you two aren’t friends.
You two aren’t friends because of some mysterious change that occurred in Eddie while you went to the bathroom. You haven’t forgotten the burning question, and the longer you two lay there, the more you let it consume you rather than regret.
“Hey, Eddie? Can I ask you a question?”
He’s laying flat on his back as he answers you, hands nervously wringing on his stomach, “You just did, but sure.”
It should be a good thing. He’s still teasing you, it’s still a good thing. But all your questions die in your throat.
What happened when I went into the bathroom that first night?
Why did you turn so cold towards me?
Was it my fault?
Why aren’t we friends?
The last one doesn’t go down without a fight. It reverberates and battles you, it tries to pull you into the ocean head first.
Why aren’t we friends?
“Do you still drive a motorcycle?”
That sure was a funny way of asking what you needed to.
He’s quiet for a moment, clearly puzzled by your random question, but nevertheless he says, “Yeah. Why?”
“No reason.”
You’re picturing him stalking away from you again, without so much as a goodbye, straddling the bike and tucking his head away into the motorcycle. The last glimpse you’d ever had of everything he could have been to you. It’s enough to make your eyes water, your bones shake, your toes curl into coarse sand until they bleed.
The next time you hear his voice, he’s whispering your name. You don’t respond, and so he tries it again, saying it a bit louder this time.
“I know you’re not asleep. No one can fall asleep that quickly.”
“I can,” you snap, still choking on his waves and personal mourning, a yearning you need to find the grave of once more to bury – for good this time.
“Clearly, you can’t,” he shuffles, but you don’t check to see if he’s sitting up. (He’s not, he feels like his back is glued to the bed). His voice is back to crushed velvet and kindness, vulnerability and softness, a sort of home you can never return to, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
That piques your interest. You turn, laying on your back and looking at the same ceiling as him in that moment, “For what? Earlier in the kitchen? Or at the bar?” you feel his flinch, and are quick to add, “Because consider it water under the bridge, okay? You’re forgive-”
“I mean for everything. I’m sorry for… everything.”
Everything. Ten letters, four syllables. It means a whole lot more than it should be capable of.
“Everything?” your voice is hardly audible as you turn to look at him. He’s half hidden by the wall put between the two of you. But if you squint, if you adjusted the brightness, you wonder if you’d see his eyes shining with the same remorse yours burn with. You wonder if you’d see the dirt caked under his nails from also digging up graves he shouldn’t have tonight.
“Everything.”
Ten letters, four syllables, one leap of faith. The ocean isn’t as cold as you’d thought it would be.
—
BIRDIE is typing…
DINGUS: i swear to god rob. if you’re not about to tell me what the fuck i did that night, you better lock your phone and just go to bed.
BIRDIE stops typing.
taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777
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you and the others percy defenders are pathetic.There is so much proof and you braindead bitches refuse to see it 💀💀 can't wait to see yall cry when you'll see him getting fired and wenclair happen
Anon, I wanna thank you really. Because by sending this, you're setting an example. You're proving our point that you're just a bitter wenclair shipper who desperately wants their ship to happen. You don't want justice or raise awareness on SA and r*pe victims or an abuser to pay for his crimes. This is just a ship war to you. Just look at your message: you're all aggressive, calling us bitches when all we do is pointing out holes in the "evidence" and using logic.
I'm not mad at you though, you're probably just a teen who thinks cancel culture and activism are the same thing. Now go to sleep, kiddo. This is a school night.
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GHOST YOUVE DONE IT AGAIN. MY HEART CANT TAKE IT
twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)
in which you come to a few realizations while remembering the very first night you'd met eddie. a phone call with steve leaves you with more questions than answers.
→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn
→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, heavier angst this chapter but all will be well soon, two uses of y/n, upside down does not exist, minors dni
→ word count: 4.4k+
→ a/n: shorter chapter today but the focus here is the memory! finally making some progress haha. also trying out something new with formatting/the summary situation. if i hate it, i'll probably change it. <3 also, italicized portion is a memory.
masterlist.
spotify playlist.
◁ previous part, next part▷
7:00 ────ㅇ────────────── 24:00
DINGUS: [image attachment]
DINGUS: y/n just texted me this. we’re not getting an update this hour.
BIRDIE: what the hell happened?
DINGUS: she hasn’t said yet, as you can see in the photo, robs.
ARGYLE 😎: what do we THINK happened?
BIRDIE: my best bet is fighting?
ARGYLE 😎: lover’s quarrel? Makes sense.
BIRDIE: i’m adding nance back into the chat
BIRDIE added NANCE to the groupchat.
BIRDIE: @NANCE explain what you meant earlier please. we’re having a code red. the bad kind.
DINGUS: there’s a good kind of code red?
NANCE: Oh God, what happened?
DINGUS: y/n texted me saying she fucked up, and we’re assuming either she’s finally murdered eddie, or they’re fighting again.
NANCE: I can call Eddie, if you guys want?
JOHNNY: So does this mean we’re all $500 richer?
BIRDIE: @JOHNNY if you still think this is about the money, you’re a fucking idiot
—
HOUR SEVEN - 10:00 PM
There had been a time in your life where you believed you didn’t hold a single mean bone in your body. A time where you were soft-spoken, a time where you overflowed with kindness and dotted out compliments to random strangers. There was once a version of you in this lifetime that worked so fervently to be the type of person people liked and enjoyed the company of. You always swore to always treat others with the same grace as you would prefer to receive as well.
A year ago, that version of you had been sidetracked.
You stare at the wooden frame of Eddie’s door with blank eyes. He wasn’t going to open it any time soon. You’d tried knocking multiple times, calling out to him in a soft voice, begging and pleading and begging and pleading. His response continued to be silence.
“All I’ve ever done is hurt you.”
With the haze clearing, in the midst of the aftermath and sour clarity, you wish you would have corrected him. Eddie and you had surely hurt each other countless times, but it is not all he’s ever done.
You can remember the better moments clearly now. The time you’d tripped walking up the steps of one of the bars on Main Street, and Eddie had been the only person in your friend group to stop completely, reflectively reaching out to catch you from embarrassing yourself. The night of your birthday, in which he hadn’t come to the party due to “work” as Steve had explained, but had sent a card along with your friends that contained a gift card to your favorite coffee shop. You hadn’t even realized he knew your favorite coffee shop, and you’d come to find out that he didn’t even ask a single one of your mutual friends for it. You’d brushed it off as a lucky guess. And there was the time you’d forgotten your wallet during a brunch with the group, and he hadn’t hesitated to pick up your bill with his own. He didn’t even give Robin the chance to argue; he’d simply snatched your bill from across the table when you’d paled as you dug through your bag, and didn’t say a word about you paying him back.
Small moments. Glimpses of kindness, bandages on wounds that you’d been ignoring to keep up a war between the two of you that you’d always assumed he’d started.
Eddie Munson wasn’t the enemy, and the first night you two met was never a red herring; it was a glimpse into who he actually was. A clear look past the armor he hadn’t formed yet when it came to you.
—
A YEAR AGO
“They’re going to love you!” Robin insists as she continues to shove you from behind through the entrance of the bar. Steve is ahead of you, guiding you through the rough crowd to the table the rest of the group had already snagged.
You turn your head over your shoulder, reaching up and grabbing the hand that Robin rested on you, “You don't know that. What if they hate me? What if they think I’m the worst person they’ve ever met?”
Even as you wore a smile, there was a truth to the fear in your words. You were petrified that these strangers, strangers who meant so much to your only friends on campus, would turn their noses to you. There was nothing Robin or Steve could do to extinguish the fear. It was already a terrible knot in the pit of your stomach, tying and untying itself like a nuisance as Steve started to wave at a brunette who had been scanning the bar as if waiting for someone.
She’s pretty. Wavy hair barely brushing her shoulders, sharp features accentuated in the shadows of the busy location. The moment her blue eyes locked on Steve, all the concentration on her face faded to be replaced with an excited smile.
She returns the wave, and the boys surrounding her at the table all glance in your direction.
You’re still half-hidden behind Steve as the three of you approach the group. Robin bounds out from behind you, scooping the woman you assumed was the famous Nancy into a barrelling hug. Your eyes flickered to the boy sat to Nancy’s right, shaggy hair flopping against his forehead and smile creases exposed as he nods to Steve and holds up his drink in greeting. Beside him, another man sits, long and shiny hair flowing over an outrageous Hawaiian print shirt and topped off with a baseball cap that looked to be the merchandise of a pizza shop. His smile is welcoming – something comforting in the relaxation of it.
You’re almost completely captivated by the warmth that bled from the group when Steve and Robin are suddenly taking their seats. Robin sits beside Nancy, while Steve takes the seat across from the man with long hair.
The only seat left open was between Steve and a man who’s back was turned to you.
His hair is in a loose bun, unraveling against the nape of his neck. You could see each and every defined curl. His broad shoulders stiffen beneath a leather jacket and denim vest, and his ring-clad hand cradles a short glass of something dark, something fizzy.
“Alright, everyone!” Steve announces, turning and beckoning you to take this seat. Your stomach twists again, realizing you’d be sitting beside a stranger. One who had yet to even spare you a glance, “This is Y/N.”
There’s rounds of greetings and introductions as you brush shoulders with the stranger to take your seat, and try as you might to keep up, all you can focus on is not looking at him.
You’re guess was correct – the pretty girl that Robin had hugged was Nancy. The boy with floppy hair at her side was Jonathan, and the man with long hair told you his name is Argyle. His tone of casualty matches the comfort of his smile as he holds a hand out to you across the table, both your elbow and his brushing against empty baskets once filled with bar food as you shake.
Finally, you turn to look at the stranger beside you, Steve reaching around to clasp his shoulder.
“And mister oh-so-welcoming here is Eddie.”
Eddie. He finally turns to look at you, with doleful eyes and a tight-lipped grin, and you almost forget how to breathe.
He was intimidating. All broodish glances and stand-offish energy. But then Argyle cracks a joke, and suddenly, it all fades. The air in the room crackles frantically as you watch him chuckle slowly at first, until he finally descends into cackles with Steve and Jonathan alike.
That’s when the first vine sprouts.
The second one does when the conversation becomes overwhelming, and you find yourself lost amongst the sea of new friends. They’re nothing but friendly, trying to learn more about you but easily falling into well-established inside jokes at times. When you descend into silence as you watch them recount a story of a time that Argyle snuck them into his job after hours, you suddenly feel Eddie lean in closer to you.
“I think they tell this story every time they get drunk,” he whispers, tilting his head so that the words only reach your ears, “I’ve probably heard it a hundred times by now.”
You bite back a smile, “Just tonight, or the entire time you’ve known them?”
“Both.”
You have to fight hard to swallow down giggles, Eddie hiding his with a sip of his drink. A waiter who had taken your order nearly ten minutes ago arrives with your own drink. An amaretto sour.
“I’m Eddie, by the way,” he says as you taste the drink. Its citrus bursts across your tongue and you nod.
“So Steve mentioned.”
“Yeah, but I felt bad for not introducing myself,” he shrugs. You were facing him fully now, no longer trying to stick vehemently to Steve’s side. “I didn’t want to seem like a dick, just… had a long week.”
You knew all about long weeks.
“I get it,” you assure him, “Are you in school, too?”
“Night classes,” he supplies with a wave of his hand, “Midterms are a bitch, especially after working all day.”
“Tell me about it. I think I’m about ten seconds away from getting fired at my current gig,” you joke, and Eddie laughs. It occurs to you that you’d probably do just about anything to hear his laugh more, and already begin to conjure up terrible jokes to pull that sound from him once more. It’s even more comforting than Argyle’s friendly cadence, than Steve’s elbow knocking yours to remind you he’s still there.
“Why would you think that?” Eddie’s nose scrunches, more curls falling against his cheek. Your drink is immediately forgotten.
“He caught me talking shit,” another laugh falls from Eddie’s lips at your deadpan, more reserved than the previous but just as melodic, “I give it a week. He was already looking for a reason to send me to the chopping block. Says I talk too much to customers.”
“Is that even possible?”
“Apparently.”
For a moment, in the smoky bar, it’s just you and Eddie. All knotting nerves have been replaced by the weight of the vines that surge higher and higher in your chest, growing at impossible rates. They don’t strangle you like your fears of the night had; their weight is a comforting hold, something solid to reach out for in the unfamiliar territory of new socialization. Without the mask of intimidation, Eddie feels like an old friend.
You assume that everyone else is distracted by their own conversation, but Robin catches the way you lean into him as the two of you joke. She nudges Nancy subtly, and they both share a look when Eddie blushes at you being impressed as he tells you that his battle vest is hand-sewn.
Your vines are not as hidden as you assume they are, certainly not when the first bud of hopefulness begins to grow.
“So how long have you known Steve?” you ask him quietly, still under the guise of the two of you having created your own small bubble of a moment.
Eddie downs the last of his Jack & Coke, something you caught onto by smelling it on his breath when he had gotten particularly close to you during conversation, “Too long. We all met in high school, actually.”
“Oh, don’t tell me that,” you groan, and your forehead dramatically falls into his shoulder without second-thought. He stiffens beneath the connection, “I’m infiltrating a friend group that’s stood the test of times? I’m doomed.”
You nearly lift your head from his still stiff shoulder, afraid to make him uncomfortable, when he brings a hesitant hand to pat your back jokingly, “There, there. I think you’re fitting in fine.”
“Just fine? Ouch,” you finally lift your head as you had planned to, just as Eddie had begun to relax into your touch. His hand doesn’t fall too far from your back, resting on the back of your chair. His shy grin is impossibly charming, “You could have just said I’m crashing and burning, you know?”
The night carries on like that, you and Eddie lost in private conversations only to be occasionally dragged back in on whatever debate the group is having. It’s a spring reaction; once one or both of you have given your two cents, you return to one another, finding solitude in joking and Eddie updating you on the group’s ‘lore’, as he puts it. Steve shoots several glances in your direction, always prepared to offer comfort in what should be an overwhelming situation, but he never has to. Every time he glances at you, Eddie is already taking the lead of entertaining you, qualming all your anxieties into non-existence.
Your vines decorate with buds of hope. Every laugh you pull from Eddie, every fleeting touch that passes between the two of you, every new inside joke he decides to make with you rather than indulging in ones set in stone already with old friends - they all whisper of new friendship. They whisper in potential, in new beginnings and coming home after long weeks.
By the time Nancy announces she has to go to the restroom and invites you and Robin, you’re in full bloom. You’re convinced that Eddie is a friend. And you can see it in his eyes – he’s convinced of it too, looking nervous when you stand and agree to go with Nancy. He looks like a child about to lose their social crutch, and it has potential to be devastating.
It’s almost enough to make you ignore your bladder, but you need to pee, and you need to socialize with more than just Eddie tonight.
You’re not sure what happens at the table during your trip to the bathroom. But something surely does happen as you giggle with the girls under the humming lights of the restroom, as you all stand in the mirror side by side and fiddle with your hair and makeup and Robin makes a comment about how terribly cliche the moment is. Nancy slaps her on the arm, mutters something about the importance of girls bonding, and when you return to the table, you see it immediately – Eddie’s mask of indifference has returned.
His cheeks are flushed, and all the boys are sharing nervous glances between one another as you all sit down again.
There’s no more fleeting touches. You sip on your now watered down drink, and you try and pull Eddie out from wherever he’s ventured in your absence, but it’s no use. A conversation was had while you girls had been in the restroom, and it left Eddie in his head, out of reach. The buds of hopefulness quiver on their vines, and you try to reassure yourself that it’s nothing personal. It’s nothing personal when he clearly holds back any laughs at your jokes you lean into his space to whisper to only him, it’s nothing personal when his arm never rests on the back of your chair again, it’s nothing personal when he won’t meet your eyes the rest of the night.
It’s nothing personal, but it’s sorely disappointing.
You end the night, everyone splitting up, Eddie heading off towards his motorcycle. He hadn’t even mentioned driving a motorcycle during the night, and you curse the way you watch him straddle the seat as he secures his helmet over his tied-back hair. You desperately wish to know what was said while you were in the bathroom, what had happened to make him retreat so far from you after spending the entirety of the night tending to the greenery that had grown attached to your ribcage.
“You like him, don’t you?” Robin teases at your side, bumping shoulders.
Something aches in you. The thrill of meeting someone new, of getting along, of finding them cute and endearing, is beyond your grasp.
He didn’t even say goodbye.
“I did,” you whisper softly. A reverberation of past-tense, an exhale of worry.
You did. But he didn’t even say goodbye.
—
Eddie still hasn’t opened the door. But to his defense, you haven’t tried knocking again.
That ache from that night, the feeling of a delicate rush of possibility taunting you from a distance, still remains. Even amongst now rotted vines, even as petals fall from your hopeful buds. It never really went away. With each group hangout that followed, it echoed louder and louder, demanding to be heard and demanding to be felt as Eddie grew colder. You were an idiot the first few times; you’d still gravitated to him, falling right into his orbit and begging for his attention. You’d still seek him out in every room, craving to find the warmth that had once sparked in his eyes only to find them averted from you entirely. And when you couldn’t take the hint, when you wouldn’t leave him alone when Steve and Robin left you to your own devices at the hangouts, he became mean.
You took it as a joke at first, but six months ago, something inside of you finally wisened up – it wasn’t a joke. Eddie Munson hated you. Somehow, he hated you, and yet he also swore to protect you. He hated you, and yet he would still pay for you without you asking him to. He hated you, and yet he still remembered your birthday. He hated you, and yet, he still knew your favorite coffee shop.
He hated you and yet.
You stand, unable to take your racing thoughts anymore, moving to pound on the door again, “Eddie. Open the door.”
You’re not asking anymore.
You don’t care for answers any more. In this moment, you truly believe you could let it all be water under the bridge. Right this second, if you looked into honey brown eyes and goddamn dimples, you’d forgive him.
“Eddie,” your voice cracks, and you scorn yourself.
All I ever do is hurt you.
Even in locking himself away, he’s hurting you. Putting that distance, choosing to not work this out like adults, is hurting you.
“Can you- I don’t know, at least let me know that… that…” you trail off, huffing in frustration and finally smacking a flat palm against wood, watching the door shake on its hinges from your force, “Just let me know you’re alive, Jesus Christ, Eddie. We still have to take the stupid fucking photo for this hour, and we-”
Mid-tirade, the door swings open to reveal Eddie. He doesn’t look irritated, he doesn’t look mad. He looks tired.
The war between you two has weighed heavy on him, too. He doesn’t look like the same person you met a year ago. The battles raged, the fights lost, the victories celebrated through bloody teeth – they all show on the shadows of his face, a clear mirror image to your own.
“Take the photo,” he says in monotone, hardly leaving the door cracked enough to catch a proper glimpse of him.
“What?”
“The photo. Take it. For the chat, so you can get your money when it’s all over.”
You’re stunned for a second. The money hadn’t even crossed your mind; you had just been rambling, hoping to find the right thing to say to get him to unlock the barrier between you two.
Who the fuck even cares about the money anymore?
You do. You’re supposed to. And so is he.
You sigh and pull your phone from your back pocket, and turn your back to him before lifting the camera to capture the two of you. The door creaks open an inch more.
There’s no fun pose. There’s no smiles. There’s nothing. It’s even more lifeless than the first photo taken. You can’t stand to look at it longer than necessary as you send it off to the group.
Just as you turn around to face him again, to try and talk to him, the door shuts again. You can hear the soft click of a lock. The ache is heard, the ache is felt, as you refuse to look back at the wood that still separates you physically, at the emotions that separate you mentally.
You don’t really know why you do it. But you walk out to the living room, deciding against sitting outside the door any longer and continuing to make yourself miserable. Your feet carry you straight to the sliding door of his balcony, and you press outside into the cooler night air, shutting the door behind you.
What happened when I was in the bathroom that night?
The thought haunts you, a new ghost that had been lingering and gathering dust since that night. You never asked anyone, certainly not Eddie, and refuse to overthink it until now. But after tonight, after practically reliving your first encounter with Eddie all over again, the deja vu and the curiosity are winning over.
You dial Steve’s number.
“Hell-”
“Why do me and Eddie hate each other?” you blurt out, cutting off Steve’s greeting.
“I- What?” Steve’s confused, understandably so, “How should I know? I don’t keep a list of every time you rant about him to me.”
“What about him?”
“Okay, you know I love you, but I’m not a mind-read-”
“What about a list of every time he rants about me?”
Silence buzzes through the line, and you glance up at the night sky. It’s a cloudy black. The city pollution hides most of the stars, and from Eddie’s balcony, you can’t locate the moon.
“I also don’t have one of those.”
“Why not? Because, Jesus Christ, Harrington, I have questions-”
“Because he doesn’t rant about you. Especially not to me, but Nancy says he never talks about you usually either,” Steve explains in an even tone, still not sure how his answer should be helping you. You are the one, afterall, with Eddie right now.
Even if he is locked away in his room right now, refusing to speak to you.
“That makes no sense,” you sigh, exasperation creeping its way into your bones, “I rant about him all the time. I’ve bitched to you and Robin more times than I can count about him. He should be doing the same.”
Steve says your name softly, “Why are you asking me this?”
You laugh humorlessly and shake your head, even knowing Steve can’t see you, “It’s stupid. Forget it,” It’s not stupid to you, and you can’t forget it, but this doesn’t concern Steve, “Can I ask you one last question, though?”
“Shoot, babydoll,” you can’t help but grin at that nickname. Steve pulls it out at random, every time he’s trying to make you feel bad. He knows that neither of you can take it seriously.
“Um, that night you introduced me to everyone,” you begin, stepping up to wrap your free hand around the iron railing of Eddie’s balcony, letting the cold seep into your palm, “At the bar, you know?”
“Right…” he encourages, “What about it?”
“Me and Eddie got along,” you spit it out, letting it tear from your chest and score your throat on its way out, “We… we were getting along at first, and then I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, he…. He…”
He was gone. The Eddie I’d first met had vanished. Where’d he go? Why’d he go?
“Shit, your memory is way better than mine,” Steve chuckles, sounding nervous, “But, I mean, I kind of remember that. You two getting along, at least. Guess that’s why we all were really confused when you started hating each other. But I’m still not understanding the question - are you asking if I remember the night? Or if he’s ever talked about it? I was a jock, you’re gonna have to spell it out for my pea brain.”
“Stop insinuating you’re stupid,” you scold on instinct, scowl settling along your features as you lean onto the railing and glance down. It’s only two stories, but the ground feels impossibly far as you ask, “What happened when all us girls went to the bathroom? When we came back, he acted differently. Did he mention hating me that night? Did I leave a bad first impression? Was it all just a joke to hi-”
“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. One question, remember?” you’re sure Steve can hear the panting in your breath over the line, the way your chest heaves in the memory, “I’ve gotta be honest - I don’t remember. I know that’s probably not the answer you’re looking for, and I don’t know what’s going on with you two right now, but I was already well on my way to drunk. I think Jonathan and Argyle poked some fun at Eddie, maybe teased him about something, but I really can’t recall what it was about. Maybe his hair? Who knows?”
The answer isn’t helpful. It’s only more confusing, more hurtful.
He stopped joking with you because someone made fun of his hair? You lost access to the warmth buried beneath his surface because his friends teased him?
“Okay,” you sound defeated. You feel defeated – defeated by the weight of still feeling like an outsider, defeated by the barrier of some measly wooden door, defeated by the hurt in Eddie’s eyes as you admitted that he only ever hurts you, “Okay, thanks, Steve.”
You hang up before either of you say goodbye. When you pull your phone down from your cheek and ear, you see your phone still open to the photo of Eddie and you that you’d sent to the group.
You were wrong. There wasn’t only nothing. Your face may have been void of all emotions, but now looking at it, you can see Eddie’s isn’t.
He’s looking at you and not the camera during the shot, face crestfallen, eyes nearly teary as the corners of his mouth tucked downward.
He’s looking at you with regret, with sadness. He’s looking at you as if he can see the vines he’d planted in you, all rotted and dusting away, and he’s mourning them just as you had.
It’s bullshit, or your imagination, or your innate need for Eddie to bleed the same way as you have over your entire situation with each other. You lock your phone and don’t bother to look at the photo again as you enter the living room, as you toss your phone onto the loveseat, as you curl up on the couch and don’t even bother to go to ask for a pillow or blanket. He probably wouldn’t answer the door, anyway.
You don’t say goodnight to Eddie, just as he never said goodbye to you the first night, and wonder if he notices the absence of your salutation.
taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777
taglist is now closed. <3
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im counting down the hours tho. im itching for it !!!
<33
ghost i think youre trying to kill me with this 24hr fic..
im still here for it though
we can dig two graves cause i'm kind of in the same boat as you all <3 got myself yearning and screaming at the characters as if i'm not the one bringing them to life haha
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after the ENDLESS love and support from this fic (which i did not expect at all) im happy to announce that i will be making a part 2 to the fic !! if you’d like to be on the tag list, please send me an ask or comment on my fic and i’ll gladly add you. also, if you have any ideas for what you want to see, feel free to send them my way in my asks inbox !! ILY ALL SM !! <3333
ᴀ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄɪɴᴇ
word count : 3.3k
warnings : suggestive themes / elements, swearing, SMUT MDNI, reader is referred to as female, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it)
pairings : fem!reader x eddie munson, fuckboy!eddiemunson x fuckgirl!reader
authors note: jeeeeez this has been in the drafts for a while. it's quite old and not really proof read so if you find any mistakes i beg please let me know. this is not at ALL my best but be nice lmao. also lmk if you want anything to be written cause ive got nothing better to do.
There was something about you that pulled Eddie in like a magnet. He couldn’t place his finger on it though. Something about how your denim shorts cut off exactly where he could get a perfect of your ass, or how your shirt hugged your chest just right and sometimes revealed the slightest bit of stomach. It could have even been your laugh. That goddam laugh that always made him turn his head to face you and played over and over again in his mind like a symphony. However, Eddie knew he wasn’t the only one who felt this way. You could get any guy you wanted but just a simple bat of your eyelashes, and they would fall to their knees. Eddie had watched from the sidelines and stared at you during your shared classes ready to strike. By the end of the school year, he knew he would charm his way into your pants.
“Mr. Munson”, Mrs. O’Donnell spoke up, interrupting his mid-English class daydream. “How can I help you ma’am”, he spoke, dimples on display that hugged the side of his crooked and eager smile. “You’ll be partnered with Ms. L/N”. He immediately perked up and caught the attention of you, who slowly turned around and faced him. Eddie gave you a slight wink which only caused your eyes to roll back into your head. This was going to be a long project.
Eddie Munson was known as a fuckboy. He would get into the pants of any known girl willing to give him the time of day, and the worst part was, he was good at it. You’d hear conversations with the groups of girls around your lockers and in the hallways about how big his dick was and how he knew how to use it. You, however, have had your fair share of guys, which Eddie has heard all about. “Dude, I swear to god, It was the best blowjob of my life!” Eddie heard as he walked out of English class towards the cafeteria. Some random jock started recounting a night he spent with a “hot chick” (his words, not Eddie’s), and only piqued Eddie’s interest. “There’s no way! Where did you pop..?”, the other jock spoke. He returned with a smug smile and a knowing look. “I can’t believe Y/N’s a swallower..” he replied. This only further prompted Eddie to not have the best intentions when working with you on that English project.
You on the other hand were walking back from English with the intent to tease Eddie. He doesn’t know that he screwed over your best friend back when he was a senior (for the first time). They had gone out for a while, which was surprising considering how Eddie isn’t known as a relationship man, and he only left her heartbroken. Not only is he a fuckboy, but an alleged cheater after a Harrington party gone wrong. That was before your reputation at the school bloomed as you and Eddie both had the respective title of the Seniors with the most amount of fucks. You knew you wanted Eddie to feel your friend's pain, so why not have a little fun of your own? It’s not like you were gonna fall head over heels for him like most girls. All you needed was to relieve some pent-up stress and maybe break his heart along the way. You weren’t blind either. You knew the way he looked at you, especially when your ass or tits were on full display for anyone within a one-mile radius. This felt personal to you though, because not only did he fuck over your best friend, but you had developed a small crush on him during your Freshman year back when he was a Junior. However, you would never let anyone know that. You had gotten over Eddie relatively quickly after you convinced yourself three years ago that he would never give you the time of day. But now, you’ve changed. And for him, this is gonna hurt.
When Eddie sat down for lunch, he was welcomed by his normal friend group of “freaks” and quickly started to get into a heated debate over Star Wars vs. Star Trek. He was all into the conversation until you strolled over to the table, wanting to talk to Eddie. He perked up and immediately made eye contact. His brown eyes found yours and only made you want to jump his bones that quickly. The sexual tension between the two of you before any sentence was utter could be cut with a knife. That was until Eddie spoke up. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?” You smirked at the pet name. “Do you call all your English partners that?” you asked with an innocent expression and pouty lips. Oh, the things he could do to those lips… “Only the ones I’m really interested in”, making sure to emphasize his words and give you another smug smile. “My house. Tonight. 7 o’clock. Don’t be late Munson”. “A date already? My my my you sure know how to get a guy hard.” The vulgarity of his words didn’t turn you off, but only made him more interesting. You walked away with him hanging on to his sentence and decided to ditch the rest of the day, uninterested in the other 2 hours you have.
Once 7 o’clock rolled around you knew the drill and didn’t bother denying him of fucking you. You got in your classic matching pair of underwear, a cute black lacy pair of panties, and a bra with small red boys accenting right about your pussy and between your tits. However, you remained in your school clothes and made sure your tits looked just right. Once everything was ready you heard a knock at the door and went to greet Eddie, only to be met by him in a loose tanktop accentuating his biceps and revealing his waist. This was going to be a fun night.
All your books were messily aligned on the kitchen counter and you two began to get to work, while simultaneously eye-fucking each other. “Okay so if we split up the work and you do the visual presentation and I write the essay, I think we’ll get a passing grade”. He was surprised by your interest in the project but still remained hopeful since you pushed your tits out while reaching for a particular paper, and made sure to giggle at every joke he made. The tent in his pants was prominent and he cursed himself for wearing such loose pants as opposed to the jeans he wore at school, which helped to hide the bulge growing every time someone would mention your name. “You know… you’re pretty hot for being this smart”, a cheesy line he used on almost every girl he hooked up with while completing work for a school project. He would normally do it as a way to get them to do all the work for him, but he was feeling nice today. You scoffed but continued to keep eye contact with him. “Am I now?” “Totally” His hand started creeping up on your thigh and slowly made contact with the denim of your shorts. “If I’m so hot then..” you stated as you started leaning towards his neck, whispering in his ear. “Why haven’t you fucked me”. You pulled back and moved a hand toward his bulge, trying to relieve some pressure that he has from his pants. “I swear to god-” He grabbed your chin to force you to look at him. “Your parents better not be home.” Those were the last words he spoke before you crashed your lips into his as you both started slowly standing up from the chairs you were seated in moments ago. “Jump” he uttered, in between kisses, and you listened. He grabbed the back of your thighs, daring to touch your ass as he made his way to what he guessed was your bedroom. It wasn’t that hard to tell given the teenage girl vibe that was emitted from it. You both continued to fight for dominance over the kiss until his tongue finally made its way into your mouth as he invaded all your senses. All you could smell was his cologne and you could taste the faintness of cigarettes from his smoke session earlier. He carefully laid you down on your bed and started fiddling with the edge of your shirt. “Off” he demanded, and you listened, breaking the kiss and pulling off your shirt in an agonizingly slow motion. Too long for Eddie because once it was off, he attacked your chest with his mouth and slowly started marking you up from the neck down. The exposed skin of your stomach that was soon-to-be marked with hickeys made him go wild and only caused his dick to grow harder. You let out a soft moan from the contact which only gave him an ego boost as he violently attacked your neck. “Great choice of bra, but I need this off too” he uttered against your stomach. You obliged and removed it only for your nipples to be attacked by the cool air of your room. He took off his shirt and slowly started to push his pants down. That left him in all his glory, standing at the foot of your bed in nothing but his boxers and pair of mismatched socks. You took a moment to watch him and really capture everything about him. He was a heartbreaker for sure. You knew the stories and the gossip of him fucking one girl and leaving her for the next but you didn’t care. After all, he was only a quick fuck to you. If you were back in your Freshman body, you would be drooling over the man in front of you because your fantasies would have finally come true. But unfortunately for Eddie, you’ve matured and gotten over your silly school-girl crush.
Eddie laid almost all his body weight on you as he initiated a fervent kiss and fight for dominance. He traced his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for permission, and you granted it. You slowly pulled down your shorts, though you struggled because of Eddie’s weight on top of you. You succeed in pulling them down, which left Eddie openly mouthed kissing you while you lay there in your panties and him in his boxers. You broke the kiss with Eddie and slowly started palming him through his boxers while you attacked his neck. You soothed fresh hickeys with your tongue and he let out a low groan. You could definitely stand to hear more of those. During his moment of weakness, you flipped him over, straddling his waist, and continued to work on his growing bulge and neck at the same time. You removed your hand from his dick and started grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants until neither of you could take it anymore. He spoke up first, though. “Princess, if you keep up with that, I’m not gonna last much longer”. With that, you removed his boxers in one swift motion and pushed your panties to the side. “Jeez sweetheart, I didn’t expect you to take it raw.” His vulgar words made you let out a small moan that got caught in your throat, yet you still kept calm. “Is that a complaint?” Before you could ever finish your sentence he quickly added, “God no! I guess you’re just full of surprises.” And with that, you lined him up with your entrance and looked at him for approval. He nodded his head and you slowly sunk down on him, inch by inch. Not only was he big, but he was thick. That added a layer of difficulty to you riding him because you’ve never been with something this big. You’ve had your fair share of guys, but none of them came close to Eddie’s size. He must have picked up on that, which only caused him to be even more smug. “Don’t break yourself on my dick, babe”. You moaned at that snarky comment but finally met his hips with your ass. Your clit perfectly aligned with a neatly-trimmed patch of hair and added just the right amount of friction. Eddie filled you up so much you almost forgot to move. Almost being the keyword because as soon as he groaned when you shifted your hips, you started moving up and down with shallow bounces.
He noticed your struggle and flipped you back over, pressing his full weight on top of you. You were back to being engulfed by the senses of Eddie. It was almost heaven. He started ramming into you at a rapid pace and seemed like a man starved of pussy. Tears pricked your eyes at the pleasure and you were a moaning mess. “Your noises are heaven princess.” His mouth only made things worse and you loved how he barely shut up. He hit your g-spot and you let out a guttural moan you didn’t know you had in you. “There you are.” He started hitting it over and over again until you felt your orgasm build. You knew he was getting close too by the way his thrusts became sloppy and less coordinated. “Princess, I don’t know how much longer I can last.” “I’m close too, Eddie.” After several thrusts, you couldn’t hold on any longer. You moaned loudly and your eyebrows pinched together as your orgasm washed over you like a wave. He finished closely after and you felt his seed line your walls. He thrusted a couple more times, fucking his cum back into you. Eddie finally pulled out and collapsed beside you. “I’ve got to say, that was some of the best pussy I’ve had in a long time.” You sighed and once you got your strength, you started getting dressed. It took you a minute to catch your breath, but once you were fully clothed you started back at the mess on your bed named Eddie. He looked totally fucked out and his face was lined with sweat. “Hey, you..” he acknowledge you with a low hum but still kept his eyes closed. “I need you up, my parents will be getting home soon and it’s getting late.” Kicking him out was not what he planned, but that’s what he gets for fucking you during a project work session. He got up, slowly dressed, and went over to where you perched yourself on your bathroom counter, legs dangling. He slotted himself in between your legs and let out a small smile. He leaned in to give you a kiss, but you backed away before he could reach you. “Sorry partner, nothing personal but I don’t kiss after I fuck.” He blinked, trying to figure out why the hell you wouldn’t kiss him after he put his dick in you, but he brushed it off, a little hurt, and made his departure out of your house, books in hand and new thoughts swirling in his head.
Something in Eddie’s mind changed after that fuck. It was meant to be a quick “hit and run”, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. His infatuation with you only grew larger and he thought he’d gone crazy. It had been a couple of weeks after you had fucked, your project was completed, and you went back to barely talking to each other. But for some reason, you were stuck in his head like a bad song and you wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he tried. That’s where his predicament lies. Eddie was currently under the bleachers of the football field with a popular blonde cheerleader pressed against a mental pole, panties hiked and soaked, waiting for Eddie to fuck her. He had indulged in enough foreplay with her, but still no matter what something was wrong. He pulled his jeans down just below his dick. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, louder than he meant to. “What’s wrong?” the blonde said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Eddie pulled his pants back up, muttered some meaningless apology to the cheerleader, and started making his way toward his van.
That’s where he spotted you. All alone. Making out with some douche on the swim team. Who the fuck does that guy think he is. Not only is he grabbing your ass indecently in the fucking school parking lot, but why is it that jock and not Eddie. Eddie made his way up to you and let out a fake cough to signal his presence. Still making out with the jock leaned up against your car, you opened your eyes and made eye contact with him, gripping the jock's neck with your hand and forcing his tongue deeper into your mouth. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something.” He spoke up, and the jock finally removed his lips from yours, but still kept his hand sat firmly on your ass. “Yeah, you kind of are,” you quipped back. “Look, bud..” Eddie said as he adjusted the letterman jacket of the jock and gave him a good old pat on the chest. “I need to talk to your little lady friend here, so if you could please do us both the favour of leaving,” he clicked his tongue at that and gave a smile full of faux sympathy and jealousy “-that would be much appreciated, thank you.” The jock rolled his eyes and said, “call me, ‘kay?” You hummed a response and he was on his way back to his car. Your smile dropped when you looked at Eddie. “What” was the only thing you uttered to him, stone-faced. He chuckled a bit but it was laced with malice. “You broke my dick.” You laughed at that, which only made Eddie angrier. “I’m sorry...I think I just hallucinated. I broke your-” “Dick.” You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Mhm, and how did I break your dick exactly?” Your tone was laced with faux sympathy and a degrading tone. “I don’t know how the fuck you broke it, but you did.” You help your laugh but you could see he was seething with anger as he made his hands into fists. “Okay, well good luck with that..” You were about to get in your car and drive off, but he stopped you. “What the fuck have you done to me, I can’t get you off my mind and your existence only makes it worse” His tone only got angrier. “After we fucked- we- I just-” he was unable to admit it and get it off his chest. Eddie fell for you, and it was a bitch to come to terms with. You were obviously tired of the conversation so you quickly opened your car door and got in, getting the car in drive when he finally found his words. “I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done to me, but you're gonna- FUCK!” you chuckled at that and continued to entertain the conversation “I’m gonna what?” you stuck your lip out in a pout only to mock him. “You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” He finally stated, tone angrier than before and head looking like steam was about to come out of his ears. You only laughed and mocked him. “Yeah, good luck with that one Batman.” You were about to drive away when you heard him say “What the fuck did you say to me?!” “Oh, you heard what I said.” He was almost bright red and the look on his face was one for the yearbooks. As you pulled out of your parking spot you whispered, loud enough for him to hear, “well that’s a taste of your own fucking medicine.”
Part 2...?
divider credit: @cafekitsune
taglist !! (please let me know if you'd like to be on my taglist)
@tlclick73 @bimbobaggins69
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TYSM!!! im so glad you enjoyed it and i’ll definitely add you to the tag list.
ᴀ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄɪɴᴇ
word count : 3.3k
warnings : suggestive themes / elements, swearing, SMUT MDNI, reader is referred to as female, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it)
pairings : fem!reader x eddie munson, fuckboy!eddiemunson x fuckgirl!reader
authors note: jeeeeez this has been in the drafts for a while. it's quite old and not really proof read so if you find any mistakes i beg please let me know. this is not at ALL my best but be nice lmao. also lmk if you want anything to be written cause ive got nothing better to do.
There was something about you that pulled Eddie in like a magnet. He couldn’t place his finger on it though. Something about how your denim shorts cut off exactly where he could get a perfect of your ass, or how your shirt hugged your chest just right and sometimes revealed the slightest bit of stomach. It could have even been your laugh. That goddam laugh that always made him turn his head to face you and played over and over again in his mind like a symphony. However, Eddie knew he wasn’t the only one who felt this way. You could get any guy you wanted but just a simple bat of your eyelashes, and they would fall to their knees. Eddie had watched from the sidelines and stared at you during your shared classes ready to strike. By the end of the school year, he knew he would charm his way into your pants.
“Mr. Munson”, Mrs. O’Donnell spoke up, interrupting his mid-English class daydream. “How can I help you ma’am”, he spoke, dimples on display that hugged the side of his crooked and eager smile. “You’ll be partnered with Ms. L/N”. He immediately perked up and caught the attention of you, who slowly turned around and faced him. Eddie gave you a slight wink which only caused your eyes to roll back into your head. This was going to be a long project.
Eddie Munson was known as a fuckboy. He would get into the pants of any known girl willing to give him the time of day, and the worst part was, he was good at it. You’d hear conversations with the groups of girls around your lockers and in the hallways about how big his dick was and how he knew how to use it. You, however, have had your fair share of guys, which Eddie has heard all about. “Dude, I swear to god, It was the best blowjob of my life!” Eddie heard as he walked out of English class towards the cafeteria. Some random jock started recounting a night he spent with a “hot chick” (his words, not Eddie’s), and only piqued Eddie’s interest. “There’s no way! Where did you pop..?”, the other jock spoke. He returned with a smug smile and a knowing look. “I can’t believe Y/N’s a swallower..” he replied. This only further prompted Eddie to not have the best intentions when working with you on that English project.
You on the other hand were walking back from English with the intent to tease Eddie. He doesn’t know that he screwed over your best friend back when he was a senior (for the first time). They had gone out for a while, which was surprising considering how Eddie isn’t known as a relationship man, and he only left her heartbroken. Not only is he a fuckboy, but an alleged cheater after a Harrington party gone wrong. That was before your reputation at the school bloomed as you and Eddie both had the respective title of the Seniors with the most amount of fucks. You knew you wanted Eddie to feel your friend's pain, so why not have a little fun of your own? It’s not like you were gonna fall head over heels for him like most girls. All you needed was to relieve some pent-up stress and maybe break his heart along the way. You weren’t blind either. You knew the way he looked at you, especially when your ass or tits were on full display for anyone within a one-mile radius. This felt personal to you though, because not only did he fuck over your best friend, but you had developed a small crush on him during your Freshman year back when he was a Junior. However, you would never let anyone know that. You had gotten over Eddie relatively quickly after you convinced yourself three years ago that he would never give you the time of day. But now, you’ve changed. And for him, this is gonna hurt.
When Eddie sat down for lunch, he was welcomed by his normal friend group of “freaks” and quickly started to get into a heated debate over Star Wars vs. Star Trek. He was all into the conversation until you strolled over to the table, wanting to talk to Eddie. He perked up and immediately made eye contact. His brown eyes found yours and only made you want to jump his bones that quickly. The sexual tension between the two of you before any sentence was utter could be cut with a knife. That was until Eddie spoke up. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?” You smirked at the pet name. “Do you call all your English partners that?” you asked with an innocent expression and pouty lips. Oh, the things he could do to those lips… “Only the ones I’m really interested in”, making sure to emphasize his words and give you another smug smile. “My house. Tonight. 7 o’clock. Don’t be late Munson”. “A date already? My my my you sure know how to get a guy hard.” The vulgarity of his words didn’t turn you off, but only made him more interesting. You walked away with him hanging on to his sentence and decided to ditch the rest of the day, uninterested in the other 2 hours you have.
Once 7 o’clock rolled around you knew the drill and didn’t bother denying him of fucking you. You got in your classic matching pair of underwear, a cute black lacy pair of panties, and a bra with small red boys accenting right about your pussy and between your tits. However, you remained in your school clothes and made sure your tits looked just right. Once everything was ready you heard a knock at the door and went to greet Eddie, only to be met by him in a loose tanktop accentuating his biceps and revealing his waist. This was going to be a fun night.
All your books were messily aligned on the kitchen counter and you two began to get to work, while simultaneously eye-fucking each other. “Okay so if we split up the work and you do the visual presentation and I write the essay, I think we’ll get a passing grade”. He was surprised by your interest in the project but still remained hopeful since you pushed your tits out while reaching for a particular paper, and made sure to giggle at every joke he made. The tent in his pants was prominent and he cursed himself for wearing such loose pants as opposed to the jeans he wore at school, which helped to hide the bulge growing every time someone would mention your name. “You know… you’re pretty hot for being this smart”, a cheesy line he used on almost every girl he hooked up with while completing work for a school project. He would normally do it as a way to get them to do all the work for him, but he was feeling nice today. You scoffed but continued to keep eye contact with him. “Am I now?” “Totally” His hand started creeping up on your thigh and slowly made contact with the denim of your shorts. “If I’m so hot then..” you stated as you started leaning towards his neck, whispering in his ear. “Why haven’t you fucked me”. You pulled back and moved a hand toward his bulge, trying to relieve some pressure that he has from his pants. “I swear to god-” He grabbed your chin to force you to look at him. “Your parents better not be home.” Those were the last words he spoke before you crashed your lips into his as you both started slowly standing up from the chairs you were seated in moments ago. “Jump” he uttered, in between kisses, and you listened. He grabbed the back of your thighs, daring to touch your ass as he made his way to what he guessed was your bedroom. It wasn’t that hard to tell given the teenage girl vibe that was emitted from it. You both continued to fight for dominance over the kiss until his tongue finally made its way into your mouth as he invaded all your senses. All you could smell was his cologne and you could taste the faintness of cigarettes from his smoke session earlier. He carefully laid you down on your bed and started fiddling with the edge of your shirt. “Off” he demanded, and you listened, breaking the kiss and pulling off your shirt in an agonizingly slow motion. Too long for Eddie because once it was off, he attacked your chest with his mouth and slowly started marking you up from the neck down. The exposed skin of your stomach that was soon-to-be marked with hickeys made him go wild and only caused his dick to grow harder. You let out a soft moan from the contact which only gave him an ego boost as he violently attacked your neck. “Great choice of bra, but I need this off too” he uttered against your stomach. You obliged and removed it only for your nipples to be attacked by the cool air of your room. He took off his shirt and slowly started to push his pants down. That left him in all his glory, standing at the foot of your bed in nothing but his boxers and pair of mismatched socks. You took a moment to watch him and really capture everything about him. He was a heartbreaker for sure. You knew the stories and the gossip of him fucking one girl and leaving her for the next but you didn’t care. After all, he was only a quick fuck to you. If you were back in your Freshman body, you would be drooling over the man in front of you because your fantasies would have finally come true. But unfortunately for Eddie, you’ve matured and gotten over your silly school-girl crush.
Eddie laid almost all his body weight on you as he initiated a fervent kiss and fight for dominance. He traced his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for permission, and you granted it. You slowly pulled down your shorts, though you struggled because of Eddie’s weight on top of you. You succeed in pulling them down, which left Eddie openly mouthed kissing you while you lay there in your panties and him in his boxers. You broke the kiss with Eddie and slowly started palming him through his boxers while you attacked his neck. You soothed fresh hickeys with your tongue and he let out a low groan. You could definitely stand to hear more of those. During his moment of weakness, you flipped him over, straddling his waist, and continued to work on his growing bulge and neck at the same time. You removed your hand from his dick and started grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants until neither of you could take it anymore. He spoke up first, though. “Princess, if you keep up with that, I’m not gonna last much longer”. With that, you removed his boxers in one swift motion and pushed your panties to the side. “Jeez sweetheart, I didn’t expect you to take it raw.” His vulgar words made you let out a small moan that got caught in your throat, yet you still kept calm. “Is that a complaint?” Before you could ever finish your sentence he quickly added, “God no! I guess you’re just full of surprises.” And with that, you lined him up with your entrance and looked at him for approval. He nodded his head and you slowly sunk down on him, inch by inch. Not only was he big, but he was thick. That added a layer of difficulty to you riding him because you’ve never been with something this big. You’ve had your fair share of guys, but none of them came close to Eddie’s size. He must have picked up on that, which only caused him to be even more smug. “Don’t break yourself on my dick, babe”. You moaned at that snarky comment but finally met his hips with your ass. Your clit perfectly aligned with a neatly-trimmed patch of hair and added just the right amount of friction. Eddie filled you up so much you almost forgot to move. Almost being the keyword because as soon as he groaned when you shifted your hips, you started moving up and down with shallow bounces.
He noticed your struggle and flipped you back over, pressing his full weight on top of you. You were back to being engulfed by the senses of Eddie. It was almost heaven. He started ramming into you at a rapid pace and seemed like a man starved of pussy. Tears pricked your eyes at the pleasure and you were a moaning mess. “Your noises are heaven princess.” His mouth only made things worse and you loved how he barely shut up. He hit your g-spot and you let out a guttural moan you didn’t know you had in you. “There you are.” He started hitting it over and over again until you felt your orgasm build. You knew he was getting close too by the way his thrusts became sloppy and less coordinated. “Princess, I don’t know how much longer I can last.” “I’m close too, Eddie.” After several thrusts, you couldn’t hold on any longer. You moaned loudly and your eyebrows pinched together as your orgasm washed over you like a wave. He finished closely after and you felt his seed line your walls. He thrusted a couple more times, fucking his cum back into you. Eddie finally pulled out and collapsed beside you. “I’ve got to say, that was some of the best pussy I’ve had in a long time.” You sighed and once you got your strength, you started getting dressed. It took you a minute to catch your breath, but once you were fully clothed you started back at the mess on your bed named Eddie. He looked totally fucked out and his face was lined with sweat. “Hey, you..” he acknowledge you with a low hum but still kept his eyes closed. “I need you up, my parents will be getting home soon and it’s getting late.” Kicking him out was not what he planned, but that’s what he gets for fucking you during a project work session. He got up, slowly dressed, and went over to where you perched yourself on your bathroom counter, legs dangling. He slotted himself in between your legs and let out a small smile. He leaned in to give you a kiss, but you backed away before he could reach you. “Sorry partner, nothing personal but I don’t kiss after I fuck.” He blinked, trying to figure out why the hell you wouldn’t kiss him after he put his dick in you, but he brushed it off, a little hurt, and made his departure out of your house, books in hand and new thoughts swirling in his head.
Something in Eddie’s mind changed after that fuck. It was meant to be a quick “hit and run”, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. His infatuation with you only grew larger and he thought he’d gone crazy. It had been a couple of weeks after you had fucked, your project was completed, and you went back to barely talking to each other. But for some reason, you were stuck in his head like a bad song and you wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he tried. That’s where his predicament lies. Eddie was currently under the bleachers of the football field with a popular blonde cheerleader pressed against a mental pole, panties hiked and soaked, waiting for Eddie to fuck her. He had indulged in enough foreplay with her, but still no matter what something was wrong. He pulled his jeans down just below his dick. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, louder than he meant to. “What’s wrong?” the blonde said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Eddie pulled his pants back up, muttered some meaningless apology to the cheerleader, and started making his way toward his van.
That’s where he spotted you. All alone. Making out with some douche on the swim team. Who the fuck does that guy think he is. Not only is he grabbing your ass indecently in the fucking school parking lot, but why is it that jock and not Eddie. Eddie made his way up to you and let out a fake cough to signal his presence. Still making out with the jock leaned up against your car, you opened your eyes and made eye contact with him, gripping the jock's neck with your hand and forcing his tongue deeper into your mouth. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something.” He spoke up, and the jock finally removed his lips from yours, but still kept his hand sat firmly on your ass. “Yeah, you kind of are,” you quipped back. “Look, bud..” Eddie said as he adjusted the letterman jacket of the jock and gave him a good old pat on the chest. “I need to talk to your little lady friend here, so if you could please do us both the favour of leaving,” he clicked his tongue at that and gave a smile full of faux sympathy and jealousy “-that would be much appreciated, thank you.” The jock rolled his eyes and said, “call me, ‘kay?” You hummed a response and he was on his way back to his car. Your smile dropped when you looked at Eddie. “What” was the only thing you uttered to him, stone-faced. He chuckled a bit but it was laced with malice. “You broke my dick.” You laughed at that, which only made Eddie angrier. “I’m sorry...I think I just hallucinated. I broke your-” “Dick.” You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Mhm, and how did I break your dick exactly?” Your tone was laced with faux sympathy and a degrading tone. “I don’t know how the fuck you broke it, but you did.” You help your laugh but you could see he was seething with anger as he made his hands into fists. “Okay, well good luck with that..” You were about to get in your car and drive off, but he stopped you. “What the fuck have you done to me, I can’t get you off my mind and your existence only makes it worse” His tone only got angrier. “After we fucked- we- I just-” he was unable to admit it and get it off his chest. Eddie fell for you, and it was a bitch to come to terms with. You were obviously tired of the conversation so you quickly opened your car door and got in, getting the car in drive when he finally found his words. “I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done to me, but you're gonna- FUCK!” you chuckled at that and continued to entertain the conversation “I’m gonna what?” you stuck your lip out in a pout only to mock him. “You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” He finally stated, tone angrier than before and head looking like steam was about to come out of his ears. You only laughed and mocked him. “Yeah, good luck with that one Batman.” You were about to drive away when you heard him say “What the fuck did you say to me?!” “Oh, you heard what I said.” He was almost bright red and the look on his face was one for the yearbooks. As you pulled out of your parking spot you whispered, loud enough for him to hear, “well that’s a taste of your own fucking medicine.”
Part 2...?
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