I don’t care how disgusting or fucked up a fic is. NO writer should EVER be harassed for writing taboo fics, especially when the warnings are properly tagged and you choose to go ahead and read them on your own free will.
you’re not morally superior for harassing real people for the sake of fictional characters and fictional stories. you’re just a bully.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 jonathan wants something he’s cursed himself for, and he hates that he can’t stop wanting it. but then again, you only live once. right?
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ★ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 domestic violence, jonathan’s a virgin, awkward sex but it flows w time, cheating (but who cares bc its tommy h), handjob, mutual masturbation, penetration, cockwarming (?)
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 ★ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hi this is inspired by the song a mistake by fiona apple! check it out if u havent :-) also i had season 1 / early season 2 in mind while writing this.. except there is no carol
jonathan has always been a careful boy. always precise in his decisions, always thoughtful before saying something that he thinks might come off as offensive. what’s most striking, though, is that he always surpresses his feelings unless he’s absolutely certain he can express them — never, that is.
until you come around.
you’re friends with nancy wheeler, which means you’re friends with steve harrington, which means he’s surprised as to not having noticed you sooner. really, really surprised, for you are so gorgeous. you are so out of the ordinary that, when spotted, it’s like the sun sank down onto the earth and within your body. that’s how beautiful you are.
and with that same beauty, somehow, you end up in the arms of tommy hagan. the right side of your neck, he’s sure, still smells like him. like the sweat and goon that radiates off that chronic cocksucker.
that pisses him off, strangely. you are so gentle, so full of grace and life and joy, and you still end up with the biggest douchebag hawkins has ever seen.
he doesn’t understand it.
he doesn’t understand how, doesn’t understand why the same lips that often kiss yours, certainly wrap themselves around sharp words when you’re alone. the same hands that twist your hair so sweetly, make their way against your skin in a slap, harsh and loud. that one he knows, because he’s seen it when you two were arguing at the basketball court, when the sound of skin against skin echoed through the room. you left crying and, when he saw you, he almost ran to you and said something, maybe he would have even given the chocolate he kept inside his bag for will — but no. he couldn’t.
because jonathan “the freak” byers can’t interact with someone with a class so much higher than his (and he’s not just talking about money). he can’t interact with someone free of troubles. he’d probably just project his onto you and make hell out of your simple life.
but he can’t help it. you’re just so beautiful, so exhilaratingly beautiful that whenever he sees your wide smile, his eyes hurt a bit.
then one day, you approach him.
well, not necessarily approach— you’re just running late for class, then you drop two of your books right in front of him. “sorry, byers,” you mutter, kneeling down to grab them. he helps you with trembling hands and a beating heart that, were you to ask, he’d hand to you without hesitation.
byers. you know his name. god, he almost chokes on his own spit.
“it’s fine,” he fidgets with the fabric of his jacket, a bit stained with the remaining signs of a hurried breakfast. he moves aside, waiting for you to walk away.
you don’t.
“hey.”
he looks up, startled. “…what?”
“you’re friends with nancy, yeah?” you turn to him again. your eyes widen slightly upon remembering you’re late, but you don’t care. one more minute.
“i mean, kind of. why?”
“she’s throwing this party at her house, and i know mike’s doing something for his friends, and will’s going, right?”
he furrows his eyebrows, but nods nevertheless.
you shrug casually, “you should go. plus, isn’t ms. byers, i don’t know, forcing you to be around him ‘cause she doesn’t want him to be alone?” you smile a bit. his eyes hurt with the sight.
jonathan stiffens. for a moment he swears he’s just shat himself. what are you doing, inviting him to a party because of his brother? his brother, whom until recently, was the biggest worry of the whole town?
and yet.
you give him a small smile — as if you’re at the same level of disgusting freak as he is. he can’t accept such kindness so he looks away.
“you should go,” you nudge him playfully, “give your mum some peace and quiet.”
he scratches the back of his neck, which is now burning as well as his ears. “…yeah. o-okay.”
your smile widens a bit. “okay. bye, byers.” then you walk away.
he’s just standing there, trying not to fall onto the ground with how much his knees are trembling. his heart is beating so fast, he places a hand above it so it doesn’t run away.
his mind is reeling. he runs to his car, goes back home— there was no point in staying at school if he wasn’t going to pay attention.
he spends all afternoon choosing his clothes.
it’s not like he’s got a whole closet, filled to the brim with fancy clothes — some of them, kept in his small wardrobe, are his dad’s old ones.
and finally, after much thought, jonathan settles in a white t-shirt and a brown jacket, paired with washed-out jeans that look a tad bit loose on him.
or should he go with the brown t-shirt and the blue jacket? which one would you prefer? not that he’s trying to impress you, of course, but it’s be nice to be wearing something else other than his usual clothes. not that he’s got fancy ones, though—
“jonathan!” will’s scream echoes through the room for a second, a second long enough to make him snap out of it. “come on, it’s almost 8! we need to leave!”
quickly, jonathan opts for the brown t-shirt and grabs his keys in a frenzy.
woefully, his jacket stays behind. jonathan only remembers that when he’s at nancy wheeler’s doorstep. her house is very gorgeous — two big floors and a beautiful entrance. girls on film is playing faintly, though the music grows louder the closer he gets.
inside, will does not demonstrate any sign of hesitation or shyness due to the amount of people there and is quick to run to the wheelers’ basement, where mike’s high-pitched voice greets him. jonathan, on the other hand, is very hesitant about stepping inside.
until you appear like his guardian angel. again, wearing that stupidly bright smile on your face and a solo cup in your hand. “hi, byers! i didn’t think you’d actually show up.”
he shrugs, looks around, locks eyes with tommy hagan. his heart sinks so low his gaze drops to the floor to check if it didn’t fall off his body.
“yeah, i- uh-“ he looks up again, looks at your face, the same face he thinks about when he’s going to bed, the same face that’s engraved behind his eyelids whenever he blinks, the same face he thinks about when he’s got a hand inside his boxers and it’s covered in thick, white, gooey—
“i kinda had to.” kinda had to stop thinking, that is. stop, jonathan byers. you are a respectful man. he smiles slightly, and were you not looking at him intently, you wouldn’t have noticed.
you chuckle. “come on, grab a drink!”
he nods, and walks away from you. the moment he does, hagan’s got his hand on your wrist, gripped tight.
“what the fuck was that?” he whispers through gritted, ugly teeth. his grip on your wrist, once so horrible, is now deadly.
“tommy, stop,” you mumble, freeing your limb from his grasp. “he came here because of his brother. i’m just… trying to be friendly,” you shrug.
“friendly?! with that fuckin’ freak?!”
“c’mon, he’s not a freak—“
unsurprisingly, he cuts you off, spitting, “you being friends with fucking nancy wheeler’s not enough?! are you a whore who likes to fuck freaks, perchance?!”, and that’s when you get really defensive.
you shoot back, much louder than necessary (probably on purpose), “shut up, tommy! stop being such a cunt!”
at that, he stops, places his drink on the table before raising his hand again. he slaps you across the face — sharp. loud. sure to leave a mark.
you gasp. that’s the first time he’s ever slapped you in public. you feel beyond horrified — you feel humiliated.
you can’t close your mouth. a small whimper comes out, and he growls, “what?”, then you start crying and run upstairs.
jonathan saw everything. and, oh — he can’t imagine saying this about anyone, because that would mean they’re much more miserable than him — how his heart breaks for you. it breaks into a billion pieces. he can’t understand why someone as perfect as you would stay with tommy hagan. how do you even handle him?
he hesitates for a second. takes a step forward, then back, sighs, decides to run upstairs.
he finds you in nancy’s room, the door open about three inches. you’re sat in her bed, knees close to your chest, hands in your face. you’re crying — absolutely bawling your eyes out, snot running down your nose as you miserably fail to make it stop.
he knocks lightly.
“fuck off, tommy!” you yell, slurring a bit.
“…sorry,” jonathan’s voice comes instead. you panic, quick to wipe your tears away.
oh.
“come in, byers,” you whisper, wiping your nose with your cardigan before taking it off. normally, you’d consider that disgusting, but you couldn’t care less now.
hesitantly, he steps inside the room with a quiet, “do you want me to close the door?”. when you nod, he does as suggested.
“i’m sorry you had to see that,” you mumble, playing with the lace trim of nancy’s pillow.
jonathan shakes his head and sits down on the floor, leaning his back against the bedframe. “‘s fine. if anything, i’m.. i’m sorry you had to go through that.”
at his comment, you smile a bit. he sees and has to look away before the brightness burns his eyes and he’s left permanently blind.
“why do you stay with him?” he asks. he didn’t really want to say it out loud, but it’s out there now.
you sniffle and lay down. “i don’t know. for one, he’s got a big dick,” — you laugh, and both the comment and the sound make jonathan flush, although he must admit he feels a tad bit jealous — “and he’s very… i don’t know. he buys me things.” — another pang of jealousy gnaws at him. with his current job, he’s got enough money to pay half the bills and buy a box of cheap chocolates for his family.
“i feel bad saying this, but i guess i’m with him mainly because he’s… popular.”
that makes him look up. “what do you mean?”
“i don’t know. i guess i just wanted to be popular too. i always resented him and steve at first, but deep down i wanted to be just like them. and then nancy started dating steve, so she kind of dragged me along, and then i started dating tommy.”
he hums.
“worst decision of my life,” you whisper, and you both laugh.
sighing, you move your body to the side and curl your legs, making room for him to sit. that is, if he wants to.
“don’t you want to be popular, jonathan?” you ask. that’s he first time you’ve said his name. his heart flutters wildly in his chest.
“i am.”
you smile. “what do you mean?”
“everyone calls me jonathan ‘the freak’ byers. plus, just look at my brother. he’s a local celebrity.”
your smile falters a bit. “well, i suppose you’re right about will. but you’re not a freak. i don’t think so, at least.”
he looks at you, surprised, almost startled. “you don’t?”
“no.”
“wow. girlfriend of tommy hagan does not think jonathan byers is a freak.”
you laugh at that. out loud. makes his heart ache.
“well, tell me what makes you a freak, then.”
he goes quiet.
then, after a moment: “…i don’t know.”
“then why are you a freak?”
no answer. you frown. “you’re not.”
“…it’s weird hearing that coming from someone besides my mom.”
you both laugh, again.
you sit up, leaning against the headboard, and pat the space beneath your feet. “sit.”
he hesitantly supports his weight on the bed and pushes his body up, sitting down on the bed with extra care.
he’s painfully awkward. shifts his weight constantly, and when you teasingly tell him to calm down, for “his socks are on fire”, he just gets more nervous. had it not been such an endearing sight, you would’ve almost felt bad.
“you know, jonathan,” you prop yourself on one elbow, “i like you. you’re nice.”
he flushes beet fucking red. covers his face and pretends he’s simply itching both eyes.
you smile and lean closer, now sat up on the bed. from his place, he can see your skin is flushed as well — not from embarrassment, though. you’re drunk. he thinks, for a moment, that maybe that is the reason you said all of those things.
still, you are so beautiful. oh, god. he’s going to die. he can’t get over the fact he’s in the same place as you. alone.
slowly, he leans back, awkward. “thank- thank you.”
you lean in closer still, hand moving to his knee. jonathan almost jumps out of bed at the contact. your breath is warm and smells like moscow mule. well, it smells more like an attempt at the drink, but either way, it smells delicious.
you’re drunk on alcohol and he’s drunk on you.
“c’mere,” you whisper, leaning in. in the two seconds he hesitates, his mind reels.
this is wrong. this is too wrong — you are a beautiful, smart girl, you have no business fooling around with him. you have a boyfriend, you have money, you’re popular. you have everything any girl could ever ask for and more. he should go. he should run like hell out of that room, grab will by the arm and go home.
still.
he can’t resist you. so, as any other boy would, he leans in and instantly melts into what is not even a kiss yet.
your hands tremble a bit as they move to his shoulders, the right one skimming to the back of his neck and into his hair. after much thought, you give it a try to gently pry his mouth open with your tongue. much to your delight, he surrenders.
noticing his struggle to kiss with tongue, you place both hands on his arms, tethering him, asking to take the lead. the moment he calms down, you suck on his tongue a bit and he moans. have you ever heard such a delectable sound coming from tommy? although, jonathan feels so stupid for letting that slip. he wants to die.
your hands slide down to his knees and you gently pull away from the kiss to look into his eyes. he hesitates, which makes you pull away.
“wait, don’t—“ he whispers, almost whines. you bite your lip to keep from smiling. he cringes at his own words, but keeps talking nevertheless. “…please.”
at that, you bring your hands back to his knees, sliding up his thighs. looking into his eyes again, he panics and blurts out, “wait, i’ve never done this!”
your eyes almost jump out of your skull. “huh?”
“i’m sorry, i should’ve told you sooner, i—“
“no, jonathan, ‘s fine, it’s fine. i’m just.. surprised, is all, i guess.” to be honest, you’re not surprised. you would be more surprised if he actually had sex once.
“have you ever kissed, at least? before.. this, i mean.”
at that, he looks down. you smile a bit too widely.
“it’s okay.”
again, you look into his eyes. he nods this time.
you look down at his pants — now slightly tented — and hesitate for a brief second before you start to undo his belt. by that time, his beating is uneven and his heart is flying, like one over the cuckoo’s nest.
he’s leaned back, trying not to look at your face but failing. you look extremely endearing — brows knit in concentration, tongue out to the side, hands trembling a bit. maybe you’re not as nervous as him, but you still are.
finally, you free him.
jonathan’s cock is… gorgeous, to say the least. it’s above average (which already wins from tommy), girthy, fat, heavy, pubic hair untamed, yet cared for. it’s got a large vein down the sides which, if you look at harder, you’ll see they throb. his tip is very pink, and you believe it’s natural even though he’s flushed all over, and the base of it is hidden with the tiniest bit of foreskin.
you breathe out in anticipation and agony of not having done this sooner.
you look up at him, and though his face is turned away, he still gives you a light nod, assuring you.
you linger paused for a second before you bring a hand to his cock and gives it a light stroke. he gasps, hips jumping at the contact. you smile, lightly, and give it another stroke. then you make the (un)fortunate decision to spit on it. the moment the wet liquid glazes jonathan’s tip, he lets out a humiliating whimper. it’s almost enough to make you come undone, walls clenching around the air.
“jonathan,” you lean in for another kiss, and when you pull away, you continue speaking, “help me get off these clothes. please.”
he gulps loudly but is eager to please, quickly, he unbuttons your blouse and reveals the smooth, radiant skin of your stomach. he touches it and his mouth opens slightly, delighted. you lean in to kiss him again.
quickly taking your hands off him — the poor boy whines yet again — you take your blouse off your shoulders before you unclasp your bra and throw it somewhere on the floor along with the other fabric.
jonathan, in all the years he’s been around, has never seen such beautiful tits. he wants to cry just looking at them.
your hands are back at it, stroking his cock gently, sliding the soft pad of your thumb over his swollen tip. precum gathers there quite rapidly, and when you squeeze his shaft, more comes out along with a small whimper from his parted, swollen lips.
“so good,” you coo, picking up speed, your free hand traveling down to his balls and lightly cradling them. he moans a bit too loud and you look at him with wide eyes — a warning to make him shut up. then, you smile.
“touch me, c’mon,” you whisper, sitting close to him so he can unzip your shorts. he takes a while to understand he has to do that, but the moment he catches up, he obliges instantly. you lift your hips to help him take of your shorts, squeezing his cock again (he can’t tell if that was on purpose or not), which makes him let out another delectable sigh.
the moment his hand slips beneath your lace panties, past the soft curls that lay on your mound and into your wet, warm core, he stiffens. it’s like he’s entered a whole new world. your folds are so slick, making his fingers slide with ease against them. and when he slides two digits inside you, the both of you gasp. your hand slides quicker now, eager to bring him to his orgasm. you wonder how cute he’ll look. he is, too, very eager to see your face scrunch up as you come.
he is delighted to see that sight happen the moment he thinks of it.
your hips buck, you bite your lip to keep from moaning out loud, and you come. you come so sweetly.
at the sight, he does too — coating your hands with his warm, thick seed. you gasp, “fuck.”
you melt on top of the bed, now laying down, pulling him with you. he collapses atop you, desperate to slide his dick inside your messy folds. he props himself up on his knees, gathers his slippery cock on his hand, and slides into you. well, he tries — hits your clit. tries again — pushes past your mound and nudges your abdomen. again — your thigh. you laugh.
“jon,” you purr, “calm down.” what the fuck are you saying? how is he meant to calm down? how is he going to be calm as he fucks the girl he’s been drooling on for so long? “sorry.”
suddenly, in a swift move, he buries himself inside you. to the halt. actually hits your cervix. you cry out, but before you can be any louder, you’ve got both hands covering your lips.
“c’mon,” you mumble, though it’s muffled. “c’mon, byers, fuck me.”
fuck me. fuck me. fuck me. that echoes in his head for so long he’s sure he’s going crazy. but he is, of course, eager to please. especially now.
he places both hands around your waist and reluctantly begins thrusting. the moment he feels such tight, fleshy walls clench around him, suffocating his cock, his head falls forward and he drools onto your stomach. “f-fuck, oh my god—“
he begins thrusting faster, and though for him it’s already too much, you wish he’d pace up. still, it’s his first time — you won’t bug him too much about your own pleasure.
“jon, honey, play with my clit,” you mewl.
“what?” he breathes out.
“…my clit.” you point to the little button between your thighs, swollen. he nods.
eagerly, he grabs the pearl and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger, his thrusts getting more erratic. you can tell he’s close, yet again.
“fuck, yeah,” you whimper, “fuck, yeah, byers.”
at that, his face scrunches up, concentrated, and he fucks you even harder. gosh, you can feel your brains leaking through both your ears.
then, suddenly. you see but a white flash, and before you know it, your legs are quivering and your hips are bucking again. jonathan, all the while, is fucking his fist with such violence you don’t know if he wants to get his rocks off or rip his rocks off. a long rope of semen lays on your abdomen, then another one on your stomach, and the final one (and thickest, too) between your pillowly breasts.
you sigh, delighted, lightheaded, and you signal him to take his shirt off so you can clean yourself. jonathan does so instantly.
afterwards, you pull him on top of you and turn to your side. the pair of you are bare naked, his cock softening inside you though it has no plans of leaving.
you look him in the eyes, and you whisper, “did ya like that?”
he just nods. he can’t even get his words out otherwise he’ll moan and he can’t handle any more humiliation.
ʚ girl dad eddie who subconsiously cares for his own hair after his sweet baby asked him to braid hers. he finds the task to be a tad difficult, as her hair has the same curly, untamed texture as his, but since then, he’s been practicing on himself.
ʚ girl dad eddie who lets himself get his nails painted and his makeup done. he plays the character of a princess so well, too.
ʚ girl dad eddie who, no matter how tired he is, will always wake up at around 2 or 3 in the morning to check on his girl. what if the monsters under her bed are real, after all?
ʚ girl dad eddie who displays every little drawing on the fridge— whether it’s a random tree, or himself as a stick figure with noodle-like hair. everything goes on the fridge!
ʚ girl dad eddie who decides to finally open a textbook to study so that, when his girl’s got homework, he knows a thing or two about what he’s talking about. also realised how fun history actually is!!!
ʚ girl dad eddie who will not hesitate to flirt with every teacher that pets his daughter’s head, even though most of them are either already married, or simply amused. surprisingly, he manages to get a date or two.
MY MAN ON WILLPOWER
steve harrington x fem!reader (wc: 5.0k)
summary: steve harrington used to be literally obsessed with you, but you’re suddenly the least sought after girl in the land — or at least in hawkins.
warnings: pre-established relationship, set during season 5, no use of y/n, angst with comfort, swearing, non-sexual nudity, mentions of sex but no smut, miscommunication, use of pet names (honey, baby).
—
steve harrington was the blueprint of a perfect boyfriend.
keyword: was.
he always called every morning and night. always held your hand in crowds, and he drove you everywhere, even when you said he didn’t have to. he’d take you out for dinner, or sometimes he’d attempt to cook you dinner himself.
he took care of you in every way he could. he clung to your side every day, and held you close each night. you didn’t know how any of that could ever change.
you had started dating just a couple months before the earthquake that split your small town of hawkins, indiana four ways to sunday. back in january of 1986, steve harrington had been, at least in your eyes, the most perfect man on earth.
you had met him the same way he met most of his dates back then, by walking into family video, where he had been working at the time.
sure, you had heard of steve harrington before that. you went to hawkins high between the years of 1981 and 1985, after all. everyone knew 'king steve', even after he had lost the title, the friends, and the popularity, he wasn't exactly forgettable.
years of whispers in crowded school hallways, giggles between girls at the lockers beside yours, even you fell victim to that famed harrington charm when he passed you in the hallways, sending you a brief smile on occasion if your eyes ever met in a fleeting glance.
but you never had the pleasure of really knowing steve in high school, you just had the whispers and rumors and occasional 'hi' if you passed each other in the hallway.
four years of school together and steve harrington never seemed to spare you anything more than a quick glance in the sea of students flooding the hallways of hawkins high.
that was, until the day you walked into family video, searching for something to watch in hopes of filling up some of the spare time you'd had since graduating high school.
as you had headed for the stand where all the new releases waited, you noticed him — or specifically, his hair.
he had been standing behind the counter, dressed in a striped blue and white polo with that dark green family video vest sitting over it. his hair had been what made you recognize him, but you could also it was a little different — longer, definitely, and a little messier than in high school, like he wasn't trying as hard to style it anymore.
he was talking with a girl behind the counter with him, the both of them lost in a fit of giggles, too invested in their conversation to notice a customer had even entered the store.
you weren't bothered, instead you just began browsing the shelves. your fingertips danced along the plain covers, reading each title with a sigh before you found yourself in the romance section, reaching for a copy of grease, because nothing was better than a film you had already seen more times than you could count.
that was the moment steve harrington had noticed you. he stopped mid-sentence in whatever he had been saying to his co-worker and stumbled around the counter to head towards the romance section, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his vest so it sat a little neater on his shoulders, not that he had expected you to find the vest attractive in any way.
when he was just a few steps behind you, he cleared his throat and leaned against the shelf of tapes with his most charming smile. you jumped at the sudden sound, and spun around to come face-to-face with steve himself.
"oh!" you had gasped, still clutching grease to your chest, and for a moment steve had just stared, like he was a malfunctioning robot for about 10 seconds before he snapped himself out of it.
"uh," he cleared his throat again, curling his hand into a fist and using it to cover his mouth before he smiled again. "hi. can i help you find anything?"
the corner of your mouth twitched upwards before curling into a full smile. this wasn't quite the steve harrington you knew of from high school, there was something different. he seemed a little less cocky and sure of himself, a little less overly confident. you could hear it in his tone, see it in his smile.
"hi," you greeted cheerfully, then lifted the vhs tape in your hand. "just looking for some movies to rent."
"oh, yeah. well, it's a good thing we've got plenty of those here." steve chuckled, then squeezed his eyes shut to curse at himself silently, as if scolding himself for his not-so-smooth delivery just to state the obvious.
but then you laughed, a small chuckle, and steve opened his eyes again to meet yours.
"that is a good thing, huh?" you spoke, your smile still pulling at your lips as the words left them. "i'm not really sure what to pick, though. do you have any recommendations?"
steve's eyes went wide and his posture straightened immediately, like he hadn't expected to get this far in your conversation. "uh, recommendations? pssh— yeah, totally. what kinda thing are you in the mood for?"
you then spent the next ten minutes following him around the store as he pointed out a few different titles in almost every genre, though some of which he had admitted to you he hadn't seen, only to then suggest for the two of you to watch it together.
you had laughed lightly, not in a mean way, but almost flustered, a little unsure on how to answer. but the answer wasn't a no, you knew that much.
you had always thought steve harrington was handsome, and, yeah, maybe there had been a few times in high school where you had fantasized about being one of the girls he would hold hands with down the halls and take on dates around town, but you didn't want something with steve if it was just going to be a one-time date, or some shitty hook-up. you wanted something more, because that was what you had been searching for.
and that turned out to be pretty perfect, because steve had been searching for something more, too.
by the end of that month, steve harrington was your boyfriend, and you were his girlfriend, and you could've sworn life was perfect.
for a short while, at least.
toward the end of march, he disappeared.
not literally, and not entirely, but just enough for it to be noticeable.
the night before spring break, you had gone to hawkins high school’s championship basketball game in support of steve’s friends: lucas sinclair, who was on the basketball team, and robin buckley, who played in the school band.
then that night he drove you home, kissed you outside your front door, and promised he’d come by the next night to stay with you while your parents went out of town for the break.
he didn’t turn up.
you waited all night, perched on the edge of the couch, eyes drifting from the television and across the room to the phone on the wall, willing it to ring and hoping to hear steve’s voice telling you he was just running late and would be there in 15 minutes.
you didn’t see him again until a couple days later, the morning after the earthquake.
you didn’t sleep all night, you had been terrified. you watched houses you drove past almost daily being ripped apart, sirens wailed outside filling the usual quiet nights in hawkins with horror.
the town had been on fire, smoke billowing from every corner, and you had no idea where steve was.
when the knock on your door came early the next morning, your mouth felt dry and your stomach flipped, because you were somehow fearing the worst.
but when you pulled the door open to see steve, relief rolled over your body like a wave and you practically launched yourself into him, arms circling around his neck like you always would, only this time he winced.
gently, his hands came to your hips and he carefully pulled himself back, making your brows furrow and your mouth twist into a frown.
“you okay?” you asked softly, immediately concerned, and he nodded, though you noticed the way one hand hovered over his middle like he was shielding it.
your eyes flicked up and down his body, taking him in. there were scratches covering his face, and an unfamiliar tiredness behind his eyes, sunken in a way you could only compare to grief.
around his neck, poking out from beneath the collar of his polo, was a dark, angry red line, bruising and scarring the skin just beneath his throat.
“jesus christ, steve, what happened?” you gasped, fingertips reaching up to trace the mark gently, and he forced a smile.
“you should see the other guy.” he joked, but you didn’t smile. your eyes dropped back down to his waist, right where his hand still sat not-so-subtly.
you grabbed his hand and tugged him into the house, forcing him to sit on the couch and you rolled up his shirt to examine whatever he was hiding from you.
a large, white bandage circled his middle, faint red stains coating some of the fabric on each of his sides, and you looked up at him.
“steve, what the hell happened to you?” you asked, and he brushed you off, pushing his shirt back down and pulling you up onto the couch to sit on his lap.
“‘s fine, baby. i promise, i’m fine.” he told you, his eyes searching yours as his hands circled your waist and pulled you in closer. “just got a little held up. sorry i didn’t come by the other night.”
you sighed, but then leaned your head forward to press it against his forehead, kissing him softly, and steve relaxed against you immediately.
“it’s okay. i’m just glad you’re okay, stevie.” you mumbled against his shoulder, burying your face into his neck. “when you didn’t show up, then with all these murders… i got scared.”
“i know, honey, i’m sorry.” he squeezed you tighter, kissing your head. “i missed you so much, god, you don’t even know.”
and the two of you sat like that on your couch from what could’ve been anything from 5 minutes to 5 hours, and you were unaware that this was the beginning of something much bigger than the two of you.
—
six months into hawkins’ government issued quarantine, and things were already much more different than you realized.
you had moved in with steve. maybe it was a little soon, considering you had only been together for about 9 months, but his parents had skipped town before the quarantine was set in place, and he hated being alone.
he worked at the wsqk radio station now, still paired with his best friend robin, but now every night he came home to you.
at least, he used to.
he’d call you before he left for work, asking if you needed him to pick anything up on his way home in this strangely domestic way that made you forget you were just a couple of 20 year olds who had only been together for a year, it made you feel like he was forever. he was your future.
he’d step into the house and drop his keys by the door, the clatter echoing across the first floor before he’d find you, and his hands would be on you in an instant.
arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug, or onto his lap. his lips would meet yours, or his face would end up buried in your neck, depending on how his day went.
but he’d always come home to you, he’d grip onto you like you were the only thing worth holding on to, and he’d whisper that he loved you repeatedly, like it were a prayer.
that’s what made it noticeable when he began pulling away.
at first it was subtle; maybe he wouldn’t call before driving home, or he’d head upstairs and shower before coming downstairs to curl onto the couch with you. it was easy enough to brush off as a bad day.
but then there were those strange nights as the months passed. the nights when he’d come home unexplainably late, sometimes in the early hours of the morning when you were already asleep in his bed, arm reaching across his empty side of the bed as you awaited his return, even in sleep.
when he’d get home, you’d wake up to the sound of him shuffling around the room, shrugging off his jacket, unbuckling his belt, and soon climbing into bed beside you, pulling the covers over his body and pressing his chest up against your back, letting his arm slide around your middle as he'd leave a gentle kiss on the back of your neck.
you’d ask him about it in the morning, why he got home after midnight, and he'd tell you it was because of work.
you didn't know whether or not to believe him, because who works all night at a radio station? but other than that, he never really gave you a reason to be suspicious of anything, because he'd always be by your side again.
that was until november of 1987.
—
he's pulling away, you can feel it. you've been feeling it for the last month at least, maybe even longer. you can't remember exactly how long it's been since you'd noticed, but ever since you noticed, it's been all you can see.
he doesn't cling to you anymore. no hands on your hips while you're cooking in the kitchen, no pulling you onto his lap after work, no phone calls "just 'cause he misses you" no kisses on the back of your neck in the middle of the night. there hasn't even been any sex.
it's like there's been a stranger in your shared bed each night. he still sleeps beside you, but he's not close to you anymore. he doesn't hold you; he just lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling with wide eyes, as if he's lost deep in his thoughts.
when you ask, he just tells you he's busy with work, that he's been helping his friends with things, that he's "just tired".
you just don't understand it. he used to be literally obsessed with you, but now you're fighting for just five minutes of his attention.
he's almost always out of the house, and when he is at home, he's got that walkie talkie glued to his side, ready to take off the moment there's a crackle of static asking for his help.
it's a nightmare. you know his friends need him, but you need him too, and the more he runs after them, you wonder if it's just something to do with you.
you want his attention back; you want him to love you again.
it's like your devoted boyfriend, steve harrington, went to work one day and disappeared, only to be replaced by something that looks like him, moves and talks like him, but isn't him.
you tried everything you could think of; any kind of excuse for him to spend more than ten minutes with you for something that wasn't just going to sleep in the same bed.
you planned dates, but those plans always fell through when he'd get stuck "working late". you tried to get him to watch a movie with you on the couch, but he'd fall asleep halfway in, or he'd not have enough time because "dustin needed him for something".
you tried to tempt him, because you were getting desperate. you dressed in one of his shirts, no bra beneath it like he always loved, and a pair of lacy panties, just waiting for him to get home. ten months ago, he'd have told you he "couldn't resist you looking like this" and he'd have gone all in.
but when he got home, he hardly glanced your way as he took off his shirt and changed into pajama pants, slipping into bed beside you and keeping his back facing your way.
"stevie..." you'd whispered softly, leaning in closer so your chin was pressed to his shoulder and your voice right beside his ear. he hummed in response as you slowly kissed the warm skin of his bicep. "steve."
"not tonight, honey." he mumbled, burying his face into his pillow. "'m sorry. i'm just tired."
you frowned, your lips still glued to his skin, but listened. you respected his space. without as much as a sigh, you'd rolled over and curled into yourself, unsure of what you were supposed to do, because steve didn't want you anymore.
and that leads you to now. november 4th, 1987.
steve hadn't come home the night before, only arriving now, in the early afternoon of the next day, just to shower and change his clothes before he disappears again. and you've had enough.
you watch the way he brushes past you, pulling a jacket on over his sweater — your favorite sweater of his — and grabbing his keys.
"steve." you call out his name as he reaches for the doorhandle, and you're almost surprised to see him stop and turn to face you.
"yeah, honey?" his tone was sweet, almost familiar, but you could hear the tiredness behind it, like there was something forcing the tone out of him.
"don't 'yeah, honey' me, steven." you stated, and his face immediately scrunched into an expression that was a mixture of confusion, concern and surprise. "where the hell are you going?"
"work." he states, and you scoff, crossing your arms and giving him a look that tells him loud and clear that you don't believe him.
"you just got home from work." you point out, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "steve, just talk to me. please. tell me what's going on."
he sighs and shifts on his feet, pulling the front door open. "i can't do this right now, i gotta go."
he takes one step out the doorway, and you draw in a sharp breath.
"if you leave right now, i won't be here when you get back." the words leave your mouth before you even had the chance to think them over, because, frankly, you're just done. "i'm so sick of this, steve. you don't talk to me, you don't touch me, you hardly even look at me anymore, and it's bullshit."
the last word slices through the air like a blade, and steve freezes in his tracks, his blood running cold as he turns to face you again. bullshit.
"honey, please—” his voice comes out shakier than it was before. "can we... we can talk about this tonight. i promise. it's just, i have to go. please don't leave."
you don’t meet his eyes, you just cross your arms and look down at the floor, but you do give him a hesitant nod, because you don’t want to lose him.
steve looks hurt as he closes the front door, and you watch from the window as he trudges to his beamer in the driveway.
you almost wanted to leave, but then something in his tone, the desperation, makes you stay. you feel hopeful. once he gets home tonight, you'll be able to talk and work everything out.
except steve doesn't come home that night. or at all the next day. it's the night of november 6th when he returns, or the early morning of november 7th technically, and you're ready to fight with him, because he promised you would talk, then disappeared again, leaving you worried sick even when you don't want to be.
you sit in the living room, arms crossed while your leg bounces up and down with anxiety. you're not sure if he's going to come home tonight, but you're praying he does, because no matter how angry you are with him, you still love steve harrington more than anything.
then, when you were passed out on the couch, sometime between 4 and 5 a.m., the sky still dark outside, you wake up to the sound of his keys scratching against the door.
you stand up quickly and hurry across the room, pulling the door open without a moment's hesitation, and your breath catches in your throat.
he's a mess, both physically and emotionally, but he's steve, and he's standing right in front of you.
there's a fresh cut on one of his cheekbones, with a few more cuts and bruises covering his face, and you feel a sudden rush of deja vu. this was almost the same thing that had happened 18 months ago, and it makes your stomach sink.
he's dressed in full tactical gear; a brown leather jacket, a backwards cap covering his usually perfectly styled hair, camo print shirt, cargo pants and a red bandana around his neck. all of it is coated in a thick layer of some foul-smelling slime, but you still step back to let him inside the house.
he doesn't walk past you this time, instead of heading upstairs to the shower without another word, he collapses into your arms with a shaky sob, his hands gripping onto you tighter than in months as his fists gripped into the fabric of your sweater and his face slipped into the crook of your neck.
you hug him back, a little confused, and overwhelmed by both the sight before you and the stench that comes with it, but you still hold him.
"i'm sorry." he whimpers into your neck, and it all hits you at once.
you had never once seen steve cry, especially not like this, and now he was breaking down in your arms, crying into your shoulder and holding onto your body like an anchor.
"steve," you whisper out his name and his arms circle you tighter, almost like he's trying to melt into your body. "where on earth have you been? i've— i've been so worried."
he just cried harder, the two of you still standing in the doorway.
"i'm so sorry, honey. i love you so much." his voice comes out shakily, and you pull away from the hug to meet his eyes, cupping his slimy, tear-stained cheek with one hand.
"come on." you tell him, not responding to anything else he's said and just taking his hand to lead him upstairs to the bathroom.
you start running him a hot bath without another word, only glancing his way to tell him to take off his slime-covered war outfit and get in the tub.
"you gonna join me?" he asks shakily, like it’s a poor attempt at a joke, but there’s hope in his tone. you draw in a sharp breath before speaking tearfully.
"only if you promise to tell me what the hell is going on with you right now. because, steve, i swear to god—”
"i'll tell you everything."
and he does. finally.
with his back pressed against your chest, his body slotted between your legs, in the bath, he tells you everything.
years of trauma, from fighting monsters in joyce byers’s living room, to being tortured by russians, from being choked and eaten by killer bats, to coming up with the final plan to take down who he referred to as “vecna”.
and you listen to it all, and though it’s a little confusing, it makes sense. it fills in so many gaps and questions in your mind.
the scars steve could never explain came from monsters, his late nights at work were because of what he called “crawls”.
he tells you about the upside down, about el, about everything he never could before, and you listen, from the beginning all the way to the end, when he explains that it’s over, that they just destroyed the upside down, that el sacrificed herself, and that he and the rest of his friends were safe.
when he finishes talking, you don’t say anything. you stay quiet, taking it all in, thinking it all over, solving all the little things steve had said in the past that had left you confused, the times he had almost let a secret slip out.
it’s hard not to believe him when you’ve seen the wounds first hand, when the timelines add up perfectly, when he shows up covered head-to-toe in mysterious slime that really can’t be explained in any other way.
“honey?” his voice broke the silence, because had noticed the way you fell quiet. “you okay back there?”
“yeah. just— just thinking.” you whisper, and steve sits up straighter, no longer leaning against you, and he turns to face you, reaching for your hand.
“what are you thinking about?” he asks you. he laces your fingers together like he always used to.
“the fact that you’ve apparently been fighting monsters for the last four years of your life and you just didn’t think of mentioning it to me?” you said, looking up to see steve’s frown. “steve, i was so scared. you were disappearing, you hardly talked to me anymore i thought— i thought you were going to break up with me, or that you were cheating, or that you just… didn’t love me anymore.”
steve’s face softens, guilt immediately eating away at his features, brows knitted together as he attempted to slide closer to you in the tub. “oh, baby, no, no, no.”
his arms come around you, pulling you towards him as he peppers kisses all over your forehead and face. you finally let the lump in your throat go, tears flowing from your eyes as you sob into the bare skin of his shoulder.
steve cradles you, holding you so gently and refusing to let go.
“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, honey.” he whispers into your hairline, letting his own tears slip free again. “i should’ve— i never wanted you to feel like this, i just wanted to keep you safe. god, i didn’t even notice i was hurting you, baby, i’m sorry.”
“i thought you didn’t want me anymore.” you whimper against his skin, lip quivering and voice shaky no matter how hard you try to stop it. “i really thought you didn’t love me.”
“no, honey, never. i’ll always love you.” he reassures you, arms tightening around your body. “i’ll always want you, ‘cause you’re it for me, okay? i don’t want anyone else but you.”
you draw in another shaky breath, but nod as your breathing begins to balance out again and you collect yourself.
“i love you.” he states, letting his hands loosen from where they were wrapped around you to pull back jist slightly, allowing him to meet your gaze, your eyes red and raw from the tears.
“i love you, too.” you reply, and steve smiles, leaning in to kiss you and you let his lips meet yours.
it’s soft, gentle, and somehow the first real kiss you’ve had in months. steve’s hand comes up to cup your cheek as he kisses you deeper, eyes closed before he pulls back and presses his forehead against yours.
“i’ve missed you, you know? i didn’t mean to push you away.” he mumbles and you nod. there’s a silent pause before you giggle quietly, and steve stares fondly, a little puzzled. “what?”
“just— i think we need to wash your hair.” you say. “you reek, steve.”
“thank you.” he mutters sarcastically, but his lips curve upwards. “you always know how to flatter me, honey.”
you just smile and hum in response, because even if the hurt is still at the surface, it’s slowly fading away, replacing itself with relief just because you have him back.
“okay.” steve says, reaching for his shampoo and pulling it closer. “how about we make a deal? you take care of me and help me wash all of this goopy shit from my hair, and i promise to take the best care of you the moment we get out.”
“hmm.” you let your eyes narrow and tap your chin as if you’re deep in thought. “how would you take care of me?”
“i’ll do anything you want, honey.” steve promises, lips traveling down your neck as he leaves wet kisses that make you giggle. “you want to stay in bed and cuddle for the next week? done. you want me to cook you dinner and watch a movie? on it. you want me to eat you out for the rest of the night? i’m on my knees already, baby. i’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
your hands drift around his neck, nails gently scratching against the bottom of his hair as you him him close and rest your chin on his head, his laugh sending vibrations up your neck.
“okay.” you finally say and he sits up to meet your eyes again.
“yeah?” he asks and you nod.
“yeah.” you confirm, tears sparkling in the corners of your eyes. you brush some of his wet hair away from his eyes. “and, for the record, all you have to do to make it up to me is be here. just be here with me.”
he nods, thumb stroking your cheek. “i can do that.”
you smile. he smiles back, then pulls you close again, into another hug, like he doesn’t want to let you go.
steve would gladly hold you in his arms for the rest of his life and he’d never get bored. not when he has you. and he’ll very gladly spend the rest of his life proving that to you.
that’s why he’s had a ring hidden in his underwear drawer for the last year, just waiting for the perfect moment.
now that he knows that hawkins, and the entire world, is safe from monsters and the upside down, he has a feeling that perfect moment’s going to come up sometime soon, and he can’t wait.
—
a/n: lowkey rushed the ending cause i got stuck i hope that’s not noticeable.. anyway i hope u enjoyed! comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3
cw: smut | PinV (unprotected), cheating, no prep, squirting, let me know if i forgot any.
"and i just don't get it, man!" eddie's hands fly through the air, nearly smacking a half-empty beer bottle off steve's coffee table. he's been pacing for the last ten minutes, a frantic, caged-animal energy radiating off him. "her? with him? it's like, it's like a bad romcom. a really, really bad one. one where you can see the ending from a mile away and the ending sucks."
steve, slouched into the couch cushions, just sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "eddie, i know. i'm her brother. i have to sit at dinner and watch him talk about his lacrosse stats. it's torture."
"exactly! torture!" eddie points a finger at steve, as if he's just been proven right in a court of law. "see? steve gets it. he's my twin! he has the same dna! he knows that this is not her. this is not… this is not our girl."
robin, perched on the arm of the couch, takes a slow sip from her bottle. "okay, but has anyone considered that maybe she just… likes the guy? that he's nice and he makes her happy?"
eddie stops pacing to stare at her, a look of utter betrayal on his face. "robin. robin, no. you're not listening. he's not 'nice.' he's… beige. he's a walking, talking polo shirt. he probably thinks 'stairway to heaven' is the only led zeppelin song in existence. he doesn't see her. he sees the prom queen. he sees the perfect harrington daughter."
he slumps down onto the floor, leaning his back against the couch, right next to steve's legs. he runs a hand through his hair, making it even more chaotic than usual. "i know her, rob. better than anyone. i know the way she bites her lip when she's trying not to laugh at a dirty joke. i know she can quote the entire evil dead trilogy but pretends she doesn't know who the president is to get out of conversations. i know she hates the smell of chlorine and that her favorite shirt is the faded black ramones one she stole from my closet sophomore year."
he looks up at steve, his voice dropping a little, losing the frantic edge and turning into something softer, more frustrated. "she's not happy. you see it, right? the way she smiles? it doesn't reach her eyes anymore. it's the same smile she used to give our dad's business associates when he'd drag us to those stupid company picnics. the 'yes, sir, i'm a perfect daughter' smile. it's a mask."
steve nods grimly, staring into his beer bottle. "dad's been on her case since graduation. 'it's time to think about your future, steven.'—he still calls me steven, by the way—'you need to find a nice boy from a good family.' jock mcdreamy over there checks all the boxes. pre-med, father's a doctor, perfect teeth."
"perfect teeth," eddie scoffs, kicking his leg out. "who gives a shit about perfect teeth? i care about the little chip in her front incisor from when she tried to skateboard down the harrington driveway in seventh grade and ate shit. i care about the fact that she thinks black sabbath is overrated but will listen to master of reality with me anyway because she knows i love it. this guy… he probably listens to fucking genesis."
"hey, genesis has some bangers," robin mutters, but eddie and steve both ignore her.
"it's a performance," eddie says, his voice tight. "the whole thing. the perfect apartment, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect future she's building for everyone but herself. she's suffocating in it. and i just have to stand there and watch her date the human equivalent of a participation trophy because it's easier than fighting her dad."
the days bled into a familiar, hazy rhythm of late-night shifts at the video store and even later nights crashed out on eddie's trailer couch. tonight, the air inside was thick and sweet with the acrid smell of weed, the smoke curling around the christmas lights strung along the ceiling. you were pressed up against his side, his arm a heavy, warm weight around your shoulders as you passed a blunt back and forth, the embers glowing like angry little stars in the dim light.
"so," he started, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your ribs. he took a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs before letting it out in a slow, deliberate stream towards the ceiling. "brad." he said the name like it was a bad taste in his mouth. "how's… brad?”
you sighed, the sound swallowed by the trailer's stuffy air. you took the blunt from his fingers, your own hands feeling a little clumsy, a little distant. "he's fine, eddie. he's brad." you couldn't put much energy into it. you couldn't ever, when it came to brad.
"no, he's not," eddie countered, turning his head to look at you properly. his eyes, usually so full of manic energy, were soft and intense, pinning you in place. "you're fine. you're… you're putting on a show. i know that look. it's the same one you used to give your dad's golf buddies. but you're not happy. i can see it. you think i can't?"
the high was making everything feel more profound, more raw. the walls you'd carefully built around the truth felt thin, flimsy. you looked away, focusing on a particularly interesting water stain on the ceiling. "he's what my dad wants," you admitted, the words feeling heavy as they left your lips. "he's… safe. predictable. he's going to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or some other thing that sounds good at a cocktail party. it makes my dad proud. it's easier this way."
eddie sat up, dislodging your head from his shoulder but immediately taking your face in his hands. his thumbs stroked over your cheekbones, his touch impossibly gentle. "easier for who? for him? for your dad? what about you? what do you want?" his voice was a desperate, pleading thing. "i know what you want. i know you. i know the girl who snuck out to go see a horror movie marathon with me even though she had a sat the next day. i know the girl who thinks my stupid d&ds campaigns are cool. that's you. not this… this porcelain doll version of you that's dating some asshole named brad."
the tears you hadn't realized were threatening finally spilled over, hot and silent. you leaned into his touch, your whole body feeling like it was crumbling. "i don't know how to be that girl and still make them happy," you whispered.
"hey," he murmured, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. "look at me." you did, losing yourself in the endless, worried pools of his eyes. "you don't have to choose. not with me. you can be everything you are with me. the smart, the weird, the sad, the horny… all of it. just let me see you. please."
that was all it took. the permission, the desperate need in his voice. you closed the small distance between you and pressed your lips to his. it wasn't soft or sweet. it was hungry, desperate, a year's worth of unspoken feelings and frustration pouring out into one messy, open-mouthed kiss. he groaned into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that went straight to your core, his hands sliding from your face into your hair, tangling in the strands and holding you close like he was afraid you might disappear.
he maneuvered you both until you were lying back on his worn-out couch, his body covering yours, a welcome, heavy weight. he broke the kiss only to pull your shirt over your head, his eyes going wide, his breath hitching in his throat as he stared down at your chest. "fuck," he breathed, the word a reverent prayer. "look at you. christ, you're perfect." he was obsessed, always had been, and the high was stripping away any last shred of his restraint. his hands were everywhere, tracing the lace of your bra, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, already hard and straining against the fabric. "i've thought about this. so many times. you have no idea."
he made quick work of the clasp, his hands trembling slightly as he freed your breasts. he just looked for a moment, his gaze so hot and intense it made your skin feel like it was burning. "so fucking pretty," he whispered, leaning down to take one peak into his mouth. his tongue was a wet, velvet heat, swirling and teasing, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make you gasp. his other hand palmed your other breast, squeezing and kneading, utterly lost in the feel of you. "god, i love your tits," he moaned around your nipple, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you. "love them so much."
he fumbled with the button of his jeans, shoving them down just enough to free himself. your eyes, hazy and lust-blown, drifted down, and your breath caught. he was big, thick and heavy in his own grasp, the tip flushed a dark, angry purple. he saw you looking and a cocky, breathless grin spread across his face. "yeah, baby? you see what you do to me? been hard for you since i was sixteen."
he settled between your legs, guiding himself to your entrance. "gonna take care of you," he promised, his voice thick with emotion and desire. "gonna make you feel so good." he pushed inside, slowly, inch by agonizing inch, and the stretch was exquisite, a deep, full ache that had you arching your back. he watched your face the entire time, his expression a mixture of awe and pure, unadulterated lust. "that's it," he groaned, his voice strained. "fuck, you're so tight. taking me so well. such a good girl for me."
he started to move, his hips rolling in a steady, deep rhythm that had you seeing stars. the couch creaked in time with his thrusts, the slick sounds of your bodies joining filling the small room. he was vocal, letting out these beautiful, broken moans every time he buried himself to the hilt. "oh, fuck… feels so good… you're so wet for me, baby… all for me." his hands were still on your breasts, his thumbs rubbing circles over your nipples, pinching and pulling just the way you liked it. the coil of pleasure in your stomach tightened, faster and faster, until you were a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him. "i know," he panted, sensing you were close. "i know, baby. let go. come on my cock. wanna feel you."
his words, his voice, the overwhelming feeling of him everywhere was too much. your orgasm crashed over you, a blinding, all-consuming wave that left you gasping and trembling. your inner walls clenched around him, and that was his undoing. with a loud, guttural cry of your name, he pulled out, his hand fisting around his cock as he stroked himself once, twice, before he came, hot and thick, painting your chest and stomach in stripes of white. he collapsed beside you, breathing hard, his eyes fixed on the mess he'd made on your skin. "holy shit," he whispered, his voice full of awe. "look at that. so pretty covered in my cum."
he was insatiable. after a moment, he was on you again, his mouth claiming yours in a messy, possessive kiss as he manhandled you onto your stomach. "not done," he growled against your lips. "need more of you." he grabbed your hips, pulling you up onto your knees, and you felt him, hard and ready again, nudging at your entrance from behind. this time, there was no slow build. he slammed into you, the force of it pushing the air from your lungs. the new angle was devastating, hitting a spot deep inside you that made your toes curl.
he set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the trailer. one of his hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough, the other gripping your hip so tightly you knew you'd have bruises tomorrow. "you like that?" he grunted, his voice rough with exertion. "like it when i fuck you hard? like it when i own this pussy?" his words were filthy, but they were exactly what you needed. you could only moan in response, pushing back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. "that's my girl," he praised, his rhythm faltering slightly. "take it. fuck, i'm gonna cum… gonna fill you up… you want that? want my cum inside you?"
"yes," you sobbed, pushing your face into the couch cushions. "please, eddie."
with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep and came again, a long, low moan tearing from his throat as he spilled inside you, the heat of his release flooding your senses. he stayed there for a moment, draped over your back, his breath hot and ragged against your shoulder. then he was pulling out, flipping you over with surprising strength.
he was flipping you over with surprising strength, manhandling you like you weighed nothing until you were straddling his lap, your knees sinking into the worn couch cushions on either side of his hips. his chest was heaving, his face flushed and shining with a thin layer of sweat, but his eyes were burning with a renewed, feral intensity. "my turn to watch," he panted, his hands gripping your waist, his thumbs stroking the skin there. "ride me. wanna see you use me to get yourself off. wanna see you fall apart on my cock."
the blunt, the orgasms, the sheer overwhelming reality of finally having him like this had you feeling pliant and powerful all at once. you braced your hands on his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle there, and lifted your hips. you reached between your bodies, taking his still-hard, slick cock in your hand and guiding the head to your entrance. you were dripping, a mix of your own arousal and his release, and he slid inside you with a wet, easy glide that made you both moan. you sank down slowly, taking him inch by inch, reveling in the guttural sound he made as you enveloped him completely, his hips bucking up involuntarily.
"fuck, that's it," he choked out, his head falling back against the couch cushions. his eyes were glued to the place where your bodies joined, watching as you started to move. you set a slow, rolling rhythm at first, grinding your hips in circles, feeling every thick, hard ridge of him inside you. his hands roamed up your back, tracing the line of your spine before coming around to cup your breasts again. he couldn't seem to get enough of them, his palms fitting perfectly against their weight, his fingers teasing your nipples. "look at you," he breathed, his voice full of worship. "so fucking beautiful. riding me like you were made for it. you were, weren't you? made for me."
his words, his gaze, the way he was completely at your mercy—it was a heady, intoxicating cocktail. you started to move faster, bouncing on his lap, the sound of your bodies meeting growing louder, wetter. the coil of pleasure was winding tight again, impossibly fast, a deep, throbbing pressure building deep in your core. you could feel his release from before, a warm, slick presence inside you, and with every downward thrust, the head of his cock was pressing against that sensitive spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
"that's it, baby, just like that," he encouraged, his voice a ragged, breathless moan. "use me. fuck yourself on my cock. wanna feel you cum again. wanna feel you soak me." one of his hands left your breast and slid down your stomach, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, merciless circles. the added stimulation was your undoing. it was too much, too perfect. your rhythm faltered, your movements becoming jerky and desperate as your orgasm barreled through you. it wasn't just a wave this time; it was a tsunami. a blinding, explosive rush that stole your breath and your vision.
you cried out his name, your body convulsing, and then you felt it—a sudden, gushing release. a powerful jet of fluid that soaked his lap, his stomach, his cock. you were squirting, pushing his own cum out of you with the force of your orgasm, the evidence of your shared pleasure flooding the both of you. the sensation was so intense, so unexpected, that it prolonged your climax, leaving you a trembling, sobbing mess above him.
eddie froze beneath you, his eyes wide with shock and utter, unadulterated awe. a slow, wicked grin spread across his face as he felt the hot wetness coating him. "holy fucking shit," he breathed, his voice filled with reverence. "did you… did you just…?" he didn't even finish the question. he just grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him one last time, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train. he came with a hoarse shout, his body arching up off the couch as he pumped into you, adding to the mess between your legs.
you collapsed against his chest, completely spent, your body limp and trembling. his arms came around you immediately, holding you tight against his hammering heart. you could feel the wetness seeping into both of your skin, the sticky, combined evidence of everything you had just done. after a long moment, he started to laugh, a low, breathless, utterly delighted sound. he pressed a kiss to your sweat-damp hair, his hands stroking lazily up and down your back.
"jesus christ," he whispered, his voice still rough with sex. "we made a fucking mess." he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft and full of an emotion so deep it made your chest ache. "you're incredible," he murmured, his thumb gently wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. "absolutely fucking incredible. and you're never dating that brad asshole again. you hear me? you're stuck with me."
𝟎𝟏 the majority of my fics are nsfw , so minors , please do not interact with my content ! be mindful of your consumption on the internet. also dni if you’re racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, a tr*mp supporter.. overall if you hate someone because they’re not a white cis male just don’t fucking bother.
𝟎𝟐 i don’t do requests or stuff like that, although i love hearing ideas! <3
𝟎𝟑 ask to be moots or dm me !!! i promise i am very kewl
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“i never see you at the club” ok well i never see you on ao3 at 2am reading about the same two bitches falling in love for the 1000th time in the 500th way
synopsis: you bite the bullet and ask out your best friend, eddie, whom you have feelings for. only eddie doesn’t think he deserves you and does what he does best - self sabotage.
warnings: angst, eddie is dumb as hell in this I’m sorry, eddie’s abandonment issues, reader is described to wear makeup and a dress, a little dash of fluff in the beginning but it goes down hill fast, angsty ending, probably mediocre writing because it’s been years and I’m rusty, lmk if I missed anything! inspired by the line from washing machine heart by mitski.
a/n: my first time posting a fic in a while so apologies if it’s not up to par with my older writing. the new st season has me wanting to write so I’m hoping this gets the ball rolling. I was originally writing this as a spencer reid fic but I thought it fit better for eddie. though i’m not opposed to posting the spencer one. the ending to this is a little sad but I’m open to writing a part 2 if enough people want it! (edit: part two has been posted!)
masterlist
♫ I’m not wearing my usual lipstick / I thought maybe we would kiss tonight ♫
You were gonna do it.
You were gonna ask out Eddie Munson.
After months of pining and lamenting to your friends about how cute and sweet Eddie was, they had finally convinced you to take the plunge and ask him out.
“Eddie is literally head over heels for you! I swear there’s nowhere you go that his big baby cow eyes don’t follow you.” Robin says, sitting upside down on Steve’s couch, head of mousy blonde hair hanging off the edge.
Steve shoots her a weird look, repeating the phrase “baby cow eyes” under his breath until he thinks about it enough to raise his eyebrows in agreement. “Robin’s right-and I don’t say that often. Munson worships the ground you walk on, it’s kinda pathetic actually.”
He lets out an oof at the pillow you throw at him. “He’s not pathetic!” You defend. “He’s kind, he’s always giving me rides even though I know my car takes way less gas than his van and he won’t let me pay him back. He visits me at the diner to keep me company on my breaks, he always lets me picks the movie when we have movie nights even though I know he can’t stand to watch The Breakfast Club again but he sits through it because he knows I love it.”
You unconsciously end your rant with a little sigh, a cheesy smile on your face. There’s a beat of silence and you look at your two friends who stare at you with matching, knowing expressions.
“You might have a point.” You reply with pursed lips.
And thus the decision was made. You were going to bite the bullet and ask out Eddie Munson, because there was absolutely no way he was going to say no.
It was a few days before you got the chance to ask. During your weekly movie night where the two of you were watching (you guessed it) The Breakfast Club, you approached the subject with caution, still jittery with nerves despite your friends insistence that Eddie was into you.
The credits were rolling, soda cups empty and popcorn bowl down to the last few kernels. You watched Eddie sit up and stretch his arms, your voice coming out quieter than you meant for it to. “Hey, Eds?”
“Yeah?” He replies through a yawn. You took a second to admire his messy head of curls and the heaviness of his eyelids that told you he’d be crashing soon.
“I was just wondering-“ You swallowed, wiping your suddenly sweaty palms onto your pants. “Would you, maybe, wanna go see a movie? This week?”
Eddie suddenly looked more awake than he was ten seconds ago, big brown eyes open wide as he processes what you’ve asked. “The movies?”
You nod, a shy smile on your lips. “Yeah, I was thinking that new movie Labyrinth? The one with David Bowie I think you’d like!”
Eddie melts inside, because the first time you mentioned to movie to him you said he would like it, and he watched the previews to find out that you were right, because you knew him that well.
He nods dumbly. “I recall.” His arm reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “I think i’d be down. We can do Friday?”
Your heart leaps in your chest, unable to keep the grin from blooming on your face. “Friday is good! Friday’s great actually! Pick me up at seven?”
There’s a surge of adrenaline coursing through you as you realize that you finally did it. You asked our Eddie Munson, your best friend who you have feelings for, and he said yes!
Before he can even answer your question, you look up at the clock hung above the door of the trailer, realizing how late it was. “Oh shit, I should’ve been home like an hour ago. I have work early tomorrow!” You curse, scrambling to collect all of your stuff.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna stay? It’s late for you to be driving?” Eddie asks, a little concern seeping through his tone.
You shake your head, slipping your shoes back on. “No can do, the emergency work uniform in my car has had one too many spills and smells like grease.” You tell him with a scrunched nose.
Eddie chuckles, following you to the door. “Okay, well, be careful. The roads are probably still wet from the rain earlier.”
Your stomach flutters at his care for you. “I will, Eds. I’ll see you Friday?” You grin at him once more, taking the leap and jumping to press a kiss to his cheek.
You’re already halfway in your car, waving goodbye to him and don’t see the rush of color that floods his cheeks. You also don’t see him hold his hand where your lips had touched as you drive out of the trailer park.
The memory of the sweet kiss you left on his cheek burned for the rest of the night. The dopey smile on Eddie’s face stayed in put until he was in bed, replaying the night in his head, just as he did every time the two of you hung out.
Only this time Eddie has an epiphany, shooting up in his bed, eyes blown wide. “Was she asking me on a date?”
-
Eddie spends the next few days reeling after the realization that your invitation for the movies had been you asking him on a date.
In hindsight, it also explains the cheek kiss that damn near brought him to his knees.
He can’t even let himself be excited, instead his mind is choosing to turn on him. He should be on cloud nine, ecstatic that the girl of his dreams wants to go on a date with him.
No, his years of abandonment issues choose right now to pull him down.
Why would she ever want to go out with you? You can barely afford to feed yourself, how do you expect to pay for all of your dates? You have a twin mattress in a trailer, a room you can’t keep clean and a van that break down more often than it drives. What about you screams boyfriend material?
She’s just confused, mistaking your kindness for something with longevity. She deserves better than a loser who can’t even finish high school on time.
The thoughts keep him tossing and turning until he’s gone days without a good nights sleep. He gets lucky that you’re swamped at the diner and have no time to see him. The couple of instances that you ask to see him, he makes up an excuse about too much homework, or doing something for Wayne.
And you, of course, don’t get upset at him. You tell him it’s okay, in your sweet voice, and bring up how excited you are for Friday. It only makes him feel worse.
He starts to believe his brain is right. You deserve better than he could ever provide for you.
So the morning of your date, Eddie decides to make a phone call.
-
You were walking on air the days leading up to your date with Eddie.
You were a little bummed you couldn’t see him before then, but you’d both had a busy week and you just couldn’t wait for tonight.
“Got a hot date or something?” Rhonda, your fellow waitress and the sweetest woman alive, asks. “You’ve been floating around here for days now. You didn’t even get upset when the four top last night left without leaving a tip.”
Heat flooded your face, a shy smile appearing without your control. “Or something…” You trail off, placing all of the dirty dishes on your serving tray into the sink.
Rhonda cocks an eyebrow at you, smirking knowingly. “I hope this something is happening with that scruffy boy that’s always in here for you.”
“It might be.” You shrug coyly. “It’s just a movie date.”
“We all know what happens on movie dates.” Rhonda teases, bumping your hip as she moves past you into the kitchen.
You sputter at her retreating figure, flustered at the idea that anything intimate might happen between you and Eddie tonight. Your mind starts to spiral and you work the rest of your shift on autopilot, too busy trying to shake the images of Eddie in more promiscuous positions.
-
Your heart refuses to steady as you sit in your living room. You’ve smoothed out the fabric of your dress a million times, and your lips sting a little from how much your teeth have pick at the skin. The layer of wax typically on your lips, your usual lipstick, is significantly missing from your makeup.
You left the tube untouched on your vanity, silently hoping that maybe the night would end with a kiss. A kiss that would be better without lipstick smeared on both of your chins after.
It’s a few minutes before seven, but you’d been sitting tensely for the last twenty minutes, the anticipation for the night influencing you to get ready extra early.
A mistake you’re learning, because it leaves you stewing in your anxiety while you wait for Eddie to pick you up.
After what felt like forever, a flash of headlights spills through the front windows. You shoot up from your seat, now stuck standing in the middle of your living room.
A few seconds later a knock sounds on your door and you almost lunge to open it before you realize that you don’t want Eddie thinking you were waiting at the door. Even if that’s exactly what you were doing.
You wait a beat, take a breath, then reach for the door with shaking hands.
The door opens and Eddie stands there, clad in one of his many band t-shirts, his leather jacket and dark jeans. It isn’t anything different from his everyday wear, yet the sight of him is enough to release a wave of butterflies in your stomach.
Similarly, Eddie freezes when the door reveals you. You, in your pretty dress, standing there with the kitchen lights behind you making you glow like an angel. It actually knocks the breath out of him.
He glances to your mouth, noting the absence of your signature color. He has no time to dwell on that detail.
“Hi.” You say, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you are. Even though you have no reason to be. This is your best friend Eddie. You have movie nights all the time, you’ve stayed over at his trailer a dozen times, why does this feel any different?
“Hi.” He chokes out. “You look beautiful. I mean-“ His eyes go wide. “You always look beautiful, just right now-it’s like…extra?”
You bite your lip to keep from laughing, “Thank you, Ed’s.” You chuckle despite your efforts. “Ready to go?”
To keep his dignity, Eddie refrains from trying to speak again, instead waving his arms towards his awaiting van.
You think him quietly when he opens the passenger door for you, something he does all the time, yet the action makes you smile.
“Excited for the movie?” You ask as the van exits your neighborhood. It breaks the silence that had fallen over you.
Eddie hums in confirmation, “Yeah I think it’s gonna be good.” But says nothing else. You frown, finding it weird that he’s so quiet. Eddie usually can’t go five minutes without going on a tangent, it’s one of the things you love about him.
Maybe he’s just nervous, you tell yourself.
Little else is said in the few minutes it takes to get to the Hawkins Theater. A couple mumbles of how your respective days were is the extent.
By the time you’re parking, the butterflies in your stomach had been replaced by an odd feeling, one that you couldn’t name because you didn’t know what was making Eddie act so weird.
Was he already regretting the date? It had barely even started.
Still, he slips out of the car and jogs to your side to open the door for you, a gentlemen despite his out of character behavior.
Already the night isn’t going like how you envisioned. You thought by now your usual banter with Eddie would have put you both at ease, maybe even holding hands on your way in.
Eddie, though, seems to not want to get any closer to you than a couple feet. His hands stay buried the in pockets of his jacket and he hasn’t said a word in the last few minutes.
You both reach the ticket booth. “How can I help y’all?” The woman behind the counter chirps.
“Uh, yeah, two tickets for Labyrinth. Please.” Eddie replies, pulling his wallet out.
The woman beams. “Great choice!” She slips two tickets through the plastic slot. “Two tickets for the happy couple. Y’all enjoy!”
You flush at the title, but when you look over at Eddie he’s frowning, mumbling a thanks as he grabs them.
He doesn’t wait for you to say anything, already heading towards the door. You send a friendly smile to the employee before jogging to catch up with him.
He seems to be in a hurry to get inside the theater, his long strides making it hard to keep up. “Eds-“ You huff. “Eddie, wait up!”
Your pleas fall on deaf ears, but you do eventually make it to the theater where he wordlessly holds the door behind him.
You let out a breath, following him into the dimly lit room. You’re walking behind him up the stairs, so close to his back that his shoulders block your view of the seats.
Everything seems normal, until an all too familiar voice calls your names.
“Hey! There you guys are!” It’s none other than Dustin Henderson, flanked on either side by Lucas and Mike, Max, El, and Will next to them. In the row above them are Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan.
The entire gang is taking up a good chunk of the seats, and you have a sinking feeling them being at the exact same showing as you and Eddie isn’t a coincidence.
“The movie’s gonna start soon! We bought some popcorn for you!” The teenager grins, holding up an untouched bucket of popcorn.
You force out a laugh. “Yeah, I-I didn’t know you’d all be here.” You cross your arms, eyes bouncing from one friend to another.
“Oh Eddie didn’t tell you? He called this morning, said you wanted all of us to come see the movie. Guess the diner was really busy this week?” The innocence in Dustin’s tone is what really has your heart sinking.
Your friends aren’t here by accident you realize. Eddie invited them. He invited your entire friend group to what was supposed to be a date.
A wave of humiliation washes over you as you finally put two and two together. Eddie was acting weird because he clearly didn’t want this to be a date. And what makes it so much worse is Steve and Robin, the only people who knew of your plan to ask out Eddie, seem to also realize what’s happening, their stares morphing from confused to pitiful.
You glance at Eddie and his eyes are everywhere but you, landing the final blow to your heart.
You look back at Dustin, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, it was busy.” You don’t wait for Eddie to sit, shouldering past him instead to claim the seat next to Robin.
He takes the seat next to you but you don’t dare look at him.
Robin and Steve both turn their heads towards you, the blonde leaning closer to mumble to you. “Are you okay?” They both look at you with concern clear on their faces.
You can’t look at them, fearing the eye contact may break you entirely. “Ask me tomorrow.” You say, blinking away the tears that stung in your eyes.
summary: Eddie has become obsessed with his new friend’s sister.
warnings: weed smoking, fingering. wc: 3.2k
notes: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote years ago, it’s by the same name but under a different blog. anyways, i changed quite a lot of it and personally think this is much better. * reader not knowing about orgasms is period accuracy and eddie knowing about them is just extremely inaccurate.
Eddie was completely obsessed with you. And who could blame him, you were always parading around in your little cheerleader outfit and the bow at the top of your ponytail, it was driving him insane.
It all started after summer, when Dustin started high school and entered hellfire. Your paths had never really crossed before but ever since you came into the room where he held the campaign, already yelling at your brother for making you wait, he could not stop thinking about you.
After months of just watching you in the hallways and teasing when you stopped by to get Dustin, he asked you to come watch his band play.
"I'll think about it, Munson." you teased, getting in your car and driving out, leaving him standing in the middle of the parking lot.
The next day, when you purposely dropped by to talk to your brother, he demanded an answer.
“I’m still thinking about it, okay?"
And again the next day, and the day after that and the rest of the week, and still no answer. Until it was the day of the special concert and he drove to your place to pick you up.
It took him a few seconds to knock on the door, nerves running through his body like never before. He heard two voices coming from inside, yours yelling for Dustin to get the door and Dustin’s yelling right back at you.
Eddie’s smile faded when Dustin opened the door. “Go get your sister, Henderson.”
“Dude, I told you to stop hitting on my sister, she’s not into you” He told Eddie, rolling his eyes.
“If she wasn’t into me we wouldn’t have a date tonight, but we do. So can you go get her?”
“Who is it?” you asked, making your way to the front door and quickly regretting it. You were standing in front of Eddie in an old tshirt that was basically see through and a pair of old shorts that didn’t fit your brother anymore. “Dustin, go to your room”
“What? You’re not my mom, I’m not ten” he squealed.
“I don’t care, go to your room!” You told him again and watched him leave before turning back to Eddie. You caught his gaze quickly shift from your chest back to your face and were suddenly very aware of your braless state. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We have a date. Why aren’t you ready?”
“Well, Edward, it’s” you grabbed his wrist and turned to you, checking the time on his watch, “nine fifteen on a saturday, I planned on staying in and watching a movie with my brother”
“That nerd? Pretty sure a metal concert is more fun” he teased.
“I don’t like metal, Eddie”
“You don’t have to like metal, just have to like me” You just rolled your eyes at his words, but he was determined to get you to come. "C'mon, it's Saturday and I have weed. We can hang out and smoke something after the show."
“Fine! I’ll get dressed.” You gave in but closed the front door, making him wait outside.
You changed into a short leather skirt and a dark sweater, lace tights and high boots protecting you from the cold fall breeze. You stopped by Dustin’s room when walking back, opening the door without even knocking.
“I’m going out”
“What? You’re leaving me alone?” he squealed again, throwing the comic he was reading into the air. “What time do you come back? What do I tell mom when she gets home?”
“We already had dinner and there are snacks in the kitchen, you’ll be fine alone. I don’t know what time I’ll be back. And, you know damn well mom won’t check, she won’t even know, I’ll get in through the window. Good?”
“You’re a terrible sister,” he said.
“Love you too, Dusty!” you told him, already making your way to the front door.
The drive to the bar was silent but not too bad, you were touching up your make up on the sunvisor, smudging liner on your eyes.
“This okay?” You turned to him as he parked, “don’t wanna stand out too much”
“It’s perfect. You look great.”
You would never admit it, but that compliment made you blush.
There were about ten people at the bar, you and the workers included, but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, he had to start somewhere.
You had to admit that he looked great on stage. After an energetic thirty minute set he was sweating, hair all over the place and a wide smile on his face.
After the set he took you to his van, you knew exactly why.
You sat on the carpet side by side and he pulled a blunt out of his pocket, placing it between your lips to light it. After a couple passes the van was foggy and your minds were hazy.
In your cloudy mind you barely realized how close Eddie had gotten until his hand was on your cheeks, turning your face to his so he could blow smoke into your mouth. He held your face, watching as you took the smoke into your lungs.
His dark reddened eyes stared into yours for a beat before his lips met yours again, but this time in a kiss. It was messy but none of you cared, you just moaned when he pushed his tongue into your mouth.
Soon his left hand met your waist, holding it tight and guiding you onto his lap. He put out the blunt so he could let his hands roam under your sweater. His hands were warm, rough, but the metal of his rings and chain were still cold.
You could feel him hardening under you, barely pressing to your middle, just enough to get your entire body hot. You were out of your mind enough to grind your hips against his; once, twice.
It was only when his hands moved to unclasp your bra that you stopped in your tracks. “Eddie” you called, “Eddie, no.”
“Doll” He groaned in complaint.
“No, Eddie… we’re high.” You slid off his lap, tidying up your skirt.
"Sorry, I didn’t mean to go too far”
“No, it’s okay. I just…” you trailed off, “just don’t wanna lose my virginity in the back of a van, especially when we’re both high”
Eddie raised his brows, “so cheerleaders are actually good girls, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that smoking weed in the back of an older guy’s van is very ‘good girl’ of me”
“You know what I meant.” He leaned in for a kiss but you pulled away.
“I think we should go home” you told him, voice weak.
"Yeah, right" he backed up, climbing onto the front seat and helping you to do the same.
"Are you avoiding me?" he asked, stopping you from going into your classroom.
"Eddie" you groaned trying again to go through the door but his tall frame stopped you.
"C'mon, sweetheart, you're more mature than this. Talk to me, please"
"What do you wanna hear, Munson?" you gave in, trying to hide a smile as he took the heavy books from your arms.
"Well, from you, a lot of things but I don't think that's appropriated" You gave him a single look that ended his teasing. "Sorry. But I did really miss seeing you this week, making up excuses to come into Hellfire in your little cheer outfit”
“I go in there to pick up Dustin, you go over time a lot” you explained. You would never parade your cheer clothes for Eddie.
“Right. I’m serious though, I just wanna know why you’re avoiding me”
“Well, Edward, we almost fucked in the back of your van, that’s not exactly the kind of girl I wanna be” you snapped, whispering so the few people running late to class didn’t hear you.
“You’re not that kind of girl! I know that. Just go out with me again and I’ll show you what you really deserve, I promise.” His eyes were searching yours but you didn’t want to look up, so his hand reached for your chin, “just say you’ll think about it, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll think about it.” You sighed as his thumb brushed your bottom lip. His eyes were full of lust as he looked down at you, holding everything back. “I’ll uh… I’ll meet you after Hellfire. I’m pretty sure Dustin is going to Mike’s after school”
You thought about leaving practice early multiple times, Hellfire usually ended at five and it was already 45 minutes past that when you finished. They wouldn’t even have noticed it, you were barely doing anything.
But you stayed to the end, hoping that Eddie would still be waiting for you. You ran out of the gymnasium, down the corridor, to one of the last rooms, the one with a sign that said ‘Hellfire’.
You peeked through the door and saw him on his throne, writing something down. You couldn’t help but smile at how concentrated he looked.
“Hi” you spoke, voice small and soft, different from how it usually sounds when you get there to drag Dustin out of the session.
“Look who decided to show”. He looked up from the desk, relaxing back on the chair, legs spread and arms on the rests.
“Practice takes longer than playing pretend”
“Wow,” he takes a hand to his chest, “I’m gonna pretend that offended me. For your ego”
You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, making your way to him slowly. You placed yourself between him and the table, pushing back all his notes and the little figurines.
“You told me to meet you here” he said after a beat.
“I did”
“Why?”
There was no point in hiding the truth, “I– I wanted to kiss you again.”
Eddie didn’t say anything, but his brows lifted, teasing you with no words. You kicked his foot in response, but he only smiled and tapped his lap. You couldn’t help but take the seat.
He guided you to straddle him, knees on each side of his thighs, digging into the chair. Then his hand moved up to your face, palm on your jaw, fingers reaching behind your neck to pull you down.
Your lips met in a slow tentative kiss, your hands rested on his chest. You kissed deeper, hungrier, crashing your lips against his, until he pulled away, smiling.
“Really waited all week, huh?” he teased, brushing your bangs off your face.
“You’re ridiculous, Edward.” You slapped a hand on his chest, with barely any force.
He placed his hand over yours, holding it there, “I waited all week, too”
Then his lips were on yours again. His left hand was now on the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. You sighed when his tongue pressed to your lips, making them part and welcome it in.
The hand on his chest moved to your hip, holding it flush to his; you could feel his belt through the thin shorts under your skirt. By the time you were out of breath, his lips moved down your neck, slipping your ponytail to the other side. Your hands moved to his hair, diving into the messy curls as he attacked your neck.
“Eddie,” you called. “Eddie, no marks, please.”
He just grinned at you and took his lips back to yours, the hand in your hips guiding them to grind against his. You gasped into Eddie’s mouth when you felt his cock through the jeans.
“Shit. I’m sorry” he apologized immediately, remembering the last time you were together.
You shook your head. “It’s fine. It feels good, actually, but… we’re at school, I think– I think… maybe we just shouldn’t be doing this here.”
“You’re right,” he sighed, but guided your lips to his again.
You melted into the kiss, letting him take you completely until you heard a noise outside. You both jumped, quickly pulling apart and looking at the door.
“Okay, maybe we should go” he whispered against your lips before you burst into giggles.
You walked to the parking lot together, he waited for you to get into your car, leaned against the door to speak.
“I’ll call, okay? So we can talk about that date”
You nodded, but suddenly decided that your idea was much better than his. “Why don’t you, uh, show up at my house later?”
“Show up? What, like at your door?”
“No, at my window, Eddie. After dinner, maybe nine?” you suggested.
“You’re asking me to climb through your window?” he scoffed.
“You’ve seen me do it, it’s pretty easy. You can come in and, you know… Only if you want, of course.”
His hand reached out for your face guiding it towards him. “I’ll show up to your window, doll, don’t worry.” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, “nine, yeah? Get home safe.”
You just nodded and watched Eddie pull away from your car. You rolled the window back up, turned on the radio and let out a big sigh before driving away.
Your routine was a little more intense than normal that night — you took a long bath, lotioned and powdered your entire body, put on just a bit of lipgloss even after brushing your teeth, but, most importantly, picked out the cutest pajamas you had; nothing sexy, just better than the last ones he saw you in.
Then you sat, and waited.
Time seemed to be dragging itself out, you could swear the clock on your nightstand was broken. 08:21, 08:37, 08:46, 08:55, finally! You waited the last five minutes looking around your room, checking if anything was out of place.
You jumped when he knocked on the window, checking yourself in the mirror one last time. You couldn't help but smile as you opened the curtains and the window for him.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen you be on time for something.”
“Well, I couldn’t keep my princess waiting.” Eddie winked and you pulled away from the window, letting him climb in. He stood up and looked around, drawing in the pink walls and flower patterns. “Jesus, your room is exactly what I thought it would be”
“What is that supposed to mean, Eddie?”
“Oh, it’s cute, don’t get me wrong. I love the totally not creepy and hunted dolls”
You slapped his chest, “don’t say that about my dolls, they’re too pretty to be kept away”
“I can think of something way prettier in this room” he whispered, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer.
You blushed and hid your face in his chest, “that’s ridiculous.”
“I just think you’re the prettiest doll in here” he teased on purpose, wanting to see you even more frustrated.
He grabbed your cheeks with one hand, making you look up at him. His thumb brushed your lips as he pulled you closer, your lips met in a gentle kiss.
Eddie turned, moving backwards to sit on the bed, pulling you down on his lap. You smiled against his lips, pulling away and sitting up on his lap.
“You look silly in my room”
“Silly? Are the chains and the leather clashing with your flowers and teddies?” he teased, grabbing one of your stuffed animals and throwing it far away.
“Eddie! That was Cheer Bear!”
“I don’t think Cheer Bear should see what’s happening here,” he looked at the bed again, spotting two more teddies, “neither should these guys”
This time he carefully put them on the floor, making more space on the bed. His hands creeped up your thighs, going under your short nightgown and pressing you down on his lap. You leaned in, kissing him again, your hands resting on his stomach.
Soon his tongue moved into your mouth, one of his hands moving to hold the back of your neck. You sighed at the feeling of his big hand guiding you around, relaxing further onto his body.
The hand guided your face up, making space for Eddie to move on to your neck. His lips brushed down your jaw, to the side of your neck. He covered your skin in gentle kisses, making you shiver.
“Gonna let me touch you this time, sweetheart?” he whispered against your neck.
You nodded, almost desperately as his hands made their way under your nightgown again. “Please”
His fingers went lower, pressing against your cunt, feeling the wetness through the fabric of your panties. You gasped and Eddie sighed at the feeling.
“Fuck. Were you this wet when we made out earlier? Did you ruin those panties too?”
You felt your face flush at his words and hid in his neck. “You’re gross, Eddie”
“Not gross, doll. Nothing’s gross about this, this is exactly what I want.” He kissed your neck again, slowly, getting you to sit back up. “Let me make you feel good, yeah?”
You nodded. His other hand guided your hips to bring against his fingers, making you squirm on his lap.
Eddie grinned at your reaction to such a simple action. His lips met your neck again as his fingers dipped into your underwear, finally meeting your wet folds. You dropped your head to his shoulder, the scent of old leather and smoke surrounding you.
His fingers danced around your folds, opening you up as your hips involuntarily grinded down. Eddie held you close, keeping you stable as his fingers moved lower, pressing against your hole.
You sighed, trying to relax as his fingers made their way inside you. You could feel the cold chain around his wrist pressing against your lower stomach as his fingers started moving inside you.
They curled and pressed, slowly building up a rhythm that had you shoving your face in his neck to stop any noises. But when his thumb reached out for your clit you couldn’t help but let out a loud gasp.
Eddie grinned and pressed his mouth to your ear, “shhh, sweetheart. You don’t want anyone to hear, do you?”
“Eddie” you whined. You wanted to tell him you had never felt that good before but you didn’t trust your voice anymore.
His fingers kept working you, steadier as he read every single one of your reactions. He felt you tensing on his lap, thighs pressing against his, hands gripping his shoulders tighter.
“Let it go, doll. Don’t hold back, just relax”
You weren’t exactly sure what you had to let go, but you tried your best to follow his instructions and relax. Soon you were feeling pumps of pleasure all over your body, clenching around him as your hands dived into his hair, tugging at the strands.
“Eddie, I…” you swallowed hard, “what?”
He chuckled, kissing your neck as you came down. “You just got there, doll”
You just let out a sigh and chuckled against his shoulder. “Wow” you whispered, in the sweetest voice Eddie had ever heard.
“Yeah,” he smiled, “wow. Nice?”
“Very nice” you told him, unable to wipe the smile from your face.
“Tired?” he whispered and you nodded. He looked around, spotting a glass of water on the nightstand. “Here, drink some water.”
As soon as you sat up to drink you felt the pressure of his cock under you, the move making him let out a low groan.
“Oh!” you gasped, anxiety probably all over your face.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, I’ll be alright. Just drink your water and rest, okay
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