I WANT YOUR RODD IN ME (QUITE LITERALLY). ☆ WILLNE.
wc: 2k
content: 18+! dom!willne, cursing, penetration by rodds bottle…?, squirting, clit overstimulation, will being a freak (when is he not), will drinking your juices after collecting them in a rodds bottle 😇
a/n: guess who’s back? back again? a less iconic lenneys username because tumblr sucks ass! gonna take me a while, but hoping to post all my fics soon again! old mutuals and old friends, please can you reblog this so the people see? ☺️🫶
you didn’t know how you’d gotten to this moment. the night had been perfect to set the tone for yours and will’s evening, with your limbs tangled above your bedsheets and will’s bare body on top of yours.
however, what you hadn’t thought of was will’s wild idea of experimenting with other things inside of your pussy just to keep your nights of love-making interesting.
will’s hands smeared the cold lube around your folds as your breath hitched excitedly, earning a giggle from you. your hair messily flowing off of the pillow below your head as will adjusted himself on top of you, resting himself on one elbow.
his other hand held an empty rodds bottle (which he’d only just released publicly with james) in front of your bare cunt. he teased the plastic on your folds, dragging it downwards which caused you to shiver.
“spread f’me, pet,” he drawled, his voice thick with lust as you dragged your hand to your pussy like he commanded you to.
your eyes stayed locked on his as you spread your folds with two fingers, feeling a cool rush of air hit the already wet heat forming down there.
you bit your lip as will hovered the top of the bottle to your hole. after pressing a small kiss to your temple, he slowly slid the plastic towards the inside of you with the utmost care.
your breath then caught in your throat as he slowly eased the bottle inside of you, feeling how the plastic cylinder filled you up so much whilst his face hovered close to yours from above, his soft breaths fanning gently onto your face.
you softly gasped against his lips, eyes fixated on his own as he began slowly thrusting it in and out of your cunt, trying to make the tight hole more accustomed to the plastic stretching it out.
you found yourself struggling to breathe as you couldn’t facilitate the plastic bottle inside of you, stuffing you full ever so suddenly. you began to panic, heart pounding as your eyes widened in fear.
will soon noticed, before he brought his spare hand up to your chin, tilting your head so you were looking straight up at him, his gaze strangely grounding and a relief to you.
“breathe, pet,” will whispered, despite his tone sweet and comforting, before he kissed the edge of your mouth, trying to console you more.
you nodded in response. “okay,” you replied, as you managed a breathy whisper.
your arms wrapped sensually around his bare neck, before one of your hands clawed the back of his head. you let your fingers tangle in his soft brown mullet, as you both kissed again, more slowly and passionate this time.
your hot breath fanned onto his face as you kissed with more passion than before, all whilst will’s other hand still held the rodds bottle in a firm grasp as he pushed it in and out of you with a more paced rhythm.
in response you groaned into his mouth, your gummy walls clenching around the plastic like you’d never been split open so well before. your tongue dared to dip into will’s mouth for a moment, earning a muffled moan to die in your own mouth.
as he kissed you harder whilst keeping the bottle stationary inside of you, will nibbled at your bottom lip, tugging the flesh between his teeth. before he then let go, watching it fling back as he smiled above you, eyes dark with excitement.
you whimpered, the feeling of being full causing hot blood to surge around your body like a wildfire. your skin prickled with life mixed with a frenzy of adrenaline and lust as your breath was ragged whilst it fanned onto will’s face.
“you like that?” he asked breathlessly, watching how your head tilted back as he pushed the rodds bottle deeper inside of you.
“yeah,” you spoke breathlessly, you voice merely a whisper as you nodded briefly after.
the tension between you both was deadly thick, yet the passion was clear as day whilst you made eye contact again. will smiled again, a more devilish one with flashing teeth, as he murmured, “good fuckin’ girl, darling.”
your mouth parted wide as you let out a strangled moan mixed with a croaky gasp, to which will soon silenced with another harsh, bruised kiss to your lips.
you whimpered onto his lips as his hand began moving again, the obscene noises of your juices on the bottle as he thrusted it in and out of you with a hastened pace already being able to be heard.
will’s lips left your own for a moment as he gazed down at the rodds bottle being swallowed by your cunt, your juices already dripping down the plastic cylinder.
“god, you’re that desperate to be filled up, eh?” he spoke hotly against your lips, still pushing the bottle in and out of you, “never expected you to be such a dirty little thing, love.”
you gasped harshly, your breath caught in your throat all of a sudden. your heart now hammered in your chest, your bare body now on fire, all whilst your lower stomach started to burn, forming small knots in your belly.
you gulped, your cheeks burning a dark shade of crimson. “feel so full,” you whimpered pathetically, hands gripping at the sheets below you as you squirmed, unable to fathom the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling.
“you’re feeling full, pet?” will asked with a mocking pout on his face as he looked down at you.
“i can tell baby, because look at you clenching around the bottle like the slut that you are,” he added, pressing a wet kiss to your lips, before letting his lips hover over them for a moment after.
your hips began to jerk forward, matching the rhythm that will’s hand had created. you breathed heavily, letting out shaky exhales as you let the brewing ecstasy soon take over your body.
the shaky breaths soon turned into breathless gasps as your lips latched onto will’s again. your hips continued to roll quicker than before as his lips were hungrily on you, soon making their way down the curve of your jaw, causing you to shiver in response.
“you’re so responsive,” he chuckled lowly, smiling against your skin as he kissed down your neck, causing you to moan as his teeth dared to graze the sensitive flesh of your collarbone.
you could feel yourself reaching a climax as will soon quickened his pace again, causing your hips to jerk forward again in response. his thumb had also found your clit, whilst the plastic bottle cap also nudged at it, causing you to moan in response to the new-found stimulation.
a string of moans soon started to escape your lips, raw from the bottom of your chest as your eyes rolled back, your whole facial expression fucked out.
sweat glistened on your forehead as some lone strands of hair stuck to the sticky skin, all whilst your head tilted backwards on the pillow, your lips formed into a permanent blissed smile as your chest rose and sank heavily.
will noticed how close you were from how your back now arched off of the mattress and how you’d began clutching onto the sheets below you to try and ground yourself.
however, he then pulled the bottle out of you without warning just before you could climax, causing you to squirm and an annoyed whine to escape your lips in protest, body shuddering with a cold rush of heat running down to your burning core.
“will!—“ you then exclaimed exasperatedly, voice strangled and raw in response to the rash movement he’d just made.
“easy, easy,” will murmured lowly whilst you moaned before he kissed a wet yet loving kiss to your sweaty cheek. “patience, darlin’,” he spoke gravelly whilst his thumb continued to circle over your clit, rubbing it with a quickened pace that left your brain hazy.
your breath was ragged as he continued to rub over the sensitive bundle of nerves, your hands clawing the sheets below you as you shifted on the bed, your body still on fire from the adrenaline surging through your veins.
tears brimmed in your eyes as you felt your muscles tense and contract as your body tried to accommodate for your imminent release just begging to happen. your thighs now trembled uncontrollably as you found yourself reaching closer and closer to your peak.
your stomach felt like tight knots as a string of moans and gasps escaped from your lips, ripped straight from your throat raw, causing your voice to become hoarse.
with his spare hand, will then fumbled with the bottle’s lid, attempting to unscrew it, which he did moments after though very clumsily. his thumb, however, rubbed even faster on your clit causing you to cry out in pleasure and overstimulation.
“gonna come,” you managed a whimper, stray tears rolling down your cheeks as your breath became increasingly ragged. “so close, will,” you added with a perfect pout on your lips, all doe eyed as you met his blown out pupils above you.
“you’re close?” will asked ever so sweetly, yet his voice dripped with venom. “you can come pet. show me how dirty you are,” he mumbled, still rubbing your throbbing clit until the final moment where the wave of pleasure crashed down on you.
“fuck!” you screamed as you felt yourself lose yourself in your orgasm. your back arched completely off of the mattress as you felt your release crash over you like a wave.
your walls clenched around nothing as you squirted, crying out loud in pleasure as will positioned the rodds bottle where he attempted to collect some of your juices whilst the rest dripped down the outside of the bottle and down his hand to his arm.
will’s other hand stayed on your pussy, thumb still circling your clit as you breathed heavily and uncontrolled. it stayed there until you came down from your high, before he then removed it, causing you to whimper from the loss of the stimulation.
you lifted your head up for a moment, brain still fuzzy to see will still holding the bottle in his hand. it had liquid in it, to which you asked stupidly, “what’s that in there?” in the haze of the moment.
“sweet nectar,” will muttered proudly underneath his breath in response to you as he held the bottle with the smallest volume of liquid in it up. he then glanced at you again, taking in your dishevelled look with darkened, cruelly scheming eyes.
without warning, will tipped the contents of your release out of the bottle and onto your lower stomach, licking his lips as he saw the glistening slick reflected under the dimly lit lights of your shared bedroom.
will’s hands gripped your hips eagerly, tugging your body towards him with a carnal want. you yelped as his lips were on your lower stomach, tongue licking at the flesh as he hungrily tasted your spilled, sweet essence.
“fuckin’ delicious,” will groaned against the skin as his tongue swirled over your lower stomach, lapping up all your juices.
you whimpered, will’s tongue making you rest your head against the pillow once again, before clawing his head and tugging at his head which made him also release a noise in response.
soon enough, he’d licked up every drop from your body. smirking, he licked his lips, lowly groaning at your sweet taste in his mouth.
after that, will crawled up your body again, so that he was hovering above you again. he smiled, “you taste divine, you know that right?” he asked breathily.
before you could say anything, will pressed his lips deeply onto yours, making you taste your taste which still lingered on his lips, to which you moaned in response.
he then removed his lips from yours, his face still dangerously close, however. “and making you squirt too?” he panted, “god, we need to do this again sometime, darling. because you did so well f’me.”
i just wanted to tell you how much i love your writing, i’ve discovered you today and i wont lie and say i havent read everything stranger things fic you have wrote and cried at each and every single one.
you are so talented and im so glad that we get to experience your work and expression throughout your writing. i may have only found your page today but holy moly me oh my does it mean a lot and i can tell you know that i will probably be rereading these stories for a long time.
you may not see this but i just wanted to say thank you <3
lots of love xx
i actually love you. you are so sweet and encouraging 🩷 i appreciate that so much.
ab x reader x willne | 2.1k complete e | monaco trip, mean dom!will, hesistant dom!alfie, degradation kink, hair pulling, tag teaming, blow jobs, light fingering
It’s not like– like you thought someone would actually walk in on you fucking naked.
Oh god, you’re naked and Alfie is looking at you.
Something hot curls inside your stomach.
or: first it's alfie walking in on you, then it's will
a/n: not super proud of this one but i needed to feed you guys! hopefully i've done this request justice xx
tag list: @lenneyswhore @ghostwrittenbygrace @lxzzxebunny @kislnd @ocea1cperl @lostdeerinthemist @emoriatv @ghostlyracoon (send if you want to be added!)
Monaco is fucking brilliant. Sticky-sweet warmth on your skin, the sun beating down waves and the smell of the pool clinging to your body, sinking into your flesh like it’s always meant to be there. You grin at yourself in the mirror: you’re back in your hotel room, the one you’re sharing with Will – he’s off down by the pool lounging on the sunbed, sunglasses on the tip of his nose from where you left him to go get changed into your swimwear, so really, is it your fault that you don’t bother going into the bathroom to get changed?
Taking off your shirt, you gently cup your chest in one hand, biting your lip; the heat and the dazed feeling of being on this trip has got you feeling a little pent up. It’s not bad, but you swipe a thumb over your nipple and groan, flushing, taking the bikini top and wishing you weren’t so fucking horny right now with no time to fix it.
And, maybe, it doesn’t help sleeping in the same room as Will fucking Lenney.
You’re placing the bikini over your chest when it happens, the door clicking open and swinging with a confidence that has you whipping your face towards it, blanching, and–
“Oh jesus,” and it’s Alfie, covering his eyes with his hand, except he’s peeking through his fingers like he can’t help it.
You’re midway through tying the top, the knot still between your fingertips as you stare at Alfie, frozen too, watching the way his eyes dart from your tits towards your– oh, fuck, your bare cunt. You dropped your shorts as soon as you stepped into the room, too overstimulated by the fabric on your skin, and it’s not like– like you thought someone would actually walk in on you fucking naked.
Oh god, you’re naked and Alfie is looking at you.
Something hot curls inside your stomach.
It’s maybe a little dehumanising, being stared at like this, but you realise as you rub your thighs together that maybe it’s exactly what you need, too.
“I’m gonna–” Alfie gives up on pretending to be a gentleman and lets his hand hang limply by his side, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. He’s still staring at your tits, like he’s fucking entranced by them, or, rather, because they’re the more decent option. “I’m gonna go and pretend this didn’t happen–”
“Wait!”
Alfie blinks up at you, meeting your eyes finally, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Don’t–” you squeeze your eyes shut, that fluttery feeling coiling in your gut only worsening by the second as Alfie takes a tentative step towards you. “Don’t go,” you grit out.
“I don’t–” Alfie shakes his head. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”
“Oh my god,” you huff. Shooting a hand out to his wrist – the other still holding your bikini top up – you curl your fingers around his pulse point, feeling the way his veins jump underneath your touch. You are gnawing at your lip, hard, to the point Alfie’s hand is coming up to gently smooth your mouth out, pulling your bottom lip from your teeth, like with you initiating the touch suddenly he’s okay coming close.
Under the pad of his thumb, you smile. “I don’t want you to go,” you murmur, guiding his hand to your hip, pulling him that little bit closer and dropping your top, the knot unravelling until it falls on the floor and suddenly you’re completely naked in front of Alfie.
He sucks in a breath.
“I’m– I’m so fucking horny, Alfie,” you whisper. He looks down, sees the glisten of your pussy as you drag a finger through your folds lightly, like you’re showing him how turned on you are.
“You were going to swim like that?” He croaks out.
You nod. “Mhm.” Threading your fingers through his, you pull him until you fall back on the bed, and his legs hit the edge of the mattress. You spread your legs, watching him collapse to his knees on bed between the gap, his hands cupping your waist. “Was hoping to rub one out before.”
“Fuckin’ hell.”
He’s dipping down, subconsciously, until your lips are less than an inch from each other and his warm breath is fanning across your face. He smells like mint and a hint of a citrusy cocktail he had earlier.
You want to taste him so fucking badly–
“What the fuck is this?”
Sitting up, Alfie scrambles from you, and you raise yourself on your elbows to watch Will scrunch his nose up, sunglasses off his face and eyes flicking back and forth between you and Alfie.
God, you were so fucking close too.
“Why are you naked?” Will finishes glaring at Alfie, turning his gaze to you, but instead of the annoyance or, like, disbelief, it’s a wash of heat.
“I was s’pposed to get his swim shorts,” Alfie rushes out, hand to the back of his neck. You drag your eyes from Will and tilt your head at Alfie. “That’s why I came in here.”
“You couldn’t get them yourself?”
“Er, do y’still want the shorts?”
Will shakes his head. “I don’t care about the bloody shorts, mate,” he hisses. “Were you two going to fuck?”
“That was the plan,” you mutter, half-forgetting you’re still naked with two of your friends in front of you.
You think that’s it, an easy fuck ruined, except–
Except Will is crossing his arms, and saying, “Well, don’t let me stop you.”
What?
“Well?” He hardens his gaze. “She’s clearly desperate for it; look at her.”
You cross your legs, the flush creeping from your cheeks down to your neck. Suddenly, it feels like all your confidence has evaporated.
Alfie must feel the same, because he blurts out, “With– with you watching?”
Will nods. “I’ll know what she likes or not,” he shrugs, “I’m her best mate, aren’t I?” With a roll of his eyes, he claps Alfie on the back and pushes him forward, gesturing towards his shorts. “Go on, man.”
To his credit, Alfie tucks his fingers in the hem of his shorts and tugs them down, and suddenly, his cock is springing free, half-hard. He sort of tries shielding it from Will’s view, but he doesn’t really need to, because Will is more focused on grabbing you by the back of your head, curling his hand around your hair and dragging you forwards until you’re close to Alfie’s dick.
When your nose brushes his pubic hair, Will pulls back, but: “Fuckin’ be gentle, mate!” Alfie cries out, fingers soothing gentle circles from where Will’s were digging in.
Will snorts. “She can handle it. She wants it,” and maybe, just maybe, he’s right, because you’re rolling your tongue out of your mouth and letting the weight of Alfie’s cockhead rest on the pad of the muscle.
At first you wanted to be dicked down, but suddenly, this feels a whole lot better, with Alfie’s grip in your hair tightening and Will palming himself through his trousers.
“See? Told you; she’s a total cockslut.”
Alfie’s voice trembles, because you’re now dragging your tongue along his length, around the vein on the underside of his dick, and he’s watching you with a half-lidded gaze. “How d’you know this?”
Hand wrapped around his base, you curve your lips around his cock, bobbing your head up and down in a smooth, gentle rhythm.
“Lucky guess,” Will grins. You can see his bulge through the fabric of his trousers and with a free hand, you dance your fingers over his covered hard-on, suddenly feeling like the cock in your mouth isn’t enough.
“Yeah?” Will cooes. “You want me, too, lovey?”
You nod, and moan, and look up through your lashes at both of the men.
Will groans, unzips his trousers, steps out of them, lets his own cock flop against his stomach. “Y’mind?”
Alfie shakes his head, and with a hand roughly grabbing at your jaw, you’re barely getting a single second of fresh air before your back on a cock, this time gagging around it as Will shoves you down, your mouth full of the musky scent of Will.
“You sure you aren’t being too rough?” Alfie murmurs, his thumb swiping along your cheekbone softly.
“You like it, right?” Will asks, looking down at you, and he gives you the chance to pop off his cock and nod, “I love it.”
Will grins, mutters, “Atta girl,” then you're back around his length, but really, it’s only for a minute: with a hand seemingly permanently placed around the back of your head, you’re eased off by the drag of your hair as the two men stare down at you, their cocks hanging in front of your face, spit-slicken from where your mouth has done its job.
“What?” You mutter dumbly.
“C’mon mate,” Will turns your head back to Alfie’s dick specifically, not looking at you; ignoring you, in fact. You purse your lips around the head of Alfie, suckling just a bit, feeling the ooze of salty precum coat your tongue. “Don’t you wanna fuck her mouth, just a little bit?”
It isn’t really an option. Will is dipping your head forwards, lips dragging along Alfie’s cock, back and forth, to and fro. Alfie bites his lip.
“Can I?” He murmurs, looking down at you, and around his cock, you nod.
God, you want it so bad.
With a wicked smile, Will lets go of your hair, and Alfie curls his fingers through it instead, placed just behind your ears, and fucks forward once.
You immediately moan; the vibration sends a shudder through Alfie and he’s back thrusting his hips, canting them into your mouth, a little bit faster, a little bit rougher.
The slide of his cock is delicious: hot, filling, stretching your mouth, not caring if it’s just a little bit too big. Really, it’s like something out of heaven.
“What a fucking whore,” you hear through the blur of noise, the wet squelch of your Alfie’s cock fucking your mouth and the deep-chested groan from him. “I knew she’d be gaggin’ for it like this, but I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”
“I know,” Alfie pants out, “she was fucking dripping when I walked in on her. Bare pussy like she wanted to be fucked hard.”
“This bare pussy?” Will sits on the bed next to you, and with a mouth stuffed full of cock you can’t turn your head or ask what he’s doing before a finger is tracing the top of your naked mound and then dipping downwards.
Suddenly, Will is sinking the crook of his finger into you and curling it slightly, just enough to find that sweet spot inside of you and brushing his fingertip along it, grinning with his teeth. “There we are,” he laughs as you moan. He has a hand wrapped around his cock and his pumping furiously, and part of you wants to get your lips back around him, but then suddenly Alfie is pushing further into you, like he’s trying to get to the tight heat of your throat and he’s huffing out, “Gonna come.”
“In her mouth,” Will orders and Alfie nods.
It’s like a wave of warm stickiness that has you moaning loud enough anyone outside of your room would surely be able to hear, both down your throat and across the naked space of your tits and stomach as Will comes too, coating your skin in that pearly white.
With their cum on and inside of you, you really have no choice but for that coil in your stomach to snap.
Alfie’s finally soft cock slips from your mouth as you orgasm around Will’s finger, before that’s being dragged out of you too, Will taking extra care to drag along your g-spot, like the bastard he is.
You collapse against the bed, coughing just a little bit. You feel gross, and you need a shower now, but god, you’re realising how crazy it is, because–
“Jesus, I just wanted to put on my bikini.”
Will laughs, and Alfie lays down next to you, both grinning, their cocks brushing against your thighs. “We still have time to swim,” Will murmurs, throwing a leg over your leg and grinding just a little bit into you. His eyes flash dangerously. “And more.”
You take in a breath as Alfie places a hand on your stomach, wiping away the sticky cum that’s already drying in the humidity. “I wanted to fuck you, you know.”
“Oh,” you breathe out.
You aren’t gonna be swimming for a while, are you?
pairing: steve harrington x byers!reader
summary: the three times steve tried to take things further, and the one time you let him.
themes & warnings: fluff, reader is hesitant to let herself fall in love, byers!reader, pt two to cherry slushies, friends to lovers, steve is persistent af, YEARNING, slow burn kinda if u squint, will is cute and ships it, kind of angsty if u squint
part 2 to: cherry slushies (1)
You were completely thriving.
Letting go of all of your emotional baggage had more benefits than it did the harm you'd thought it would do. In fact, you felt completely and utterly free. And in a wild twist of fate, you'd gained a new best friend (behind your brothers, of course). Steve Harrington was by your side whenever he could manage.
It started with the slushies. Then it became a ritual. Every Tuesday, after his shift at the video store and before you closed up the garage, Steve would appear in your bay, two cherry slushies in hand. No excuses about brake pads or squeaks. Just the slushies, and Steve, leaning against your workbench, filling you in on the latest Hawkins drama.
It was a friendship forged in the quiet aftermath of a war. He’d tell you about Robin’s latest conspiracy theory about the mall manager. You’d complain about old man Murdoch’s ancient diagnostic computer. He’d help you hold a heavy transmission in place; you’d help him brainstorm ways to impress a girl he was never going to ask out (his attempts were painfully transparent, and you took great joy in pointing out every flaw in his plans).
You became a unit. The kids noticed first, of course. Dustin started calling you “Steve’s other half” until you threatened to revoke his arcade fund. Will just smiled that knowing little smile and would casually mention you in conversations with Steve, watching with satisfaction as his friend’s face would light up.
You were the person Steve called when his dad was being particularly shitty, and he’d just sit in silence on the other end of the line while you clanked tools in the background. You were the person he drove to the 24-hour diner at 2 AM after a nightmare about demo-dogs, and you’d share a plate of greasy fries without talking about it.
You were his emergency contact. You were the first person he thought to call when he found a stray, matted cat behind Family Video (you helped him bathe it, and now it ruled his house, named ‘Y/N Jr’ at your suggestion).
It was easy. Shockingly, stupidly easy. He fit into the cracks of your life like he’d always been there, filling spaces you hadn’t realized were empty. The fierce, protective love you had for your family… it extended to him now, too. He was one of yours. Your stupid, loyal, fluffy-haired friend who brought you terrible gas station drinks and made you laugh until your ribs ached.
Being your best friend was great, it really was. Steve never wanted to seem ungrateful for it. But.. there was always that nagging thing at the back of his head, screaming that he wanted more. He'd wanted more since over a year ago. He tried to ignore it, tried to suppress it so that he didn't scare you off or make you hate his guts again. But sometimes it pushed so far forward that you’d started to catch him looking at you sometimes -- during a lull in conversation, while you were bent over an engine, when you laughed at one of his jokes -- with a look that was no longer just friendly awe. It was deeper. Hungrier. A look that promised he was just waiting for the signal to be all-in on something else entirely.
Despite all of the picture-perfect girls in Hawkins, with perfectly rolled hair and glossy, manicured nails, he couldn't even spare them a passing glance anymore. It scared him -- mostly because those were the type of girls he'd go wild about in high school. Now, there was only you. There had only been you since you ruthlessly defended your brother at the expense of Steve's ribs. The wild-haired, deep eyed Byers with a soul-rewarding smile when he finally cracked you up, and a foundational love for everyone you cared about.
After a while though, it pushed so far forward that it was impossible to ignore. He couldn't do it.
The first incident was at the quarry. You were all there -- the Party, Steve, you, Robin -- for a D&D meet that was really just an excuse to skip stones and soak up the last of the summer sun. You were sitting on the hood of Steve’s BMW, listening to Dustin explain something impossibly complex about wizards, or trolls, or some shit.
While the Party nerded out, you, Steve, and Robin went swimming. Robin swam towards the rocks, dawdling about on her own accord, while you and Steve took the more childish approach. Splashing water at each other.
"You look like a drowned rat, Harrington!" You cackled, throwing another wave of quarry water at Steve's face. He wiped it off quickly, a wide, playful grin spreading across his face.
"Oh yeah?"
You heard the challenge in his response, gearing yourself up to be drowned.
He launched himself through the water towards you, not to splash, but to gently dunk you under the surface. It was a move born of pure, boyish impulse. You came up sputtering, laughing, shoving his shoulders. He was close, so close in the cool water, your bodies brushing with each small wave, the sounds of the kids fading to a distant buzz.
His laughter died in his throat. Your laughter faded too. You were treading water, faces inches apart, breath mingling. Droplets clung to his lashes, to the curve of your lips. The playful energy evaporated, replaced by something dense and potent. His gaze dropped to your mouth, then snapped back up to your eyes, wide and searching.
This was it. The moment. The water held you both suspended, the perfect, isolated excuse. He could close the distance. He could kiss you, and it could be written off as a crazy, spontaneous quarry thing. A mistake born of sunlight and splashing.
He leaned in, just a fraction. His nose brushed yours. You didn't pull away. Your breath hitched, your eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat. So close, so close, so close, so--
You pulled away. The relaxed haze in your eyes turned into a startled fear, a realization. You swam backwards with a frantic, uncoordinated kick, putting several feet of cold, clear water between you. The air that had felt charged and sweet a second ago now felt thin.
"Sorry," you blurted out, the word too loud, too harsh. You weren't even sure what you were apologizing for. For almost letting it happen? For pulling away? "I... I think I swallowed some water."
It was the lamest excuse in the history of excuses. Steve just stared at you, the hope in his eyes crumbling into raw perception. He'd seen it -- the moment you'd shut down, the walls slamming back into place. It was a rejection out of fear to allow yourself to feel something.
"Yeah," he said, his voice flat. "The quarry water's... gross."
He turned and swam for the shore, leaving you treading water alone, the ghost of his near-kiss clinging to your lips more persistently than the water. You'd rejected the possibility, and in doing so, you'd confirmed its existence. The line wasn't just tapped anymore; it was glowing neon.
The ride home was silent. Steve didn't try to make small talk about Robin or the weather. He just drove, sensing that you needed your space. When he pulled up to your house, you couldn't even manage a "see you Tuesday." You just muttered a thanks and fled inside.
It was weird for a week or two. But then, you slowly went back to pretending it never happened. You, luckily, resumed being the wild friends with lots of chemistry. It was better for Steve than things being weird. But still unsatisfactory.
The second slip-up was a collective one.
You were sick. Very sick. The product of your cough was yellow, you could barely breath out of your nose, and you had a fever and chills that wracked your body. And to add to the rest of it, your throat was raw from vomiting.
Steve hadn't seen you in a week. He was suffering withdrawals. You weren't at work on Tuesday, so two cherry slushies went to waste. With confusion in his tone, he'd called the Byers landline to figure out where you were. He'd gotten ahold of Joyce at first, who's voice crackled through the phone with worry.
"She's come down with something. It's bad, Steve, but she just won't go to the hospital."
Steve released a sigh, but it was a knowing one, not one of shock.
"If you could stop by, that would be great! You're probably the only one she'll listen to," your mother had said eagerly. Steve wanted to tell her she was wrong, that you would, in fact, not listen. But he felt awful about how concerned your household was for you. And he missed you.
Steve was at your house in under ten minutes. He didn't even knock; he just pushed the front door open with the casual authority of someone who belonged there, a bag from the drugstore in one hand. He found you on the couch, buried under a mountain of blankets, looking tragically small and pale. Your hair was a wild, sweat-damp nest, and your eyes were glassy with fever.
“Harrington,” you croaked, your voice a ruined thing. “No slushies. Contagion zone.”
“Shut up,” he said softly, but there was no bite in it. He dropped the bag on the coffee table and knelt beside the couch. His cool hand came up to press against your forehead, his brows furrowing. “Jesus, you’re burning up.”
“I’m fine,” you mumbled, trying to shove his hand away, but you had the strength of a wet noodle.
“You’re an idiot,” he corrected, his voice tender. He pulled out a bottle of Gatorade, some pills, and a box of tissues. “Joyce said you won’t go to the hospital.”
“Hate hospitals,” you rasped, a shiver wracking your frame.
Steve didn’t argue. He just got to work. He made you sip the Gatorade. He timed your fever meds. He piled more blankets on you when you shook, and peeled them back when you got clammy. He sat on the floor next to the couch, reading aloud from a trashy magazine he found, his voice a low, steady rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and into your fever-addled bones.
At some point, you must have dozed off. You woke to the feeling of a cool, damp cloth being dabbed gently on your neck, your temples. Steve’s face was close, his expression focused, utterly absorbed in the simple task of tending to you. In the quiet, dim living room, with the world shut out, it felt profoundly intimate.
Your hazy, sick-brain bypassed all your usual defenses. Your hand, weak and trembling, came up from under the blankets. Your fingers brushed against his wrist, where his sleeve was rolled up.
“Steve,” you whispered.
He froze, the cloth stilling on your skin. “Yeah?”
“Stay. 'M so cold.”
It wasn't a request born of romantic feeling. It was the raw, desperate plea of a sick person who didn't want to be alone in the dark with a fever. But in the charged silence of the room, it felt like so much more.
To his shock, you shifted and lifted the blankets. He actually was tempted to check to see if it was still you and not an alien in your skin. The last time he had been that close to you, you jumped away like he'd bite you. But this was different. You were sick, vulnerable, and you were asking. Not for a kiss, but for warmth. For presence. It was a trust fall of the highest order.
Hesitantly, as if moving through a dream, Steve set the cloth aside. He didn't climb under the blankets fully. That felt like too much, a breach of the fragile trust you were offering. Instead, he carefully sat on the edge of the couch, his back against the cushions, and lifted his legs to rest on the coffee table. Then, he gently pulled the edge of the quilt over his legs, creating a shared tent of warmth.
You immediately shifted, not away, but toward. Your fever-hot body curled into his side, your head finding a resting place against his shoulder with a tired sigh. He froze again, every muscle taut, afraid a single wrong move would shatter the moment.
Then, slowly, he let himself relax. He brought his arm up, not daring to wrap it around you, but letting it rest along the back of the couch, a loose barrier. Your hair tickled his chin. He could feel the dry heat of your skin through his t-shirt, the faint, ragged rhythm of your breathing.
This was it. Closer than he’d ever been, in a way that was terrifyingly intimate and completely chaste. He was a furnace for your chills, a solid wall for your weakness. He stayed perfectly still, listening to your breathing even out again into sleep, committing every second to memory -- the weight of you against him, the scent of sweat and sickness and your shampoo, the absolute, quiet trust of it.
He didn't sleep. He didn't move. He just stayed, as asked, a sentinel in the dark, guarding the fragile, feverish girl who had, for one night, let down her final guard. It was a gift he’d never dared to hope for. And as dawn light began to filter through the curtains, painting the room in soft grays, Steve Harrington knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he was utterly, completely ruined for anyone else. You had broken into his ribs with a kick, and now you were breaking his heart with a blanket and a whisper. And he would let you do it every single time.
But when you awoke, Steve wasn't there. You were alone with the realization that you'd almost ruined things yet again. But your fever had receded slightly, your nose was a bit more breathable. Yet your guts felt like they'd been slammed with an anvil. You were an idiot, succumbing to desires that you had no business wanting.
Clearly Steve thought the same, you'd assumed. But you were wrong. He'd simply left so that you couldn't realize this wasn't actually what you wanted and push him away again, making his chest ache.
Once again, after your full recovery, you pretended this never happened.
The third time you'd yanked yourselves away from each other was when Steve had a date. Steve had a date. He'd come into the garage this Tuesday with two slushies and the crushing news that when he'd literally cuddled you to sleep in your house, it meant nothing. He hadn't exactly said that, but he basically had when he told you he had a date with Tammy Thompson on game night, so he wouldn't be there.
You tried not to let it sour you up. You didn't deserve to. You'd done enough pushing him away that you'd look like a huge, asshole hypocrite if you got upset. But you couldn't help it. As much as you fought it, you felt the resentment and jealousy pour into your veins like a wave from the ocean.
You worked under a Civic, silently listening to Steve talk about his stupid fucking date, squeezing the ratchet in your hand with painful force.
"--and then we're gonna go get ice cream. Too cheesy?" He questioned.
The ratchet slipped, banging loudly against the frame of the car. You swore, more from the jolt of fury than the pain.
“Y/N? You okay under there?” Steve’s voice was tinged with concern.
“Fine,” you gritted out, your voice tight. “Just… tight bolt.”
Silence. Then you heard the scrape of his stool as he moved closer. “You sure? You’ve been quiet.”
“I’m working,” you snapped, the words sharper than intended.
He didn’t respond for a moment. You could feel his gaze on you, even from under the car. “Right. Sorry.” His voice had lost its earlier, nervous excitement. It was flat. Careful.
You couldn’t stand it. The fake cheer, the careful distance, the fact that he was going to be smiling at Tammy Thompson while you were sitting at home on game night, pretending you didn’t care. The jealousy was a live wire, burning through your carefully constructed indifference.
Taking a deep breath, you restored the careful wall you had up, hiding your anger and jealousy. Now, there was only indifference. You slid out from under the car, your face blank, not wanting to reveal yourself.
"Not too cheesy. It'll be fine." You said coolly, wiping your hands with a rag.
The coolness in your voice, the blankness of your face -- it was a weapon you’d used on him before, but this time, it landed differently. It didn't push him away. It made him stop.
He studied you, his own casual posture stiffening. The forced smile he’d been wearing faltered and died. He saw right through the indifference. He’d become an expert in your tells, and the rigid set of your shoulders, the too-careful wiping of your hands, screamed anything but 'fine'.
“Will you be there?” he asked, his voice quiet, dropping the pretense of the date entirely. “At game night? If I… if I don’t go?”
The question hung in the oily air, a direct challenge to your wall. He wasn’t asking about D&D. He was asking if you wanted him there. If you’d choose his presence over your own pride.
You kept your eyes on the rag, twisting it in your hands. “It’s game night. Everyone’s there.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
You finally looked at him. The carefully constructed indifference was cracking, revealing the hurt and jealousy simmering beneath. “Why does it matter, Steve? You have a date. With Tammy. Go have your stupid ice cream and get out of my garage.”
Steve frowned at your harsh behavior.
"Why are you acting like that?"
You turned towards him, your eyes now blazing.
"Like what?" You snapped venomously, daring him to continue. But he'd never been scared of you. Not even when he should've been.
"Like you did when you hated me." He responded, his voice low.
The words were a bucket of ice water. They stopped your venomous tirade cold. Like you did when you hated me.
You stared at him, the anger draining from your face, leaving behind a cold, sick horror. That’s exactly what you were doing. You were rebuilding the fortress, brick by furious brick, because it was easier than admitting the terrifying truth: you didn’t hate him at all. You were in love with him, and the thought of him with someone else felt like a physical wound. But it didn't matter. You weren't someone who ever got what they wanted. You were a Byers, and a Byers never got the happy ending.
"I don't-- Just go, Steve." You said, deflated.
You were tired of fighting your feelings in the face of disappointment. If things were ever going to work between you and Steve, he wouldn't have arranged a date with a woman who was nowhere similar to you.
"Y/n--"
"Go." You bit out, your anger beginning to reignite.
Without another word, Steve grabbed his keys and left the garage. You ignored how hurt his face looked. You ignored how his eyes seemed to shimmer, as if holding tears back. You ignored everything and slid back under the Civic, working with gritted teeth.
Things had officially met their climax. And at their climax, you thought, they'd met their end. Your inability to contain your jealousy had ruined one of the only good things you had.
Grunting, you slid out from under the car, throwing your wrench at the wall with frustration. It made a loud sound, a clang assaulting your ears.
A tear dripped from your eye as you packed up to leave.
The fourth and final time, the time that your walls finally collapsed, was in the aftermath.
Game night was cancelled for Steve's date, as if that could make it any worse. You sat in your living room with a gallon of ice cream, a murderous expression on your face, eating it aggressively and watching some dumb soap opera on the crackly TV. Jonathan sat in the recliner across from you, Will curled up beside you, and your mom sat in the kitchen doing a crossword puzzle. They all knew what the problem was. It was easy to tell.
The silence in the living room was broken only by the melodramatic whispers from the TV and the angry scrape of your spoon against the cardboard ice cream tub. You were demolishing a gallon of "Midnight Marshmallow Madness," a neon blue atrocity you’d chosen specifically for its aggressive, synthetic cheerfulness.
Jonathan glanced over the top of his photography magazine, his expression a mix of sympathy and exasperation. “You know, eating your feelings is technically a form of emotional processing. But I think you’re trying to hurt your ice cream.”
“Shut up,” you mumbled around a mouthful of blue goo.
Will, nestled under your arm, patted your leg. “He’s just worried you’re gonna get a stomachache, sissy.”
“I’m fine,” you said, the words dripping with a bitterness that contradicted them entirely. His sweet, innocent brotherly nickname that he usually weaponized to get you to be nice failed miserably.
From the kitchen, the sound of a pencil tapping impatiently on the Formica table cut through the soap opera’s swelling music. “Honey,” Joyce called, her voice carrying that particular motherly tone that was both gentle and unyielding. “You’ve been ‘fine’ for two hours and two-thirds of that tub. The ice cream didn’t do anything to you.”
“It’s keeping me company,” you shot back, digging your spoon in with renewed vigor.
Jonathan set his magazine down. “Look. We get it. Steve’s an idiot. We all know he fucked up," he asserted.
"Language, Jonathan!" Your mother scolded from the kitchen.
"But sitting here poisoning yourself with artificial dye isn’t gonna change that.” He finished.
“I’m not trying to change anything!” you snapped, finally looking at him. “I’m just… sitting here. Watching TV. Is that a crime now?”
“It is when you’re using the spoon like a weapon,” Will observed quietly, wisely ducking his head as you glared at him.
Joyce appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed. She looked tired, but her eyes were sharp. “You’re hurting, sweetie. And that’s okay. What’s not okay is letting that hurt turn you back into the girl who assaults people in alleys and gets arrested.”
The words hit their mark. You deflated, the fight going out of you. You stared down at the half-melted blue sludge in the tub. “I just… I finally let the wall down. And he just… walked right through it and out the other side to get ice cream with Tammy Thompson.” The name tasted like ash. You looked down at the ice cream in your lap like it was an accomplice in Steve's crime, then slammed another spoon full.
“Did he?” Jonathan asked, his voice deceptively calm.
“He said he had a date!”
“So what if he does?” Joyce murmured, exchanging a knowing look with Jonathan. “Steve does stupid things when he’s scared.”
“Scared of what?” you grumbled, but the question lacked its earlier heat.
Before anyone could answer, a familiar, tentative knock sounded at the front door.
Four pairs of Byers eyes snapped to the sound.
You froze, spoon hovering midway to your mouth.
Joyce raised an eyebrow at you. “Well? Are you going to answer it, or are you going to make him stand out there all night? I don’t think the ice cream’s going to help you with this one, baby.”
The gallon tub suddenly felt like a lead weight in your hands. The walls you’d spent the evening feverishly reconstructing felt paper-thin. The climax had passed, leaving you in the wreckage. And Steve Harrington was knocking on the door, ready or not.
You scrambled up, slamming the ice cream down on the coffee table, and went to answer the door.
Steve Harrington stood outside the front door. He looked like hell. His hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through it for hours. His eyes were red-rimmed. In his hands, he held not a cherry slushie, but a sad, slightly melted single-serving cup of vanilla ice cream from the Gas-N-Sip. The cheap kind.
You stared at him, then at the pathetic little cup, then back at his face. The anger, the hurt, the blue-dye-induced nausea -- it all coalesced into a single, stunned thought: He looks worse than I feel.
“You’re supposed to be on a date,” you said, your voice hollow.
“I was,” he said, the words rough. “For about twenty minutes. At the diner. Then she started talking about her vocal exercises for regionals, and all I could think about was how you’d make that face -- the one where you try not to laugh but your nose scrunches up anyway.” He took a shaky breath. “And then I just… left. I told her I had an emergency. I think she cried. I’m probably an asshole.”
You stepped outside into the summer air, closing the door behind you. Your socked feet could feel every pebble beneath you on the doorstep.
He held up the little cup of ice cream. “I got this. For you. It’s not cherry, and it’s not a slushy, but… you like ice cream. I thought maybe… Peace offering?” He questioned, his confidence faltering under your gaze.
From the living room, there was a sudden, exaggerated scrape of chairs and the sound of the TV clicking off. “Well!” Joyce’s voice carried, bright and false. “Will, Jonathan, help me with the dishes! In the kitchen. Right now.”
You didn’t turn around. You heard the hurried shuffle of your family retreating, granting you privacy. The front porch light buzzed softly, painting Steve in a sickly yellow glow.
“Why?” you asked, the word barely a whisper.
“Because I’m an idiot,” he said, stepping closer, forcing you to either step back or let him in. You held your ground. “Because I got scared. Because you let me hold you when you were sick, and it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and then you looked at me like a stranger the next day, so I knew it was the right choice to leave before you woke up. And I thought… I thought if I tried to move on, if I proved I could, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much that you didn’t want me.”
You frowned. “I never said I didn’t want you, Steve.”
His eyes widened, a flicker of desperate hope in the storm. “Then what do you want, Y/N? Because I’m going crazy here. The quarry, the couch… every time I get close, you run. And I get it. I do. I’m Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. I was a dick. I have a history. But that’s not who I am with you. You have to know that.”
Tears pricked your eyes, blurring his anxious face. “I know that,” you choked out. “It’s not you I’m scared of, Steve. It’s me. It’s this.” You gestured weakly between the two of you. “Byers don’t get… this. We get monsters and moving vans and broken taillights. We don’t get… cherry slushies and stupid, perfect boys who hold us when we’re sick. It doesn’t work out. It can’t. Something always goes wrong.”
He dropped the Gas-N-Sip ice cream on the small table by the door. It landed with a soft thud. Both of his hands hurriedly came up, cradling your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were now falling in earnest. The closest you'd ever let him get to you. His touch was warm, calloused from basketball and stupid, chivalrous fights, and so unbearably gentle.
“Then let it go wrong,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Let the world end. Let the Upside Down break through again. I don’t care. I want you. I have since I looked up and realized you whooped my ass. Please. Just… let me in. All the way in.”
It was the rawest thing anyone had ever said to you. It wasn’t a smooth line. It wasn’t a promise of forever. It was a plea to face the inevitable disaster together. It was so perfectly, terribly Steve. The last of your walls, built from years of protecting a family that had seen too much, crumbled into dust. They didn’t fall with a dramatic crash, but with a quiet, final sigh.
You leaned into his hands, closing your eyes for a second, letting the feel of him anchor you. When you opened them, you saw only him -- his hurting, beautiful face, his ridiculous hair, his heart right there in his eyes, offered to you without conditions.
“Okay,” you whispered.
His breath hitched. “Okay?”
You nodded, a fresh tear tracing a path his thumb had already cleared. “Okay. But you’re explaining to the kids. Including my brothers.”
A laugh burst out of him, a ragged, relieved sound that was half-sob. “Deal.”
He didn’t kiss you then. Not yet. Instead, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you so tightly it almost hurt. You buried your face in the familiar soft cotton of his t-shirt, breathing in the scent of him -- laundry detergent, cheap cologne, and Steve. Your arms wound around his waist, holding on just as tight.
You stood there on the porch, tangled together in the buzzing yellow light, for a long time. From the kitchen window, three pairs of Byers eyes discreetly looked away, smiles on their faces.
Finally, he leaned back, just enough to look at you. His eyes were clear now, shining. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead. “So… you're my girl now, right? So you can't punch me anymore?”
You smiled, a real one, for the first time all day. It felt like the sun coming out. “Shut up, Harrington.”
And then, because the waiting was over, and the walls were down, and you were finally, finally done being scared, you kissed him.
It wasn’t a quarry kiss, born of impulse and water. It was a porch kiss, born of melted ice cream and tear-stained admissions and a long, hard road. It was soft, and a little salty, and so right it made your bones ache. His hands slid into your hair, and yours fisted in the back of his shirt, pulling him closer.
When you finally broke apart, foreheads resting together, he was grinning that lopsided, heart-stopping grin.
“Maybe only once a month then,” he corrected, his voice a low hum against your lips. "But make it gentle."
You laughed, the sound light and free, echoing in the quiet Hawkins night. “Yeah,” you agreed, stealing one more quick kiss. “Alright.”
When Will got together with his friends the next day, he couldn't shut up about it.
“And then they kissed,” Will finished, triumphantly, as if delivering the final, winning piece of evidence. “And Mom made us all stay in the kitchen and pretend to wash already-clean dishes for like, twenty minutes after. But I saw through the crack in the door. They just held each other for forever.”
Max, who had been quietly listening while sharpening the edge of a skateboard with a file, finally spoke up, a small, rare smile on her lips. “Took them long enough. The sexual tension was giving me a migraine.”
“Ew, Max!” Mike groaned, while the others laughed.
Will just beamed, hugging a throw pillow to his chest. He felt a proprietary sort of joy about the whole thing. He’d seen it first. He’d known before anyone, maybe even before Steve and his sister themselves. He’d watched the story unfold from the couch, a front-row seat to the best kind of monster-less adventure.
“So,” Dustin said, leaning forward, his scientific curiosity piqued. “What’s the protocol now? Does this mean Steve officially becomes, like, a Byers? Does he get a Christmas stocking at your house?”
Will grinned. “Mom’s already talking about adding more leaves to the table for Thanksgiving.”
The basement erupted into a fresh wave of discussion -- debates on couple nicknames (vehemently vetoed by Will), predictions on how long it would take for Steve to try and fix something at the Byers house only to make it worse (Lucas gave it a week), and whether this meant they could guilt-trip Steve into more free rentals at Family Video (Dustin’s primary concern).
But Will tuned most of it out, still lost in the perfect memory of the night before: his fierce, stubborn sister, finally choosing something soft. And Steve Harrington, the former king of Hawkins High, looking at her like she’d hung the moon, holding a cup of crappy ice cream like it was a holy offering.
He had the best sister ever. He really did. And she was finally happy.
pairing: steve harrington x byers!reader
summary: you kick the shit out of steve harrington for messing with your brother -- from that moment on, he's sickeningly infatuated with you.
themes & warnings: byers! twin reader, intro takes place around the time that jonathan beats steve up but instead of jonathan its reader!!, switches time periods after intro, slow burn, not accurate to plot necessarily, reader is kind of mean, lovesick steve, descriptions of violence, enemies to ALMOST lovers
The Byers' family women had always been fierce.
You defended your brothers in more than one way -- in all of the ways that your mother couldn't be there for. You'd joined forces to make sure that your brothers' sensitive souls were always protected. Jonathan, your twin, was gentle, quiet, and never one to snap. Will was the same.
That couldn't be said for you or your mom.
You'd socked more bullies in the face than you could count when you were in middle school. When things were their worst for Jonathan, no one could so much as look at him without you kicking them in their knees with your sparkly pink sneakers, promptly ensuring that no one would ever touch him again or get the chance to say something that he'd think about for days after.
Will, your younger brother, knew you extended the same type of protection to him. But instead of putting your hands on people, you terrified the little shits by chasing them in your Sedan, honking loudly. You'd yank the window down and yell something in warning, then drive away satisfied.
You were the spitting image of Joyce.
You were a storm in a hand-me-down flannel. The spitfire second child, born ten minutes after Jonathan and inheriting all the fight he seemed to have been born without. Where Jonathan observed the world through a camera lens, absorbing its pain and beauty quietly, you met it head-on, fists up and teeth bared. You were your mother’s daughter through and through -- the same wild curls, the same wide, expressive eyes that could flash from warmth to warning in a heartbeat, the same stubborn set to your jaw that said try me.
Joyce fought monsters you couldn’t see, battles with bills and bad wiring and a world that felt constantly tilted against her. You fought the monsters you could. The ones with names like Troy and James, who shoved Will into lockers and called Jonathan a freak. Your weapon of choice evolved with age: the sparkly pink sneakers of middle school gave way to a terrifying competence with your father’s old wrench, the one he'd left when he did, and finally, to a reputation. A reputation that said, mess with a Byers, and you answer to her.
Jonathan never asked you to fight his battles. He’d just give you a small, irritated frown when you came home with scraped knuckles, wordlessly cleaning you up at the kitchen sink. Will would look at you with a mixture of awe and worry, knowing his big sister was a force of nature, one he was secretly grateful was on his side.
The Byers family was a fortress, and you were its most volatile, loyal guard. You loved fiercely, protected violently, and held a grudge like it was a cherished heirloom. You didn’t start fights, but you sure as hell finished them.
When Will went missing, it wracked you and your brother's souls -- and destroyed your mother's. She was spiraling out of control, and you two were desperately trying to hold her together in any way you could. Caught between missing and grieving Will and making sure your mother would survive, it definitely made things tense.
The world had gone silent in the worst way. Will’s absence wasn't just an empty chair at dinner; it was a scream that had sucked all the sound out of the house, leaving only the frantic, scraping noise of your mother’s fear. You watched her tape up Christmas lights, her hands trembling, her eyes seeing things you couldn't. The fortress was cracking, and you and Jonathan stood in the breach, holding up the crumbling walls with your bare hands.
You took the night shifts, patrolling the quiet, oppressive dark of the house with Lonnie’s old wrench held tight, your knuckles white. Jonathan took the days, following your mother on her desperate errands, a silent, anxious shadow. You communicated in looks, in sighs, in the way you’d wordlessly make a pot of coffee at 3 AM for the other. The twin bond, usually a quiet understanding, had become a taut wire of shared dread.
School was a forgotten concept. The bullies, the whispers, the petty high school dramas -- they were echoes from another life. Steve Harrington and his court were irrelevant, just background noise in a town that was eating your family alive.
Until they weren’t.
The aroma of the corner store made you cringe -- all of the smells combined themselves into a raunchy odor. Pizza, cleaning supplies, medication and plastic. You'd only gone in to buy Jonathan something to eat. In fact, you were forcing it on him, just like you had to force your mother sometimes.
Fingering a 5 dollar bill out of your back pocket, you paid for the slice of pizza and the bottle of soda quickly, giving the clerk a polite smile before getting out of there as quickly as you could.
The street was empty. Jonathan and Nancy were nowhere to be seen.
Furrowing your eyebrows, you took a few steps forward before you heard the commotion. Scuffling, yelling, Nancy's cries of "stop!" You turned into the direction you'd heard it, your steps increasing in speed until you reached a jog. This was the sound of danger. This was a sound you were familiar with -- your brother being fucked with.
As you rounded the corner, the scene unfolded in front of you.
"BYERS IS A PERV" spray painted onto a garage door in red ink, glaring into your face brightly.
Steve Harrington, the infamous douchebag king of Hawkins High, had an iron tight grip on your brother, close to wrestling him to the ground. Without another word, you stalked forward, shoving the brown paper bag of Jonathan's lunch into Nancy's arms when you finally reached her, and threaded yourself quickly between the two men.
Your shoulder connected hard with Steve's chest, shoving him back a step, breaking his grip on Jonathan. Then, you curled your nimble hands into Steve's shirt, shoving him further, watching him stumble back.
"You wanna fight someone? Fight someone who's good at it!" You hissed.
Before Steve could regain his footing, there was a crack in the air. A groan followed soon after, but immediately, another crack sounded. After years of fighting for your brother, you'd learned how to do it effectively, not giving Steve time to respond before decking him yet again in his face.
"Where'd all that confidence go now, Harrington? Huh?" You taunted, watching him fall, jeans soaked in a puddle on the pavement, bleeding on the ground.
"Y/N, stop it--" Jonathan attempted, but you were beyond that.
Reeling your leg back, you sent it straight into Steve's gut.
Once.
"Don't you ever fucking touch--"
Again.
"--my brother again, you brainless--"
The final time, releasing all of the power in your lean, trembling body.
"--douchebag!"
The final kick was a punctuation mark of pure, unadulterated fury. Steve folded around the impact with a sickening wheeze, curling into a fetal position on the wet asphalt. The alley fell into a shocked, heavy silence, broken only by Steve's ragged, pained gasps.
You stood over him, chest heaving, the adrenaline a deafening roar in your ears. You’d done it. You’d put the king in the mud. It should have felt like victory. It just felt like another terrible thing in a week of terrible things.
Nancy was staring at you with wide, horrified eyes, the brown paper bag crumpled forgotten in her arms. Jonathan looked pale, his own anger drained away, replaced by a deep, unsettling worry. He wasn't looking at Steve; he was looking at you.
And Steve… Steve was looking at you too.
Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Blood and dirty water streaked his face, his expensive jacket was ruined, and he was holding his stomach where your foot had connected. But his eyes, one already swelling shut, were locked on you with an intensity that felt like a physical touch.
He didn't look angry. He didn't look humiliated.
He looked… transfixed.
A slow, pained look of shock spread across his bloody face. "Holy shit," he breathed, the words a pained rasp of pure wonder.
In the midst of your confusion, there were police in the alley. To add bullshit to bullshit, you were being arrested.
The cold, impersonal grip of the officer’s hand on your bicep was a jarring slap back to reality. The adrenaline haze evaporated, leaving you shivering in your damp clothes, the metallic taste of fury still on your tongue. You didn’t resist as you were pulled away from Steve, who was still staring at you from the ground with that dazed, bloody smile.
“You’re under arrest for assault,” the officer was saying, his voice a flat monotone as he recited your rights.
Assault. The word seemed ridiculous. You’d been defending your brother from the guy who’d just spray-painted a lie about him for the whole town to see. You looked over at Jonathan, who was being questioned by another cop, his face pale and pinched. Nancy was crying quietly, her arms wrapped around herself.
As you were led toward the waiting patrol car, you heard a groan and a scramble of movement.
When you looked back, Steve, Tommy, and Carol were all gone. Groaning, you allowed yourself to be tucked into the squad car.
The ride to the police station was a blur of gray streets and the officer's low, crackling radio. Your knuckles throbbed in time with your heartbeat. The quiet in the car was oppressive, broken only by the occasional staticky transmission.
It gave you too much time to think. To replay the scene. The red spray paint. Jonathan's terrified face. The solid, sickening impact of your fists and feet connecting with Steve Harrington. And that look on his face... that wasn't right. People didn't look at you like that after you beat them senseless. They cowered. They swore revenge. They didn't stare like you'd just performed a miracle.
The processing at the station was a numb, bureaucratic nightmare. Mugshot. Fingerprints. The cold metal of the holding cell bench seeping through your damp jeans. You sat, arms wrapped around yourself, staring at the scuffed floor. They'd let Jonathan and Nancy go after taking their statements. You were the one who'd thrown the punches. Well, and the kicks.
You didn't know how long you'd been there when the heavy door clanged open. There stood Hopper, gesturing for you to come out.
"You're being released. Your family has been through enough without this," Hopper remarked. "Your mother's here. No more assaulting people."
Hopper’s voice, a familiar gravelly mix of authority and exhausted compassion, cut through the fog. You looked up, meeting his tired eyes. He gave you a brief, almost imperceptible nod. It wasn’t approval, but it was understanding. He knew what it was to fight for family.
You stood, your joints protesting, and followed him out of the cell. The fluorescent lights of the station lobby were blinding. And there was Joyce, a small, frantic silhouette against the harsh light. She looked like she’d been carved from pure anxiety, but when she saw you, she surged forward, pulling you into a hug so tight it hurt your bruised ribs. You didn’t mind.
“Oh, honey,” she murmured, her voice cracking. Her hands fluttered over your back, your arms, as if checking for broken pieces.
“I’m okay, Mom,” you mumbled into her shoulder.
She pulled back, her eyes scanning your face, landing on your raw knuckles. A flicker of that old, fierce pride shone through the worry before it was swallowed by fresh fear. “We’re going home.”
Hopper cleared his throat. “I’ll drive you. Your car’s still back there, and you,” he pointed a thick finger at you, “are in no state.”
You didn’t argue. The thought of getting behind the wheel made your hands shake. You just nodded.
-
When the worst was over, it seemed that everyone's perspective on Steve changed. Aside from yours, of course.
Will had returned home, tentatively healthy. Your mom was doting over him more than ever. Jonathan was now transfixed on Nancy Wheeler. And you were back in your element -- working at the automotive shop in town. There were three of them; you just happened to work at the one that Steve and family took his BMW to.
He knew it was weird. He knew it was completely off center and extremely to the left that ever since you'd kicked the dog shit out of him, he was completely enamored by you. But he couldn't help it. And he saw you a few times a week -- after all, he chaperoned your little brother and his friends wherever they went. When he picked Will up and he clambered his way into Steve's backseat to sit next to Mike, he always looked up into the window. And he always caught your look of distaste.
He'd helped your family. He'd protected the kids. He'd swung nail covered bats at alien creatures with 200 teeth to defend Jonathan. But you still hated him. It should've driven him away.
But.. Steve Harrington had a problem.
It wasn't the usual kind. Not failing grades, or a fight with his dad, or even the lingering, bone-deep terror from facing down inter-dimensional monsters. No, his problem had your wild, furious eyes, your fists that hit like a freight train, and a grudge you held that was colder and harder than the wrench you’d once threatened him with.
You. Your name was a constant hum in the back of his mind, a background noise to every other thought. It had been months. Months since the alley, since the spray paint and the blood and the blinding, life-altering moment you’d looked down at him, a vengeful angel in a hand-me-down flannel, and he’d realized he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
Everyone else had moved on. Hell, he’d moved on, in every practical sense. He’d ditched the asshole crown. He’d apologized to Jonathan (who’d accepted it with a quiet, wary nod). He’d become the kids’ glorified babysitter, a role that was somehow more exhausting and more rewarding than being King Steve had ever been. He’d fought actual monsters. He was trying to be a better guy.
But it all felt… secondary. Like he was just killing time between sightings of you.
He saw you at the shop, grease smudged on your cheek, wielding tools with a competence that made his mouth go dry. He saw you dropping Will off, your expression softening for a millisecond for your little brother before hardening again when you spotted him. He saw you everywhere, and every time, it was like a punch to the solar plexus, a jolt of something electric and painful and addicting.
He knew it was pathetic. Tommy would have laughed himself sick. Nancy, in the brief, awkward moments they still had to interact, looked at him with a sort of pitying confusion. He didn’t care.
Because the thing was, Steve had been liked his whole life. For his hair, his car, his family’s money, his position on the team. It had been easy, surface-level. What he felt for you was the exact opposite of easy. It was a bruise that wouldn’t fade. An obsession born not from getting what he wanted, but from being thoroughly, decisively destroyed by it.
You hated him. He could see it in every line of your body when he was near, in the way your eyes would sweep over him like he was something unpleasant you’d stepped in. You held that grudge like it was a precious thing, and he was weirdly, desperately proud of you for it. Of course you wouldn’t forgive him. He didn’t deserve it. You had standards. You had fire.
He wanted to stand in that fire forever.
So he drove the kids to the arcade, he picked up parts from the shop even when he didn’t need to, he made sure Will got home safe, and he stole every single glance of you he could get. He was a lovesick idiot, pining after you, who’d probably rather set his car on fire than speak to him. And the worst part -- the truly, wonderfully, sickeningly worst part -- was that he wouldn’t have it any other way. The kick had broken something in him, and all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Steve Harrington back together again. He didn't want them to. He just wanted you to look at him one more time, even if it was with pure, unadulterated hate.
The scent of motor oil and old rubber was a familiar comfort, a welcome replacement for the cloying smells of antiseptic and fear that had haunted the house for weeks. You were back where you belonged: under a car, the solid weight of an engine above you, a problem you could actually solve in your hands.
You were replacing the alternator on a sleek BMW. You knew whose car it was. Of course you did. It was an unwelcome, persistent fact, like a pebble in your shoe. Steve Harrington’s shiny, expensive toy. The shop owner, old man Murdoch, had handed you the work order with a grunt, and you’d taken it without a word, because a job was a job, and you were damn good at this one.
But it didn’t mean you had to like it.
As you tightened a bolt, your knuckles -- the same ones that had split open on his jaw months ago -- ached faintly with the memory. You could still see the red spray paint. You could still hear Nancy’s cry, and feel the sickening give of his ribs under your foot. The violence didn't haunt you; you’d done what needed doing. What haunted you was the aftermath. The way he’d looked at you. Not with anger, but with a dazed, bloody wonder. It had been confusing then, and it was infuriating now.
Because now, he was everywhere. A permanent, unwanted fixture. He’d wormed his way into your family’s new, fragile peace. Will spoke of him with a hesitant admiration. Your mom mentioned him in passing, a tone of weary gratitude in her voice. Jonathan… Jonathan had forgiven him. Or at least, he’d accepted his help, which in your brother’s book was close enough.
It made your blood boil. They’d all forgotten. Forgotten the years of whispers, the casual cruelty, the way he and his friends had made your brothers feel small. They saw the redeemed hero, the monster-fighting babysitter. You saw the entitled king who’d only changed his tune because the world had literally gone to hell, and even then, it had taken you beating it into him first.
Your forgiveness wasn’t for sale. Not for apologies, not for nail bats, not for driving your brother home. That grudge was yours. You’d polished it, honed it, held it close. It was the last line of defense for the people you loved, a reminder that not everyone got a clean slate just because they decided to stop being the worst version of themselves.
Hearing steps crackle on the garage cement, you slid out from under the car, anticipating a customer or your boss coming to see how the work was going. Wiping your hands quickly on a rag, you turned to face them, a professional look on your oil blemished face.
Immediately, your jaw set.
Harrington.
He stood in the open bay doorway, backlit by the sinking sun like some misplaced golden boy statue. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to make himself smaller. The confident swagger he’d worn like a second skin in the halls of Hawkins High was gone, replaced by a nervous, watchful energy that was almost worse.
“Hey,” he said, his voice a little too casual, like he’d practiced the tone in the mirror.
You didn’t say anything. You just stared at him, the rag twisting tight in your grip.
He cleared his throat, his eyes darting from your face to the BMW and back again. “Is it, uh… is it ready?”
You bit your cheek, your eyes analyzing him like a snake did its prey. "No. It'll take a couple more minutes. Feel free to wait." You said shortly.
Steve fought the urge to shiver. The frigidness of your demeanor was enough to cool down the entire garage. But something about it was just so intriguing, he couldn't get enough.
The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, more like a reflex to the verbal slap. "Okay," he said, his voice softer now. "I'll wait."
He didn't go back to the waiting area with the stained magazines and the lukewarm coffee. He just... hovered. Leaning against the tool cabinet a careful distance away, watching you as you slid back under the car. He knew he shouldn't. He knew it made you bristle, that it probably violated some unspoken rule. But he was a moth to a particularly dangerous, grease-stained flame.
The sounds from under the car were efficient, professional: the clink of metal, the ratcheting of a wrench, the soft thud of something being set aside. You worked with a focused silence that was somehow louder than any tantrum.
He cleared his throat again. "What made you choose cars?"
You stilled. "What?"
He faltered slightly, but persevered. "What, um.. What made you choose working on cars? As a line of work."
Your wrench clattered against the concrete floor with a loud, jarring ring. The sudden noise made Steve jump.
For a long moment, there was only the fading echo of metal on concrete. You didn't move from under the car. He could see the tense line of your legs, frozen in place.
When you finally spoke, your voice was dangerously quiet, each word measured and sharp. "Why do you care, Harrington?"
He swallowed, his throat dry. This was it. This was the crack he'd been prying at, and it was about to split wide open, maybe right in his face. "I just... I don't know. I see you here, you're... you're really good at it. Seems like more than just a job. I was curious."
You slid out from under the car slowly, like a predator emerging from its den. You didn't stand up. You stayed on the creeper, looking up at him from the floor, grease smeared across your cheekbone, your eyes blazing. The position should have made you seem vulnerable. It didn't. It made him feel like he was the one being inspected from a disadvantage.
"You want to know what made me choose cars?" you repeated, your voice low. "Lonnie."
The name hung in the oily air. Steve knew that name. Everyone in Hawkins knew the story of Lonnie Byers, the deadbeat dad who took off.
"He left a lot of things when he walked out," you continued, your gaze never leaving his. "Bills. A broken family. A lot of bad memories." You picked up the wrench you'd dropped, your grip tightening on the handle. "And a toolbox. A really nice, professional-grade toolbox."
You pushed yourself to your feet in one smooth motion, the wrench held loosely at your side. "My mom was drowning. Jonathan was... Jonathan. Will was a baby. The bills kept coming. So I opened the toolbox." You took a step toward him, and he couldn't have moved if he wanted to. "I figured out how to fix the sink. Then the wiring in the wall that was making the lights flicker. Then the neighbors' lawnmower for twenty bucks. Then Mr. Perkins' pickup when it wouldn't start, for fifty."
You were close enough now that he could see the flecks of gold in your furious eyes, smell the sharp, clean scent of the industrial soap you used under the grease. "It was the one thing he left that wasn't completely useless. The one thing I could turn into something that actually helped my family. So I got good at it. Really good. Because when the world is falling apart, being able to fix something, anything, makes you feel like you're not completely powerless."
You stopped, your chest rising and falling slightly. The raw honesty of the confession seemed to hang between you, stark and uncomfortable. You'd just shown him a piece of your backbone, the gritty, unglamorous reason for your competence, and you looked like you regretted every word.
"So that's why, Steve," you finished, your voice dropping back to its usual icy chill. "Not because it's fun. Not because I like getting dirty. Because it pays the bills he left behind. Now, are we done with the heartfelt interviews, or do you need to know my favorite color next?"
He just stared at you, his heart hammering. He’d asked for a glimpse behind the wall, and you’d handed him a blueprint of your soul, etched in hardship and resilience. It was the most incredible, devastating thing he’d ever heard. He’d never wanted to kiss someone and apologize to them so badly in his entire life.
"Blue," he heard himself say, his voice hoarse.
Your brow furrowed. "What?"
"Your favorite color. It's blue. Will told me."
You stared for a moment, your eyes mixing shock with the leftover hatred from moments ago. Then, as if snapping back into yourself, you laughed bitterly.
"Obviously me spraining your ribs with my size 6 taught you nothing." You hissed. "I don't like you, Harrington."
The laugh, bitter and sharp, was the final straw. Something snapped inside Steve. The awe, the infatuation, the desperate hope -- it all coalesced into a stubborn, white-hot defiance. He was done just taking it.
He took a step forward, closing the distance you’d just created. He didn't tower over you, but his presence was suddenly solid, immovable. The playful, nervous energy was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that mirrored your own.
“I know you don’t like me,” he said, his voice low and steady, cutting through the garage’s hum. “Trust me, the feeling’s been made crystal clear.”
You stared right up into his face, not moved at all by his change in behavior. But it didn't surprise him, nor did it scare him.
"I hate you. You and your fuck-face friends terrorized Jonathan for years. You broke his camera, which I don't know if you realized, but was his entire world," you growled. "And we aren't made of money like the Harrington family. If Nancy didn't feel bad, that would've taken over a year to replace."
Instead of cutting in, instead of a rebuttal, Steve just listened.
"Tommy used to knock his books out of his hands and shove him into lockers until I put a stop to it," You continued, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. He could feel the warmth of your touch seep through his sweater. "I know your kind. You're all self-centered, shallow, day-dreaming morons. You think you have all the answers, or that your magical charm is gonna forge a relationship between us? You're delusional. I don't know what your problem is, or why you stare at me all the time, ask my brothers questions about me, why you're so obsessed, but you're gonna get a rerun of the ass kicking from months ago if you don't use your brain a little bit!" You finished, breathing hard.
Steve didn't flinch. He didn't step back. He absorbed every word like a blow, letting them land, letting them settle. The truth of them was a bitter pill, but he swallowed it. He’d earned every single accusation.
When you finished, chest heaving, finger still pressed against his sternum, he was quiet for a long moment. The garage felt charged, the air thick with the history you’d just thrown in his face.
Finally, he spoke, his voice rough but calm. "You're right."
You dropped the hand that was pressing a harsh fingertip against his chest.
"About all of it," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "I was a self-centered, shallow moron. Tommy and Carol... they were my friends, and I let it happen. I didn't start it, but I didn't stop it. I'm sorry about his camera. I'm sorry about the spray paint. I'm sorry for what I said about your family. I'm sorry for every single day Jonathan felt small because of me or anyone near me."
He took a slow breath, your touch still burning a hole through his sweater. "But I'm not asking for a relationship. I don't have any charm, not with you. It doesn't work. All I've got is this." He gestured between the two of you, at the scant inches of charged space. "This... whatever it is. This thing where you want to murder me and I can't stop thinking about you. I don't understand it either. But I'm not going to pretend I'm not obsessed. I am. I'm completely obsessed with you, Y/N Byers."
He saw the shock flash in your eyes, the way your anger momentarily faltered, replaced by sheer disbelief.
"And you're right about another thing," he said, his voice dropping even lower, almost a whisper. "I am delusional. Because I think, somewhere under all that justified hate, you see that I'm trying. You see that I'm not that guy anymore. And that pisses you off even more, because it’s easier to hate a cartoon villain than a real person who’s actually sorry."
You felt your throat close up.
"So go ahead," he murmured, his eyes holding yours, dark and serious. "Give me that rerun. Kick my ass again. I'll probably thank you for it. But it won't change anything. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to keep driving your brother around. I'm going to keep picking up my car from this shop. And I'm going to keep being pathetically obsessed with you until you look at me and see something other than an asshole in a varsity jersey."
The silence that followed was absolute. The hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to grow louder, the scent of oil and metal suddenly overwhelming. Your hand, which had been jabbing his chest, now hung limply at your side, tingling with the phantom echo of his heartbeat.
He’d stripped it all bare. No defenses, no excuses, just the raw, ugly, bewildering truth. An obsession. He’d named it, claimed it, and laid it at your feet like a challenge.
You wanted to hit him. The urge was a physical pulse in your tightened fists. You wanted to wipe that intense, earnest look off his face, to prove that nothing he said could penetrate the fortress of your resentment.
But you couldn’t move.
Because he was right. It was easier to hate the caricature. The King Steve who sneered from the yearbook, the one-dimensional bully. This Steve -- the one with shadows under his eyes from babysitting monsters, the one who spoke in a ragged whisper about being sorry, the one who looked at you like you were a complicated, terrifying puzzle he was willing to spend a lifetime solving -- this Steve was infinitely more dangerous.
He wasn’t asking for forgiveness. He wasn’t asking for anything. He was just… stating facts. Uncomfortable, insane facts that shifted the ground beneath your feet.
Your voice, when it finally came, was a dry rasp. “You need help.”
A smile touched his lips. “Probably.”
You turned away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. You focused on the BMW, on the job you’d finished, on the mundane reality of a repair invoice. You snatched the keys off the bench and thrust them toward him without looking. “$285.40. Then get out.”
You heard the rustle of fabric as he pulled out his wallet, the soft shuffle of bills being counted. He placed the cash on the counter next to you, his fingers careful not to brush yours.
“Thanks,” he said quietly. Not for the car. You knew what he meant.
Then he was gone. The sound of his engine starting was too smooth, too perfect -- a testament to your skill. You stood rigid, staring at the greasy imprint your fingertip had left on his dark sweater, now slowly fading from view.
The anger was still there, a familiar, comforting furnace in your chest. But it was banked now, smothered under the weight of his confession. Obsessed. The word echoed, disturbing and potent.
As much as you wanted to, you had the sinking, terrifying feeling that simply hating him wasn’t going to be enough to make him disappear this time.
-
Your keys jingled in the lock, alerting Will to the fact that you were home. A weak smile crossed your lips as you heard his footsteps, leaving his room and coming to the kitchen to welcome you home.
Will padded into the kitchen, a comic book dangling from one hand. "Hey," he said, his voice still soft, a permanent reminder of everything he’d been through. His eyes, so much like your mother’s, scanned your face with an empathy that always unnerved you a little. "Long day?"
"You could say that," you mumbled, dropping your keys on the counter with a clatter that felt too loud in the quiet house. You moved to the fridge, more to have something to do than out of any real hunger. "Mom still at work?"
"Late shift," Will confirmed, hovering near the doorway. He was watching you, that quiet observation you’d inherited from Jonathan. "Steve brought me home."
Your hand stilled on the refrigerator door handle. Of course he had. "Yeah?"
"Yep." Will responded. His tone allowed you to realize that he knew the situation between you and the man in question.
You shut the fridge door a little harder than necessary. “Great,” you said, the word flat.
Will bit his lip, his comic book forgotten. “He… he asked the best way to get you to talk. Without yelling.”
The air left your lungs. So it wasn’t just general, creepy interest. It was specific. He’d left the garage, driven your brother home, and immediately asked about your state of mind. The intimacy of it, the concern, felt like a violation.
“What did you tell him?” Your voice was tighter now.
Will shifted his weight, looking down at his sneakers. “I told him… I told him you like it when people are honest. Even if it’s bad honesty. And that you hate small talk. And that you really like the cherry slushies from the Gas-N-Sip.”
You stared at your brother. He’d just given Steve Harrington a tactical manual. Honesty. No small talk. Cherry slushies. Three data points to be used against you. The betrayal was quiet but profound.
“Will,” you said, your voice dangerously calm. “Why would you tell him that?”
He looked up, his eyes wide and earnest. “Because he seemed… lost. And he’s trying. Really trying. And… I don’t know. Maybe if he stops being such an idiot about it, you could at least not hate him so much. It’s exhausting just watching it.”
The blunt truth from your usually gentle brother hit you like a physical blow. It’s exhausting just watching it. You were so busy guarding the fortress, you hadn’t considered how the siege looked to those inside with you.
You turned away, gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles turned white. The image of Steve, with his “lost” expression, grilling your little brother for tips on how to handle you, was too much. It was pathetic. It was infuriating.
And yet, a tiny, traitorous part of you recognized the strategy. It was smart. Going to the source. Seeking intel. It showed a level of thought and effort that the old Steve Harrington would never have possessed. The old Steve would have just bought you a meaningless gift or tried to flash a smile. Turning back towards him, you rolled your eyes at the younger boy in front of you. Always doing what he could to help. Always meaning well.
"If Steve Harrington shows up here with a slushy and a page of notes on what to say to me, I'm hiding all your D&D figures."
Will cracked a small smile.
"You won't. You always say that."
A comfortable silence filled the room as Will settled into the living room couch next to you, covering himself with his favorite blanket.
"What is it that you kids love about Steve so much anyways?"
The question felt foreign to your lips. Never in your life had you allowed yourself to express any interest in the fluffy-haired rich prick. You wanted to curse yourself for allowing today to change anything.
Will didn't answer right away. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, his gaze fixed on the static-snow of the turned-off TV, as if the answer were written there in the fuzz.
"It's not one thing," he said finally, his voice thoughtful. "It's... a bunch of little things. He always shows up when he says he will. He doesn't treat us like we're dumb kids, even when we're being dumb kids. He listens. Like, really listens. He remembered that Lucas is allergic to peanuts, and he checks candy bags before he hands them out."
You stayed silent, your own fingers tracing a seam in the couch cushion.
"And..." Will hesitated, his voice dropping. "After everything that happened... with me... he never looked at me like I was broken. Or weird. Everyone else does, a little. Even Mike sometimes. But Steve just... he treated me the same. Maybe even tougher, because he knew I could handle it."
You felt a sharp pang in your chest. You'd been so focused on the past Steve had with Jonathan, you hadn't fully considered the present he had with Will. The Steve who had been in the trenches, who had seen the unspeakable and come out the other side trying to be a decent human being. A guardian, not a king.
"He's just... there," Will concluded simply. "Solid. You can count on him. And I think... I think he's lonely. And we're kind of all he's got now."
Lonely. The word landed with a soft, surprising weight. You'd never considered Steve Harrington as lonely. He was supposed to be surrounded by people, by adoration. But the court was gone. Nancy was gone. The easy, shallow life was gone. All he had was a beat-up nail bat, a BMW, and a bunch of nerdy kids who relied on him.
You hummed.
"Lonely? What about.. Nancy? I thought they were a thing."
Will shook his head, burrowing deeper into the blanket. “Not for a while. They broke up after… you know, everything. It wasn't messy. Mike said Nancy didn't even cry. Steve doesn’t really talk about it. Its just another thing to him.”
You absorbed this. The perfect King Steve and Princess Nancy fairytale had shattered. Another casualty of the upside-down chaos. It made sense, in a way. The things they’d seen would either bind people together with unbreakable glue or tear them apart with the sheer weight of it all.
“So he’s just… what? A free agent with a bunch of middle-schoolers as his social circle?” The words came out, but the old edge was gone. Now it just sounded like a genuine, bewildered question.
Will gave a small shrug. “Pretty much. He hangs out with that girl Robin sometimes. She’s cool. But mostly… it’s us. And he doesn’t seem to mind. He acts like it’s the most important job in the world.”
The most important job in the world. The phrase echoed, reshaping the Steve in your mind from a pathetic hanger-on to something else entirely. Someone who had found purpose in the rubble of his old life. It was a kind of strength you understood -- the kind forged in necessity and duty.
"Huh. Different than I would've thought. Not that I cared much." You disguised your shock with disinterest.
Will snorted.
"You spent so long hating him that you didn't even realize what you were hating changed. Even Jonathan doesn't mind him much now."
The observation, delivered with the brutal, unvarnished clarity only a little brother could muster, felt like a bucket of cold water. It doused the last flickering embers of your performative disinterest.
You stared at Will, who was now completely absorbed in his comic again, as if he hadn’t just dropped a truth bomb that shattered the entire foundation of your worldview.
Even Jonathan doesn’t mind him much now.
Jonathan. Your twin. Your gentle, wounded mirror. The primary victim of Steve Harrington’s reign. If he could move past it… what did that make you? You felt like everything was crumbling beneath you -- all of the resentment, the anger, the grudges. The things you'd held on to in an attempt to block of the softness of yourself.
Your eyes welled up. You realized who you needed. Even just for a moment. The person that knew you inside and out. Getting up gently, you walked to Jonathan's room and hesitantly knocked.
The door opened almost immediately, as if he’d been expecting you. Jonathan stood there, camera in hand as usual, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to instant concern when he saw your face. He knew your every micro-expression, the way your jaw tightened when you were angry, the way your eyes shimmered just before you cried.
“Hey,” he said softly, stepping aside to let you in. His room was a familiar sanctuary of developing photographs, band posters, and the faint chemical smell of fixer. “What’s up?”
Without another word, you curled yourself into his chest.
Jonathan didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, his camera pressing gently into your back. He didn't ask questions. He just held you, his chin resting on the top of your head, the familiar, steady rhythm of his heart a calming metronome against your ear.
You didn't cry. Not fully. But you trembled, the dam of your own stubbornness finally cracking under the weight of Will's observation and your own exhausting solitude. You clung to your brother, the one person who had shared every scar, every silent battle, every moment of defending your tiny, fragile kingdom.
After a long while, when your breathing had evened out, he spoke, his voice a quiet rumble in his chest.
"This is about Steve." He acknowledged.
You released a watery laugh, tears finally spilling over.
"Unfortunately."
Jonathan’s arms tightened around you for a second, a silent acknowledgment of the absurd, painful truth. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Figured.”
He guided you to sit on the edge of his bed, keeping an arm around your shoulders. You wiped your face with the heel of your hand, leaving a faint smudge of grease and tears.
“It’s just… everyone else has moved on,” you whispered, the confession torn from a raw place. “But it feels like betraying you if I do.. And he won't leave me alone. He keeps finding ways to reach me.”
Jonathan nodded slowly, staring at a photograph of a lonely-looking tree on his wall. “He’s hard to ignore when he’s trying that hard,” he said, a hint of dry amusement in his tone. “The guy’s like a golden retriever that got hit by a car but still wants to be your friend.”
The analogy was so unexpectedly accurate it startled another wet laugh from you. “A really annoying, formerly evil golden retriever.”
“With a blowout haircut,” Jonathan added, finally cracking a real smile. It faded as he turned to face you fully. “Listen to me. You moving on, you letting this go… that’s not a betrayal of me. It’s the opposite. It’s you finally letting me be okay. Because I am okay. I’ve made my peace. You holding onto this… it feels like you’re still fighting a battle I’ve already walked away from. It hurts to watch.”
His words were a gentle, precise incision, cutting straight to the heart of your guilt. You weren’t protecting him. He no longer needed it.
“He’s reaching you because you’re the only one still in the ring with him,” Jonathan continued. “Will’s team Steve. Mom’s grateful to him. I’m… neutral territory. But you? You’re the final boss. And he’s weirdly into it.” He made a vague, frustrated gesture. “He’s not going to leave you alone until you either knock him out for good or step out of the ring.”
You sniffed, the options laid bare. Permanent violence or surrender.
“There’s a third option,” Jonathan said, as if reading your mind again. “You stop seeing it as a ring. You stop seeing him as an opponent. You just… see him as Steve. The slightly pathetic, overly persistent guy who got beat up by a girl.”
You leaned back, staring at the water stain on his ceiling. “How?”
“Next time he looks at you, don’t think ‘there’s the guy who broke Jonathan’s camera.’ Think, ‘there’s the guy who keeps Will safe when we can't.’ It’s harder to hate him that way.”
The reframing was a mental sucker-punch. Simple. Brutally effective.
The guy who keeps Will safe.
You’d been so fixated on the past -- the broken camera, the spray-painted lies, the locker shoves -- you’d deliberately blinded yourself to the present. The present where Steve Harrington was the one in the driver’s seat when your little brother needed a ride. The one who had stood between Will and things far worse than high school bullies. The one who, by all accounts, took that job seriously.
Your anger, once a roaring fire, guttered and sank into embers. It wasn't gone, but its fuel had been cut off.
"Yeah," you breathed out, the word carrying the weight of a thousand released tensions. "Okay."
Jonathan nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, unless you want to help me mix developing chemicals, I need you to vacate. Your emotional crises are bad for the exposure."
You managed a weak smile and shoved yourself off his bed. "You're a real comfort, you know that?"
"The best," he said flatly, already turning back to his trays of chemicals.
You left his room, the hallway feeling different. Lighter. The blueprint of your soul you'd accidentally shown Steve in the garage -- the one built on Lonnie's toolbox and sheer necessity -- had a new line on it now. A line that connected, however tenuously, to him. Not as an enemy, but as a fellow guardian. A terribly flawed, deeply annoying, but undeniably present one.
You walked back into the living room. Will was asleep on the couch, comic book splayed on his chest. You gently pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, your heart doing that familiar, fierce squeeze. The guy who keeps Will safe.
-
You sat on the bench in your bay of the garage, picking at a piece of pizza. You peeled the greasy pepperoni off, tossing it into the garbage behind you, before turning back to the food your stomach felt too unsettled to consume.
The scent of pepperoni and motor oil was a familiar, oddly comforting combination. You were on your lunch break, but your appetite had vanished somewhere between Jonathan's talk and the seismic shift in your own head. You were just going through the motions, peeling toppings off as if fixing the pizza would fix the weird, hollow feeling in your gut.
The familiar, smooth purr of a BMW engine cut through the garage's usual cacophony. You didn't need to look up. You knew the sound, the way it idled, the specific timbre of its door closing.
Footsteps approached, hesitant at first, then more decisive. They stopped at the entrance to your bay. You took a deliberate bite of your now-bare-cheese pizza, chewed slowly, and finally looked up.
Steve Harrington stood there, holding two gas station cups. He looked nervous, his free hand shoved in his pocket, but there was a new determination in his stance, a lack of that cowering deference. He met your gaze head-on.
He walked forward and placed one of the cups on the workbench beside you. Condensation beaded on the red plastic. A cherry slushie.
"Harrington." You acknowledged, now attempting to keep the bitterness out of your tone. It was easier than it had been before. But it felt so odd to you. Your constant objective of icing Steve Harrington out had been stripped bare, so now it only left him.
Now that you had no reason to hate his guts, you were forced to see the appeal in him in the first place.
He was easy on the eyes, as much as you'd previously hated to admit it. His face was handsome in a clean way, chiseled lines with a boyish smile. His hair, which must've taken time, looked effortless. And he smelled good. The scent of an impeccably picked cologne flooded the bay -- not assaulting you, but seeping in quietly. He even dressed well.
You caught yourself staring, scolding yourself with disgust inwardly.
He saw you looking. A faint flush crept up his neck, but he didn't look away. He just stood there, holding his own cup, letting you look. There was no smugness in his expression, just a quiet, hopeful vulnerability that was somehow more disarming than any confident smirk.
"The, uh... the kid said you liked these," he repeated, his voice a little softer this time. "Peace offering. From the Gas-N-Sip."
The simple, honest statement cut through the last of your internal noise. Nothing grand or dramatic. Just a peace offering, sourced from intel provided by your own brother. It was disarmingly straightforward.
You looked from the slushie to his face. The vulnerability was still there, but it was grounded now. This wasn’t the desperate, bloody awe from the alley. This was a conscious choice. He was here, trying, with a cherry-flavored token.
Your fingers curled around the cold cup. “He’s got a big mouth,” you said, but there was no real heat behind it.
A small, genuine smile touched Steve’s lips. “He’s a good kid. Worries about you.”
That did it. The last brick in the wall wobbled. Will, your sweet, observant brother, was worried about you in this stupid standoff. And here was Steve, not just acknowledging it, but showing he’d listened.
You lifted the slushie and took a long pull. The sugar was a shock, the cold a relief. You swallowed and met his eyes. “It’s mediocre.”
The smile on his face widened, transforming it. The boyish charm you’d been reluctantly cataloging became fully, devastatingly operational. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice warm. “The cherry’s always kinda fake-tasting. But it’s the principle.”
“The principle of bribery?”
“The principle of showing up,” he corrected softly.
You hummed, unwanted warmth spreading through your chest.
"You're not afraid I'll kick your ass? Paint your windshield with slushy?"
The question, laced with a hint of amusement, made his smile turn wry, almost fond. He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Nah,” he said, his voice low and sure. “The ass-kicking’s already happened. And it was… informative.” He rubbed his jaw absently, a gesture that was both an acknowledgment of the past and a dismissal of its threat. “And you can paint my windshield if you want. I’ll just bring it back here for you to fix. Seems like a waste of a good slushie, though.”
The logic was circular, stubborn, and utterly Steve. He wasn't afraid because he'd already faced the worst you could do, and he'd not only survived it but somehow decided he liked the view from the floor. And he’d found a way to loop even your potential vandalism back into another interaction with you.
It was maddening. It was also, you realized with a sinking feeling, kind of impressive. The guy had resilience. A stupid, baffling, unkillable resilience. And it was somewhat.. attractive, which was a truth, but also a betrayal to who you'd been since you were in 8th grade.
You took another sip of the mediocre slushie, using the cold to ground yourself. “You’re a real piece of work, Harrington.”
“I’ve been told,” he repeated, but this time there was a lightness to it, a shared acknowledgment of the absurdity. "You kicking the shit out of me in an alley turned into me having a huge crush on you. Anyone else would've pressed charges for assault."
The words hung in the oily air, stark and breathtakingly honest. He’d said ‘obsessed’ before, in the heat of the garage confrontation. But this… ‘huge crush’. It was simpler. More human. More terrifying.
The slushy felt suddenly too cold in your hand. You set it down with a soft clack on the workbench.
“Anyone else wouldn’t have deserved it in the first place,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. It wasn’t an excuse. It was just… context. The context he’d finally, fully acknowledged.
He nodded, accepting that too. “True.” He took a half-step closer, the space between you humming with the weight of all the unsaid things. “But it’s not about deserving it. It’s about… what happened after. I looked up from the pavement, saw you standing over me looking like some pissed-off avenging angel, and something in my brain just… clicked. Or broke. Not sure which," He admitted. "Plus, I wondered where all the strength came from. You're tiny and almost knocked me out.”
The observation, delivered with such bewildered admiration, was the final straw. The last vestige of your defensive posture crumbled into dust. An incredulous laugh escaped you, shaking your shoulders.
"Comes from Joyce. She would've handed it to you too if she walked into that alley instead of me."
"Yeah," he said, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the garage hum. "I believe that. I met her, when Will was... you know. She's... she's badass." He shook his head, a flicker of genuine awe in his eyes. "You come by it honestly, then. The fierceness."
He wasn't just complimenting you. He was acknowledging your lineage, your roots. Seeing the connection between you and your mother not as a weakness, but as a source of power. It was a level of perception you hadn't thought him capable of.
A genuine smile finally formed onto your lips.
"She likes you. Will does too." You admitted.
The admission felt like unlocking a door you’d kept deadbolted for years. It wasn’t about you. It was about them. About the people you loved most giving their stamp of approval to the person you’d dedicated so much energy to despising.
"Will tells me every time he sees me that he has the best sister in the world. And I'm not just being a kiss ass." Steve responded, stuffing his hands in his pockets, a mannerism of his that you'd seen countless times. "You're his world. Literally."
You looked away, suddenly unable to hold his gaze. Your eyes stung. You focused on a greasy smudge on the floor, blinking rapidly. He wasn't trying to flatter you. He was stating a fact he'd observed, a truth he'd been trusted with. You're his world. It was the highest compliment, the heaviest responsibility, and the one thing that could instantly dissolve the last of your icy resolve.
When you finally looked back, your vision was slightly blurred, but your voice was steady. "He's mine too."
Steve nodded, his expression solemn, understanding the weight of that simple exchange. It was a pact acknowledged. He saw the heart of you, the protector, and he respected it. More than that, he was telling you he valued it.
The air between you changed again. The last of the combat zone evaporated. This wasn't a battlefield anymore; it was common ground, hallowed by shared love for a kid who'd been through hell.
"So," Steve said, his voice regaining a bit of its normal cadence, though it was still softer than you'd ever heard it. "I figure if I'm gonna be hanging around... I should probably be on the good side of his world. Seems like a smart play."
Another laugh escaped you. "I wouldn't worry about smart plays anymore. I don't think you've ever made one."
The insult, delivered without malice, with almost fond exasperation, made him laugh.
“You’re probably right,” he admitted, still chuckling. “But hey, I’m here, aren’t I? In your garage. You’re talking to me. You haven’t threatened bodily harm in…” He made a show of checking an invisible watch on his wrist. “...at least ten minutes. I’d call that progress. Maybe my first smart play was just being too stupid to quit.”
He had a point. His strategy -- if it could even be called that -- had been sheer, dogged persistence. A stubborn refusal to be vanquished. And against your fortified walls of anger, it had somehow, miraculously, worked.
You looked at him, this former king, standing in your domain with grease on his designer shoes and hope in his eyes. He was a mess. A beautiful, confusing, resilient mess.
“Just don’t break anything on purpose anymore,” you said, the warning lacking any real threat. It was practically an invitation.
His smile softened, turning sincere. “No sabotage. Scout’s honor.” He took a step backward toward the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe with another slushy. Maybe with flowers if I can get Will to tell me which ones you like."
He didn’t wait for a response. He just turned and walked out, leaving you with the echo of his words.
You watched him go, the sound of his BMW fading into the Hawkins afternoon. The bay was quiet again, but the silence was different. It wasn't empty. It was full of the echo of his laugh, the ghost of his cologne, and the terrifying, exhilarating realization that Steve Harrington wasn't just a problem you'd solved or a war you'd ended.
He was a possibility. A messy, complicated, stubbornly present possibility who bought cherry slushies for research and talked to your brother about how to get a chance with you.
You finished your shift in a daze. The world had tipped on its axis, and everything looked new. Grease was just grease. Tools were just tools. But the air felt charged, like the calm before a storm, except this storm smelled like synthetic cherry and expensive aftershave.
When you got home, Will was in the living room, a knowing look on his face. "So?"
"So, what?" you grumbled, hanging up your keys.
"Steve. Did he... you know. Do the thing?"
"What thing?"
"The cherry slushy. The weird stare where he acts like you invented gravity. They're his signature moves."
You stared at your little brother, this suddenly wise, observant creature. "Since when are you an expert on Steve Harrington's signature moves?"
Will shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I pay attention. He asked about flowers, by the way. I told him you like dandelions because they're weeds and they piss off the neighbors."
A laugh burst out of you, loud and surprised. "You did not."
"I did. He wrote it down. In a little notebook." Will was grinning now, delighted with himself. "He said, 'Weeds. Got it. Makes sense.'"
You stood there, stunned. Steve Harrington was keeping a notebook. About you. And your brother was his chief informant.
The world hadn't just tipped. It had somersaulted.
That night, as you lay in bed, you didn't think about spray paint or broken cameras. You thought about a notebook entry that spoke about your favorite flowers. You thought about shared looks over a slushie, and a truce built on common ground named Will.
The war was over. The peace was strange, and it came with a side of floral research and potential dandelions. And as you drifted to sleep, you realized you weren't just okay with it.
You were, against all odds, kind of excited to see what weed-related nonsense tomorrow would bring.
summary: after your breakup with your lackluster boyfriend you realize you actually wanted someone to be telling you what to do rather than the reverse in a relationship
warnings: kinda a dom and sub relationship BUT BUT its more like a Lee and Mr grey thing than whatever the hell was going on in 50 shades, will say there is no sex but it is about control and stuff, I made up a guy named Andrew for you to date he is nothing, eleven is called Jane bc she's Jane to me, background byler ig, max and lucas are together max has lucas on a short leash, I wrote Jane as kind of a weird girl I was hoping to channel a different version of like Juno kind of weird but lemme know if it comes off as just a sicko, Dustin and Steve are bffs, Dustin tells you what to wear and what to eat a couple times but it's chill don't worry, Dustin thighs, Dustin has wandering hands but it's not like he's groping your ass it's like he's sticking his hand under the collar of your shirt to touch your shoulder, you're going to be okay I promise I'll hold your hand and we'll get through this together
When Andrew moved into town, the Party wasn’t exactly excited. He wasn’t special; he was really just a guy. He wasn’t even a nerd. He wasn’t a bully. He wasn’t even really memorable, but he showed interest in you. Somehow, you landed a date with him, and one thing after another, his name became known in the Party.
They all had very little to say about him. Mike and Will could not be fucked to care less. You could actually shoot Andrew dead in front of them, and they would still be gazing longingly into each other’s eyes. Jane and Max were the only ones who ever sat and listened to you talk through the dates you went on. Lucas was astonishingly neutral on him, constantly forgetting who Andrew even was. Dustin, however, had a look on his face every time his name was brought up. He never said anything bad about Andrew, but his face was always tattling on him. His nose always scrunched up in disgust, and anytime you mentioned what Andrew thought about something, Dustin was rolling his eyes.
You once brought up Andrew’s favorite flavor of ice cream while sitting with the Party halfway through a sleepover and an ice cream tub. Dustin scoffed so loudly that every head turned towards him. You wanted to apologize, but you didn’t do anything wrong, so Andrew’s name stopped coming up around the party. Except, of course, in front of Jane and Max.
Your relationship with Andrew came to a close. It wasn’t messy, but he still side-eyed you when you walked by. Jane and Max were supportive, talking with you to help you through every complicated emotion you found yourself in the depths of. There wasn’t an announcement to the Party. Yet, they all seemed to catch on. Lucas obviously knew, once Max saw him again. He likely had to be reminded who Andrew was, but the information was passed onto him anyway. Mike learned through Will, who learned through Jane. That meant the Party was informed: you were single yet again.
Weeks later, you were sitting in Mike’s basement, your back pressed against the couch. Your legs were stretched out under the coffee table, your foot digging into Dustin’s thigh.
You had lifted your head when he sat so close to you, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t seem to notice at all. Your head dropped against the couch cushion, closing your eyes.
Jane was in the bathroom. Will had called Jonathan and told him he needed a ride to get snacks for the impending sleepover. The day had started as a regular meeting, but when the clock hit 11 pm, and Mike’s parents were already asleep, he convinced you all to just stay the night in the basement. Mike was quick to hop into the backseat with Will. Lucas slid in next to him, muttering about how Will never picked the right food. Max offered up her snack knowledge, pulling herself into the passenger seat.
Dustin stared blankly at the T.V. You were shocked he didn’t fight for a seat in the snack car. The couple on screen was leaning in, a kiss building between the two of them. You turned your head, staring at the two of them. Your cheek squished against the material of the couch. Dustin moved in the corner of your eye.
“How’s Andrew?” Dustin muttered, a small hint of hatred behind the words. You pushed your eyebrows together, lifting your head. You stared at him.
“We broke up.” You said, with clear confusion on your face. Dustin’s eyebrows shot up, his lips parting.
“What? When did that happen?” Dustin asked. Your lips twitched at the sound of soft enjoyment that had replaced his hatred from before.
“Weeks ago, I thought you knew.” Dustin shook his head, trying to fight down a laugh.
“I didn’t. That’s okay.” Silence followed, your attention going back to the screen. The couple was on a carriage ride now. What on earth is this plot? Dustin sucked in a breath to steady himself.
“Was it…messy?” Dustin whispered, suddenly gentle. Maybe he finally realized how rude he was being before. Maybe he realized that you could be horrifically caught up in the whole ordeal. Maybe he realized that your heart could be shattered into a million pieces, and he was laughing about it. You lifted your hips, readjusting your position on the ground.
“No. I broke it off. It was moderately gentle.” You explained, letting out a sigh. Dustin hummed.
“Well, what happened? Why did you break up?” Dustin pressed. You let out a small chuckle at the question. You had a list longer than all of Mike’s stories.
“I just- I realized I wanted other things than what he was giving me. I went into it thinking I wanted one thing, but by the end of it, I realized I wanted it the other way.” You answered, searching Dustin’s face. He furrowed his brows, giving you a deep look of confusion.
“Please be more vague.” Dustin quipped sarcastically. You rolled your eyes, a small smile pulling at your lips. You wanted to be mad at him for taking this serious conversation so lightly, but he made your worries feel lighter with his jokes. Even when they were stupid, like now, it made you think the world was brighter.
“I thought I wanted to be in control. I thought I wanted to tell him when to pick me up, where we were going, and what we were doing. I thought I wanted to be the one who made all the decisions and took care of him. But at some point, I got tired. I realized maybe I wanted different things. Maybe I wanted to be told what to do. I think I want someone to tell me what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.” You pressed your lips into a thin line and looked away from him, staring at the stupid couple on the T.V.
“You want someone to control you? That doesn’t really seem like you. You’re-” Dustin sputters, his words failing him. You clicked your tongue.
“No, it’s not really like that. I want someone to make decisions for me, with me in mind. It’s not like they’re demanding I do something; it’s more like they choose for me. Like when I get frozen in indecisiveness, they choose for me. Or they tell me to do something before I can think about it.'
'This one time, I was leaving the gym after one of those assemblies, and only one of the doors was open. The other one wasn’t blocked or anything, but it was closed. No one was opening it because they weren’t really thinking about it; they were on autopilot. The guy behind just said, ‘Open that door.’ He wasn’t being mean or even really rude. He was just telling me what to do. And I did, without even considering another option. And it felt really good. Not like I was getting off to this random guy behind me, but just- easy. Like I had the heavy weight off my back. I want my life to feel like that. I want to be free in someone’s control. As contrary as that sounds.” You finished, huffing and staring at Dustin’s face. He closed his parted mouth, the corners lifting. He nodded.
“I understand now. I hope you can feel that way with-” His head turned at the sound of Jane’s shoes stomping down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom and paused at you both.
“I stole one of Nancy’s scrunchies.” She stated like you were both cops. You nodded.
“What color is it?” You asked. Jane grinned, hopping over to show it to you. She pulled it from her pocket, sitting on the couch next to your head.
“Purple,” Jane answered, earning a smile from you. You poked it.
“It’s cute,” Dustin added.
The next day, Dustin sat across from Steve, organizing tapes. The station was quiet, right now anyway. Robin was running a handful of songs now, and Steve had just a few minutes for conversation with Dustin.
“Let’s say I have a friend who-” Dustin started.
“Hardly believable, but I can try.” Steve cut in, earning a glare. He sighed.
“Let’s say I have a friend who mentioned that they want someone to make choices for them. Like telling them to open a door before they think about it.” Dustin said. Steve nodded, dropping his chin onto his hand.
“Mkay. What’s the question?” Steve pushed, ignoring his duty of organizing tapes to discuss Dustin’s love life.
“Well, what if I want to fill that role? I just don’t want to be an asshole. How do I control them like that without just being an ass and telling them what to do?” Dustin felt his face warming as he kept talking. Steve hummed, staring at the wall as he thought. He squished his lips to one side, popping one shoulder up in a shrug.
“Fuck if I know. I can tell you how to kiss with tongue, but this is something else.” Steve said, sitting back from the table. Dustin glared at him, rolling his eyes. Steve let out a small snort and flung his hands up.
“Okay, well, maybe just try it out with small things. Like telling them to tie their shoe or something. See how they like it. You can work it up, I’m sure. If this is someone you want to stay friends with or…” Steve’s words wandered off. Dustin quickly shook his head.
“No. No- I want- I want it all. With them. I want to spend every day with them.” Dustin sputtered out, hating the messy way his sentence came out. Steve nodded.
“Then yeah. Start small. Be gentle but stern. Like they can hear your seriousness, but they know they can tell you to shut up at any time.” Steve said, Dustin, nodding along to every word.
Dustin started with a dice. It was small. It went flying off the table and landed closest to you. Dustin met your eyes over the table.
“Pick it up.” Dustin’s tone was hard, making your eye twitch. He caught it, an eyebrow raising. Your lips quirked at it, remembering the talk you had with him weeks ago. You quickly leaned over in your chair, pulling the dice from the floor and setting it back on the table. You both turned back towards the Party, only having incredulous looks staring back.
“Dude.” Will chided, glaring at Dustin. Dustin reeled back, holding his hands up.
“What!”
“Don’t talk to them like that.” Lucas chastised. Mike raised a squiggly eyebrow, sending Dustin a look. You rolled your eyes.
“It’s fine. Seriously.” You said, trying to send the argument to bed. Lucas raised his hand from the table, holding it out to you like he was pushing down your argument. Will shook his head.
“No, it’s not fine. He can’t talk to you like that.” Lucas countered. You pressed your lips into a thin line.
“Lucas, I’m okay with it. It’s not a big deal, seriously.” You said. Lucas and Will shared a look. It was almost like they were asking each other if they believed you. Lucas turned his head and looked at Max. She was grinning so wide you wanted to tell her to tone it down. You had already had a conversation with her about the whole ‘wanting other things’ in your relationship with Andrew. Max held up a limp thumbs-up to Lucas. Lucas slowly sat back in his chair, giving Dustin a look from the corner of his eye. Will followed his lead.
“The dice was a 15 by the way.” You said, making the table explode with reactions. Oos and aws brushed away the tense conversation. You looked back at Dustin, finding his eyes already on you. You gave him a tiny smile, hoping he caught your approval of his previous words. He wiped at his smile with his hand, looking at Mike down the table.
Just as you were winding down for bed, the phone on your nightstand rang. You flung for it, pressing the receiver to your ear. You let out a huff to catch your breath.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” Dustin said on the other end. He was lucky you could recognize his voice. You sighed, dropping onto the edge of your bed.
“Hey, Dustin.” You muttered. He hummed.
“So tomorrow, I want you to wear that sweater I told you I liked on you.” He had the same tone as days before with the dice. You thought through your closet, trying to remember which one he was talking about.
“The blue one?” You asked.
“Uh huh.” A click sounded in your ear. Dustin hung up on you. You rolled your eyes, setting the phone down.
The next day, you walked into the small circle of your friends standing outside wearing the blue sweater. You slid into the conversation next to Dustin. He turned his head, eyes dropping to your sweater. He smiled, looking up to your face and meeting your eyes. You both shared a knowing look, and more than a thousand words passed. You broke away from the look, finding Lucas looking at you with furrowed brows. Max smacked his shoulder, pointing back at Jane to redirect his attention.
For the next week, he called you before bed to tell you what he wanted to see you in. Tuesday was the T-shirt you had with your favorite band on it. Wednesday was the flannel you stole from Jane. Who stole it from Will- who stole it from Jonathan. Thursday was the necklace he bought for you for Christmas over 4 years ago. Friday was the ring he let you borrow months ago that you never bothered to give back. Saturday, he wanted you in the black sweater that always seemed to fall off your shoulder. Saturday night, you expected another accessory. You spent the night reading your book, never leaving the side of your phone for too long. You flung your book across your bed when the phone rang, your hands immediately pulling it to your ear.
“Dustin?” You whispered.
“In the morning, you’re having two pancakes, one pad of butter and…” His voice tailed off, his tongue clicking as he thought. “And, exactly two grapes.” You hummed in approval.
“So, tell me about what you did today.” He finally finished. You wanted to fight the massive grin you were sporting. You settled back into your pillows and started to ramble on about what you filled your day with.
Eyebrows were raised at your two grapes, no more, no less. Yet you didn’t feel any shame about it. Mike had called another meeting in his basement the next day. It was a movie marathon whether they liked it or not. As the seats were filling, everyone seemed to make choices without even slightly thinking about it. You stood frozen by the coffee table. People were moving too quickly for you to catch up. You would sit next to Will, but Mike might strangle you if you took his spot. You would sit next to Jane, but she was already taking the armchair that was broken and dropped in the basement last year. You would sit next to Max, but she was halfway in Lucas’ lap. Dustin leaned over the arm of the couch, catching your attention.
“Sit on the floor next to me,” Dustin said, his tone stern again. You nodded, dropping onto the floor next to his legs. You pressed your back against the side of the couch, dropping your head back. Dustin’s hand found the side of your face, gently turning your head towards his thigh. You followed his lead. You scooted closer to him, tucking your arm under his leg. You dug your fingers into his pant leg, pressing your cheek against his thigh. Dustin’s hand gently landed on your cheek again, caressing the skin.
As the movie went on, his hand traveled. It went to the back of your neck, carelessly massaging it. It found your shoulder, slipping under the collar of your shirt and pressing against the bare skin. Then he traced the column of your neck with one finger, stopping at your clavicle. He dragged his finger up again, tilting your chin up. You stared up at him, your lips parting. His face was only half illuminated by the T.V. His eyes were bright even in the dim room. There was an unreadable thought behind his eyes that made your skin warm.
“Okay! Is anyone else seeing this?” Lucas almost shouted, startling you out of it. You looked over at him, the entire party’s eyes looking around for his reason.
“What?” Jane asked.
“I mean, what is this?” Lucas asked, pointing at you and Dustin. Will held up his hand, shielding his eyes.
“None of my damn business,” Will muttered, staring at the screen. Mike stared at Will, earning an eye roll from you. Jane shook her head, shrugging.
“Friendship,” Jane muttered, looking back at the movie.
“Don’t make me feel crazy,” Lucas muttered. Max rubbed his shoulder gently.
“It’s okay, we’ll get you a refill on your meds soon.” She whispered soothingly. Lucas snapped his head at her.
“I could kill someone right now,” Lucas whispered. You tilted your head back, resting against Dustin’s thigh again.
lmk if there's anything else you want to see or if you have concerns😰 I love comments or like wtv idk whatever you want ig
+18 reader is a gamer, talk about games, long distance, pining, sex toys, mentions of phone sex and video sex, established relationship, slight angst, reader being insecure, kissing, oral (f and m), rough, spit, dirty talking, p in v (unprotected), eddie being a sweetheart as well as a perv in a good way
Summary: You didn't plan it, but through a game lobby you met the person who would become your long distance boyfriend. The time came for him to visit you for the first time after five months of dating... and you are not going to hold back.
a/n: thank you to @ghost-proofbaby for proofreading and fixing so much shit, as well as @andvys cause these bitches betaread almost every filth i write. this was supposed to be a v-day fic, so happy belated valentine's day.
Please reblog, be kind.
NO MORE BUFFERING
“Eddie, what kind of internet do they have in Hawkins? You’re lagging like shit… again.”
“Don’t disrespect it–” Silence, a robotic voice coming in making you roll your eyes. “–It’s a small town–” and again. “–You know.”
“No, cause I didn’t hear half the shit you said.” He froze on the screen for a second before the call dropped. A second later, your phone started ringing, making you scoff with a smile, answering the video call.
“I am so tired of this shit, sweetheart.” You saw his mop of curls coming into view as he placed the phone standing straight on his desk. You saw he was shirtless as he put cream on his hair, one of your requests after seeing the dryness and open ends on them.
“I told you to call the company many times!”
“It’s not the company, Hawkins is shit.” You giggled at his outburst, feeling your cheeks flush the more you looked at the expanse of his chest. The arms covered in tattoos, and you could see the happy trail going down into his sweatpants, which were too low, and his bush started sticking out a bit. “You done checking me out?”
“You’re hot.” You heard him chuckle on the other side of the screen. Your lovely boyfriend just posed for the camera, pretending to be in a vogue magazine or something. You giggled as you felt your cheeks heat up. No matter how many months had passed, he would still make you feel giddy and nervous. Who would have thought that the stranger standing on the other side of the screen would become your long distance boyfriend?
You didn’t plan it, really. It just happened.
Since you were little you liked playing video games. You adored it. Unlike some of the girls and boys in your school who did sports and stuff, you preferred to stay home with your Playstation 1, then the second one, then the Wii, then your first computer to play on. You made friends along the years, but then those friends lost interest in video games.
Nowadays, you have a full on gamer setup built in a room of your apartment. You also had studied Video Game 3D blending and you have a very well-paying job at a game producer company. You were basically living the life you always wanted to have. Your friends didn’t mind that you were a hermit or a little introvert with yourself. They learned to love you that way, often just laying on the bed as you play games, just being there for company, and you greatly appreciated that.
The problem was, none of your friends played online, and you were sick and tired of going into teams with random people in Call of Duty, and you were also disgusted and fed up with the men that just insulted you in game just because you were a woman, even if your score was better than what they did. They just kept insulting you, reporting you, and you encountered maybe just one woman every night in the lapse of ten matches.
So, you opened your Discord app, where you can join community servers of fandoms, and you joined the Call of Duty official server. You wanted to build a team, or to join one where they would not judge you. Maybe you could find an all-girl team in there. Your mouse moved around, looking through the topic channels to find what you were looking for. Finally, there it was.
‘Team finder.’
You decided to give it a try and joined that channel, seeing the people messaging each other, some asking for teammates and revealing their status in the game. You were pretty high in rank, so you were trying to look for a team that had the same one or close. Suddenly, a user that went by ‘i wear weird al shirts’ sent a message.
‘Looking for just one more teammate. We are looking for either a diamond or crimson rank!’
Your heart beat a little bit rapidly as you replied to them, telling them you were crimson rank. You received a message request later, privately, and you saw it was that same username, introducing themselves as Dustin. You checked their profile card, seeing they went by he/him. You were very respectful with the online community’s pronouns, so you always made sure to get them right.
He told you that they have a server for the teammates only, but that they would like to test how they feel with your gaming ability first. You licked your lips a bit and hovered over your keyboard, wondering if you should tell him you are in fact a woman. But you don’t know the rest of the team, so there might be another girl in there.
You gave Dustin your username, immediately receiving an invite in game. You joined the crew. You entered a very silent lobby, the other five people inside but not talking. You assumed that they were talking to each other in that private discord. You now hovered on your hot key to push to talk in game, but you didn’t quite want them to know you were a woman yet. Finally, one talked.
“Hello! I’m Gareth!”
“You are just going to give out your name like that? Christ.” Three guys for now. So you got Dustin, Gareth, an annoyed person and you are left to know two more.
“Stop having a stick up your ass, Mike. I’m Jeff.” Another guy.
“I’m Eddie, the most handsome guy in here.” You saw the speaker icon at the top of their characters light up each time they talked.
“Shut up, Eddie. Let’s just play and see if this guy is any good.” This Mike dude was very irritable. Your eyebrow twitched when he called you ‘guy’. They thought you were a man.
“Hang on, maybe it’s a lady!” The character of the guy named Gareth lit up.
“As if.” Mike talked once more and your anger was slowly rising - you were committed to make this guy eat his fucking words. When you get angry in game, you get ten times better, and this stupid little man is gonna wish he got on your good side by the end of it.
“You ain’t going to present yourself, sugar?” The Eddie guy talked and you decided to type by now.
‘If by the end of the game you guys want me in your party, I will.’
“Fair enough.” He responded and you sighed in relief. They went silent, and you could only guess they were talking on the discord again to each other. They started the game.
You got first kill.
First headshot.
The guys were cheering you on. Even the Mike guy was going insane over you.
You ended up as Player of the game. You smiled in triumph as you laid back on your chair. The guys cheered for you in the lobby, and you received a message from Dustin, the invite to a server called, ‘Hellfire Club’. What an odd name. They played nice, and they were fun with their commentary, the problem was if they would accept you when they learned you are a woman. One way to find out.
You clicked on the link, accepting the invite. You saw them all connected to the voice chat, and you felt your belly turning with nerves. You licked your lips as you took a deep breath in, seeing the messages in the chat to join them. You pressed on the voice chat, their voices blasting in your ears, cheering for you.
“Look who it is! Our champion! Our savior!” Dustin yelled and you smiled, containing a laugh.
“May we ask for the name of our brilliant knight?” You saw Eddie’s icon light up at his voice. This was it.
“Lady.”
Silence. Radio fucking silence. This was the part where you get kicked out, wasn’t it? Or where they start bashing on you, or bully you, or assume you are cheating in the game.
“Holy fucking shit!” The guy Jeff exclaimed as they started laughing, Dustin’s icon lighting up then.
“Mike, you better fucking apologize cause she carried your sorry ass just now!” You rolled your eyes, not even thinking the guy would properly apologize but–
“I am so sorry, I am forever in your debt.” Your eyes widened and then you saw on your other monitor how, thanks to this match, Mike had ascended rank in game.
“Uh, no problem.” You didn’t want to make your voice cheery, or high pitched with emotion, just in case you would annoy these guys. Eddie talked again through chuckles.
“We have a goddess in our land, boys, we gotta behave.” You sat there, expectantly as you waited for everyone to settle down. Then Eddie, who you saw was the one who created the server to begin with, talked to you again. “Does the goddess have a name?”
You gave your name softly, and each guy greeted you properly. You were stunned at this change of scenery. These guys were chill with you, but you really do wonder–
“Aren’t you guys freaked out that a girl is playing with you?”
“Are you kidding? One of our members was a girl too, she kicked ass, the sister of a friend. She started school so she is not able to play with us as much as before!” Dustin explained and your mouth fell open at that. They didn’t care if you’re a girl. They just cared that you played nice.
“Ahem, sweetheart.” Your body straightened up at the pet name, not disliking it at all for some reason. “You wanna join Hellfire?”
Every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, you all played together for hours. Mostly were wins thanks to you and Eddie, then there were some losses, but not a single game was toxic. They raged sure, but you weren’t far behind.
“COCK SUCKING SLUT, YOU FUCKING CHEATING PIECE OF SHIT!” You yelled loudly, ready to throw your controller across the room because you knew you found someone using a bot to aim perfectly at the head.
The boys’ laughter resonated in your ear, and Gareth was always the one to try to calm you down. You were so happy to have found a group that liked you, that had fun with you, and honestly was super interactive. The boys shared their foods, purchases, even clothes they bought in the general chat of the server. They showed their pets as well, Eddie, you and Jeff being the only two who didn’t own any.
You confessed you’ve always wanted a rat, and while most of the guys disagreed, Eddie was on your side 100%. He found rats cute, and he knew that they are as intelligent as a seven month old puppy.
One night in particular, after a month of talking with them, they decided to have a drinking night with you. Even if they were close to each other in distance, they stayed in their homes so that you could join and not feel left out. You were so thankful for them, but that meant you would be on camera for the first time. You wondered what they imagined you looked like, and you wondered how they looked like as well. They never shared pictures in the chat, and you never shared yours. You assumed they just wanted to keep their privacy. They knew each other in real life, unlike you.
So you got yourself out of your hermit clothes, put on makeup, even did your hair a bit. You put on an oversized sweater and prepared your beer in front of your PC. You took a deep breath in as you fixed the camera at the top of your monitor and you looked at yourself in the preview before joining the voice chat. You could see everyone pinging you, hurrying you, and you finally clicked the button.
The boys cheered as you came on the screen. You saw how they clapped and whooped. Only one person was not saying anything and– Oh fuck…
You didn’t expect Eddie to look like that. You didn’t expect Eddie to look like your type. Oh, fuck. And he wasn’t talking. He wasn’t saying anything, why?
“Hey, Munson, you alright there?” Jeff asked with a snicker on his lips, which made Eddie finally snap out, his curls falling on his face. You didn’t know if it was because of the lighting or what, but his face turned slightly red.
“Yep, totally fine. I’m just bummed I have to give up my throne.” Your eyebrows met in the middle a bit, staring into his camera only.
“Your throne?”
“Prettiest from the group, duh.” At his words, Gareth whistled, Mike and Dustin laughing with a cringe, but you felt yourself flush all over. It’d been a while since you got complimented like that, but that was because you truly never went out. You can’t even remember when was the last time you had sex. Your dildo doesn’t count.
“I beg to differ.” You commented and that seemed to catch Eddie off guard, because he choked a bit with his saliva. Jeff laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera.
“You guys want us to leave?” And was it evil for you to wish that? A bit. You chuckled and shook your head as you raised your can towards the camera.
“I thought this was a drinking night?”
After that camera call, it seemed the boys were keen to keep putting the cameras when in the voice chat. You did as well, taking them grocery shopping and to the pet store to look at rats, the only one aww’ing at them being Eddie. But there was one particular call where Jeff, Gareth and Eddie were together while Mike and Dustin were not online.
“Welcome to your first Corroded Coffin concert, sweetheart!” You were in awe as you saw them play, but Eddie– Eddie caught your eye. He had been catching your eye for a while, and after exchanging instagrams with everyone, that attraction only grew.
But what were you thinking? He lived in Indiana, you lived in Virginia. This was just attraction over a guy you’ll probably meet in a year if this online thing doesn’t fall apart. It’ll go away. It had to.
Yet there was one night, where Mike, Dustin, Eddie and you were playing together, Dustin and Mike telling you that they were heading to bed. You pouted a bit on camera, not really wanting to go to sleep, but you knew the gaming night was over. You said goodbye to Mike and Dustin, about to say goodnight to Eddie as well, but–
“I’m not tired, you wanna stay on call with me, sweetheart?”
One call turned to two, to three, to four, to times when you both pretended to be offline so you could call each other privately. You watched movies, talked about TV shows, about one another’s lives, likes and dislikes, and soon, your attraction turned into a crush. Your heart raced whenever you called him, whenever you woke up with good morning messages from him, and then you called each other every single day.
You shouldn’t have done this. You were now with a crush on a man who lived miles away from you. And maybe he didn’t even feel the same for you, just that he found a new friendship in you and maybe he just wanted a feminine touch in his life.
“This movie fucking sucked ass, Eddie.” You laughed as you rubbed your eyes, the credits of the movie you two watched together rolling up. You looked at his face as he laughed into his hands in shame.
“This is what I get for following Steve’s suggestion, for fucks sake.” ‘Drag me to hell’, supposedly a great scary movie. Sure, if you think a possessed talking goat is scary.
“Tell Steve that if I ever meet him, I’m tying him to a chair so he forcefully watches the ridiculous 6. That will cause him an aneurysm.” You heard him scoff, putting a hand to his chest in feigned offense.
“Take that back right now!” You could only giggle, shaking your head.
“No, I’m standing by what I said.”
“Take it back–”
“Make me.” Suddenly he went silent and your smile fell. Did you fuck it up? Did you go overboard with that?
“Do you want me to?” His voice was not playful, no… it was flirty… Oh, he was flirting with you. Eddie was flirting with you.
“Mmm, I don’t know. Depends on how you do it.” This time you heard him groan, your heart beating out of your chest as he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the camera and the screen, probably looking at you.
“Okay, I think it’s time we cut to the chase, shouldn’t we, sweetheart?”
“What do you mean?”
“I enjoy being alone with you here, do you enjoy being alone with me?” You felt your body flushing all over, sweat appearing on your fingertips.
“I do… a lot.” And he nodded. You noticed how he nervously looked at the camera and then at the screen. He ran a hand through his hair before he spoke again.
“Darling… I know it’s fucking stupid, and– Kind of weird– but, fuck… I have never met a girl like you. In my entire fucking life. I mean– Who the fuck listens to the Sims 1 soundtrack on the daily?” Your eyes widened at that, gasping.
“I do! It’s very comforting!” He only chuckled, shaking his head.
“And something I never heard in my life… You’re weird.” His eyes were soft as he looked at you. You bit your bottom lip as you played with your fingers on your lap.
“Is that a good thing?”
“I really like you, sweetheart.”
And the words took a while to process in your brain. This guy that never got to touch you, or see your entire body, likes you. He just does. He likes you because of who you are, not exactly how you look. The cameras on were just a plus to make the calls even more personal, which only made your crush grow bigger.
A smile spread on your lips as you saw him covering his face with his hair, acting shy, peeking through it as if he were hiding. He was cute. Such a dork. And so handsome… and gentle. Caring. He bought you a plushie you wanted from Kingdom Hearts that you saved in your wishlist. You were surprised when you received it, not knowing if you accidentally bought it, but the note inside made your heart melt on the spot.
‘Happy birthday, my goddess.’
“I really like you too, Eddie.”
So no, you didn’t plan it. You didn’t plan to date someone online for five months. You presented him to your friends and even if a little weirded out, they really didn’t expect something else coming from you. They were happy you found someone, even if not in the practical way.
The boys already knew. They had confessed to you, embarrassing Eddie in the process, that he never stopped talking about you. He praised you whenever he could, reminding everyone you were a lady and beautiful and that you had to be respected.
But in a relationship come needs. Eddie is handsome. He is… well, he is hot. You find him extremely attractive, inside and out. Your dildo could be named Eddie at this point from how many times you used it and called his name out loud, pretending your pink dildo was his cock.
So, in one bold movement, after a month of properly dating, you decided to do your first bold move. You sent him a suggestive picture of your cleavage.
‘Should I wear this top for Heather's party?’
It had taken him a moment to reply to you, making you wonder if he was busy or if he was just staring at your picture. You started second guessing yourself, wondering, again, if you had gone too far, only for your phone to ping.
‘Sweetheart, do you want me to die?’
‘Why? I’m just asking a simple question…🥺’
‘Can you send more pictures? Or a video works best, I need to do a thorough inspection to give a verdict.’
And the sexting part began. Then the pictures were no longer suggestive, just plain nude. He started that one after you sent a picture of yourself in your lacey underwear and bunny ears in front of your full-length mirror.
‘I’m so fucking hard right now, darling, you have no fucking idea.’ He sent this message with a blurred picture attached. You knew what it could be but– You were not prepared. You were not prepared for what you saw. Not only was it big. Not only it was curved. But Eddie had a tattoo along the shaft. He had Sindarin markings on the underside.
It made you wet in an instant.
Sexting turned into phone sex with video calls. He saw you, you saw him. He saw you fucking yourself in your dildo as you moaned his name, and you saw him fuck his hand to yours. It was daily, if not every two days. You had never done this before, but fuck if it wasn’t hot. Hot, yet not enough.
Which brings you to five months into the relationship, and the present day.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He called out as you hummed, still looking at his body as if you were daydreaming. He laughed, leaning over to look into the phone camera. “Stop drooling over me, for just a second.”
“No way, not possible, live with it.” He shook his head at you, his smile faltering slightly with nerves and you tilted your head in wonder as you felt your stomach flip with nervousness. “What’s wrong–”
“Nothing is wrong. I promise! But uhm… well… With the new job, I managed to… kind of save up.”
“For what?”
“Visiting you.”
Your brain short-circuited. You had explained to Eddie that you couldn’t visit him for a while, not until your video game project was done with, and your work days were never set. You couldn’t take your PC with you, so you had to stay home.
“What?”
“I– Tell me to fuck off if you’re not comfortable, I just– I really want to see you. There’s… a flight on… Valentine’s day.”
You felt yourself melt in your seat as you heard his words. He wanted to meet you for the first time and not on just any day. Valentine’s day. You knew Eddie had been struggling with finding a good paying job a few months back, finally landing a good one as a mechanic in his town.
“You… You got a new job and instead of saving up for the new guitar–”
“I saved up to finally meet you, yes– but if you tell me you’re not ready, I’ll go and just buy–”
“Yes… please…” And you two stared at one another for a few seconds, your heart beating wildly in your throat as he stood there.
“I– Yes?”
“Yes, I want you to come here, Eddie.”
You saw him walk backwards cheering with his fists in the air, and you smiled as he jumped excitedly, his hair bouncing all around him. You saw his uncle Wayne opening the door to see what Eddie was doing, and you couldn’t help but snort as Eddie stopped and pointed at his phone.
“I’m meeting my girlfriend!”
“Okay? Uh–” Wayne looked at you and nodded in greeting, “Hi sweetheart.”
“Hi, Wayne.” His uncle didn’t live with Eddie, but he came to visit often and even stayed for a day or two at his home. At Eddie’s request. It seemed Eddie wanted independence, but he was too attached to Wayne. He had explained to you about his past, about his family, and it was completely understandable that he couldn’t let Wayne go that easily.
“Keep it down, I’m excited for you two, but your neighbors will complain again.” And like that, he closed the door. The nerves invaded you once again and you saw Eddie rushing to grab the phone and taking you as he sat on the computer. You saw him typing away, and you knew he was looking to book that flight right away.
You saw the concentration in his scrunched-up features, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth as he squinted at the screen, clicking away. Excitement built in your belly as you looked at him. As you looked at a guy that just lived far away, yet you’ve never felt more connected to in your entire life.
A guy you fell in love with, despite the recent connectivity issues.
“BOOKED!” He yelled excitedly and you giggled, covering your mouth as you thrashed around, finally realizing you would meet him. You would meet Eddie. You would meet your boyfriend for the very first time, and on Valentine’s day to top it off. That would be a month away, and you could tell your work to give you a breather the week he stays with you, to not bother you as much.
You were excited… but nervous as fuck.
What if he doesn’t like you? What if he sees you and is disgusted? Should you kiss him as a greeting? Were the flowers in your hand too stupid to give to him? He said he liked them, so you got him some because men also deserve flowers on Valentine's day. You were standing at the Arrivals gate, just where Eddie had told you he would get off on.
You had prepared your home from top to bottom, cleaned it all up, and you even went to get a Bikini Wax with Heather. You exfoliated your skin, put on some lotion, and you were going a little bit crazy with it– But, was today the day? Not only were you going to meet him, but should it also be the time where you could confess to him?
You didn’t know if it was too soon or not, being the first time you ever fell in love for real in your life. You were pretty sure it was love. How could it not be? Eddie had not answered you for a whole day once, and you could not get in contact with him at all. His location was also off. Your first thought was very dark, afraid he had gotten into an accident with his motorcycle or something. You had called Gareth and you demanded him to go take you to Eddie.
You made him go to Eddie’s house while on a video call with you, and when he arrived and knocked on the door, Wayne had answered. Eddie had caught Mono. You were relieved yet the stress didn’t leave you at all. Wayne showed you Eddie’s state on video, and you saw him breathing at least, with a warm towel on his forehead and all.
When he started messaging you back, you told him you were relieved but you had asked Wayne for his own phone number just in case. You remember Eddie being touched by how much you cared, and the fact that Wayne trusted you enough to give him his personal information just for the sake of knowing Eddie was okay.
You were clearly in love, and gone. You were holding flowers, balloons in the shape of bats and hearts. You looked silly, but you noticed some people looking at you with smiles on their faces, knowing you were most likely hopelessly in love waiting for your partner. They were absolutely right.
Suddenly, the doors opened and you held your breath in as people started walking out. You saw a family getting back together, then an old lady and a man who brought her flowers, kids greeting their mother. You were nervously waiting and– did you get the gate wrong? Maybe you did? Should you check your phone to make sure? That is nonsense, you checked like forty times, but maybe you looked at it wrongly–
And then, you saw him, dressed all in black, guitar strapped to his back, his hair pulled up in a bun, his left hand dragging the carry on. His other hand? It was holding a rat plushie with cotton flowers in its hands. You felt your eyes burning as you saw him looking around, your heart literally about to jump out of your chest and your stomach twisting with vines of nerves. This would be it. You did small little jumps with your feet, rising your heels and then putting them back down, over and over again and–
His eyes finally clashed into yours. His face lit up instantly, a smile spreading from ear to ear, his dimples showing off completely. He was so beautiful in real life and you just felt complete. You felt so giddy, something you never thought you would feel for someone else, at least not in the way you met that someone.
You bounced on your feet excitedly, smiling widely at him. His face, still smiling, made a confused frown as he looked around at what you got him. His feet started working, rushing your way as you waited by the limit. You were finally going to hold him. You were finally going to feel his warmth and spend time with him and–
You heard a huge thud of something falling and then big arms closed around you. Your arms wrapped around him, trying to not let go of his gifts but you felt like crying from how happy you felt. How whole you suddenly became. To be able to hug the person you have been talking to for months, that you have shown the most intimate parts of yourself.
His face was deep in the crook of your neck and shoulder, and you realized he had thrown the carry on to the ground as well as the plushie he got you. It was okay. You didn’t care. You felt his hands all over your back as if he was holding something so precious that he was afraid it would fall apart if he let go. And maybe, it would. Now you don’t know how you will be able to keep going with your daily life once he is gone. How you’ll keep going without his hugs, kisses and–
You flushed all over as your thoughts became impure, in just one single instant. Oh, he smelled good. He smelled so fucking good. You were in such bliss, you didn’t want to let go, but you knew you had to. You felt him pulling away for a second, his eyes meeting yours and you held your breath tightly as you waited for him to kiss you. He was going to, wasn’t he?
“Are these for me?” He suddenly asked and you were so stunned, looking down to your hands and you smiled widely, giving the flowers to him, as well as the balloons. He chuckled as the smile never left his lips. You saw a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he looked at them. “I never received flowers in my life– Valentine’s day gifts at that.”
“Me neither.” He smiled at you, putting all the gifts in one hand so he could bend down and pick up the plushie that had those cotton flowers in the middle. You squealed loudly as you grabbed it, inspecting it. Suddenly you caught on a scent, making you lean forward and smell it, and– It’s him. It’s his cologne.
“Sprayed it myself. I may have put a cloth inside and stitched him up again for longer effects.” Your heart was in your throat as you felt overwhelmed with emotions. You hugged the rat tightly to your chest as Eddie stared down at you with a smile on his face.
“Thank you…” Your voice was small and muffled into the plushie. You looked up at him with bright eyes, hopeful he would lean in, and you needed to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him. But–
“Should we go? I am in terrible need of a cigarette, sweetheart.” You giggled, nodding as he bent down to grab his carry on again with his free hand, and you two walked side by side. The people all around you looked weirdly your way but still kind of adoringly. It was a metalhead guy with flowers and balloons in his hand, of course they would look.
You two walked through the airport, smiling like idiots. You wished you could hold his hand but he was not able to right now. You were wondering why he didn’t kiss you, and maybe you should? Maybe you should kiss him when you reach your car and he puts the things in the trunk.
He talked to you about how Wayne made him share his location at all times, the old man worried his nephew was travelling to another state by himself even if where he went, he was not going to be alone at all. You took your free hand to message Wayne, sending him a selfie with you and Eddie, signaling that he arrived safely because Eddie could not grab his phone right now. Wayne sent you a simple ‘take care now, use protection.’
That message made you flush all over, knowing that it was something that was going to happen no matter what. Absolutely. Wasn’t it? You wanted it to happen but– What if Eddie didn’t want to? What if he just came here to spend time with you but not to engage in something intimate? Were you looking too much into it? You literally had video sex with each other, so it not happening would be… weird… wouldn’t it?
But maybe… he doesn’t want to after seeing you? Maybe that’s why he didn’t kiss you?
Your self doubt was starting to slowly eat you alive as you reached the car where you parked. He put his carry on inside the trunk and the balloons as well because they would just not let you see on the rearview mirror, plus you might be stopped thanks to them. You bit your lip once you heard the trunk slam shut, Eddie turning your way with a smile on his face.
“So, ready to take me to your castle, my lady?” You giggled as you nodded, ready to take a step forward in order to be able to tippy toe and signal him you wanted a kiss, but he immediately rushed to the passenger’s side after putting the guitar into the backseat, making you frown slightly.
You went into the driver’s seat, putting the plushie to sit in the backseat so you could drive while Eddie held his flowers on his lap. He was surprised you had gotten him roses, and he couldn’t stop lavishing over them. As you drove, you put music for each other, and he was babbling away about how the guys wanted to have a call with the two of you together on camera.
“Oh, that’s kinky.” Was your comment and you noticed Eddie nervously chuckling and– Was he nervous? Shit, were you too forward? You didn’t take into account he was as nervous as you. Maybe that’s why he is not making any moves? Not even holding your thigh?
Fuck, you wanted to jump on him and you had to calm down.
Once you got into your small complex, he was in awe when he entered your apartment. It was big for just one person, and he knew your apartment by now. You had given him a tour but it seems that showing him through video it may have looked a bit smaller than what he had expected. He put the carry on at the entrance as well as the balloons.
“We should put these in water, I don’t want them to go bad.” He commented, still holding onto the flowers which warmed your heart. You guided him into the kitchen, grabbing a vase and filling it with water, letting him put the flowers in it. Your plushie was left on the dining table so now, your hands were free as well as his. It was already night time, and you just wanted to hold him right now, needing to feel him in your arms again and–
“Did you have dinner yet?” You asked, wanting to cringe at yourself. The air was a little tense, and your self doubt and nervousness was making you feel a little awkward. Maybe it’s not what he expected?
“I didn’t actually, and as far as I remember sweetheart, you told me there was a pizza place here that was fucking delicious.”
“Pete’s. And it will be the best pizza you ever had.” You smiled up at him, swaying a little as you put your hand on the counter. You saw him breathing a bit heavily, nervously, and he cleared his throat.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He smiled and you realized he was not going to make a move at all. You don’t want to hover over him, or read the signs wrong. Fuck. You were becoming restless, even more when you sent a message to the pizza place so you could order and for them to deliver it to your house.
Meanwhile, Eddie was walking around your apartment, gushing over all the consoles you had. He knew you had them but it was still amazing to him to see them there. He explained to you how he could only afford the Playstation 2 when he made money out of selling weed at his school. You could only smile through your nerves as you both waited for the pizza, sitting on the couch… rather apart.
Why was he far away? Did he not want to hold you in the same way you wanted to hold him? It was Valentine’s day and he was sitting on the far end of the couch, and you have waited for months for this moment. Should you really take the initiative here? Were you giving wrong signals? No, you’re pretty sure you aren’t. You have batted your eyelashes, you have brushed your fingers against his when handing him the can of beer, your eyes went to his lips many times and he either was not seeing it or– he was playing dumb.
Dark clouds invaded your mind as you went to the bathroom, messaging Heather immediately.
‘He is not doing anything.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He hasn’t even tried to kiss me yet, and the pizza is about to arrive, and all we did was talk, which is nice, but we’ve been doing that for five fucking months.’
‘Okay, maybe you should kiss him? Or just talk to him?’
‘What if he doesn’t…?’ You felt like your heart was about to burst as you thought of that possibility. What if you weren’t what Eddie expected in real life? What if it became way too real for him that he was now regretting ever coming to your house? What if he regretted breaking the illusion that he had of just looking at the screen?
‘I’m sure there’s an explanation… talk to him, don’t be a fucking idiot.’
You heard the doorbell ring and you flushed the toilet, pretending you went in there to just do your business. You walked out to see Eddie looking at the intercom with a frown in his face, seeing the pizza guy on the camera.
“How the fuck do I talk to him?” You laughed as you walked towards it, standing next to Eddie, pressing the button to talk.
“Hi Pete, come on up.”
“Thank you, honey!” The old man said as you pushed the open front gate button. Eddie’s eyebrows raised in awe at it and then he frowned.
“Wait, Pete?”
“Yeah, the owner!” You smiled at him as you walked to your door, standing on your tippy toes to look through the peephole, your hips swaying excitedly as your mouth watered. You felt eyes on you, but maybe you were just making it up in your mind so that the horrible thoughts would go away from you. You saw Pete coming over and you immediately opened the door, a smile on your face.
“Hello lovely.” He greeted you and you grabbed the pizza from his hands, handing him the money and the large tip you always give him. “You know you always give me too much.”
“No, I don’t. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man rolled his eyes and then he saw Eddie standing behind you, waving at him.
“Oh, what a lucky guy you are!” You felt your cheeks burn up as you giggled nervously.
“That I am, Pete!” You heard Eddie say and that just made you feel even more confused than before. The old man smiled, tipping his head down once and gave you both a nod.
“Well, I better leave you two alone. Happy Valentine's!” With that, Pete turned and left, letting you close the door and lock it. He could get out of the gate with a button he could press from the inside, so you didn’t have to bother with that one. The smell of pizza filled your nostrils and you moaned in delight as you walked towards the couch.
“This smells so fucking good.” You sat down, looking back to see Eddie just blinking, staring at nothing. “Eddie?”
“Oh–” He snapped out with a shake of his head, his curls bouncing around. “Yeah, yeah, it does.”
He rushed to sit next to you, and you turned on the TV to at least put something as background noise. You decided to put ‘The Office’ which Eddie and you had binge watched together, having never seen it before. When you opened the box, you saw that Pete had followed your instructions, a smirk appearing in your face. Eddie’s eyes widened, a laugh escaping his lips.
“Oh my god.” He saw the pizza in the shape of a heart, and you giggled at how amazed he looked staring down at it. “How am I supposed to cut into this masterpiece? There’s absolutely no way.”
“Well, we do have to eat.” And that you both did. You dove in, the voices of the show in the background as he gushed over the pizza, and he had to agree with you that it was in fact the best he’s ever had. He told you that the pizzas back in Hawkins will now taste like cardboard compared to this masterpiece.
“Tell Pete he is a god. Like a literal god because, holy fuck.” You heard him groan in delight as he licked his fingers, wiping his hands with a napkin as he collapsed on the backrest of the couch, his eyes closed as if he were full. He only ate two slices, and Eddie was used to eating at least four. You once saw him eat a full sized pizza, claiming he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch.
“I’ll tell him.” You didn’t want to sound tense or irritated, but you were so happy to have him here and now you didn’t know if you were being selfish for wanting something more to happen, or if you were sad because nothing was happening at all, or if you were anxious and fearful of the possibility that Eddie did not like you in person, as much as he liked you online.
You grabbed the remaining pizza with the box, surprised still that there are slices left. You also didn’t eat much thanks to the nerves, something your stomach would yell at you later at night, but for now, you were afraid of puking it all out. You stood up and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge to place the entire box in there, not wanting to deal with putting it away in tupperwares to save space.
What should you do now? Should you follow Heather’s advice and talk to him? But what if you make everything become a little more tense than what it already was now? You didn’t know what to do, and Eddie was not helping your case at all. You sighed as you washed your hands in the sink, letting the grease be washed away. You dried your hands with the kitchen cloth before walking out, seeing that Eddie was no longer on the couch.
You frowned, completely confused, until you heard the water of the sink in the bathroom. You grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, walking towards your room, where your whole setup was as well. The bed was completely pressed into a corner, your LED lights in a perfect purple hue, fairy lights in the shape of stars were lit up across the wall, holding pictures of your friends, your family, the boys back in Hawkins and Eddie. There were a lot of Eddie.
The door of the bathroom opened, and you turned to see Eddie walking towards your room, his eyes widening at the color of the room and then the yellow from the fairy lights, as if it were a purple sky with stars. He walked further in, looking at your entire PC, whistling out loud. You could only stare at his back, dressed in all black, completely contrasting with your room.
“Damn, look at this… The pictures don’t do it justice.” Your setup was big. You had three monitors, and a very well updated PC. You needed your computer to be able to have a very fast response time because of your work. Video game 3D blending required a lot from your PC so you always kept it up to date.
“It was an investment when I started my studies, but I gave my mom her money back in the first three months of my job, even if it was three years later.” You explained and he nodded, looking all around your room, for his eyes to then fall on your bed and then the pictures above it, attached to the fairy lights.
You looked at his profile as he inspected them, and your heart was bursting with need, lava from a volcano just exploding right inside it. You couldn’t hold it in. The guy in your pictures was no longer far away from you. He was no longer miles and miles away, where you could not touch him. He was in your room. He was here with you. He was standing in front of you.
“Didn’t know you hung these up…”
And you exploded.
“Why?”
His head turned to look at you, a frown appearing in his face as you stared at him. His face softened when he saw how you were looking at him. Your face was showing him distress, confusion, nervousness, and a bunch of questions that were at the tip of your tongue.
“Why what?” He asked, a nervous smile appearing on his lips and– Now you definitely know something was wrong. You could absolutely see it. You stepped forward and you saw how he stiffened in place. You didn’t know what was going on, but at least he didn’t move away from you because you were able to finally step close to him. Your head tipped back so you could properly look up at him.
“Why don’t you do something?” You saw his gulp, how his eyebrow twitched and his smile fell, and you could feel your entire inside crumble apart. Was he going to tell you now that you weren’t what he had expected? That it became way too real for him that he could barely handle it?
“Darling…”
“Am I not– You don’t like me? I– Am I not what you expected?” Your voice was small, and broken, your eyes burning with incoming tears, and his own widened, desperately reaching out for you to hold your biceps tightly, pulling himself closer to you.
“Don’t you ever think that. Not for a single damn second.” His voice was honest, rough with emotion, so now you were confused as he clenched his jaw. “You are way more than I– Than I fucking deserve to have. I have no idea how the fuck I even bagged someone like you.”
“But– But I don’t understand… You haven’t even tried to kiss me, or hold my hand… You sat so far away from me–” He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath in. You blinked for a few seconds, and… did he lie to you? “Eddie… are you… a virgin?”
“WHAT?” His voice was loud, and it startled you, making you jump in your spot. His eyes pierced your skull almost in a glare, only to then soften as a sigh escaped his lips. “For fucks sake, I am not.”
“Then I honestly don’t get it now.” You were angry. You started becoming irritable, annoyed, and you wanted answers. He took a deep breath in, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. His cologne made you calm down instantly, your heart skipping a beat from having him so close to you again. The closest he’s been with you today was the hug you received when seeing each other for the first time.
“I… I won’t be able to hold back.”
You blinked completely confused a few times, looking into his eyes for answers.
“What? What do you mean by that?” He sighed as his hands moved, sending chills down your entire body. They grabbed your waist, giving it a squeeze as he found his voice again.
“I didn’t want you to think I was meeting you right now just to wet my dick… I don’t want you to think that I came to visit you just for that…”
Now you… you were enraged.
“Are you a fucking idiot, Edward?” His eyes widened as he pulled his head back to look at your face. It was all tensed up with anger, eyes staring into his with a glare.
“I– Uh… what?”
“You made me fucking doubt myself all day, thinking I wasn’t what you expected! Or that– Or that this was way too fucking real and you became scared and you regretted coming here–” Your eyes started burning once again and you hated yourself for always tearing up when you started an argument. You always felt that stupid lump in your throat, even when you were angry, you got emotional. His eyes were wide, his head shaking from side to side like crazy.
“No, no, no! I’m so sorry I made you feel like that but… it wasn’t. No… It’s– The complete opposite of that.” The room started losing that tensed up air that was filled with anger and misunderstandings, your eyes now softening as you looked at him. His face looked flushed, his eyes were now a bit dilated, looking down at you with a different gaze, one you saw many times on video call when you changed in front of him.
“Then?”
“If I kiss you… I won’t be able to hold back… That’s why I haven’t done it all day. I would have, probably, broken a million laws.” You bit your lip as you looked up at him, your body rising in temperature the more you stared up at him and he looked down at you with that hunger in his eyes you knew too well.
“Eddie… I waited for this for months… I want it too…” Your arms went up to wrap around his shoulders, nerves turning your stomach inside out but they were good nerves. They were amazing nerves. His breath hitched only to then quicken, his hands squeezing your waist once again. “And I don’t want you to hold back.”
That seemed to be his green light. What seemed to be the last string holding him to rationality, and it was literally snapped by you. His lips immediately clashed into yours, sparks flying all around you as electricity ran all over your body. Goosebumps formed on your skin and you sighed happily into the kiss. It was soft, deep, but still not moving.
He groaned into it and slowly pulled away with a smack, his breath hitting your lips, his eyes still closed. You felt his hands moving, wrapping himself around you, pulling you even closer. He pressed your body against his and you wanted to already moan with how warm he felt. You felt his lips peck yours again, and then pull away.
“Oh, fuck…” Then another peck, your bodies moving. “Fuck, sweetheart–” You didn’t know why he was cursing, yet he gave another peck, a longer one. “I’m done for.” And then one more kiss, “I’m so fucking done for.”
You finally felt your bed hit the back of your knees as his lips started moving against yours in a desperate manner. Nobody had ever kissed you like this. You’ve never felt as desired as you’re feeling right now. His hand went downwards to grab the back of your right thigh and pull it up, pressing it against his hip. His left knee then hit the bed, his other hand grabbing your other leg, and helping you up on the bed as he crawled into the middle of it with you.
Your lips never separated, not for a single moment. You were chained to him, not wanting to let go at any second, feeling like it’s a lost one if you did. Your back was pressed into the mattress, as your head clashed against your pillow. You could barely breathe as his hands left your legs after he slotted himself right in between them.
Your choice of clothes was now a pain to you. You should have put on something easier to take off, but you had chosen fucking pants. It was cold out, but it would have made this moment easier. His elbows came to rest against the mattress, one on each side of your head.
His hips still did not press against yours and you were becoming a little needy, desperate. So, you raised your hips upwards and rubbed yourself on him, making him wince against the kiss, pulling away to look down in between your bodies. You felt the bulge, the big bulge you’ve always looked at and desired to have in your hands, in your mouth and inside. He groaned as his eyes turned to yours again.
No words were exchanged as your hips were suddenly slammed into the bed again, a moan escaping your lips. He thrusted himself into you, giving you the wish of rubbing his hips against you. You sighed as your hands rubbed the back of his head, making you feel a little dizzy already. His lips immediately clashed with yours again, and you felt his hands all over you, just exploring all over your waist, hips, arms as his hips rubbed and rubbed and rubbed.
You moaned into the kiss, your body shivering when you felt the tip of his tongue entering your mouth, not even asking for permission and it wasn’t like he needed it. He didn’t. He could do whatever he wanted to you tonight. You were going to do whatever you wanted too. You both knew your likes and dislikes, what is okay and what is not. There was no need for questions or permissions.
He groaned into the kiss as you felt him twitch in his pants and against you. You clenched around nothing at all, and you wondered if you could cum by just him rubbing himself against you, because it felt like it. Your belly was burning. You were hoping you would not be able to walk after tonight, or after this entire week.
Your breathing turned heavy, your hands grabbing at his denim jacket, pulling onto it by the shoulders, and he got the message. He pulled away for a second, ripping the jacket away from himself, only to desperately drop himself back on you, kissing you hungrily once more. The clothes felt constricting now and the heat all over your body was making it feel worse. His tongue was just abusing yours in the most delicious of ways.
Eddie knew how to kiss.
Eddie kept his movements on you, up and down, circling and then some dry humping against you that was making you see stars behind your eyelids. He was driving you insane, and your thong, the red lace set you wore today, a set you bought a few days ago with this exact intention, was becoming a wet sticky mess because of this.
You wondered if you were soaking through your pants now, maybe getting the front of his wet and damp too. He was rubbing against your clit in meditated rolls, hearing where you moaned the loudest. He was paying attention to every single detail and reaction he got from you, now learning your body in person and not through a screen. It was like the practical part of an exam, the oral part having passed flawlessly.
Your hips moved with his as his right hand landed on your breast, making your back arch against him with need. You whined into the kiss, and he pulled away from you, a gasp being let out by you. You were so sensitive. The emotions were making your entire body react to the simplest of his touches.
“You are so fucking perfect.” Your mouth dropped open when his lips connected to the pulse point of your neck. His hand was still kneading your breast over your hoodie, those you loved to wear. Oversized and comfy, but right now, it was something you wanted to rip off of you as if it were burning your fucking skin.
“Eddie… Baby, I need to take it off–” He nodded desperately against you, but before leaving your neck, he gave a soft nibble with his teeth, making you whimper. He kneeled as you sat up, and before you could grab the hem of your hoodie, his hands were almost ripping it off from your body. He pulled it off of you in an instant, leaving you in just your tank top. You saw him lick his lips, and you wanted more, you needed more. Your hands instantly went to the hem of his shirt and he helped you, gladly, to take it off.
Your mouth watered as you saw the chest you’ve only been seeing through a screen for months, finally being able to touch it, kiss it and– Your tongue darted out, licking his chest in an upwards motion, your eyes closed. He threw his head back, shoving the shirt to the abyss, he didn’t care. Your hands scanned his sides, fingertips gliding against the skin, feeling him tense up and his chest hitch when your lips gave a kiss to it.
He growled, cradling your cheeks in his hands, making you look up at him in a quick and rough motion you didn’t dislike, but it made you stop your kisses and kitten licks against his chest, over his tattoos. His lips crashed against yours again, deep and desperate only to then be pushed back down on the bed. He was towering over you, chest moving up and down rapidly, his eyes looking down at the button of your jeans. You gulped as you moved your hips to signal him he could move.
So he did. His hands instantly rushed to rip the button open and pull the fly down. Your nerves started coming back as he crawled backwards and he started tugging at your jeans, pulling them down and off your body desperately. Off they went, including your socks and then you felt your legs wanting to close but– You had prepared yourself for this. You should let him look, so you kept them spread. Once his eyes turned to look at you again, they were instantly glued to the red lace covering the wet heaven he had wanted to touch and taste for so long.
“Oh, and it’s all for me, isn’t it sweetheart?” His voice was deep, rough and sultry and it was as if he wasn’t really asking you, but more like he was reassuring himself in fact like he said. And it was.
“Mhm~ All of it, Eds…” Your voice small, pretending shyness, that shyness that drove him insane. You heard a growl coming from him, his clouded eyes still staring down at your moving hips, waiting for him to do something. You clenched around nothing when he roughly grabbed the back of your knees and pulled them apart even more, and away.
“Let me taste this pussy that’s been driving me crazy for fucking months.” Your breathing hitched at the possessiveness he was talking with. His hands moved and his arms hugged your thighs as his body lowered, his stomach pressing against the mattress as his face came to stare at your throbbing slit, and he could see how wet the lace was. How drenched and dark the fabric had gotten.
You couldn’t even process his words that your mouth was falling in a silent ‘o’, his mouth latching on the thong like a leech. Sucking and licking on it and if it felt good like this, how would you feel when he uncovers it? Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as he kept licking pointedly into where your slit was, digging the fabric into it a bit.
Then he rode the tongue upwards, the pointy licks now against your clit, making you moan, letting the breath out of your lungs. Your body started feeling the heat travelling all over, and you should have touched yourself or something before he came over because you’re pretty sure you’re going to cum any second.
He pulled away, his fingers grabbing onto the elastic of your thong, and he kneeled up to pull them down your legs. You helped him do just that and he smirked when he saw the little string of your wetness disconnecting from your center. That’s how wet you were. His jaw clenched when he finally got the thong off, but this one, he made sure to see where it landed, planning on taking it back with him. Probably frame it.
Your legs now did close while his head was turned, your knees together and leaning your way. You felt a little more exposed now, you couldn’t help it. It’s been a while since you had sex in general, this would happen no matter what. The shyness, the embarrassment. But when Eddie turned his head back around, he shook his head, glaring down at you.
“I’m having none of that.” His hands roughly grabbed onto your knees and he spread them apart, your center opening up for him, and you just flushed all over, feeling embarrassed but more aroused than ever. He was a starved man, no, animal. He was staring down at it as if it were the answer to all of his prayers. His body moved downwards, in the same position he was before, but this time, his hands gripped your inner thighs, keeping your legs spread.
He was going to make sure to taste you completely.
His tongue darted out, finally pressing it against you, making you jerk upwards, completely taken aback by how good it felt and it was a simple press of the tongue. You were done for tonight. He hummed and moaned as he tasted you, and then–
“Fuck– Oh– Fuck!” Your voice was loud, your breathing loud as in one single moment Eddie was just looking at you after tasting you, and the next his mouth and tongue were everywhere. He sucked on your clit, kissed it, the tip of his tongue doing stripes in your center, up and down, teasing you about entering it.
He was all over you, his fingers digging into your flesh, not caring if he leaves a mark, and if he does, good. Your head was thrown back into the pillow as he flicked his tongue back and forth on your clit, your hands flying to grab onto his head. He was still moaning, hips rutting into the mattress just by eating you out. You were absolutely delicious and he probably won’t get enough of you at all.
“Better than what I imagined. So fucking sweet.” He hummed into you, and you felt your body start trembling, the pleasure making up a fog in your mind you hadn’t felt in so long. Suddenly, your eyes widened, feeling his tongue going inside, his nose hitting your clit as he made nodding moves with his head and his tongue moved around inside of you.
“Eddie– Eddie, baby, oh my god–” Your breathing was heavy, moaning his name out as if it were a god, and to you, he was one right now. Your belly clenched and burned and you could feel your climax creeping in by the minute. Eddie was happy to keep ravishing you, to keep tasting you, to keep making you fall apart.
You felt one of his hands leave your inner thigh as well as his mouth, letting the air hit you and then a sharp breath, making your wetness become cold, a whimper ripping out of your throat. He chuckled as he saw your hips jerk from the air he blew, and then you tensed up when you felt his finger running through your slit to coat it with your juices. And then he entered. You wished he hadn’t taken his rings off to eat that pizza. You wanted those inside of you, he wanted them inside of you. He had told you as such.
His mouth bit the inside of your inner thigh as he kept moving his middle finger inside of you, feeling your warmth around him. Your back arched as he bit, and a moan ripped away from your throat. Your hands now gripped the pillow under your head, right by the edges. He started pumping his finger, in and out of you, and you were in bliss as you moaned his name in order to ground yourself in the moment.
So many fantasies in your head, of him touching you, of him moving on you, of his fingers entering you and making you see galaxies. You could only guess Eddie would be good with his fingers just by the fact that he played guitar. And, he was probing that fact right now and with just a single finger.
He sucked on your skin as his eyes kept looking at how his finger glistened whenever it was pulled out of you. His hips kept rubbing against your mattress, the creaking of it ringing in his ears just by you moving your hips against his hand. He growled as he got his ring finger inside as well, and he finally curled his fingers inside of you. Your eyes widened, your head thrown back as you felt him inspect you, looking for something, rubbing and circling and wiggling and–
“OH–” Your hips jerked upwards at one particular movement. He quickly pressed his free hand on your hip, pushing you down to keep you in place, a smirk spreading on his lips.
“Found you.” Your body was combusting into itself as he kept abusing that part inside of you that no one ever bothered to find. No one ever bothered to look for it and you were feeling your body about to snap the more he rubbed his fingers against it. You were sure you were going to cum soon as you felt your belly start to turn, clench inside of you, and your walls fluttered around his fingers. There’s nothing that could make this better–
Except his tongue latching onto your clit as his fingers never stopped moving. You’ve never felt like this. Your hips were moving by themselves against him, needing more, and your moans were so loud that you were glad you had rented out a very thick walled apartment complex. You were probably heard anyways, but you honestly could care less right now.
He was sucking and biting on you and your body thrashed around as you kept your mouth open. Heavy breaths and moans escaping you without any restraint, not being able to feel anything else but the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you. Then, the stars slowly started to appear as your walls clenched and unclenched in warning.
“Ed– Eddie– I’m gonna–”
“Yes, fuck yes, cum for me. I’ve been waiting for it, cum for me.” And that was all the green light you needed as you back arched off your bed, your head turning to the side as your eyes clenched tightly, holding the pillow in a death grip and making it cover your mouth to try to stifle your sounds a little bit more. You clenched all around him, your orgasm crashing on you like a trainwreck, your belly just contorting into itself as you felt him quicken his movements, riding your orgasm out.
You were gasping as your body remained tensed up, the loud squelching of his movements becoming louder thanks to how wet you became as you came and you came and you came because it felt never ending. You didn’t even notice his mouth was no longer on you, his upper body hovering over you as his right hand kept moving inside of you as he held himself up with the other one against the mattress, right next to your head.
He was looking at your contorted face. A face he’s seen multiple times on camera, on pictures you especially took for him. You started to unclench as your body slowly relaxed, twitched every other second thanks to the aftershocks of your orgasm. It was the best and biggest one you ever had. You felt him stop his movements, slowly, until then he pulled out, making you sigh.
Your eyes opened, blinking a few times to center yourself and then you turned your head to see him looking down at you. You realized he had stared at you during your climax and you felt a little embarrassed but you couldn’t even speak that you saw the fingers that were inside of you come into your vision, your breath heavy as you stared at all the juices that were on them. His eyes went towards them, the wetness moving down his palm, towards his wrist.
His tongue darted out to lick it away, from his wrist to his fingers before putting them into his mouth to taste you again. He moaned into them, closing his eyes, and your own were wide at how filthy everything was, yet so deliciously amazing. He got his fingers out of his lips with a pop and then he looked down at you once again after opening his eyes once more, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Delicious. You’re so fucking perfect… So perfect.” You whined at his praise, your hands reaching out, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he leaned back down, kissing you desperately. You tasted yourself in his mouth, on his tongue, and it was all a little intoxicating. But, even if your body twitched, trembled, you needed more. You were not satisfied. Your thighs closed on his hips as he pressed himself against you again.
You wanted him so much, so much that it was a little bit frightening to you. Now, it was your turn to become an animal. You used your strength to signal him you wanted to turn him. He followed your directions, letting himself fall and roll you two in a different position. You were now straddling him, chest against his as you kissed him desperately. He chased after you when you pulled away and sat back onto him. Your eyes were darkened, pupils fully dilated as your hips moved against his bulge and he hissed, his head rolling against your pillow.
“You like that, baby?” You asked sweetly, and he groaned, nodding desperately. You bit your lip as you grabbed onto the hem of your tanktop and you ripped it off your body in just one second. His eyes were now glued to the matching red bra you had on.
“Oh fuck… Please tell me you took a picture of yourself in this…” He asked, making you smirk and you had in fact taken one… or more. And maybe a video.
“If you behave, I’ll think about sending those to you.” He bit his bottom lips as his hips jerked upwards and you knew you were staining his jeans, but he didn’t care, nor did you. Not when you were about to take them off. You moved backwards, your eyes falling to his belt. Your hands undid it as quickly as they could. You were breathing rather heavily still, and if you had your tongue out, you bet you would be drooling with anticipation, knowing what was under these pants and boxers.
Once the button and zipper were undone as well, it was your turn to take the pants off, but you added his boxers in the mix, killing two birds with one stone. Your patience was wearing thin right now, and you couldn’t handle wasting any more time with him. He helped you rip the rest of his clothes off, throwing his pants and boxers off and you almost fell back from how desperate you were.
You heard the thud of his clothes on the floor and then your eyes finally saw it. Oh, pictures and videos did it no justice. Your mouth watered as your eyes looked at every detail, the veins, the tip, the length, the girth… the tattoo. The fucking tattoo on the underside of his cock. Fuck. You were sure you’re getting wetter again just by looking at him. You didn’t notice how Eddie’s eyes were looking at you as he held himself up on his elbows.
He saw the lust filled look in your eyes, and he could swear he saw your pupils turn into literal hearts as you sighed happily, your hands rubbing on his thighs as you slowly leaned down. His breathing hitched, a broken breath being taken in. Your eyes didn’t leave it for a single second. You were fascinated. You kept your ass up as your upper body lowered more and more. Your nails dragged across his belly when you finally reached the height you needed to have him right in front of your eyes.
Your tongue licked your lips to moisten them, getting them ready to finally taste what you’ve been craving for so long. You gave his tip a tentative kiss, making it twitch instantly. He wanted to throw his head back but he needed to watch you. He needed to engrave this to memory. He is sparing this time because it’s your first time with each other… but he will throw it on the table the next day.
He wants to record you just like this, and much more.
Your tongue lolled out now, your hand coming to grip it to keep it steady as you passed your tongue along the shaft, towards the tip. You heard Eddie groan loudly, wanting to jerk his hips upwards in you, but holding himself back from doing so, letting you have your own moment. Your lips finally closed on his tip, and his body shivered underneath you.
You closed your eyes as you moaned with delight, just sucking the tip of his length to then pop it out. You suddenly spat on it, so you could lube it up in order for your hand to help you in those places you couldn’t reach with your mouth.
“Fucking christ…” You heard him curse with a hiss and you wanted to laugh cockily at him, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. You finally guided him into your mouth, your movements slow, tongue swirling around him as you went. Maybe it was your imagination going a little wild, but somehow he tasted so good, and you blamed the tattoo for it, as if it were an exotic spice.
He gulped with a sigh, his elbows slowly starting to give up on him the more you moved your head. Your movements quickened, the noise of slurping being added into the mix and you could feel him falling onto the bed with a thud. His hands came to lay on the sheets, gripping onto them so he wouldn’t grab your head, not wanting to force you. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and you finally heard him moan your name. Sigh it out.
That was one of the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard. You had heard him before, but it was different in real life. It was his voice. In real time. No interference or internet filter to cover it or mess with his vocal chords. It prompted you to move quicker, play with your tongue against his frenulum, making him whimper and jerk his hips into your mouth, making him gasp when you gagged slightly.
“Shit– Are you okay–?” His head looked down, worry shining through the lust, only to find you smiling as you looked at his cock, before going back in. He chuckled in amazement and it was his go to grab your head with his right hand, just letting it sit there as you did your own pace and movements.
You liked it. You liked the roughness, you had told him you didn’t mind soft and sweet, but you preferred rough and desperate. He is surely giving you that tonight. Your mouth was quick on him, and you could taste some precum in your tongue as you did so. You moaned into it, sending vibrations that made him moan and shiver underneath you.
“Mmmh–” You popped him out of your mouth to then lick his entire length and he sighed your name until he felt the tip of your tongue running on him, and suddenly he chuckled in awe once more.
“Sweetheart, you’re fucking tracing my tattoo with your tongue?” You were in a trance as you kept doing it, giving a dumb little nod. “Shit, that’s so fucking hot–”
“Been wanting to do this for so long… Wanted to trace it–” His resolve broke that second, wondering how many times had you imagined this and dreamed of it. His fingers snaked in your hair, deep, and then he gripped your scalp, making you whimper. The pain was nothing, it only added to the pleasure and it made you tremble as he was on his elbow, looking down at you.
“Think you can be a good girl for me and take me all?” You nodded desperately, looking at him with those eyes he fell for. Puppy eyes. He guided you towards the tip and you opened your mouth instantly, letting him go back into your warmth. Your hands stayed on his thighs, and his free hand gripped the sheets tightly, guiding you further and further and then– he controlled your movements.
He made you bob your head on him, up and down, setting the rhythm himself and you didn’t mind him. You clenched around nothing when you started feeling him hit the back of your throat. You relaxed, knowing what was going to come next and then you breathed through your nose. Once he heard you take a deep intake of breath, he pushed you down, slowly, but roughly.
Your eyes teared up as you finally felt him down your throat. Your nose was deep into his hairs, something he trimmed but kept because you told him you liked it. You breathed through your nose as you focused on not gagging. You moaned into it knowing it would send vibrations to him, causing him to moan your name, feeling his hips move underneath you with need.
But you could hold on for so long, your body slightly jerking as your throat closed on him. The gag making Eddie pull you back up and get himself out of your mouth. He looked at your fucked out face as tears ran down your cheeks, and drool was slipping out the corner of your mouth. Seeing it live was making him feel a little dizzy, and your clouded eyes were not being any help.
You couldn’t wait anymore, your body climbing up on him as he let go of your hair, his hand falling to your hip as your dripping cunt rubbed against his length, right over the tattoo. He sighed, his eyes closing for a second as he enjoyed the friction, the warmth of you. Your hands went to your back, unhooking the bra open. At the sound, Eddie’s eyes found you, taking the straps down your arms, and your last piece of clothing was long gone.
“Oh, fuck sweetheart–”
“Eddie, can I? Please–” Your voice was desperate, whiny, and your hips kept moving back and forth on him, whimpering each time your clit rubbed against his shaft. His eyes were focused on your breasts, his fingertips digging into your skin, and then he nodded quickly, giving you the go.
You smiled, delighted. Your hips raised up enough for you to get your hand in between the two of you. Your hand grabbed onto his cock, guiding him to your entrance, which was so ready to receive him. You two had gotten tested, knowing what was going to transpire the moment you met, and you were so glad you were on birth control to regulate your cycle. This way, you can feel him completely. Raw. You started sinking down, your mouth falling open as his tip started to stretch you, then the rest and, fuck–
“Holy fuck, holy shit–” He was cursing as he looked between your bodies, seeing himself disappear inside of you as your face was still in a contorted state of pleasure. Your voice was gone as you kept sinking down, and you couldn’t wait how it felt to have him bottom out inside of you. You already felt full, and you barely went halfway down on him. It wasn’t even painful, thanks to his prep, to your orgasm, the one he caused.
Finally, you slammed down on him, a loud slap bursting in your ears at your skin hitting his. He choked on a moan at bottoming out inside of you while you trembled in ecstasy, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails scratched on his chest for support. Your breathing was heavy, and Eddie could finally refocus on you once more. You were adjusting to him, your head moving back to look down at him, your mouth still letting out breaths that drove him insane.
He was about to talk, only for you to start moving, lifting yourself up to then slam back down, a moan finally escaping your lips as a groan left his. His hands were gripping your waist as if his life depended on it. He felt so good inside of you, just like you always knew he would feel like. He fit perfectly, and you certainly have no idea how you will survive when you don’t have him anymore with you.
Your hips kept moving, going up and down, your tempo rising, the slamming of your hips against his turning louder as he hit deeper. Your moans filled the room, the strain on your legs nonexistent as the pleasure overtook you. The air grew thick thanks to your breath and his, the purple hue making him look ethereal underneath you, his eyes half-lidded as he sighed out in each slam.
It was desperate, it was dirty, the squelching of your pussy against his pelvis, knowing your juices were making a mess out of it. You waited far too long for this and you were going to enjoy every single second of it. His hands moved to get a hold of your breasts as you bounced on him, as you rode the soul out of him.
“Look at you sweetheart– Fucking look at you…” You whined at his words, your eyes closed as he hit you in that sweet spot you adored, your nippled getting in between his fingers for him to pinch and roll. Whimpers and moans leaving your lips at each shock of pleasure, and each time you came down, your clit would brush against his pubes.
“Eds– You feel so good, so damn good–” He grinned at your praise, a thin sheer layer of sweat appearing all over his body as he played with you however he wanted. Suddenly you slammed your hips against him, changing your movements to go back and forth, a gasp leaving your throat and your nails digging into his chest.
“You feel good, baby?” He asked smugly, containing his moans in as he saw you lean back, his hands falling to your middle, while your hands gripped his knees. Your clit kept brushing against him as his cock inside you kept slapping your g-spot. Your movements were fast, hips just swaying like a dance and your mouth remained open in the entirety of it. You nodded dumbly, your head falling backwards as you stared at your ceiling, feeling your eyes burn in pleasure.
“Uh huh, uh huh–” You couldn’t even form words as your belly coiled, twisted on its own. His eyes fell closed, head thrown back into the pillow as you just used him to your liking. Your movements slowed and your head went back to looking at him, your hips changing rhythm as you swayed them in circles and you raised them just a little, moving back down slowly on him. A huff left him as he noticed the change, his eyes opening again to stare at your form.
You were possessed. You didn’t even recognize yourself, never once thinking you would act this way when meeting him. You knew you would be needy, but never this. Never this animalistic. The creaking of your bed was loud, now noticing it just as you noticed your legs growing tired, the trembling evident, but you didn’t want to stop this feeling. Eddie noticed of course, sitting up so he could embrace you, his mouth immediately latching onto your right nipple.
Your arms immediately enclosed around his frame, hands digging into his hair as he rolled your sensitive nipple between his teeth, to then tug at it. You gasped between your moans as he let go of it, and then you let a breath out when he laid back on the bed, pulling you with him, your chest now against him. He chuckled with a breath, planting his feet on the bed, raising his hips upwards.
“My turn, isn’t it?” And the world became non-existent when his hips started slamming up into you, the slapping of skin loud enough for the people living at the very corner of the street to hear, your moans loud enough for the moon to listen to.
His movements were rough, quick, his hands gripping your body to keep you in place and for him to have leverage. His breaths were quick, a curse and your name escaping him here and there, your headboard hitting your wall, and you were certain you would have a noise complaint in the early morning, but that was a problem for the two of you in the future.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” You whined as his balls also slapped against you, and you knew tears were falling from your eyes as he kept thrusting, rutting into you. He grunted into your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, which only made you whimper against him. Suddenly he slammed his hips into you, slow and deep, to then repeat the action, and then again.
He growled in each one, and then his hips stopped moving, still inside you, hips attached. You were both panting messes, drool dripping from your mouth from keeping it open all this while, falling onto the pillow and right beside his head. He lowered his hips, making you follow immediately, hitting the mattress once again.
“You alright, darling?” He asked breathlessly and you smiled, nodding against him, which only elicited a smug grin on his lips. “Good, because I’m nowhere done with you.”
Your world was flipped, him having turned you both, his body on top of you once again, and his lips crashed into yours. Immediate tongues and teeth clashing, your moans into his throat and his in yours. He groaned as he slowly started moving his hips into yours once again, the fire having never left you, nor did for him. His mouth was still in your ear as he kept talking to you, softly, in a rough whisper–
“You want to know what I had to do before getting off the plane?” His words were barely processing in your head, but you still understood him as his ministrations inside of you never stopped. You shook your head, but he was not having it. “Talk.”
“W-What?” You asked and he tutted, relishing in having turned you into a cockdrunk mess.
“What…?”
“What– Fuck, what did you do?” He hummed in approval, his breath hot in your ear, and if you thought this man couldn’t turn you on more than he was already, even when fucking you senseless, you were wrong.
“I had to jack off in the plane’s bathroom before landing.” You gasped as his hips rutted deep inside you, grunting into your ear before he continued. “I wouldn’t have lasted if I didn’t.”
You felt your belly burning, a moan escaping your lips with his name etched in it like a prayer. He chuckled through a huff, his movements still slow and meditated, his lips finding your neck once more, sucking on your skin to leave his mark. He was sure to mark you all up before he left, from head to toe, for everyone in your state to know you belonged to someone, that you belonged to him.
He will trace and retrace, leave your skin in red and purple markings. First mark? A necklace for your neck. So he continued moving, sucking onto your skin and biting onto it as he went from one side to another as you became a mess under him. Your nails were scratching the back of his neck, his back, reciprocating the marking in your own way. He could feel it, and he was going to proudly show it off before they fade away, going to make sure to prepare a gig so he could rip his shirt off in front of everyone so they could see.
His lips left your skin, his hands planting on the mattress on each side of your head to push himself up to admire his work. Your eyes were half lidded, completely blown out as your breaths left your pretty lips. A perfect necklace of hickies around your neck that looked way too good on you, a grin appearing on his lips.
“Perfect… Fucking perfect.” With those words, your arms fell to the sides as he slowly kneeled up, his hands running all over your body, creating goosebumps on your skin despite how hot you felt. He then gripped your waist, tightly, and you saw how his smile fell, his chest moving up and down in heavy breaths and then–
He started railing into you like a madman. More creaks. More slapping of skin. More squelching. More cries of pleasure leaving you as he abused your insides in the most delicious and addicting of ways. Your hands coming to grip the pillow underneath your head once again, your legs spread as you saw them bounce back and forth as he moaned over you.
“Uh– Ed– Eds!” He loved to hear his name coming out of your mouth like this. He can’t wait to record you, stash this in his secured folder in his phone for his use when he returns to Hawkins. His fringe was surely sticking to his forehead from the force of his movements, but he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t going to stop, not when you were a blabbering fucking mess.
You saw his contorted face, the pleasure just written all over it, the desperation. Your whole entire self was putty, letting him use you, letting him take whatever he wanted from you and you were enjoying it. You were loving it. You were loving him. You gasped when you started feeling that pressure in your belly grow, the climax building inside of you and Eddie could feel it the second your walls fluttered around him.
“Where is it?” He breathlessly asked and you didn’t even know if he said something until his movements stopped and a hand grabbed your cheeks, puckering your lips to catch your attention. His face was suddenly inches from yours. “I asked, where is it, darling.”
“Wha–?” You were so confused, your hips swaying so he would keep moving but his hips were grounded against you as he shook his head at you, his grip tightening around your face.
“Where’s the vibrator?” That little pink thing he saw you use millions of times, and you were trying to process his words in your head, your hand moving shakily towards your night table. He let go of your face so he could reach over, almost ripping the drawer open and he instantly saw it. He grabbed it, your eyes following his movements as they slowly widened, knowing what he was going to do. He smirked your way, licking his bottom lip as his finger pressed on the ‘on’ button, the little but powerful bullet vibrator coming to life.
“Eddie…” You called to him as he kneeled up, sitting back on his calves, his left hand still gripping your waist tightly as his right one held your vibrator, his eyes stuck on it.
“Intense little fucker, no wonder it’s your favorite to use, baby.” He gave it a kiss, sending a tremble all over your body, “Arch your back.”
You followed his instructions, and even if tired, you planted your feet on the bed, arching your back upwards. His hips started moving again, your hands gripping the pillow tightly once more as you whined, your mouth closed this time. The headboard started to slowly bang against the wall once more the more he picked up speed and your mind was gone.
It felt even deeper than before, more intense, and the position was making your spongy spot be hit perfectly in each thrust. He huffed in each one, trying to control his breathing as you moaned loud ‘ah ah ah’s’, and then, a cry was ripped from you when the vibrator was placed on your clit, your eyes widening at the sensation.
“You’re such a dream, so perfect for me, made for me–” He grunted as your body trembled underneath him, your orgasm now building at a quick and desperate pace. You would be surprised if you weren’t screaming his name.
“So good! Fuck– It’s so fucking good! Keep– Keep going, pleasepleaseplease–” You were begging, as if he were to even think of stopping. He felt you fluttering and clenching all around him, making him growl and grunt, your name slipping from his lips. He could feel his own climax reaching close now, but he was going to feel you one more time. He rolled the vibrator around your clit, flicking it against you as the hand on your waist helped you keep yourself arched against him.
“Yeah baby, scream my fucking name, come on–” He was touching heaven right now, the more you talked, the more you cried out, the more you clenched around him. Drool out of your mouth, tears out of your eyes, that fucking necklace he put around your neck. It will go so well with his pick necklace.
“Eddie– Eddie– Eddie, please!” You kept begging and begging the more you felt yourself tipping over the edge. The creaking of your bed and the banging of the headboard falling to deaf ears, only your moans and his, the vibrator and the slapping of skin the only sounds heard between these four walls.
“I know, baby, I know. Let go, come on, you can do it for me– Be a good girl, come on–” The praise was what sent you off, your face turning just like it did last time to muffle your moan, your cry, your yelp, as your body arched into him, your walls clenching around his cock, tighter than they did the first time. It prompted him to stop his movements, a loud grunt being heard from him as you saw stars behind your eyelids.
He could only rut his hips into you to help you ride your orgasm, keeping the vibrator to your clit, making your body convulse in ecstasy. He could feel his own body tensing up, the tightness making it impossible for him to hold himself back. He felt you slowly unclench around him, your body twitching against him. Once he knew he could move again, your insides now so smooth to glide into, his need for release made him go feral.
Your vibrator was thrown to the side, and he was panting as he leaned over you, letting your back touch the mattress once again. His hands gripped the top of your headboard as your body was folded, your hips now lifting from your mattress one more time, your body already sore, but he had to cum. He needed to cum. You needed to feel him inside of you, because you would let him mark you inside and out.
His hips slammed against you, jerking you upwards, a yelp coming out of your lips from overstimulation. He grunted in each thrust, your breath knocked out of your lungs as he did it slowly, yet rough. Slam. Slam. Slam.
“I’m– I’m gonna cum– I’m going to fill you up so good, jesus fucking christ–” And all it took was one last slam before he let himself sit inside of you, his eyes clenching tightly as he came, a moan escaping your lips as you felt him and then–
CRACK.
His hands slid from the headboard as you both suddenly dropped, a gasp escaping you. A choked breath left your lips the moment you two bounced, his body almost falling over you if it weren’t for his elbows that planted on each side of your head, your hips falling back down. Your heart was beating out of your throat, your lungs compressed from the scare and adrenaline.
What had just happened? You shivered when Eddie shuddered, a last spurt being shot inside of you. You were both panting, his face coming to meet yours after he looked around at what had happened.
“Sweetheart, did– did we just break your bed?” And you realised your mattress was now on top of broken boards, hinges, and your headboard was a little wobbly, holding onto the side rails that enclosed your mattress. You blinked a few times as your arms held onto Eddie, and then–
You laughed through your exhaustion, through the adrenaline, through the remainder of your climaxes, and he followed right behind you. Breathless laughs, gulping from the sudden realization of how dry your throats were, but the giggles never stopped. Your mind was now clearer thanks to the scare, thanks to how incredible it was that you two had managed to break your slats, despite the seller telling you they were very strong and sturdy.
“We… We did…” You replied through heavy breaths, huffs of laughter escaping you through them and he chuckled on top of you, his bun now a mess, to the point it was almost coming off.
“I’ll get you a new one… holy fuck…” You shook your head with a smile as you held his face, guiding him into a soft kiss this time, your heart bursting with giddiness.
“No, it’s okay…” He smiled down at you, all teeth, and pecked your lips once again, his breath hitting your face, strong exhales coming from his nose. He pulled away, and his eyes were just wide with amusement as you smiled up at him.
“Oof.” He sighed to then smile down at you. “Well, that was the biggest workout I had in a while.” You giggled, giving him a nod in understanding, your chest still heaving as you caught your breath.
“I can agree with you on that one…” You reached up to put a strand of hair behind his ear, a content smile on your face, not being able to hide your happiness despite your body aching all over. He huffed one more time, kissing the tip of your nose before he started to slowly pull out of you. You both groaned at the feeling, realizing how sensitive the two of you were. He sighed one more time, his eyes falling onto your center. They widened as he pulled himself up, almost falling over from how wobbly his legs were, making you laugh in confusion as you pulled yourself up with a whimper, but he stopped you.
“Stay there! Do not move.” He stepped over the side rails, once again, almost falling over. He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jacket, and you could see his tongue poking out of his lips as he came back to you, his camera pointing directly at your pussy. Your eyes were wide with embarrassment, wanting to close your legs on him. “Nuh uh, no.”
“What are you doing!?”
“I am not missing the opportunity to take a picture out of this!” He smiled with victory as he snapped the photo and then looked at it. “Best Valentine's ever!”
He then showed it to you and you gasped as you saw his cum dripping out of you, and you immediately sat up properly, to then get up to clench your legs together, making him laugh.
“Not funny! It’s running down!”
The following events were funny, domestic even. You two went to the bathroom as Eddie apologized, lying of course, while you sat on the toilet waiting for every single drop of him to fall down into it. You both then washed yourselves with a wet washcloth each because you were too tired to take a shower. A slap being given at Eddie for the hickies, the extremely unhideable hickies, he left on your neck. A brush of teeth and deciding to just go to bed naked, Eddie’s suggestion with a wiggle of eyebrows.
“Easier access for when we wake up tomorrow.” You had smacked him on top of the head and while you got some water bottles from the kitchen, he had pulled the broken slats from underneath the mattress.
After finally hydrating yourselves again, and maybe eating another slice of pizza, even though you brushed your teeth minutes ago, you were finally laying on his chest as a new comforter covered both of you because the other one had to be desperately washed now… maybe even burned.
You sighed in contentment as you traced figures on his chest, your heart beating rapidly as he kept his arm around you, the other one on the back of his head, smiling at your ceiling. The purple hue in your room thanks to the led lights making it a calm atmosphere for the two of you now, instead of horny animals.
Your mouth opened and closed as you debated your next words. Should you? Would he run off? Would he get scared? Was it too soon? Maybe it was, but you needed to get the words out of your system before you exploded with them. The actions that had just transpired made your feelings just burst and grow tenfold than what they already were.
But he deserved it. He deserved every single word.
“Eds…”
“Mmm?” He was still smiling, his breathing now calm, relaxed, and your eyes clenched as you pressed your head even more into his chest.
“I love you.”
Silence. His body tensed all over, you could feel it underneath your palm, your body that was draped against his side. You fucked up. You did, didn’t you? You ruined it. You ruined his visit, the moment, the relationship, by simply moving too fast.
Yet, both his arms came to squish you close to him, eliciting an ‘oof’ from your part as he knocked the breath out of your lungs. He was hugging you, tightly, rocking the both of you with happiness, almost giggling with it.
“You fucking beat me to it! I was supposed to say it first! I was mustering the courage just now.” He replied and your eyes widened for a second as you processed his words, a smile bursting in your lips as you held him close, feeling the need to cry out of joy, sadness, and with hope.
“Then say it back, you idiot.” You claimed and he chuckled, moving so he could be facing you, both of you on your sides now. His hand came to trace your cheek softly, adoringly, as if he was etching your features into memory.
“I love you, my goddess.” There was a blush on his cheeks as he said it, and you knew he meant every word. You felt heat rush to your own cheeks, still smiling at him with devotion. He licked his lips nervously as he stuttered his next words. “Y-You know… Virginia doesn’t… look that bad.”
You were taken aback by his words and– Was he saying…
“Are you… implying you want to move… here?” You asked, your eyes wide, and now you realize Eddie had been having the same fears as you were. Moving too fast. In the eyes of strangers it might be, but after having him here with you… it didn’t feel fast at all.
“I mean– It’s a little too soon, and I need to… check finances and… get a new job and all… but, well– Gotta start thinking about it, you know.” He was looking down, trying to avoid your gaze. You really wanted to cry now. You never expected that playing a game would end in this situation. You smiled warmingly as your hand rested on his cheek, making him look at you once again.
“Mmm… I think that Charleston in West Virginia sounds… good.” He frowned and you knew he was confused. You remembered how Eddie told you he failed senior year twice, so maybe you had to be more specific. “It’s right in between Indiana and Virginia…”
His face softened, a warm smile appearing and his left hand rubbing your waist lovingly. You were making sure you both had equal distance between your family and friends. A distance where you probably didn’t need a plane ticket to visit. He gave you a nod, pulling you closer for his nose to touch yours.
“Then we better start planning, sweetheart.”
And that you did plan.
end
a/n: i just think that long distance eddie would be as feral as a rabid dog when meeting his partner for the first time ever. pls reblog, don't just like
PolyAU! Steve Harrington x Reader x Jonathan Byers x Nancy Wheeler (18+)
Jealousy issues be damned, Steve has still found merit in the phrase, ‘the more the merrier’ since entering a rather interesting relationship dynamic that involves you - his long term love, his ex girlfriend, and a former sworn enemy.
Nothing is quite normal when it comes to the four of you, especially anything as simple as spending the morning at Steve’s place. (aka breakfast goes awry and you end up in a rather sticky situation.)
| ~ 11k wc. No Y/N. Fluff, Angst, + Smut.
MDNI! SEXUALLY EXPLICIT! ALL ADULT CHARACTERS! (AFAB Reader), (some hurt + comfort) , (oral), (unprotected piv), (scissoring), (guy-on-guy), (double-penetration), (voyeurism), (slight dracyphilia), (shower sex), (Steve’s overcomes internalized homophobia), (Jon & Steve are idiots), (Nancy loves you the most), (you’re still their Princess), (sweet ending), (untagged general filth), (first & only draft)
AN: This is a follow up to Friday Nights (though written to be read alone)
I received so many Poly! suggestions from some sweet anons hoping Steve could overcome his jealousy (and other issues)! Thank you all so much for the support and ideas you send! Please keep them coming. I have more of your prompts for fics in my drafts that are coming soon (you can find in the link below).
I write on mobile so please excuse any weird formatting or punctuation mistakes ♡ - Claire
Dividers by @pixopix and @hereindreamlandpng
STRANGER THINGS MASTERLIST
The cracks of dawn began to seep through the skylight above the bed, waking you with a warm greeting as you attempted to open your eyes from a rather comfortable sleep.
The sun was simply one of many reasons you had grown so fond of the mornings you spent in Steve’s bed. The other three reasons, ironically, were also here in this bed.
At least some of them.
You rolled over from your back to your right side, hoping to see a pile of messy brunette curls lying next to you.
As per usual, Nancy was the first to wake up this morning. You’d grown far too used to her side of the bed being vacant beside you, your foot unconsciously reaching to wrap around her ankle, only to be met with the chilled sheets from a body long gone.
Even more disappointing was Jonathan's absence, who usually kept your body warm beside him once Nancy left. You had no doubt he most certainly followed Nancy out of bed this morning, not wanting to miss out on whatever she was getting up to.
Even within the new dynamics of your exciting relationship opportunity (as Nancy happily called it), some things never seemed to change.
Steve had happily taken the job of holding you last night, his large arm resting across your back, holding you to his chest. His fingers rested gently within your hair. Steve’s loud snoring suggested the morning light would have any effect on waking him up anytime soon.
“You awake, Steve?” You mumbled against his chest.
Silence.
“Honey,” you tried again.
Steve grunted.
“It’s almost 10. We have to get up sometime.”
Steve exhales loudly, mumbling a quick, “Sure, baby. Be right there,” before releasing you from his grip to instead…roll over again.
He pulled the navy sheets over his face to block any potential sun, and snores escaped almost immediately.
“Typical,” you shook your head, climbing up and out of Steve’s bed.
Your hand reached into one of many (hopefully clean) laundry piles infesting Steve’s bedroom floor before pulling out a pair of briefs and an oversized Chicago Cubs t-shirt. That would do.
You quickly made your way down the hall of the Harrington’s House, quickly descending the staircase to make your way towards the kitchen, desperate for coffee.
Nancy’s singing could be heard echoing loudly from the kitchen before you entered.
“Do you want to ‘dance with somebody’?” You leaned in the doorframe, enjoying her feeble attempt at impersonating Whitney Houston.
“I wanna feel the heat with somebody! Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody.” She sang, her voice off-key compared to what was coming from the kitchen stereo.
You walked in as Nancy wrapped her arms around your neck, swaying and grooving to the beat.
“With somebody who loves me!” You chimed in this time for a short duet before the song ended.
Nancy smiled lovingly before leaning in and catching your lips in a sweet kiss.
You kissed her back, the moment turning heated as she slipped her tongue into your mouth. Nancy pushed you against the countertop, her hand settling on your hips before pulling away.
Nancy sighed softly in content.“Good morning to you, too, sweetie.”
“You’re brave for kissing me with my morning breath,” you smiled.
Nancy shook her head, “I always will. It’s how you know I really love you.” She gestured to the coffee pot. “That and the fact I already brewed you a pot of coffee so we don’t have to deal with your morning grumpies”.
“Steve’s the grumpy one. I’m just bratty all the time.”
Nancy reached for the stereo's volume knob and turned it down. “Don’t we know it, Princess.”
You happily poured yourself some coffee, musing on the thoughtfulness that Nancy had also taken the time to pre-pour your creamer inside a coffee cup that had been waiting for you.
Even on days like this, when none of you had plans or anyone to impress, Nancy had always taken the time to make things perfect. Your mornings and her makeup, included.
You made your way towards Nancy, who was dumping flour and eggs into a bowl. You hoped she was making pancakes. Nancy Wheeler made the best pancakes.
“Jonathan and I figured we’d make food for all of us. It’s going to go bad in Steve’s fridge if his parents are gone for the month. Lord knows that man can’t cook anything beyond a Hot Pocket.”
You nodded in agreement.“Very smart… are you-“
“Yes, I’m making you pancakes.” Nancy snorted.
“And Jonathan is where?”
“Melvald’s. Steve’s pantry doesn’t have syrup, which conveniently puts you on bacon and egg duty until Jonathan gets back.” Nancy gestured to a skillet sitting on the stove.
“Lucky me,” you joked, making your way to your assigned task as Nancy began whisking her own ingredients.
You really were lucky, though, weren’t you? Mornings like this were essentially Heaven. Here you were, in a multi-million dollar house, having a pretty girl make you pancakes and two men who desire nothing more than to bring you pleasure on a nightly basis.
You certainly weren’t sure if you deserved such luck; it all just… happened.
On the other hand, you definitely deserved to reap the benefits that came with working through Steve’s jealousy issues. Through lots of late-night talks, you and your boyfriend had come to the conclusion that practice makes perfect.
So one movie night had quickly turned into a kinky sex free-for-all in Nancy’s bedroom. And then it happened again in Steve’s car. Maybe even at the Squawk station, if you remembered correctly.
Steve had been quite strict on how Nancy and Jonathan could touch you back then, but he’d continued to improve with much love and acceptance to the point he officially agreed to join the quad-relationship Nancy and Jonathan had proposed to both of you.
Thank God he’d said yes.
You heard the sound of heavy footsteps trodding down the staircase as Steve waddled into the kitchen.
“Mornin’, Nance,” Steve yawned, kissing Nancy’s cheek before shuffling his way over to you.
Steve delivered a smack on your ass, giving it a tight squeeze. “And an extra good mornin’ to you, sunshine.”
You couldn’t help but smile at him, his hair amuck. Steve’s chest was bare yet again, as he seemed to refuse to wear a shirt whenever he was home.
He also seemed determined not bother fixing the very obvious morning wood greeting your gaze through his boxers.
“You have to stop playing favorites, honey,” you lectured Steve.
“Trust me, I had enough of him in me last night. I prefer Steve in micro doses.” Nancy teased, pouring batter into the pan.
“There ain’t nothing micro about me,” Steve smirked proudly, wrapping his arms around you. “What are my girls whipping us up this morning?”
“I’m on pancakes. Princess over there is in charge of eggs and bacon.” Nancy said.
“Ah, a true feast. God always said ‘rest and be plentiful’ on Sundays, or somethin’ like that.” Steve opened the fridge, head buried inside. “Where’s Jonny Boy?”
“You don’t have any syrup here. He took your car to the store,” Nancy replied.
“Explains why my wallet’s missing,” Steve chuckled, swinging back the carton of orange juice he’d found.
Nancy smacked his hand with the spatula. “Gross! If we’re spending the next few weeks here, you have to learn not be a total pig.”
“Being bossed around in my own damn house, now,” Steve huffed in annoyance, following Nancy’s request and putting the carton back in the fridge
Steve made his way from the fridge to the dining room table. A small tv was shoved into the corner of the kitchen, allowing Steve to flip on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles while he waited for breakfast.
“He’s always been a child stuck in a man’s body,” Nancy rolled her eyes, flipping the first batch of pancakes.
“Yeah,” you smiled, “He’s done this every weekend morning since we’ve been dating, and probably long before that too.”
“And he always will,” Nancy said.
The echo of the front doorbell rang through the Harrington Home.
“Delivery boy’s back!” Steve clapped loudly, leaping from his chair before sliding smoothly on his socks down the hall to open the front door.
Jonathan entered, his hands full of a rather large Melvard’s bag.
“Hey. Look at this. I couldn’t figure out what syrup the girls like, so I bought all three. Blueberry, sugar-free, and original maple.” Jonathan beamed, very pleased with himself.
“Should’ve just bought the whole damn tree while you were at it.” Steve began taking the bag from Jonathan.
Jonathan reached into his back pocket, pulling out Steve’s keys and wallet.“Sorry, dude. Everything is back at my spot. Hope you don’t mind.”
Steve had truly come so far in practicing sharing to address his possessiveness. He didn’t even bother attempting a rude comment about Jonathan stealing his cash (or the women he dated).
“Nah. You’re good. Thanks for grabbing the stuff. The girls would’ve woken me up to go, otherwise.” Steve offered instead, flashing his usual charming smile.
Both of their hands touched for a brief moment as Steve reached for his things. Jonathan didn’t move his hand away, wanting to keep the rare moment he was in, able to touch Steve’s skin in the hopes Steve wouldn’t immediately recoil.
Steve’s gaze darted to the floor, searching for anything interesting in the tile pattern while the flush of embarrassment drained from his cheeks. He pulled away, only to slip his things into the bag.
Even with all Steve’s progress in this new relationship, his proximity to Jonathan always seemed to be a source of tension that neither Steve nor Jonathan felt comfortable addressing.
“We’ve had sex next to each other, man. We sleep in the same bed. You gotta get over the whole touching thing eventually,” Jonathan said.
“Right, yeah. Sorry. Just-… feelings,” Steve tried to explain, failing miserably.
Jonathan smiled. “We’ll work on it.”
Both men made their way into the kitchen. Jonathan dropped a kiss to Nancy’s lips before doing the same to yours.
“Good morning; did you sleep well?” Jonathan asked you, watching as you flipped over some bacon at your station.
“I sure did. Can you believe Nance is making us her famous pancakes?” you smiled, gesturing to Nancy beside her pan as well.
“That’s funny. I thought I requested waffles,” Jonathan chuckled, knowing very well you and Nancy always got your way. He began unpacking the syrups, laying them on the countertop.
“No way! You bought blueberry syrup? That’s my favorite,” you said.
Nancy glanced over at the offerings Jonathan brought. “And he remembered no sugar for me. Our hero.”
“Unbelievable.” Steve reached around you to steal a strip of bacon from your pan. “The man never has any clue what’s going on. He just fumbles his way into your good graces, I swear.”
“He’s thoughtful,” Nancy corrected.
“Yeah, so am I, but if I had spent $20 on syrup, I’d get reprimanded.”
“You both have different strengths,” you smirked, Steve now wrapping his arms around you in an attempt to sneak another slice of bacon.
“Wait a damn second…” Steve paused, hands now around your waist. He began yanking your shirt up to reveal the black Hanes briefs you were wearing underneath. “These are Jonathan’s!”
“Yes… Good eye?” You said, clearly confused what he was talking about.
“Nuh uh. I thought I agreed to do this four-way couple shit on the grounds that some things were totally off limits?”
“I thought you got off on all of us being together?”
“I mean, yeah, but sex is way different than wearing another guy’s underwear. It’s too intimate…” Steve huffed, not willing to be seen as the unreasonable one here.
You couldn’t help but sigh, as Steve’s jealousy always came and went in waves. “Nancy wears my underwear,r and you don’t care.”
“I don’t care what Nancy does! You’re my girlfriend!”
Nancy chimed in beside both of you. “Steve, we are all each other’s special someone. You wanted this, too, remember? You have to tone down your jealousy if you want things to work. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”
“The hell I can! I’m not jealous. I just hate feeling like a damn cuck all the time.”
“You’re not a cuck, Steve. Cucks don’t get involved for love. It’s a big perk of why we do this. She didn’t get mad when we did it last night.” Nancy gestured her spatula to you, “I don’t mind that she’s wearing Jonathan’s underwear. You certainly enjoy watching us girls get it on. This is a good thing.”
“It is a good thing…” Steve resigned in frustration, making his way back to the chair at the dining table with a perfect view of his Sunday morning cartoons. He knew Nancy was right, but god forbid he’d apologize and give her such satisfaction.
You supposed you couldn’t blame Steve completely for the way he handled his jealousy. A lonely child from a very well-off, seemingly ultra-conservative family would most certainly have his struggles when it came to this alternative way of life. Still, there were two specific problems that consistently circled Steve’s ability to fully connect.
And they both revolve around Jonathan.
Steve’s first issue was his inability to let Jonathan get too close to you. He tried to hide it, but the constant huffs and ‘necessary interruptions’ when you and Jonathan would be alone were perhaps the biggest indicator.
His jealousy seemed to resolve only around Nancy, whom Steve had reasoned in his head was simply a fun addition to explore his desires. Nancy was not a direct male replacement within the relationship, as Steve imagined Jonathan was.
The second Jonathan problem was that you had rarely seen Jonathan and Steve alone, willingly.
If they were alone together, it was always coincidental. You could tell Jonathan eagerly wanted to make Steve feel comfortable around him. Jonathan started keeping track of the Cubs games, happily watched Steve’s shitty movie suggestions on date nights, and started volunteering to run any errand that would otherwise drag Steve away from his morning beauty sleep.
“… actually,” you started, “I’ve been meaning to mention, I don’t think I have ever seen Steve with Jonathan intimately.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“No no, I’m totally right! You’ve obviously been with Nancy, but I have never seen you even touch Jonathan.” You looked over to Steve.
“We just touched hands like, two minutes ago. Sorry you missed the show, ladies,” He countered (if you could even call what had actually occurred proper touching).
“Yeah, but you’ve never kissed,” you said.
“-or fucked.” Nancy added.
“Look.” Steve sat up at the table, rubbing his face in exasperation. “I’m brand new to this whole…” he waved his hand around, “dynamic. Just because I don’t want Jonathan to put his dick in me every time we all hang out together doesn’t mean that I don’t like the guy, alright?!”
“Oh please, you’re the horniest person I know.” Jonathan snorted, a cheeky smirk on his face. He made his way to the dining table, setting it with Mrs. Harrington’s expensive china. “Just say you have an issue with the idea of men fucking each other.”
You knew the way Jonathan said the words was only meant to be a failed attempt at being funny, but there was no other logical way for Steve to take the comment than to be deeply offended.
“Excuse me???” Steve asked, his voice dropping low. Steve was almost certain Jonathan had to have misspoken. “Are you implying I’m, what, homophobic or somethin’?”
Nancy immediately turned back to the stove, cranking up the heat to cook the remaining pancakes faster. You also turned back to your own pan, pretending the tension wasn’t slowly climbing between the two men.
“Jesus Christ, man. You’re not all that innocent.” Jonathan snorted, willing to meet Steve’s hostility. “I mean, do you really want to go there?”
“Yeah, I wanna go there. What in the actual fuck are you talking about?”
Jonathan rolled his eyes at Steve’s ignorance. “Don’t act like you don’t remember the kind of assholes you used to hang out with back at Hawkins High... I have a very vivid memory of you calling me a ‘queer’ as an insult. Even more recently, how could I possibly forget the fact you didn’t even bother saying a damn word of support during Will’s coming out speech?!”
Steve was clearly shaken, speechless, not expecting such accusations.
Jonathan took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady, although the words that followed tumbled out of his mouth rather brazenly.
“Truthfully, I doubt you’re even fine with your best friend being a lesbian. I mean- Robin only told you about her sexuality under the influence of some truth-serum bullshit. You two were so trauma-bonded by Russian-Scoops Ahoy madness that when you finally sobered up, you didn’t have the balls to tell Robin how you truly disapproved of her sexuality! How it went against your golden-boy American values. Or maybe, you were actually so lonely that you did change your fucked up views, only for the chance that someone would actually want you as a friend!”
Jonathan paused, speaking somewhat slower now.
“Yet, till this day, you still don’t see Robin as a woman who dates other women. You gaslight yourself into believing she’s just ‘one of the guys’. I have never seen you treat her with the same ounce of chivalry you give any other girl. All of this, because you refuse to accept people for who they truly are, including yourself!”
“Here we go,” you mumbled, taking your pan off the stove. It was very obvious that both men had sore spots toward each other, and it just had to ruin such a beautiful Sunday morning.
Steve stood from the table and made his way towards Jonathan.
“I’m honestly disgusted you’d think I’m some sort of goddamn bigot like the rest of Hawkins!” Steve shot back. “New flash, Byers; people change! It’s called growing up. You should try it sometime.”
Jonathan sighed, seeming to realize that he had pushed Steve way too hard. “Look, I didn’t mean to-“
“Don’t give me that crap. You meant every word you said! Would a bigot play wingman to help Robin get dates with Vicky? Oh, and you wanna know why I didn’t say shit to Will? Because I was giving your brother room to be heard, you idiot! Vecna was trying to silence his truth; it wasn’t my place to speak!”
Nancy left her spot on the stove, attempting to intervene. “Steve, I don’t think Jonathan-”
Steve ignored Nancy. “And if you want to play dirty and bring up high school bullshit again, how about I tell Princess over there about the time you were peeping through Nancy’s window and taking pictures of us fucking without our consent; developing her nude photos in the goddamn school darkroom like some perverted creep!!”
You raised an eyebrow, unaware of what Steve was talking about.
After over a decade of friendship, Nancy had managed to keep only a handful of secrets from you, most concerning high school drama that you didn’t have the opportunity to indulge in, being sent to Catholic school instead of Hawkins High.
You’d put a pin in that story for a later time.
Jonathan moved away from the table, retreating to the kitchen near you and Nancy.
“Stop avoiding the subject, dude. You say you’re fine with other people being gay, but the moment someone questions if you’re even slightly attracted to men, you get so defensive you can’t even think straight! You’re beyond close-minded.”
Ah. So that’s what this was about - Jonathan felt unwanted.
“I allow my girlfriend to sleep with another woman and a different man at the same time; That sounds pretty damn open-minded to me!” Steve shot back.
“She’s our girlfriend. You were pretty eager to enter this relationship, too, which includes me, a man! So what, you must find me attractive then.” Jonathan asked, desperate for confirmation. “You can’t be dating me, then turn around and pretend like you’ve never wanted me even slightly. I sleep in your bed. I wear your clothes. I see you naked every day… when will you start treating me like your boyfriend and not some side piece?”
The question made Steve pause for a moment. He was caught in a corner between admitting the feelings he’d been too ashamed to deal with or making a complete fool of himself with inadequate arguments.
“Yes. Sure, Byers. Is that what this is about? Then I’ll say it; I find some of your qualities attractive. Happy?”
“You’re ridiculous. You still can’t fully admit that fact that you’re attracted to me, even in a relationship. I’ve seen you jerk off to me while I shower and-“
The fire alarm rang loudly through the home, beeps bouncing off the kitchen marble.
Everyone turned to the steady stream of smoke rising from Nancy’s pan, which she had left unattended in the intensity of the conversation.
“Shit! Sorry!” Nancy ran over, taking the pan from the stove, wafting the smoke away from her face.
Steve turned to Jonathan.
“Bringing up Robin was a low blow, man,” Steve said over the loud beeps, grabbing a dining room chair and making his way to the nearest smoke detector located in the tall vaulted ceiling.
You opened the kitchen window, hoping the fresh air would detox the room.
“It’s okay, Nance.” You assured her, Nancy looking disappointed at the black pucks her pancakes had turned into. “They’re still edible. Just a bit crispy. That’s how they do it in Sweden.”
Steve reached for the fire alarm in the ceiling and found the off button. “Thank god I’m tall, eh?”
The kitchen suddenly fell quiet.
The tension was almost suffocating, along with the remaining smoke still lingering in the air that tickled your nose. The only sound remaining was the obnoxious cartoon noises from the tv.
“Imma go wash up,” Jonathan muttered, excusing himself to the bathroom with his head low.
You turned back towards you now done simmering eggs and bacon, grabbing the tongs to help plate them for everyone at the table. Nancy caught the slight tremor as you went plated the food, but Steve moved to you first.
“Oh, Princess. I know you hate fighting. And then the fire alarm startled everyone...I’m so sorry.” Steve immediately pulled you against his chest.
“I’m fine,” you said, though you’d always been admittedly quite sensitive.
“They’re two loud idiots, babe. Don’t let their nonsense ruin your Sunday.” Nancy reached for your free hand, giving it a soft squeeze before bringing her plate of pancakes to the table.
Steve placed a kiss on your forehead.
Nancy looked to Steve. “Be of use and heat the syrups, please?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Steve nodded, doing as told.
As the four of you sat at the table, things seemed to ease a bit.
Granted, Jonathan barely looked at Steve across the table, but polite conversation about this week’s plans was relaxing. One thing about Steve was his ability to make things better.
“I gotta say, these pancakes ain’t so bad, Nance. I kinda like the char you’ve got on this one. Extra flavor.” Steve said, stuffing another bite in his mouth.
“Thanks. It was totally on purpose.” Nancy laughed beside you.
“I think the fire alarm woke me up more than the coffee. We should use it more,” Jonathan chimed in, bringing soft laughs from you all.
Jonathan’s hand reached for yours, giving it a squeeze. He rested his fork down, reaching for Nancy’s hand as well.
Steve was far too occupied with his food to return the favor. “I drenched mine in butter and syrup. It seems to help.”
Jonathan nodded towards the maple syrup, “Do you mind passing that to me, sweetie?”
Your hand reached to grab the handle, pulling and lifting it towards you.
“WAIT! DON’T-“ Steve shouted, but it was too late.
The plastic handle had been loosened, causing the lid to suddenly slip off the syrup bottle. Before you could react, the syrup spilled out onto your lap in a dramatic pour.
The hot sting of the syrup, combined with its thick stickiness, was a sensory nightmare. Your thighs, underwear, and shirt were completely soaked and sticking to your skin.
God, some of the syrup had even found its way into your hair.
The whole table sat in shock for a moment.
Nancy stood without a word, running towards the kitchen for towels. Jonathan was next, immediately launching himself to your side. “Hey, love. You’re okay, it didn’t burn you anywhere, did it?”
Steve slammed his head directly on the table, groaning. “Fuck! You weren’t supposed to pick it up, Princess. You and I like blueberry syrup, Nancy likes sugar-free, only Jonathan eats maple…”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jonathan glared at Steve. “You plotted to cover me in maple syrup? What the hell is wrong with you, man?!”
“Oh, c’mon. It would’ve been a lot more fun if it happened to you! Harmless revenge for the shit you pulled earlier. I put the bottle close enough to where you should’ve reached for it yourself. Look at what you did to my girlfriend-”
“FOR THE LAST TIME, SHE IS OUR GIRLFRIEND! O-U-R, OURS!” Jonathan yelled back.
You couldn’t help the small noises caught in your throat, tears beginning to gather in the corner of your sweet eyes.
“Oh, god. I can’t deal with crying women. NANCY!” Jonathan shouted, still holding your sticky hand. Steve reached for your other hand, and you immediately pulled back in frustration.
“Get out of the way!” Nancy pushed Jonathan aside, immediately pressing a damp cloth to the area of your inner thigh where the hot syrup had scalded the most.
Nancy inspected the rest of your leg, still holding the cloth against you. She then examined your arms next for any additional burn marks. The redness started to swell under the layer of syrup covering your skin.
“C’mon, babe. Let’s get you cleaned up,” Nancy helped you stand; motherly mode activated whenever you or any of the guys were hurt.
Both men stood to follow.
“SIT DOWN, SHUT UP, FIGURE YOURSELVES OUT! God, you’re both so stupid sometimes,” Nancy shouted, guiding you towards Steve’s bathroom alone.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
You didn’t want to cry, but it was always within your nature to let your emotions flow before you could really stop them.
Here you were in Steve’s bathroom as Nancy tended to you - absolutely humiliated. Your clothes were ruined, since no amount of laundry detergent could remove the thick syrup that had dried down to a sticky amber. Your thighs had been slightly burnt, and the overwhelming smell of sickly-sweet maple was starting to give you a real headache.
Of course, your boyfriends couldn’t seem to handle one serious conversation without it turning into some kind of immature competition.
“I do not know why they had to go ahead and ruin a perfectly good morning. Don’t worry, we will get it all cleaned up,” Nancy spoke softly.
“It’s in my hair,” You sniffled. You would be very much lying if you pretended that potentially cutting your locks wasn’t one of your top concerns.
“I know, babe, but remember when I helped get that big wad of bubblegum out of Holly’s hair a while back? This is going to be so much easier.”
Tears fell down your blushed cheeks. Nancy reached for them, softly brushing them away as if they’d never happened.
Nancy began guiding you to the edge of the bathtub, gesturing for you to sit there. She reached for some baby wipes left on the toilet, then sat down on the bathmat below you.
“Steve is right, though, it would’ve been a lot funnier if this had happened to Jonathan,” she smiled, trying to distract you from the stinging as she attempted to wipe the dried syrup off your thigh. “He definitely was more deserving of it, that’s for sure.”
“I-ouch-am really confused what went on back there.”
“See,” Nancy began, “men always take after their dads when they fight. Steve probably watched Mr. Harrington use the classic deny and deflect technique against Mrs. Harrington growing up, while Lonnie was definitely the 'attack until it’s dead’ type of guy, at least from what Jonathan says. The syrup fiasco is Steve’s idiotic attempt to gain an upper hand over the situation; very idiotic at that.”
“They’re like their dads, but you’re just like your mom,” you teased her.
“Yeah, well, my mom is actually cool,” Nancy snorted. “Karen Wheeler could kick both Mr. Harrington and Mr. Byers' asses anyday of the week.”
You winced in pain as the baby wipes began to feel sharper with each pass over the new burns. You sucked in some air, trying to do your best to stop crying.
“I know, sweetheart. Almost done.” Nancy just looked up at you from the floor, studying your face while she pulled out a fresh wipe for the other thigh. “If it helps, you’re a really pretty crier.”
You laughed, somehow bringing more tears to the surface. “You’re just saying that, baby.”
“Nope. The tears make your eyes all big and wide.”
“Just like yours?” you asked.
“Yep, just like mine. Except my mascara runs like a raccoon when I cry. You lucked out with never needing much makeup. You’re most beautiful like this.” Nancy shrugged, continuing to clean your skin.
“It’s true, she is a pretty crier. One of her many hidden talents,” Steve whispered to Jonathan.
The two men had taken posts outside the bathroom door, able to see only what was happening inside thanks to the few inches the door had been left open.
“Do you ever shut up? You’re the reason our baby is crying.” Jonathan rolled his eyes.
“No! If you hadn’t called me a goddamn bigot just to push my buttons into admitting I care about you, I wouldn’t have set up this whole thing to begin with,” Steve spoke lowly.
Jonathan shook his head, leaning against the wall. “So your syrup-bomb is somehow my fault now?”
“Oh, shut up, dude. I’m tryin’ to eavesdrop here.” Steve turned, pushing himself closer to the door to get a decent glimpse of what was unfolding in private between his girlfriends.
“So you really think I’m pretty like this?” You teased Nancy, sniffling as wiping the embarrassing snot that had accumulated from your nose.
“I really do. In fact, if you weren’t covered in syrup, I’d be showing you how attractive I find you right now.”
“Why let that stop you? I mean, I know I’m not covered in the sugar-free kind of syrup, but you can cheat on your diet a little bit, right?” you sniffled again, knowing that adding a soft pout would probably push her over the edge.
Nancy didn’t need to hear anymore flirting, leaning in to lick a long stripe of sticky sweetness up your inner thigh until she reached the briefs you wore. You always got your way.
“Mmm.” You leaned back, gripping the bathtub as you closed your eyes. The wetness of her tongue soothed the lingering burn on your skin.
“May I, Princess?” Nancy asked, looking up at you from between your thighs.
You nodded.
Nancy yanked your brief down your thighs, trying her best to avoid them getting caught in any syrup. She couldn’t help but snort, biting her lip as she gently ran her finger over your glistening pussy.
“You’re already excited for me. Do you always get this turned on when you cry or what?”
“I guess…” You shrugged. You didn’t necessarily get turned on by crying, but the fact that she found you hot at your most vulnerable was definitely a contributing factor.
“Naughty girl,” Nancy chuckled, pushing her face up to your pussy.
Her tongue slipped out of her mouth, softly tracing through your sensitive folds. Tears still trailed down your face, now not of stress, but of pleasure. Maybe even a bit of embarrassment from the fact that Nancy had always managed to make you melt in her mouth just from a simple flick of her tongue brushing patiently against your clit.
“I honestly can’t tell where the syrup ends, and your own sweetness begins,” Nancy mumbled against your wetness, her tongue continuing to taste the most intimate parts within you.
You reached down, lacing your fingers through her curls and moving them out of her face - a polite gesture on your part. Nancy, in turn, pushed your thighs wider to allow her more room between them.
“Oh. Looks like you still have some syrup right… Here…” she muttered into your cunt, pushing her tongue inside of you in a way that you so desperately needed.
Her tongue made its way inside, making sure to caress against every velvet surface of your needy pussy had to offer her. Nancy's lips remained suctioned to your heat, her teeth brushing against your clit as you attempted to maintain a semblance of control, which was becoming extremely hard to do.
“Fuck,” you whined sweetly, “I hate how you’re so damn good at this, baby.”
Nancy pulled back momentarily, wide eyes looking up at you with greed. You could see your wetness glossing her lips.
“I have to make you feel better somehow, right? Can’t have my girl crying all morning.” She returned to your pussy again, but her eyes didn’t leave yours, continuing to watch you spiral into sweet pleasure. Nancy flattened her tongue within you, stretching your hole out even further and allowing her to push herself in more easily.
You couldn’t help but pull on her hair, pushing Nancy's pretty face deeper into your soaked cunt. Your other hand was pawing at your tit still within the confines of your t-shirt, needing any extra stimulation you could handle.
“Good girl. Fuck my face,” Nancy encouraged, pulling your ass slightly forward so you could lean further back on the bathtub. You didn’t have to be told twice, bucking your hips and bearing down onto her.
The two of you moaned in pleasure, Nancy’s vocals adding an extra layer of vibrations to your clit that made you weak in all the best ways.
Jonathan was entirely way turned on by the scene between you and Nancy happening in front of him.
It was also apparent that Steve shared in the sentiment. “Dude, I can feel your hard-on pressed against my ass."
“Okay, so now it’s an issue, huh?” Steve scoffed, not leaving his spot pressed up against Jonathan’s back.
Jonathan had lucked out with the spot closer to the door where they both could watch, and he’d be damned if he missed out on his girlfriends getting it on because of some idiot like Jonny Boy.
Being close to Jonathan was a necessity; at least that’s what Steve told himself, until his hand reached in front of Jonathan’s waist, grasping for Jonathan’s crotch still inside his jeans.
“Shh. Tryin’ to watch.” Steve said into Jonathan’s ear
Jonathan couldn’t help the small ‘yip’ of shock that escaped, clearly surprised by Steve’s sudden confidence in touching his body.
“You’re rock hard, too,” Steve said. “Of course you are. Is it from me being so close or-“
“It’s because our girlfriends are going to fuck. Why? You gonna do something about it?” Jonathan whispered back.
He couldn’t see Steve’s expression from behind him, but he had no doubt there was conflict within the man's eyes. Jonathan could definitely feel it in the way Steve stood momentarily in contemplation, Steve’s cock pulsing against his ass.
Steve said nothing, not taking the bait.
Steve instead took a moment to wrap his hand around the hard outline of Jonathan’s hard cock, Steve’s breath seeming to catch in his throat.
Jonathan pretended not to notice the slight nervousness Steve exuded before he pulled his hand away from Jonathan’s crotch.
Steve took a step back altogether.
“I’m not that turned on by you or anything. Just…” He gestured to you and Nancy continuing your foreplay in the bathroom, deflecting any further accusations for the time being.
Nancy had reduced you to a whimpering mess of tears and slick within minutes, her tongue now licking your clit in a steady rhythm that made your thighs shake, Up, up, up - she continued her strokes so that the tip of her tongue pressed firmly against your clit, followed by a flick of pleasure before trailing back down to your hole and back up again.
“Shit, Nance. I’m going to-” you stuttered.
Nancy immediately pulled back when you needed her most, “Can’t let you have all the fun now.”
“Wait, huh?”
“Come sit on the floor. It’ll help you open your legs a bit more.” Nancy stood up, eagerly taking off her blue jeans, her lace pastel panties coming down with them.
You did as told, moving yourself from the edge of the tub down onto the tile, legs open to in a straddle position, your pussy eager for what was to come next.
Nancy sat herself down across from you, spreading her legs in welcome for your pussy. You could see her flushed cunt beneath her bush, already wet with arousal from teasing your prior.
“Come here, babygirl.” She commanded.
You scooched your naked ass against the floor towards her, throwing your right leg over her right hip until you were in a proper position.
Nancy did the same, both of your soaked cunts close enough to finally touch. The warmth of her pushed so close to you sent a thrill of goosebumps through your body.
“I dream about this, you know,” you breathed, thinking of the many wet dreams you had.
“And sometimes I moan your name instead of Steve’s or Jonathan’s when were together. Guess we both have our head in the clouds.”
You began moving your hips, eager to have any sort of friction against her wet cunt, your inner lips easily slipping between Nancy’s own slit. The sound of your moans fill the air, and you hole feels a soft ache at the sweetness of her voice. Nancy started to push herself down and against your pussy, heatedly massaging her way into pleasure against you.
Sinful moans escaped from your mouths, followed by soft sniffles before Nancy pushed more weight onto you clit against her own, sweaty foreheads touching before gracefully catching your lips as if she’d been starved from proper affection. You could hear teeth clicking from the constant humping, refusing to part in any form from each other.
You clit started to become sore, now red from your desperate grinding and still recovering from Nancy’s previous orgasm denial while eating you out.
You were close; so close.
Usually you’d take as many orgasms as her cunt would give you, but you could tell Nancy was in the mood to dominate you this morning. She rarely had any say over her own life, but Nancy often got off just to being able to control the situation between you two.
Either way, whenever you and Nancy fucked, you never needed to ask for permission to come. She already knew your body as if she had already lived within it.
“Yes, hun. Come for me,” Nancy commanded, tribing faster against you in an attempt to match your surfacing orgasm.
You couldn’t help herself, shivers flowing down your spine as you finally found the spot where her clit hit yours with the absolutely perfect amount of pressure and warmth, allowing you to focus just enough on the tension for it to finally release into a numbing bliss throughout your body.
“Fuck, babe. Fuck, fuck-...” Your nerves were softly buzzing, muscles contracting as you peaked. Nancy didn’t slow down her pace, fucking against you even rougher now
Her gaze continued to search your eyes as she worked her cunt into yours, her breath quickening until she too finally released into her orgasm, “Ohhhhh my god. Shit, shit, shit. Yes, yes.”
The comedown from your first orgasm of the morning left you feeling a familiar fuzziness, allowing the tension to flow within you and out your extremities.
You couldn’t help involuntarily letting out a few giggles as your mind settled back into your body. Nancy finally started to slow down her grinding, exhaling loudly. A shiver of over-stimulation jolted you upright from the slouched position on against the tub.
“More?” you asked, hopeful she’d want to keep going. You already knew the answer as Nancy nodded.
“Yeah. Just a second,” she chuckled, her cheeks flushed red from excursion, trying to catch her breath before pushing her cunt back to yours.
“God, they’re so fucking hot,” Jonathan whispered to Steve.
Steve had stood behind Jonathan, close but no longer quite touching. Steve continued to stroke his large cock within his hand. “I can barely see them through the door, damn it,” He huffed in frustration.
“Want my help?” Jonathan offered, his blue eyes glancing down to Steve’s length.
“No, thank you! Turn around.” Steve shook his head, still attempting to stroke himself off.
Jonathan couldn’t help but continuing to glance back over his shoulder at Steve jerking himself off before settling back onto the view of you and Nancy scissoring on the bathroom floor once more.
Sure, He’d seen Steve’s cock dozens-, no, hundreds of times by now, but the absurd length that the man walked with between his legs on a daily basis was still a sight behold for Jonathan after all this time.
“You touched my dick earlier. Like, full on grasped it.” Jonathan noted, not looking away from you two.
“Moment of weakness; was just horny. Don’t get ego goin’,” Steve answered, trying to get a good shot of you and Nancy over Jonathan’s head through the crack in the door. He continued stroking himself once more.
“You were curious,” Jonathan corrected. “Steve, you can touch me whenever you want, you know? You and I, we’re in a relationship now, no matter what contrived way you try to frame it. It’s okay to love me. If that’s too much to ask, then at least use me…”
Steve’s grunted quietly; contemplating what to say next. “Yeah, I know.”
“You’re limiting your own pleasure; not allowing yourself to get turned on by the idea of me. Everyone in this relationship is having more sex than you. Are you really willing to miss out on that just because you don’t want to admit you find me attractive?”
“How many times do I gotta tell you that I find you attractive? Why isn’t that good enough for ya?” Steve spat, subtly inching closer to Jonathan.
“I told you that I don’t believe you. You can talk all you want, but your words don’t mean shit when I feel like the only undesirable one in our relationship.”
“Well, that’s not my problem, is it, Byers?”
Jonathan could feel the pressure of Steve’s body against his back again, along with the movement of Steve’s cock as he continued pleasing himself.
Maybe it was desire, or maybe it was pure desperation, but Jonathan couldn’t quite catch the tender plea that slipped past his lips, “Steve, just touch me again; please?”
Steve stopped stroking, seemingly caught off guard by Jonathan’s words. Steve’s hard cock released from his grip, now resting against Jonathan’s ass again. Jonathan shimmied, his jeans already undone and falling down softy so that Steve’s cock now rested only against his briefs.
Steve tried to reign himself in. “Let me just watch the girls for a-”
“No, Steve. Please just touch me,” Jonathan asked again, the challenge in his voice evident.
“Jonathan…” Steve’s warned, eyes darkening as he leaned over Jonathan’s shoulder so he could look properly at Jonathan.
Steve was clearly losing any restraint he was holding onto. Steve himself wasn’t entirely sure if he was begging for Jonathan to keep going, or for Jonathan to stop.
“For God's sake, Steve! Will you just fuck me already?!” Jonathan said loudly.
You and Nance stopped your grinding momentarily, startled and now very aware of the men watching you form the crack within the doorway.
“Why’d you stop?” You pouted.
“Because I think our boyfriends are more kinky than they like to admit, watching us make love without us knowing.” Nancy started slowly moving against you again, this time leaving marks on your neck and collarbone, knowing exactly how you liked it.
You moaned, mind foggy as if all you could do was thrust back into her cunt like it was all you knew.
“Guess we should give them a good show, then.”
Steve would be lying if he said that Jonathan’s direct ask was a surprise. He’d also be lying if he wasn’t said pulling down Jonathan’s briefs was anything short of hot.
“Fine. Want me to touch you so goddamn bad, Byers?” Steve hissed. “Begging me like some kind of filthy street whore all desperate and shit.”
Jonathan whined, pushing his chest flat against the door to give Steve more space. His bare length was leaking, already aroused from watching Nancy and you earlier.
“Well, now I’m going to fuck you like a whore. Will that shut your annoying ass up?” Steve spat on his own cock, stroking the spit and up and down to coat it well.
Jonathan nodded, biting his lip to stay quite. He stayed surprisingly still, allowing Steve to run his cock over his pale ass cheeks.
“I mean, I don’t really wanna hurt you with this thing,” Steve inhaled, clearly trying to make sense of his own emotions before tapping the head of his cock against Jonathan’s warm skin.
Jonathan spoke, face against the door. “You won’t. Promise. Just make sure it’s lubed up enough.”
“Are you sure?” Steve asked, gently spreading Jonathan open with his palms. One deep breath and Steve spat forward, a trail of saliva leaving his lips before settling on Jonathan’s sensitive rim.
Jonathan let out a purr of approval, adjusting himself to be at Steve’s optimal fucking height.
“You’ve done this before.” Steve snorted, positioning the head of his cock near Jonathan’s entrance.
Jonathan fought to catch his breath. “People in California are much more freaky. Lots of firsts,” he joked, trying to ease both of their anxiety.
“Yeah, I bet,” Steve rolled his eyes.
Steve paused for a brief moment, reconsidering, before pushing the head of his cock into Jonathan’s hole.
Jonathan winced in pain, pulling away, “Fuck, man; don’t ram into me! It’s my ass, not a damn vagina.”
“Shit…” Steve pulled back, instantly flushing with embarrassment.
For the first time in his life, Steve was unsure of how to approach sex. “I mean, you’re all pretty and pink like a cunt.” Steve joked awkwardly, not used to being so incompetent in his bed skills.
You couldn’t help but laugh loudly into Nancy’s pussy you were currently tasting, trying to catch your breath from the sounds your boyfriends were making right outside the door.
“Sorry, one second baby,” you pulled back, biting your lip in any attempt to chuckle to loudly.
Nancy simply sighed, “Inconvenient timing, but this is a good thing for the both of them. Let’s try not to scare them away, shall we? God knows how shy they get about each other.”
You nodded, happily returning to your duty of fucking Nancy’s clit against your tongue, soaking up any of her juices to quench your insatiable need to taste every inch of her.
“Just stay still. I’ll do the-” Jonathan gently pushed himself onto Steve’s length, slowly this time. “Rest…”
Steve shuddered at the feeling. The visual of Steve’s cock in Jonathan was nearly too much to bear.
Steve was shocked that the walls of his house didn’t cave in upon the realization he was fucking a man. It wasn’t something he ever pictured himself doing, but now he knew it was something he couldn’t possibly go without. The feeling was more similar to his female sex partners than expected. Jonathan was incredibly warm, his body weight able to apply more pressure on the head of Steve’s length than expected. It wasn’t better or worse; just different. An exciting kind of different. Something to switch up his sex life.
The aching guilt within Steve’s chest finally began to dissipate, a newfound confidence taking its place.
Steve pushed forward, not able to help being dominate. He fed Jonathan another inch or so of his cock to Jonathan, making sure to stop the moment he felt resistance. “You okay?”
“Great. You can keep going. Please? I’ll tell you when to stop.” Jonathan whispered, still slouched against the bathroom door, ass out.
Man or woman, Steve loved hearing those magic words - keep going, the ultimate ego-booster. Steve continued pushing forward, feeling the stretch of Jonathan’s rim clench around him.
“Fuck, you feel good, Jonathan. So fucking good,” Steve praised.
Jonathan’s knees quivered, a low mewl coming from his mouth as Steve finally bottomed out in Jonathan.
Steve groaned, pushing himself to Jonathan’s ear, “Jesus Christ, babe. I had no idea you could take me this well, or I’d have been doin’ this a lot sooner.”
Jonathan blushed at being called ‘babe’ for the first time in their relationship.
He had wished it was a more romantic moment, but he couldn’t ask too much of Steve after this. They both stopped for a moment, letting themselves adjust to each other.
The air was musky with Steve’s overpowering scent. Their breathing was labored, both on the verge of panting. The stretch in Jonathan’s hole felt amazing, but it was the weight of Steve’s cock filling him fully that made him speechless.
Once Steve started thrusting slowly into him, Jonathan knew he was going to have a hard time not coming immediately.
“You can start moving if you want.”
Steve nodded, his cock pulling back a bit before pushing in. Jonathan let out moans of approval, which only encouraged Steve to pick up his pace.
“Yeah? You’re doing so good, taking my big, fat cock in your tight hole, babe. So proud of you.” Steve praised, biting Jonathan’s neck in an attempt to hold back his own sounds of pleasure.
Steve’s length continuously hit against Jonathan’s g-spot, not allowing him much other option than to give in to the pleasure. “
“Steve, I’m going to come if you keep going,” Jonathan choked out.
Steve smirked, cocky as ever, “Really, already? Damn, I didn’t know I’d be so good my first time doing this.”
“I either come, or my legs give out,” Jonathan warned, his legs indeed shaking violently from pleasure.
Steve nodded, understanding. “I’ve got you, baby. My cock feels so good in you. I can tell I’m hitting your the right place, yeah?” Steve stuttered, “This is exactly what you wanted, right? For me to fuck you like I haven’t been dreaming about this for months. Gettin’ on my damn nerves all the time when you really just needed to be bent over like a little bitch?”
Jonathan let out a loud whimper, Steve continuing to pump his cock in him. Steve’s hand reached to Jonathan’s cock, tan fingers stroking him off.
“Fuck Steve, fuckkkkk,” was all Jonathan could manage before coming into Steve’s hand almost instantly.
Steve continued milking Jonathan’s cock for a moment until Jonathan pushed him away from sensitivity.
Steve gently pulled out, slick and wet and still very much hard.
Jonathan turned to face Steve, completely out of breath. He reached to pull his pants up, laughing awkwardly. “Damn, Harrington. I knew you had it in you.”
Steve shook his head. “What? My cocks still hard. You gonna do something about it?”
“Me? I’m god damn spent for a minute. If only we had some ladies who’d be more than willing to help you out” Jonathan offered, opening the bathroom door fully now.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
In your new ‘exciting relationship opportunity’, Steve and Jonathan always had two women at their disposal.
Two mouths for them to kiss, and two cunts for them to fuck.
Sometimes they’d use you both at once, other times it was just you or Nancy for both men. The possibilities felt truly endless.
Yet, the boys seemed to often gravitate towards you when it came to their horny endeavors, either out of luck or perhaps out of punishment.
Maybe it simply was your submissive nature.
Nancy was known to have her limits, being more likely to want alone time than to spend every waking moment with the others, but you simply couldn’t get enough - of any of it really. Of the sex, of the love, of the ability to have attention at any given moment from someone that cared.
Most people weren’t given the opportunity to be loved by three people in their lifetime; yet you were blessed by those that had tasted every inch of their body and tended to the depths of their soul.
Some days, monogamy seemed like the odd choice, especially in moments like these when Steve was leaning against the shower door, attempting to garner any leverage he could as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
“How does that feel, Princess?” Steve grunted, holding your naked body close to his wet skin as he fucked into your pussy, slippery sounds echoing in the small space.
“S-so good,” was all you could truly manage.
Steve couldn’t help but smirk, searching your face for the satisfaction that his cock was making you feel amazing. That was something only he could provide.
Well, Steve and Jonathan’s cocks in your case.
Jonathan’s slender fingers gripped onto your hips that were locked with Steve’s waist, guiding your ass back a bit and onto hi length. The strange feeling only bringing on another round of goosebumps.
“OH FUCK!” you shouted, aroused by the pain and pleasure of having both men inside you at once.
“Now bounce her!” Nancy commentated from the bathroom countertop, opting to rub her own clit to what was taking place in the rather steamy shower.
She’d been in your exact same position herself many times, but this was a first for you. It was something you’d always wanted, but your boyfriends were always too worried about hurting you to attempt it. Until this morning it seems.
“An apology for being dumbasses,” Steve had offered.
You would’ve been stupid to have said no, now enjoying the feeling of having yourself stuffed full by the men who loved you.
Jonathan began to ease himself deeper into you as Steve did the same, both of your holes stretching even more. The pressure was overwhelming, feeling both cocks push up and into your walls.
“I’m going to hold you still, Princess, so we can fuck into you. Is that okay?” Steve cooed, knowing you’d say yes.
You always say yes.
Both men started to move in sync, developing a rhythm of pleasure within you.
Steve was pushing his cock far into your pussy, then Jonathan pulled out of your ass. Jonathan pushed back, and Steve pulled out.
The sensation was so…odd. It made you hyper aware of every nerve in your cunt, every vein in their lengths.
The pain felt good in the same way a proper spanking brought you pleasure, your brain only focusing on the warm sting that made you feel alive.
Your gaze settled on Nancy through the glass, peering over Steve’s shoulder. Her fingers were now pushing deep inside herself as the men fucked into you. You could see every inch of her beautiful, flushed pussy on display for you.
Her fingers seemed to follow a similar rhythm, circling her clit before dipping inward, matching just how you were being fucked
“Bite her ear, Jonathan. Princess loves that,” Nancy suggested, believing she knows best when it comes to your pleasure.
“Please, babe… I got this,” Jonathan huffed at the instructions, feeling a slight ding to his ego.
Of course, he did eventually oblige Nancy’s request and began nibbling on your ear, his breath hot as he whispered between groans.
“You’re doing so well for us, baby. Letting us stretch you out like some toy. Stevie and I can use these pretty holes whenever and however we want, huh? I can feel Steve’s cock shoving up into you. Do you like the fact you’re being used like this; by two men at once? I sure do.”
Steve added on to Jonathan’s dirty talk, looking into your eyes.
“Yeah, baby. I-I think you were made to be fucked sometimes with the-the way that you crawl all over us, desperate to put our cocks or Nancy’s clit in your mouth. And I come into the bathroom, lookin’ to apologize just to find my two girls c-can’t keep your hands off each other for a moment, huh, Princess?” He stammered, struggling to keep himself from coming too quickly.
Steve groaned, “God damn it, I am so fuckin’ close. Do you wanna come for us, baby?”
You nodded, soft tears falling down your face from your pussy being overused.
“Oh fuck, that’s hot. Is that suppose to be so hot?” Steve continued, not slowing his pace.
Jonathan pulled out of you quickly, moaning loudly as he came in his hand, pumping himself and continuing to ride his orgasm out under the shower head. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to come so early…”
“Shut up, Byers,” Steve growled, focusing solely on your facial expressions in awe, your tight pussy taking every inch of him for yourself.
“Wait, I want to come too!” Nancy whined, now massaging her clit quickly.
“You have already come like four times!” Jonathan said, still catching his breath.
Nancy snorted at the comment, “God forbid a woman have hobbies.”
“I think I’m close, too,” you whimpered, causing Steve to slow his movements down now, no longer bouncing you so aggressively on his cock.
Jonathan’s absence from behind now allowed you to properly feel Steve’s large cock fully hitting your cervix, adjusting your position so you could bare down onto him, movements slower but much deeper now.
“Keep going, please? Fuck, fuckkkk I’m going to come,” you whined, so close to orgasm.
“Come for me, Princess. Come for-” Steve pounded into you, bottoming out as far as he could. “Need you so bad. Be a good girl and come for me. Now.”
The way Steve dominated you always sent you over the edge, your vision darkening as your orgasm rolled through you once more.
Steve quickly came along with you, bucking his hips up desperately into you. “You-you take me so well. Good job, pretty girl. So so good.”
Nancy’s sweet moans could also be heard from her position on the counter, coming from the sight of you and Steve.
The shower continued to steam the bathroom as the four of you settled within the blissful afterglow of post orgasm. Faces numb, limbs shaking. The world seemed to settle back into reality, the four of you left alone in a comfortable silence as you got your bearings.
Steve placed soft kisses on your face, his lips melting away any remaining tears.
You couldn’t help but slump onto the shower floor, spent beyond belief (and it probably wasn’t even noon, yet.)
“So, are we forgiven for being idiots?” Jonathan smiled, peering over you, wet hair dripping large drops onto your forehead.
“For now,” you smirked back.
“We will take it,” Jonathan nodded. “But, you still have a bit of syrup on you. Let’s get you actually cleaned up, yeah?”
Jonathan held his hand out, helping you back to your feet gently, allowing you to est against his thin body for extra support in your exhausted state.
Steve fumbled for a handful of body washes and soaps to help care for you, one bottle slipping out of his grasp and landing loudly on the floor.
“Jesus Christ… Nancy! Can you come help me take care of these two? No doubt you could use a shower as well…”
Nancy made her way inside the shower, joining the three of you.
“Mmmm. You have the best shower head, Steve,” Nancy chuckled, indulging herself in the warm water.
“Yeah yeah, don’t act like I dunno what you actually use that shower head for,” Steve suggested, bending down for the soaps.
After the chaos of this morning, things seemed to finally settle their way back to your normal routine.
This was the relationship you had come to love. The four of you always being cramped together with flirty jokes and Nancy or Steve fawning over you and Jonathan.
Steve handed Jonathan a mystery shampoo bottle, Jonathan pouring a copious amount into his hand before lathering it into your hair.
You tried not to wince as Jonathan did his best to tenderly work through the knots.
“God, if the syrup would’ve gotten all over me, I would’ve just shaved my head,” Jonathan said.
“No heads are being shaved over my immaturity,” Steve replied, busy working soap down Nancy’s body, as well.
“Honestly, I never thought Steve had it in him,” you said, enjoying the massage on your scalp.
Steve snorted, “What, double-penetration? Not our first time, sweetie.”
“No no, not that. The whole fucking Jonathan thing.”
The words hung in the air for a moment. Jonathan seemed to still his fingers in thought before continuing to wash your hair.
“Yeah. Was a pretty good surprise,” Jonathan said softly.
“I didn’t think he had it in him either, but we shouldn’t discount a man who thinks mostly with his dick to give it a try, eventually,” Nancy agreed, as Steve was soaping up her tits (spending extra time to make sure they were cleaned thoroughly)
Steve playfully dabbed a handful of soap bubbles onto Nancy’s nose, “I’m right here, you know.”
“I think I heard Steve call Jonathan, ‘babe’.” you smiled, stepping under the shower head to wash the shampoo from your hair.
“Mmm, big day for Stevie,” Nancy agreed, stepping over now to wash her soap away.
You reached your fingers out, tracing the softness everywhere you could touch on her body. Your thumb moved to the curve of her small breast, giving a playful pinch of her nipple before her hand batted you away playfully.
“Jonathan sounds like he knew what he was doing…” You hinted at Nancy, hoping she’d tell you more.
Nancy paused, looking over to the two men who were now pre-occupied with covering each other in bubbles and soap to listen in.
“There was a lull in our relationship when the Byers moved to California for the summer. Jonathan had six months to basically experience life girlfriend-free. I never really asked what he got up to…I feared what he’d have to say. I know he spent a lot of time smoking weed with his hippie friends from what Mike told me.”
Nancy reached for the bar of soap that Steve used on her, taking your arm and running the bar over your body.
“I had hoped Jonathan’s time near the ocean would clear his head, you know?” She continued. “I figured he’d miss me more than before. He did come back to Hawkins a changed Jonathan, but mostly just talking about body liberation and ego-death like it was some revelation from God. I have no doubt he got his ‘sexual practice’ in with his buddies,” Nancy snorted, leaning down to soap your legs.
“… but you’re happy now, right? With the way we’re all together?” You asked.
Nancy nodded, standing up from your legs before gently pushing you back into the water to wash off, “Of course, baby. I love you, and I love Jonathan… and I love Steve. It’s perfect.”
“You hesitated when you said Steve, and you always say his name last when talking about us.”
Nancy chuckled, shaking her head at your insistence on being pedantic over her word choice.
“You don’t really like Steve, huh?” You prodded, being mindful to speak low enough just for her ears.
“I do love Steve, but I can never be in love with him, at least not like how you are.”
“So you deal with him just to have me?”
“I deal with a lot of things just to have you, darling. I know you love me; I have known since we were little girls stuck in PE class together. But, I also know you don’t have the ability to be without Steve in the same way I will always come running back to Jonathan. Robin says it’s trauma-bonding, but I think it’s just how life goes sometimes.” Nancy assured you quietly, pressing her forehead against yours. “You don’t choose your people, they choose you.”
“And what if I fall in love with Jonathan, too?” You looked into her blue eyes, though you both knew your ask was more of a confession than a question.
“Jonathan and Steve are both messes. They need all the love they can get.” Nancy pulled back, placing a quick peck to your lips. “You’ve always had such a big heart. I have no doubt you can love all of us at once. That’s why you’re the glue of that holds this whole thing together. Steve, Jonathan, and I? We just have a few more bumps in the road to get there.”
You let the water wash over both of you for a moment, accepting the fact that any relationship would take woe to make it happen. The fact that the four of you had been through so much, and only came out stronger, had to be a testament to the fact that love can always be enough.
“Hey! What are you two gossiping about over there?” Steve chimed in, the two men having snuck their way out of the shower and into robes during your conversation.
“You wanna stay in there all day or come take a nap with us?” Jonathan asked as he was drying off Steve’s hair with a towel.
You wanted nothing more than to relax after the chaos this morning, quickly turning the water off.
Steve had been kind enough to lay out two more robes for you and Nancy once you were out into the bathroom.
“I think we could all definitely use a nap,” you agreed. “And maybe we can even order a pizza later, since we didn’t get much breakfast and all.”
“A huge, expensive pizza with all the toppings, and it will totally be on Steve,” Nancy agreed.
Steve rolled his eyes, “it ain’t a good punishment if I always end up paying, anyway.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling Steve’s fingers lace into yours. Steve then took Jonathan’s hand, doing the same. You reached for Nancy’s, making sure she wasn’t left behind as Steve guided you all back towards his bedroom.
“I did just want you all to know that I am truly sorry for being a complete and utter dumbass this morning,” Steve spoke, taking you up the staircase. “I am workin’ through a lot of things, and I tend to lash out in weird ways when I don’t understand how to deal with my emotions. I hate being vulnerable and shit.”
Jonathan gave Steve’s hand a reassuring squeeze, “I’m sorry too, dude. You’re all good. We’re working on it, remember?”
“We accept your apology,” Nancy nodded, speaking on your behalf. Her thumb caressed the back of your hand in affection, letting you know she’d always be there for you - for all you.
“We love you, Steve,” you affirmed. “I appreciate the apology.”
Steve sighed in relief, his eyes meeting all of yours for a moment, “And I love you. Each and every one of you.”
As you entered Steve’s messy bedroom once more, the four of you made way into Steve’s bed.
Jonathan laid down first to the far left, ditching his robe in favor of remaining naked under the covers.
Surprisingly, Steve followed suit, crawling in bare besides Jonathan. Steve continued holding onto Jonathan’s hand, cuddling up close to the slimmer man. Jonathan kept still, as if any sudden movement would frighten Steve away.
There was something warm in the gaze the two men shared. Understanding, or maybe just acceptance.
You were next, always wanting to be squished in the middle of your cuddle puddles while dragging Nancy in bed right behind you.
Even though you had all left the bed hours ago, Steve’s skylight had kept the sheets warm while you were away. The drowsiness and physical exhaustion started seeping into your bones, your eyes too heavy to keep open for much longer.
You felt your body being adjusted, Nancy pushing herself behind you for a proper spooning position while Steve angled his free arm to wrap underneath your body and back around you.
“I’m going to get better,” Steve whispered quietly, though not to anyone in particular.
“You will, and we all will be here when you do,” was all you could manage to mumble before drifting off into another peaceful Sunday nap.
Pairings: Eddie Munson x shy!ditzy!fem!reader
Summary: Going to the resident freak of the town for drugs is something you'd never do, but sometimes it's the only way to get close to the boy you've been pining over all year.
Warnings: reader is said to be quite innocent in this. No use of Y/N. mention of a knife. mention of drugs (weed, special k)
Based on this! blurb.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
You were used to seeing him from afar, sneaking glances behind your locker door to catch a glimpse of him through students.
Looking over your shoulder during class to see him at the back, scribbling on his desk with a knife.
Watching him from across the cafeteria as he made a speech or chatted with his club.
You never meant to stare, staring was rude, but there was something about him that fascinated you.
The way his hair was wild and untamed yet looked perfect upon his shoulders.
The way the curve of his smile was teasing yet gentle.
The way his eyes held a sense of mystery that drove you crazy and made your hurt flutter at the same time.
He held a sense of danger and edge that excited you in ways you couldn't explain.
He was wild. Wild in the ways you were not.
You usually kept to yourself most of the time, not as reckless or unapologetic as he was.
You have been at this all year, somewhere between first week of senior year to now, the start of March.
8 months into this obsession you've dug yourself into with the freak of Hawkins High.
No words uttered, no glances shared, not even a bump of the shoulder.
The thought of even going closer than your regular 5-meter radius you've set as your boundary to him terrified you.
If you could just pack up the courage to talk to him like you imagine in your head in class, he would give you the time of day.
You just knew under that scary demeanour of his, he'd be a sweetheart, he had to be.
But a part of you hoped he wouldn't be, wanting him to be like how people say he is. The thought rushed through you with electricity.
You were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He was the wildfire to your timid wings.
You had to know what he was like in person or it would drive you mad.
So, you find yourself sat at a picnic table right off of the edge of the forest outside of the school.
Bouncing your leg under the table, you realise this was a bad idea.
You had heard of the tales of what he does, what he sells.
Yet you never fully understood what it really meant.
You knew what drugs were, of course. But the terminology and names are what baffled you.
You were watching the trees when you heard a crunch of leaves behind you.
Every hair on your body stood up as you felt him approaching.
This was it.
You were going to talk to him, be face to face.
He's going to be looking at you.
Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic You repeated in your head as you looked behind your shoulder.
There he was, in all of his glory.
He offered you a nod as he circled the table.
"How long have you been out here?" He asked.
Your heart stopped. Your breath hitched.
You had heard his voice before. When mumbling an apology for being late to a teacher. When making a speech at lunch. in passing in the halls.
But this totally, and utterly different.
His voice was clear, louder than you've ever heard, you even noticed the slight rasp as he spoke.
Your brain-short circuited as he sat down opposite you on the table, dropping a metal lunch box on the top as he stripped off his leather jacket.
You hadn't ever seen him without that tight leather jacket.
The one that hugged his stature that was now all yours to view.
He wore a tank top with cut off sleeves. one of those loud aggressive bands he listens to depicted on the front.
His arms were displayed for you to take in, revealing the rough tattoo art on his pale skin that looked so soft you wanted to reach out and-
"-You alright?" He wondered aloud, finally sitting down as he placed his jacket beside the box.
You nodded vigorously as he snapped you out of your daze.
You forgot how to speak.
This was a bad idea. Going to him for drugs? are you kidding? You would never do that.
He tilted his head "You don't need to be nervous. No one comes out here"
You took the time when he opened the box to look at him. Analyse, memorise.
Your mind was blank as you soaked him in.
You could see every line on his skin, every dent and crease.
You noticed his dimples that peeked out on his defined cheeks when he spoke. The slight alone sending a shiver that for some reason followed down to your core.
You counted the freckles on his face and neck, connecting them with invisible lines that created constellations.
You followed the waves of his hair, every curl and fuzz that stuck out.
And when your gaze fell to his plump lips that were parted, you looked away, down at your lap.
"10 minutes..." You muttered.
He raised an eyebrow as he looked up at you with curiosity.
"What?"
You fiddled with your fingers, finding the hem of your skirt as you forced yourself to speak up to him.
The last thing you wanted to do was waste his time, his precious valuable time.
"I was waiting for 10 minutes..." You replied softly
"Oh- shit," he gaped "If I knew, I would have gotten here sooner"
"it's ok! I like listening to the birds talking!" You beamed, looking up at him again.
He slowly nodded his head as he took a deep breath in, shifting in his seat.
"Right, ok...so what do you want? I got the regular shit, special k if you really wanna feel something. I also just have Marlboros if you don't wanna do all that work" He explained, shuffling around his box.
You blanked, your mind glitching as it struggled to say what he meant.
Here it was. The names and terminology.
You blinked, then blinked again, and again until he cleared his throat.
Puff. You've heard that word somewhat affiliated with whatever he was talking about.
Especially when you're trying to go to the bathroom and there's kids in the stall with paper cylinders in between their fingers, a smelly smoke floating to the vents as they talked amongst themselves.
"This puff is so good" they'd say with a deep growl in their voice.
But you'd never do it, though. You know it's bad and hurtful to your body, But Eddie didn't need to know that.
"I uh-" You stuttered "I just want...puff?"
His eyes narrowed as he pulled out a little bag full of herb-like substances, waving it in his hand.
"Right, puff... so weed?"
You couldn't help but smile giddily, silently swinging your feet back and forth.
"I have weeds in my garden at home!" you exclaimed
You tried to ignore the frown that developed on his face, his eyebrows furrowed as he blinked blankly.
His mouth opened, then closed, stuttering out sounds.
You grew more nervous at his reaction, is what you said wrong?
He closed his eyes, his head moving with something between a nod and a shake, going in a circle.
"Okay...?" he sighs shallowly "Anyway, I do half an ounce for twenty bucks...do you know how to roll it?"
You avoided his gaze as you nodded your head slowly, unsure of yourself.
"Well, I have the rolls. It'd be an extra 10, though"
Your hands trembled as you pretended to find money on your persons.
You never thought that far ahead, to be honest.
You didn't have money, because you weren't going to buy anything.
Your stomach churns as you stare at the baggie in his hands outreached for you.
You feel hot under his gaze, your cheeks warming up until you know they're bright red.
He waits, smacking his lips together, his bottom lip finding his teeth as he bites.
You feel the pressure get to you and your breath shortens.
This really was a huge mistake.
You should have stayed far away from him, stick to your five-meter-away rule.
Maybe if you did. You wouldn't be making a fool of yourself. Embarrassing yourself in front of Eddie 'The Freak' Munson. This was a low for you, considering you usually kept to yourself.
Your eyes always finding him when you felt lonely, wondering what it would be like to be his friend.
You would look back in class to find him when everyone else was talking to their friends around you, and you, having no one to converse with, sought out the comfort of watching the only other silent student in the room.
And when you were sat on the floor, in the corner of the cafeteria, alone, you watched the one person in Hawkins that took care of the 'lost sheep of society'.
There must be a reason he never took you under his wing. You just might be the only 'lost sheep' left, and he never paid you any mind.
You liked to go unnoticed, you wanted to blend in. But sometimes you hated the way you tensed up when people got too close, when they tried talking to you.
You'd word vomit in excitement at first, but then get laughed at calling you things like 'stupid' and 'dumb'
Then you gave up.
"I don't want drugs!" You spoke- more like shouted at him
You were staring at him as he jumped, flinching as you yelled at him.
He looked down and nodded.
You gulped anxiously as he packed up his things, sighing and mumbling to himself, slamming his box shut.
You didn't want him to go, you didn't.
But he was already getting up with a tight smile.
He grabbed his jacket as you struggled to speak. You got up with him and watched as he began walking away.
"I- I wanted to talk to you!" you stuttered, struggling to speak as you felt your limbs stiffen.
He stopped walking.
-
Eddie stopped by his locker 4th period, skipping maths with Mr Langway, he was a shit teacher, and Eddie would rather be out under the bleachers smoking a blunt.
He barely noticed the little piece of paper that fell from his compartment, flowing to the floor with ease.
He contemplated with himself, it was usually notes from the jocks, talking shit and writing insults they can rarely spell correctly.
But he crouched down anyway, picking it up.
He frowned, reading, then couldn't help but laugh.
Drugs?
It read. simple, ease in neat writing. That was it. No time or signature.
He looked around the hall because he's never had that type of request.
Eddie would usually be sought out after. Approached by dickheads looking for their fix.
He's never, ever been given a note, especially in a glitter pen that's now recognised in the lighting of the school corridor.
He shrugged it off.
It was only when he folded it up when he noticed more.
3:20pm written on the back.
Whatever for money. Eddie thought to himself.
-
"I- I wanted to talk to you!"
Eddie stopped dead.
Slowly, he turned back around.
And for the first time since he’d shown up, he didn’t feel intimidating.
He felt… confused.
And weirdly nervous.
Which was not a feeling Eddie Munson was used to at all.
So he didn’t say anything.
He just stood there, jacket half on, lunchbox hanging loose in his hand, staring at you like if he moved too fast he’d scare you off for good.
You stood frozen too, eyes wide, like you hadn’t expected him to actually stop. Like that sentence had taken everything out of you and now there was nothing left.
Okay, he thought. Don’t rush it. Don’t be loud. Don’t be you.
Easier said than done.
Seconds passed. Maybe only two. Maybe ten. Time did weird things when Eddie’s brain started spiralling.
You shifted your weight, fingers twisting together, gaze glued to the ground. Your shoulders were tight, drawn in, like you were bracing for him to laugh.
He didn’t.
He waited.
Because something in his chest.
Something he didn’t have a name for yet; told him this was fragile. That whatever this was, you’d built it up carefully, nervously, probably for longer than he could guess.
He swallowed.
Say something, his brain urged. Do the charming thing. The joke. The grin.
But he didn’t want to bulldoze this. Not when you looked like you might shatter.
Finally, you took a small breath.
"I just…" you started, then stopped, clearly flustered by the sound of your own voice.
"I didn’t really want- I mean, I didn’t come for-" You waved your hand vaguely, like the words refused to line up properly.
Eddie’s heart gave an odd little thump.
Oh.
He relaxed his shoulders, setting the lunchbox down on the table instead of holding it like a shield. He took a step back, giving you space, making himself less… looming.
He stayed quiet, letting you finish.
"I just wanted an excuse," you admitted softly, cheeks flushing. "To talk to you."
There it was.
The confession landed quietly but hit him hard.
Eddie blinked.
Once. Twice.
Me? his brain echoed, deeply unhelpful. You picked me?
A laugh bubbled up in his chest, not because it was funny, but because it was unreal. Of all the reasons people approached him;
Fear, curiosity, desperation, this was not one he’d ever prepared for.
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very aware of how warm his face felt.
"Uh- I'm a little...confused?"
The second the words left his mouth, he saw your expression drop.
"Well, I um- I think you're really fascinating!" You beamed, then shook your head "not fascinating as in you're like...a test subject and I'm trying to pick at your weird brain- I mean like, the cool kind!"
That one got him.
Not like an insult. Like a small, unexpected bruise.
Eddie frowned, not angry, just… thoughtful. He looked at you again, really looked this time. The way you stood like you were trying to take up as little space as possible. The way you kept glancing up at him like you were checking if it was still okay that you existed here.
"Never heard that before" he spoke light-heartedly
You looked up at him, mumbling to himself.
"I feel like there was easier ways to talk to me?" He teased, trying to ease your nerves that he can basically feel radiating off of you.
"I didn't think you'd want to.." you shrugged, kicking your feet in the crunchy leaves on the ground.
"Well, I'm all about taking little lost sheep under my wing" Eddie joked- Or attempted to. It seemed to land wrong when he watched you physically deflate.
Your lips twitched, caught between embarrassment and a laugh.
"You never really found me...but it's ok!"
He felt his heart drop. You sounded so weak but so happy at the same time.
He really wonders why he's never seen you before, but he's glad you came to him now.
"I'm sorry..."
"It's ok! I was too scared, you know. because I really like you!"
And Eddie?
Eddie felt something warm bloom in his chest.
Flattered. Yeah.
More than flattered.
Like him?
Like him?
You like him?
There was no way.
It took a second to register.
When it did, Eddie froze in the most ungraceful way possible, mouth parting just a bit as his brain fully blue-screened.
Wow.
The pace of his heart quickened, spiralling off the charts, if he was going to be honest.
Girls don't like him. That was one thing he knew for sure.
His mouth opened, then closed again. Nothing came out. Great. Fantastic. Real smooth.
You shifted again, suddenly looking like you wished you could crawl into the dirt and live there forever.
"I— I mean, not in a weird way," you rushed out, cheeks flaming. "I just think you’re really nice and funny and you always look like you care about people...and you're- You're really pretty"
That… did not help his composure.
Eddie swallowed hard.
pretty?
That was another word no one ever used for him.
His heart was doing something stupid in his chest now.
Too fast, too loud. He scratched at his jaw, eyes flicking away from you for half a second like he needed to reboot himself somewhere safer.
When he looked back, his grin was gone. Not replaced with anything scary, just honest. A little stunned. A little soft around the edges.
“You… like me,” he repeated slowly, more to himself than to you, like saying it out loud might make it make sense.
You nodded, small and earnest. “Yeah.”
Jesus Christ.
"You think I'm pretty?"
You hummed along with his questions "Yeah..."
Eddie let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head once.
"Okay," he said, voice low and almost disbelieving. !Okay, wow. Uh. That’s-that’s new"
You winced, immediately apologetic. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything-"
"-No," he cut in quickly, instinctively. Too quick. He gentled his tone right after. "No, don’t- don’t do that. You didn’t do anything wrong."
He shifted closer to the table again, grounding himself with it, like the solid wood might keep him from floating away entirely.
"I’m just… surprised," he admitted. "In a good way."
Very good way, his brain added, unhelpfully.
He glanced at you again, really taking you in now- noticing how open your expression was, how nervous but sincere you sounded. You weren’t playing a joke. You weren’t daring yourself. You weren’t mocking him.
You were just… telling the truth.
And that hit him harder than anything else.
Eddie watched as the blush formed on your cheeks, it was cute, in all honesty.
People were shy with him all of the time, out of fear or uncertainty.
You were so much more.
"So... you wanna talk to me?" he found himself smiling.
"uh-huh!" you giggled. "You really want to?"
Eddie's never wanted to hear something more than your laugh.
Screw drugs, you're messing with his head.
"Of course I do. I gotta figure out what's wrong with you for you to like all this" He gestured to himself with a teasing smile.
You basically jumped in glee as you almost pranced on him.
Throwing your hands around him, you pulled him in an embrace.
Surely this isn't happening Eddie thought to himself as he pinched his arm.
He felt overwhelmed, to say the least. But it felt...good.
Nice.
He could smell your sweet perfume as you wrapped your hands around his torso.
He's never had a stronger sense of smell until now when he leaned closer.
Honey, raspberry and Blossoms, cherry.
So sweet, teeth rotting-ly sweet.
So you, and he barely even knows you.
He has to know you.
Wrapping his hands gently around your frame, he hears your breath hitch, slowly pulling away just enough for you to realise what you've done.
"Sorry" You mumbled, turning even more red than you were before. your ears glowing pink behind your hair.
"For what?" He murmured in question.
He couldn't hear your next words as you reached up and let your fingertips curl around the edges of his hair.
pairing: eddie munson x fem!henderson!reader word count: 10.8k summary: eddie munson never expected dustin’s older sister to become his closest friend… or the muse for the most honest song he’s ever written.
a/n: a love letter to something, somehow, someday by role model <3 this is one of my favorite things i’ve ever written, hope u love it!!
eddie munson didn't have many girl friends. mainly because his interests included things like hardcore drugs, his rock band, and countless hours of dungeons and dragons.
he didn't mind it this way. he'd rather stick with his small circle than be made fun of by the prissy girls that attended Hawkins high. besides, he'd be out of there in no time. hopefully.
eddie waited outside of the highschool for the last d&d member to arrive to their meeting- the most important meeting of the campaign, might he add. he glanced at his watch, cursing under his breath.
he was about to start pacing when a car pulled into the lot. the passenger door opened and dustin hopped out, but it wasn’t him eddie looked at first.
it was you.
you hopped out of the drivers side, pulled your jacket closer, and brushed a piece of hair out of your face. simple. nothing dramatic. but for some reason, eddie's mind went blank.
dustin waved. “sorry, man. we had to run home because I forgot my character sheets.”
you looked at eddie then, recognition settling in like you already knew who he was. “you’re eddie, right?”
eddie blinked once, then again. “yeah. that’s me.”
you smiled. “good to finally meet you. dustin talks about you all the time.”
eddie’s brain short-circuited for a moment. dustin talked about him. to you. about him. he tried not to read into that, but his chest felt strangely warm.
“all good things, I hope,” eddie said, shifting the crooked cardboard dragon head under his arm.
“depends on your definition of good,” you teased.
eddie huffed out a breath that almost counted as a laugh. he wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt nervous.
you checked the time, "well, i should let you two get to it. have fun with... whatever it is you guys do.” you ruffled your brothers hair, "see you later twerp."
eddie watched you walk back to your car. only for a second, he told himself. only long enough to make sure you didn’t slip on the ice.
dustin started walking toward the school entrance. “come on, we’re late.”
eddie snapped out of it. “right. yes. lateness. tragic.”
he followed dustin inside, trying to shake whatever strange feeling had settled between his ribs. it didn’t make sense. you were just dustin’s sister. someone normal. someone who belonged in bright hallways and perfect friend groups and warm houses that smelled like cinnamon.
still, as he walked through the doors, he found his mind drifting back to the way you said his name. casual. kind. unbothered. like knowing him wasn’t strange or surprising.
he hated how much that affected him.
he also loved it.
and for the rest of the night, even while he narrated dramatic battles and threw dice across the table, something in the back of his mind kept circling back to you standing in the cold, smiling at him like he was someone worth meeting.
the next week, just when eddie had finally forced himself to get his 60 second conversation with you out of his head, he saw you again.
it was lunchtime, the cafeteria buzzing with the usual noise, fluorescent lights flickering just enough to be annoying. eddie was at the hellfire table, half-lounging in his seat while dustin argued with mike about some rule they absolutely did not need to be arguing about.
eddie wasn’t listening.
he was stirring the lukewarm mac and cheese on his tray, trying not to think about anything that wasn’t dice or music or how many more months he had left in this place.
then the room shifted.
or maybe he did.
you walked in with nancy wheeler, robin buckley, and a couple of the effortlessly cool kids who floated from table to table like they had all the time in the world. you were laughing at something nancy said, your hand brushing lightly against her arm, your whole face bright in a way he hadn’t noticed outside the cold parking lot.
today you were wearing a soft sweater tucked into jeans that fit you perfectly, boots that clicked against the linoleum floor, and your hair looked like you actually did something to it this morning instead of just rolling out of bed. your cheeks were warm from the heat inside, your makeup subtle but intentional, and there was a shine in your eyes when you smiled.
you looked put together.
you looked happy.
you looked like someone who belonged in warm rooms and soft places.
you looked perfect.
eddie tried to tear his gaze away, but it was useless. he watched you ease into the crowd like you knew exactly where to exist, like the world made room for you without question. every gesture you made was gentle, warm, sure of itself. you listened when people spoke, nodding softly, leaning in. you laughed with your whole mouth, not the tight, polite smile he saw on so many others.
it was painfully clear that you lived in a universe he did not.
sitting at that chipped hellfire table, surrounded by dice and doodles and crumbs from dustin’s granola bar, eddie felt something in him sink a little. not jealousy. not sadness. just… reality.
there was no version of life where someone like you ended up in orbit with someone like him. the gap between your worlds wasn’t just big. it was fact.
he told himself it didn’t matter. he barely knew you. you probably didn’t remember his name.
and then you looked at him.
not in a fleeting way. not in a polite, accidental way.
your eyes searched the room, landed on him, and softened.
eddie’s heart stuttered.
dustin noticed him go oddly still. “what are you staring at? do you see a ghost? is that why you look like that?”
eddie didn’t answer. he couldn’t. you were already moving, weaving around tables and backpacks, walking straight toward them.
mike frowned. “why is she coming over here?”
lucas shrugged. “maybe dustin forgot something at home again.”
dustin lit up. “hey! my sister’s here.”
eddie swallowed hard. he tried to sit normally, but suddenly he had no idea what his hands were supposed to be doing. his ring caught on the corner of his notebook as he shoved it aside, and he forced his gaze downward like maybe, if he didn’t look directly at you, he wouldn’t humiliate himself.
you stopped at the edge of the table, your smile as warm as it had been across the room.
“hey, guys,” you said, then shifted your gaze to eddie. “hi, eddie.”
eddie felt the word hi hit somewhere low in his stomach.
“oh. uh. hey.” he cleared his throat. “you’re… here.”
smooth. perfect. excellent delivery, he thought miserably.
you laughed under your breath, the sound soft and kind, not mocking. “just grabbing lunch. saw you over here.”
dustin elbowed him without looking. “say hi back. you look like you just got hit by a bus.”
eddie kicked him under the table.
you didn’t notice their bickering. your attention stayed on him, which was enough to scramble his entire internal wiring.
“how was your meeting last week?” you asked.
for a moment, eddie forgot what meeting meant. then the cardboard dragon head flashed in his memory and he snapped back.
“oh. hellfire? yeah. good. the usual. chaos and violence.”
your smile widened. “sounds about right.”
eddie nodded too fast.
you didn’t linger long. just long enough to say hi. long enough to look at him in a way he wasn’t used to. long enough to make the room feel warmer for reasons he refused to think about.
“i’ll see you around,” you said lightly.
and then you walked back to your group, effortlessly slipping into conversation with nancy again.
eddie watched you go, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
the distance between your table and his suddenly felt larger than the whole school.
mike leaned over the table. “dude. are you okay? you look weird.”
eddie dragged a hand through his hair and reached for the nearest ridiculous distraction. “mike, everything about me looks weird.”
dustin added, “yeah, that’s just how he is.”
but eddie wasn’t listening anymore.
you remembered him.
you sought him out.
you said his name like it meant something to you.
and that was the moment eddie munson realized he had a much bigger problem than a d&d campaign to run.
the next few weeks of eddie's life seemed to be that of a dream. he didn't know how or why, but you and him became friends.
real friends.
not the kind where you wave in the hallway and forget each other exist.
the kind where you gravitate toward each other without meaning to.
it started small.
a simple “hey eddie” in the hallway.
a smile when you saw him at his locker.
a conversation started in the cafeteria that made him choke on his soda because you were actually talking to him.
then the small things became normal.
you showed up early to pick up dustin and ended up talking to eddie for fifteen straight minutes about music.
you asked him what songs he was working on with the band.
you complimented a drawing in his notebook.
after that, everything shifted.
he didn’t say it out loud, but he started timing his walks between classes so he might run into you.
and somehow, you did.
almost every day.
you’d catch him leaning against a column in the hallway, pretending to be interested in whatever mike was rambling about. but the second he saw you approaching, eddie’s whole posture changed. he straightened. tried to look casual. failed.
“morning, eddie,” you’d say.
two words. simple. soft.
they held him together for the rest of the day.
after school became its own ritual.
if you were around when dustin finished hellfire, you stayed for a bit. sometimes you sat on the steps with eddie while dustin ran inside to get something. sometimes you talked through the open door of his van while he packed up his things.
the first time you leaned into the passenger window to ask him how his day was, eddie had to grip the steering wheel with both hands to stay grounded. you smelled like vanilla and laundry detergent. clean. warm. safe.
nothing in eddie’s life had ever felt safe.
he didn’t understand why you made him feel that way.
and then there were the conversations.
you talked to him like he was normal.
not like the freak.
not like the strange metalhead who lived in a trailer.
not like the kid who failed senior year twice.
you asked him things. real things.
what he wanted to do after school.
why he liked d&d so much.
what his songs were about.
and every time he answered, you listened.
eddie wasn’t used to that.
he wasn’t used to being looked at the way you looked at him. like he had value. like he mattered.
he knew he shouldn’t get attached.
he reminded himself constantly that people like you didn’t end up with people like him.
but he couldn’t stop soaking you in.
your smile became his favorite sight.
your laugh became a sound he listened for.
your presence became something his body reacted to before his brain caught up.
and the worst part, the part that hollowed him out a little more each day, was that you were just being friendly.
nothing more.
eddie knew that.
he felt it in every second he spent beside you.
you weren’t flirting.
you weren’t hinting at anything.
you weren’t like that.
you were just kind.
and kindness, for eddie munson, was the most dangerous thing of all.
he fell in love with the little things first.
the way you tucked your feet under you when you sat on the steps.
the way you talked with your hands.
the way you laughed with your whole chest when he said something stupid.
the way you didn’t hesitate to touch his arm when you were getting his attention.
one afternoon, you reached up to brush away a curl that kept falling into his face while he was trying to explain a campaign idea.
eddie forgot what a sentence was.
his brain simply shut down.
you didn’t notice.
of course you didn’t.
the obsession arrived quietly, disguised as friendship.
he found himself thinking about you during math class.
he replayed your conversations when he was alone in his trailer.
he carried the sound of your voice with him into every room he went into.
he thought about you during hellfire. i mean, how insane was that?
and every single day, the same thought echoed through him:
he didn’t stand a chance.
you were bright and soft and hopeful.
you were the kind of person whose future stretched wide and open.
you belonged in a big house with good lighting and holiday dinners and framed photos on mantelpieces.
eddie belonged nowhere.
so he kept himself in check.
he kept his hands to himself.
he never said anything that could be taken the wrong way.
because having you as a friend was better than not having you at all.
and he would take whatever scraps of your time he could get.
he wasn’t stupid enough to imagine more.
but late at night, staring at the ceiling of his room, he let himself ache.
just a little.
he let himself imagine what it would feel like to belong to someone like you.
to touch your hand and not pull away.
to sit beside you without feeling like he needed to hide half of himself.
dreams were safer than reality.
dreams couldn’t reject him.
so eddie dreamed.
and during the day, he smiled when you smiled,
laughed when you called his name,
and convinced himself that friendship was enough.
eddie had never put this much effort into getting dressed.
he would deny it if anyone asked, but he stood in front of his mirror for a solid ten minutes before leaving the trailer.
a clean black sweater.
dark jeans without holes.
actual product in his hair.
he told himself it was because it was a holiday gathering.
it wasn’t.
it was because you would be there.
the wheelers’ house glowed like it had been dipped in gold. warmth, lights, garland, the works. eddie stepped inside and immediately felt out of place - not in the sad, familiar way, but in a new, startlingly vulnerable one.
then he saw you.
and everything in him went quiet.
you were wearing a deep red sweater that fit you perfectly, soft and warm looking. the lights caught the shine in your hair. your lips had a soft shine to them. your face glowed in a way that wasn’t even fair.
eddie forgot how to breathe.
“eddie,” you said, walking toward him, eyes lighting up when they landed on him. “you look really nice.”
eddit blinked. “oh. uh… yeah. you too. you look…” he swallowed, “…yeah.”
you laughed softly. not at him. never at him. just warm, easy laughter.
dustin was across the room, watching.
staring.
squinting.
eddie didn’t notice.
as the night went on, eddie found himself drifting in and out of conversations, never quite grounded. not when you kept moving through the rooms like sunlight. every time you laughed, he glanced up instinctively. every time he heard your voice, he felt his heart do a flip.
and every single time, dustin saw him.
he watched the way eddie angled his body when you were near.
he watched the way eddie’s eyes softened around the edges.
he watched the way eddie stopped talking mid-sentence when you came close.
he watched the way eddie tried, badly, to pretend he wasn’t watching you.
dustin’s mouth slowly fell open.
oh.
ohhhhhhhh.
how did he not see it sooner?
Eddie Munson was in love with his sister.
Dustin stared at him, stunned, as if he’d discovered some rare, tragic creature in the wild.
Eddie didn’t notice. He was too busy pretending not to stare at you.
when the crowd thinned and the music softened, you found him near the staircase, hands tucked in his pockets.
“can i steal you for a sec?” you asked.
eddie nodded immediately. “yeah. anything. I mean. not anything. just- yes, you can.”
dustin, from the couch, slapped a hand over his face.
you led him to a quiet spot near the tree, warm light spilling over both of you.
“i got you something,” you said softly, like you were nervous.
eddie blinked rapidly. “you did? why?”
“because you’re my friend. and it’s christmas. i hear that people give gifts around this time of year,” you joke, lightening the mood a little.
he grins, and his shoulders relax a little. “right, i’ve heard that too.”
you reached behind the couch and pulled a guitar case into view.
eddie froze.
“open it,” you said.
his hands shook slightly as he clicked open the latches.
inside was one of the most beautiful acoustic guitars he had ever seen. honey colored wood. crisp steel strings. perfect.
he inhaled sharply.
“do you like it?” you asked.
eddie nodded, speechless. “i- wow. I love it. you didn't have to do this."
you stepped closer, heartwarming smile on you face, "sure, but I wanted to."
dustin, halfway across the room pretending not to stare, mouthed holy shit.
eddie cleared his throat once he could speak again. “i, uh… i got you something too.”
you looked genuinely surprised. “you did?”
he pulled a small wrapped object from his pocket. nothing compared to a guitar. nothing at all. he felt embarrassment flush his neck.
but he gave it to you anyway.
you opened the paper gently. inside was a hand-painted cassette tape, decorated with tiny stars and vines, the label reading: songs that made me think of you.
your breath caught. “eddie… this is amazing.”
he rubbed the back of his neck. “it’s really not. but… i wanted you to have something.”
you smiled at him. that soft, slow smile that always killed him a little.
you stepped in without hesitation and hugged him.
eddie froze, then sank into it, arms circling you carefully like you were porcelain. your cheek pressed against his shoulder. your hair brushed his collarbone. you held him tight.
and Dustin Henderson, across the room, felt his jaw drop even further.
because Eddie wasn’t just in love.
he was utterly ruined.
you pulled back, hands lingering on his arms.
“merry christmas, eddie,” you murmured.
he swallowed. “merry christmas.”
you left to join Nancy again, cassette in your back pocket.
eddie stood there, staring after you with the softened eyes of a man who had no idea how he was supposed to survive himself.
Dustin approached slowly, cautiously, like he was approaching a wild animal.
“hey man,” he whispered, looking up at him.
eddie snapped out of his daze. “what?”
Dustin studied him for a long moment. too long.
then he whispered, half horrified, half sympathetic:
“you’re in love with her.”
eddie’s face went white.
“no i’m not,” he said immediately.
dustin blinked. “eddie. i’m not blind.”
eddie cleared his throat, ripping his gaze away from where you stood laughing with nancy.
“she’s your sister, man,” he muttered. “just drop it.”
but dustin didn’t.
because he finally saw it.
every lingering glance.
every soft smile.
every skipped breath.
and for the first time, dustin didn’t tease him.
he just whispered:
“you're done for."
eddie closed his eyes.
“yeah,” he breathed, almost too softly to hear, “i know.”
he lay on his back in the dark of his room, staring at the ceiling, hands folded on his chest, christmas lights still faintly glowing through the trailer window. he tried closing his eyes. he tried breathing slow. he even tried counting goddamn sheep.
none of it worked.
his mind kept circling back to you.
to the way you looked under the christmas tree lights.
to the way you hugged him.
to the way your voice softened when you said his name.
to the cassette tape held tightly in your hand- a gift he’d been terrified to give.
to the guitar sitting in the corner, glowing even in the dark like some impossible dream.
he rolled onto his side, exhaling sharply.
he shouldn’t feel like this.
he had no right to.
you weren’t his.
you were never going to be his.
and still, you filled every corner of his mind.
eddie groaned and sat up, running a hand through his hair. sleep wasn’t coming. not tonight. not with the memory of your arms still lingering on his skin.
his eyes drifted toward the guitar case propped against his desk.
it felt like it was calling to him.
slowly, he climbed out of bed, crossed the room barefoot, and opened it. the acoustic guitar looked even more beautiful than it had at the wheelers’ house. warm wood, smooth neck, strings untouched.
you chose this for him.
you believed he’d make something with it.
that thought alone almost knocked him over.
eddie sat on the edge of his bed, pulled the guitar into his lap, and just held it for a moment. his fingers brushed the strings lightly, almost afraid to make sound.
then he reached for a pen and the battered pad of paper he kept under his bedside table.
he didn’t intend to write anything important.
he never did.
songs usually spilled out of him without warning, messy and frantic, fueled by adrenaline or rage or noise.
this one didn’t come like that.
this one came slow.
heavy.
honest.
eddie tapped the end of the pen against the page, staring down at the blank sheet, jaw tight.
he thought of you laughing from across the room.
he thought of you leaning into him without hesitation.
he thought of the way you looked at him like he wasn’t a disappointment or a freak or a cautionary tale.
his chest ached.
he wrote the first line before he could stop himself.
well, he’s a loose cannon…
eddie paused.
his throat felt thick.
he wasn’t writing a character.
he wasn’t writing a metaphor.
he was writing himself.
and once that truth settled, the rest came easier, like the pen moved on its own.
she’s a shoe-tied, blue sky, honeymoon vacation…
he scoffed softly, shaking his head, because of course that was you.
bright. effortless. put together.
everything he wasn’t and never could be.
he kept going.
he’s a fixer-upper…
she’s a friday night…
lyrics spilled out in uneven lines, scratched out and rewritten, smudged where his hand dragged across the page. he worked through the night, guitar resting against his knee, picking out quiet melodies under his breath.
every contrast he wrote was a truth he didn’t want to face.
you were warmth. he was cold.
you were gentle. he was rough around the edges.
you were hopeful. he was trying not to drown.
you were everything bright he never thought he’d get close to.
and he kept writing anyway.
hours passed like minutes.
the sky outside turned from black to deep blue.
eddie sat hunched over his notebook, hair falling around his face, eyes tired but burning.
each line hurt.
but each line was a truth he needed to face.
and somewhere between one lyric and the next, his hand stilled. he stared down at what he’d written, heart pounding hard enough to shake him.
because this wasn’t just a song.
this was him admitting something he didn’t want to admit.
this was him saying:
i love her.
i love her so much it terrifies me.
i love her, and she will never love me back.
but god, i love her anyway.
eddie closed the notebook carefully, almost reverently, as if shutting it might quiet the ache inside him.
it didn’t.
he set the guitar aside and lay back on the bed, staring at the dim blue light slipping through the curtains.
eddie went MIA for the next two days. no school, no dealing, no anything that involved leaving his trailer of solitude. he couldn't face you. not yet.
he tried distracting himself with television, with rolling a few dice, with reorganizing a stack of tapes on his desk. but every single thing he touched reminded him of you.
your smile.
your laugh.
your hug in front of the christmas tree.
your hands on the gift he’d made you.
the soft glow on your skin as you said merry christmas, eddie.
he had written until his hand cramped. he had played until his fingertips stung. he had replayed every moment of the past few weeks until his heart felt bruised.
and he still couldn’t breathe right.
so when someone knocked, sharp and sudden, he jolted like he’d been caught doing something forbidden.
he opened the door and there you were.
hood up. cheeks pink from the cold. worry written across your face.
“hey stranger,” you said lightly, even though your eyes searched his like you were looking for injuries.
eddie stepped aside. “yeah. hey. come in.”
you walked into the trailer, shedding your coat, glancing around the cluttered space with a softness that made eddie’s throat ache.
“you okay?” you asked.
eddie nodded. then shook his head. then nodded again.
“yeah, i’m just… tired.”
you gave him a look that said you didn’t buy that for a second, but you didn’t press. you just sat on his couch and patted the cushion beside you.
“come sit.”
he did, heart hammering way too hard for something so simple.
you talked for a while about nothing. dustin. school. the wheelers’ terrible eggnog. while you spoke, eddie kept glancing at the notebook on the floor: the one filled with lyrics he never meant for you to see.
which, of course, meant you noticed.
“what’s that?” you asked, leaning forward before he could stop you.
eddie scrambled, literal panic in his chest, and grabbed the notebook so fast it made you blink.
“okay,” you said slowly, smiling, “that was dramatic.”
eddie hugged the notebook to his chest. “it’s private.”
“so is everything you hide under laundry piles.”
he swallowed. “it’s… not ready.”
“is it a song?”
eddie stared at the floor. “yeah.”
you tilted your head, studying him. “will you play it for me?”
“no.”
“why not?”
“because.”
“eddie…”
he looked up (mistake) because your expression was soft and earnest and just a little pleading. he could never deny you anything. not even this. not even the truth disguised as a melody.
he sighed, defeated. “fine. but you have to sit still. no faces. no comments.”
“i would never,” you lied sweetly.
eddie grabbed the acoustic guitar— your guitar—and sat on the edge of the couch, hunched over it like he could hide behind the wood.
his hands shook as he positioned his fingers.
the notebook sat open beside him, pages full of the words he wished he’d never written.
he didn’t look at you.
he started to play.
softly at first, then with more confidence as the chords fell into place. his voice came next, low and careful, almost trembling.
and he sang the song you gave him the lyrics for, the one he’d poured his heart into without meaning to.
your heart began to pound as the words washed over you:
“well, he's a loose cannon, foolish man who needs some medication
she's a shoe-tied, blue sky, honeymoon vacation
he's a fixer-upper, skipping supper, hates an obligation
she's a friday night
he's a bad dream, nicotine, druggie complication
she's a peace sign, tea time, drinker on occasion
he's an east coast, jeans rolled, no communication
she's a welcome sign…”
you froze.
every line was him.
every line was you.
every contrast was painfully, beautifully obvious.
eddie kept going, voice wavering at the edges:
“but i believe they're meant to be
something, somehow, someday…”
your breath caught. the realization hit you.
he wasn’t just singing a song.
he was telling you a secret.
the secret.
the one he’d been burying under jokes and distance.
your eyes lifted to him.
eddie was staring at the notebook, refusing to meet your gaze, jaw clenched so tight it shook. his fingers trembled on the guitar strings. his breathing faltered only once, when your knee brushed his.
but he kept playing.
“he’s a ford truck, door shut, runs from conversation
she’s an open ear, souvenir, reads the situation…”
you knew.
you knew.
his posture.
his shaking hands.
the way his voice cracked right before the next line.
the way he refused to look at you even once.
this wasn’t a song about two fictional opposites.
this was about you.
and him.
and everything between you he had never said.
tears stung your eyes without warning.
eddie reached the end, voice barely above a whisper:
“…something, somehow, someday.”
the last chord rang through the trailer, vibrating through the air until it faded into silence.
eddie lowered the guitar immediately, setting it aside like it burned him. he still didn’t look up. his curls fell forward, hiding half his face, but you could see the tension in every muscle.
his hands twisted together.
his knee bounced.
his breathing was uneven.
your voice came out small but certain.
“eddie… it’s about me.”
his head snapped up, eyes wide with something between panic and heartbreak.
“no,” he said too fast. “no, it’s… it’s just a song. i just wrote it when I was.. drunk, and high. it’s nothing. you’re reading into it.”
“eddie,” you repeated softly, “it’s about me.”
he froze.
the truth hung between you, electric and fragile.
you waited.
eddie swallowed hard, eyes flicking to every corner of the room except your face. “i shouldn’t have played it for you.”
“why not?”
“because,” he whispered, “you weren’t supposed to know.”
“know what?”
he pressed his lips together, chest rising and falling too quickly.
“that i… that i care about you more than i should,” he said, voice shaking. “that you’re the only thing i can think about. that i wake up and your face is already in my head. that when you hugged me at the party i felt like i was dying. that i… god, i’m so in love with you it makes me feel sick.”
the words tumbled out of him before he could stop them.
silence.
your breath caught.
eddie looked like he’d just handed you the knife to kill him with. he gave you no time to finish him off.
“i know you don’t feel that way,” he said, voice breaking. “i know i’m not… i’m not the kind of guy you want. i know i’m nothing compared to the people in your world. but i had to get it out somehow. and the song was the only way.”
you stared at him, stunned.
eddie exhaled, shaking.
“so, yeah,” he whispered. “it’s about you.”
the room was warm.
the air was still.
and your heart had never beaten harder.
silence filled the trailer. warm, heavy, almost buzzing.
you replayed everything in your mind. every moment with him. every laugh. every touch. every look. every quiet shift that now made perfect sense.
eddie watched the silence stretch and misunderstood every second of it.
your shock.
your breathlessness.
your searching eyes.
he thought it was rejection.
he stood up quickly, pain slicing through his expression even though he tried to hide it. he nodded once, already backing away.
“it's okay,” he said, voice thin and breaking. “you can go. really. i should not have said any of that.”
you looked up, startled, and grabbed his wrist before he could take another step.
“eddie.”
he froze like you had pinned him to the floor with a spell.
you tugged gently, guiding him back down. he resisted for half a heartbeat before sitting beside you again, muscles locked tight, shoulders curled inward like he was waiting for the final blow.
your hand stayed on his wrist. warm. steady. not letting him pull away.
silence returned, but now it felt different. thicker. charged. full of something unspoken that neither of you knew how to hold.
eddie stared at the floor. “please do not look at me like that. like you feel bad for me. i cannot take that.”
you didn't answer.
instead, you moved.
you shifted closer, one slow inch at a time. then your knee touched his thigh. then your abdomen brushed his forearm. then you swung one leg over his lap and settled there lightly.
eddie went perfectly still.
your hands rested on his shoulders. his breath caught somewhere high in his chest and stayed there.
he whispered, barely audible, “you do not have to do this.”
you leaned in until your forehead nearly touched his. “i know.”
your fingers traced the curve of his jaw. he flinched at the intimacy, not out of fear but disbelief. no one had ever touched him like this. like he was wanted.
you looked at him for a long moment, scanning his face as if you were memorizing it. every freckle. every scar. every piece of him he wished he could hide.
you lifted his chin gently. “eddie,” you said, voice soft but certain. “look at me.”
his eyes met yours, scared and hopeful all at once.
you held his face in both hands. “i wish you had told me sooner. i care about you so much. more than you think.”
eddie blinked, stunned. “you… do?”
“yes.” your forehead brushed his, warm and grounding. “you're so good for me. you always have been. you're kind and steady and honest. you make me feel safe. you make me laugh. you are exactly the person i want to spend time with.”
his breath shuddered, disbelief flickering across his features. “i didn't think i could be that for you.”
“you are,” you whispered. “you have been from the beginning.”
his hands rose again, hesitant but drawn to you, resting at your waist like he was afraid you might fade if he held you too tightly.
you leaned closer, your nose grazing his. “you're perfect for me, eddie. you should know that.”
his eyes softened in a way you had never seen before, like something inside him finally settled.
you felt his heartbeat under your palms.
then, quietly, almost like he was afraid to break the moment, he said, “can i ask you something.”
you nodded, your thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “anything.”
he swallowed, voice trembling but clear. “can i kiss you?”
you smiled, slow and sure, your lips inches from his.
“i was hoping you would.”
eddie kissed you like he had been waiting his entire life for permission.
slow at first. careful. reverent. his lips moved against yours with aching gentleness, as if the world might collapse if he pushed too hard. his hands tightened on your waist, not to pull you in, but to anchor himself to the moment.
you kissed him back. fully. warmly. without hesitation.
eddie made a soft sound in the back of his throat, something broken and relieved and unbelievably tender, and the kiss deepened naturally. not rushed. not frantic. just two people finding each other in the quiet.
it was everything he had imagined and nothing like it at all.
it was better.
when you finally pulled back, breaths mixing in the small space between you, eddie opened his eyes slowly, like he was afraid this was a dream he might break by moving too fast.
your hands cupped his cheeks. his curls framed your fingers. his lips were slightly pink from kissing you and he looked at you like you had rewritten his entire world.
Nam-gyu x TattooArtist!Pierced!Fem! Reader Smut Fic
Summary: when Nam-gyu decides it’s time for a tattoo, he asks his best friend, Thanos, where he goes. Thanos raves about his tattoo artist and urges Nam-gyu to schedule an appointment with you. Nam-gyu could not prepare himself for the fact this highly praised tattoo artist is so fucking hot.
Warnings: smut (18+) , reader is described as being tattooed , reader has piercings (tongue, nipple, clit) , oral (f receiving) , p in v sex , creampie , name calling (i think whore like once) , dirty talk , read at your own risk
When Thanos told him that he knows a “fucking crazy good” tattoo artist, he was intrigued.
Nam-gyu had his fair share of ink, multiple pieces littering his skin in intricate vibrant lines. But, he got all the ones he had from some shady underground parlor or even someone’s basement. With the new desire to have the tattoo needle against his skin again, this time with an idea for something much larger than what he gotten before- he decided it was time to find someone a bit more reputable.
So he asked Thanos- the purple hair rapper having a large tattoo of his name down his back, the lines are crisp, the black ink rich and even- simple as the design was, Nam-gyu couldn’t lie, the attention to detail and the skill of the artist was apparent.
Thanos was quick to boast about his tattoo and the artist he got it from, telling Nam-gyu he just had to take him to the place he goes to, to see the specific artist he went to. And hell, with how serious Thanos seemed about his holy grail of a tattoo artist- he agreed.
So he made an appointment on your website. It was easy enough, you had quick availability. So he set a date, paid the deposit and waited (not so) patiently for the tattoo day to arrive. It was late appointment, 8pm. Which was something Nam-gyu appreciated, as an insomniac he preferred to do stuff during the night- and a late night tattoo session sounded like just what he needed.
Thanos had brought him, claiming he just wanted to see you anyway, despite not getting a tattoo himself. Sure, Nam-gyu thought that was odd, he didn’t see why Thanos would want to go out of his way to see a tattoo artist for no reason, but he thought it had to be you were just a chill dude.
But when he walked into the shop with Thanos, and you came up to greet them. He was floored.
You were obviously a female…very obviously. You wore a black tank top, hemmed with lace. It’s tight fitting and low cut, he can’t help but stare at your cleavage and the chest tattoos that litter your skin. He thinks they accentuate one another in the most perfect way.
Your hair was pulled back and you were drying off your hands. He could see tattoos along your arms and hands, spaced out and each eye catching in their own right. He assumed your legs must be the same even though he couldn’t see them due to your pants.
“Hey! You must be Nam-gyu.” You say with a smile. Thanos looks over to Nam-gyu, eyes saying everything. ‘See this is what I was talking about’
Not only were you a good tattoo artist, you were so fucking hot. Nam-gyu gathers himself, nodding his head slowly, “Y-yeah.” He says clearing his throat, a pathetic attempt to hide his surprise and dry mouth.
“Perfect! I’m actually so excited, I really like the ideas you sent me.” You say waving the both of them over to your station. He finds it endearing the way you talk so excitedly about his tattoo. He sent you various pictures of what he wanted, a sharp, detailed, abstract line style tattoo that was planned to start on his arm, go up his shoulder and to his chest.
Your voice and kind tone is such a drastic contrast from your physical appearance- a vixen. You were dangerous. Such a kind sweet face and voice with a body that was straight sin.
He starts to think that Thanos set him up. He knew you were this hot, and knew Nam-gyu wanted a chest piece, now he has to deal with you touching on his chest. Fucking great. He’s bringing his hand up to his mouth, silently laughing in a sardonic manner to himself. He was so fucked.
You’re so short compared to him, looking up at him as you talk, gesturing to the tattoo chair for him to sit down. He follows your orders. You sit down across from him on a circular stool, grabbing your iPad to show him the design you came up with.
“You need me to get you a seat, Thanos?” You call over your shoulder, not even looking up from your tablet. Nam-gyu looks over to Thanos who is not so subtly checking you out. It was like Thanos was undressing you with his eyes. Nam-gyu couldn’t blame him.
“Nah I’m good cutie, just came to drop him off.” Thanos says, you laugh and stick your tongue out playfully. Nam-gyu thinks all the blood he was fighting not to rush to his cock was a fight he was not going to win. On your pink tongue was a silver ball- you had a tongue ring. Jesus Christ, you were going to kill him before you even got the stencil on.
“Alright then get going, don’t need you just standing there. He’s a big boy, got some tattoos before. He’ll be fine. I’m not gonna bite.” You say turning back to Nam-gyu and winking. He sucks in a deep breath and nervously chuckles, shifting in the seat to hopefully conceal the growing erection in his pants.
“Mhm…” Thanos says, finally pulling his eyes away from the view of your back and the red lace thing that was peeking out from your jeans. “Don’t fuck him up too bad, he’s still gotta pay his rent tomorrow.” Thanos says with a teasing grin, looking to Nam-Gyu with a devious grin. He definitely knew what he was doing bringing Nam-Gyu here.
“I won’t mess him up…too bad…” You tease as you begin to put on your gloves. Nam-gyu inwardly groans, even your gloves are pink. You’re like a cute princess in the body of a succubus…he was not going to make it through this session. He’s looking up to the ceiling, saying a silent prayer to himself to try and calm down the erection that’s threatening to become obvious. “I’ll take real good care of him.”
Nam-gyu kisses his teeth, sucking in a shuddering breath he’s thankful you don’t hear. His mind is spinning, he swears he heard a purr in your words, like you’re insinuating the same idea that he’s trying to wipe from his mind. He can stop thinking about how you’d look with his cock shoved in your mouth or how you’d look as he fills you to the brim- sinking his cock deep into your pussy. He bets you have the prettiest moans.
He hates his mind- he really does. He never claimed to be a good person but he normally wasn’t this debauched. You’re just a tattoo artist trying to make a living, having friendly banter with clients and here he was thinking about fucking you stupid….yeah great person he was. He thinks that he completely imagined the purr in your voice, he’s just too horny and imagined it.
But when he looks back to Thanos, and sees his expression. Nam-Gyu realizes he didn’t make it up. You did have a distinct tone to your words that even Thanos caught on to. Thanos has an eyebrow raised, like he’s picked up on your words insinuation. His grin widens and he’s winking at Nam-Gyu. “Well then, I’ll take your word for it..” Thanos says in a teasing sing-song voice as he’s crossing the floor and leaving the tattoo shop. “Have fun you two!” The purple haired rapper calls out, like a father seeing off his son and date to prom.
Nam-gyu hears the bell on the shop door ring as it’s opened and closed. Now you two are truly alone. His body feels oh so hot, his pants are uncomfortable and his eyes have not left the ceiling since Thanos walked out. He fears that if he looks at you he might just cum in his pants. He is praising and cursing Thanos simultaneously. Why did Thanos wait so long to show him the work of art personified that was you?! Why did Thanos set him up deliberately?! He couldn’t decide which pissed him off more, the fact Thanos was harboring you like a secret for years or the fact that Thanos deliberately kept you a secret to get Nam-Gyu flustered when all he wanted was a tattoo.
“You want this on your chest and upper arm right?” You say, it brings him out of his trance but he doesn’t look at you. “Mhm.” He says simply, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. His eyes nearly roll back into his skull when you giggle and scoot your chair closer to the seat he was laid back on. “You’re gonna need to take this off.” Your fingers pinch his shirt and pull it up teasingly.
Nam-gyu thinks he’s being tested. All the shitty things he’s done in life have led up to this and now he’s put on trial. Forced to act normal when he can’t get over how incredibly sexy you were. It was a real tragedy. He sits up at bit, pulling his shit over his head and balling it up in his lap.
You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes wander over his bare torso. He was fit, not too muscular, not too thin. He was sculpted like some Greek god. You swallow thickly, trying to remain professional as you grab the tattoo stencil.
You scoot your chair close to the bench he’s laid back on. “Just gotta prep the area.” You smile sweetly, leaning over him. He nods, not able to form words as your gloved hands touch his bare chest. You do the prep work, shaving the area and wiping it down. You don’t miss the way his chest shutters with each breath he takes. Anytime your hands come into contact with his chest you can feel how his heartbeat is practically jumping out of his chest.
When you put the stencil down and run your hand along the expanse of his shoulder and chest he is praying you didn’t realize how his eyes rolled into the back of his head. You definitely did, but you didn’t say anything about it.
“Let me know how that looks.” You chirp, bringing him out of the trance you had put him in. He clears his throat and nods, sitting up and hopping off the bench to the walk over to the mirror in your studio. He admires the stencil, it’s an intricate abstract design that spans across his shoulder to his chest. It’s kickass, not only were you built like straight sin, you were a great artist. He sent you many images for inspiration but somehow the design you came up with is even better than any image online he could find.
“Looks good.” He manages to get out, catching your eyes in the mirror. You roll your eyes and raise an eyebrow playfully. “C’mon if there’s anything you wanna change I can fix it. Is the design what you wanted? The placement alright?” You say, he thinks it’s cute how serious you get about your work- wanting to make sure he really likes the ink you’re about to place into his skin. He laughs, as hard and as flustered as you make him; you were so easy to talk to. You had an air of confidence around you that just drew him to you. You were funny, your voice was so sweet, and you were dedicated as a tattooer. Would it be too forward to say fuck the tattoo and just take you on a date now??
He looks at the tattoo again, really looks at it, and he still doesn’t see anything that needs to be changed. “It looks so fucking good. You really did great with the design.” He says genuinely, admiring the blue ink of the stencil that litters his chest. His eyes look back to catch your face in the mirror again, your smile is wide, proud and you’re dancing excitedly in your chair. “Perfect! Sit back down n’ we can get started!” You say oh so happily, it’s such an endearing tone Nam-Gyu thinks he’s going insane. He’s never wanted someone as much as he wanted you.
He follows your orders and settles back down into the seat, it’s slightly leaned back allowing him to sit comfortably and you to have all the room you need to tattoo. He can’t help but to stare shamelessly as you work with the materials in your small corner of the studio, grabbing the ink and needles. You work so effortlessly, he knows you’ve probably done this hundreds of times but you’re so in the zone he feels like he’s watching a movie about a hot tattoo artist. And it’s all a private viewing just for him to see.
You scoot the chair back up next to where he’s sat, tattoo gun in your hand. “Ready?” You ask and he nods, “mhm.” He can’t bring himself to say much else, he’s trying to think about how he’s going to make it through the next couple hours as you’re oh so close to him and touching on his chest. “Yay! Let me know if you need a break or anything.” You say excitedly, he can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face at your cute display of excitement.
When he feels the first sing of the needle in his skin he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It’s a pain that he’s come to love, a way of feeling something when he’s not on drugs. The drawn out bite of the needle for hours on end almost lulls him to sleep most the times he’s gotten tattooed. Each tattoo he gets he thinks adds something to him that he can’t quite place. He would love nothing more than to be sung to sleep by the hum of the tattoo gun and the sting of the needle, but he can’t even focus on that when he feels your hands gliding across his skin so slowly and meticulously.
He adjusts his arms slightly, letting his palms fall into his lap and cup over the bulge that he knows is beginning to form in his pants. Part of him feels guilty, you’re just trying to do your job and here he is acting like a dog in heat. He can’t help it, you are so fucking sexy. It’s not even the ‘sexy’ that he would attribute to pornstars, no not at all. You’re a salacious deity, effortlessly attractive in every minuscule thing you do, a lustrous vixen that’s built out of straight sin. To top it all off, he thinks you don’t even realize it. You exude an innocence that contradicts your seductive appearance. Fuck, you were perfect.
Throughout the tattoo Nam-Gyu thinks he falls harder. You ask him about himself, maybe you were just being cordial and trying to pass the time but with each answer he gives you follow it up with an happy answer and a follow up question. You inquire about his job and when you find out he’s a club promoter you ask where. When you find out he works at Club Pentagon you gasp, “No way! That’s dope as hell! Thanos actually was telling me all about that club, raving about it. So me and my friends went the other week.” You stop tattooing a second to turn back to the tray you had and pick up more ink, “I can’t believe I didn’t see you!” You finish, turning back to him with the cutest pout he’s ever seen.
“When did you go?” He inquires, a smile on his face as he sees your pout turn into a grin. “It was a Thursday, I know, not the best day to go to the club.” You say, already defending yourself playfully. “Well ya’ gotta come on the weekends, hell even Monday’s. ‘S when I work.” Nam-gyu says, it takes so much to work himself up to say it- would it be too forward? Would you think he was weird?
“Well now I’ll only ever go on weekends and Mondays if it means I get to see you.” You muse, immediately going back to tattooing, he can hardly register your words. You were flirting, right?? “Yeah? I can put you on the list, get you VIP.” He hums, eyes trained in the ceiling, trying to slow his heartbeat down because he knows you can feel it. “Oh really?? Would it get us a private room, too?”
You were definitely flirting.
He draws in a sharp breath, one of many since he’s met you, hoping it comes off as just him breathing through a tough spot in the tattoo. “Y-yeah I can arrange that.” He looks down for once, looking at you as you tattoo. You were so focused, your nose scrunching every so often, your tongue poking out in concentration giving him a nice view of the silver tongue ring you had on your pretty pink tongue. God, his cock was so hard.
He tries to think of anything else to get his mind off the lewd things he was thinking. He wasn’t a saint by any means, he would even call himself sleazy. But you weren’t like the other women he’s gotten with, you are so professional and dedicated to your work- probably just flirting to get an extra tip, being friendly- and here he was thinking about bending you over and fucking you dumb.
He has no idea you’re thinking the same thoughts. How could you not?! He was oh so attractive and your hands are moving along his toned pecks. You can see the other tattoos that stain his skin, only adding to his appeal. You also weren’t oblivious- you could see the way his hands are clasped over his crotch, trying to hide the erection that’s definitely in his pants.
As you work you’re squeezing your thighs together, trying to get all the sinful images you have playing in your mind to stop so you can do what you need to- tattoo him. But there’s something about the way that, now, your art is on him. The design that you made is permanently etched into his skin like a brand. The thought makes you dizzy.
It’s a large tattoo, so it takes a long while, the whole time the tension keeps thickening between you two. The more you work, the further into his chest it is, the further you have to lean over him. You’re practically on top of him, thumb damn near brushing over his nipple as you work on a particular line. He can feel your breath fanning his skin as you lean even closer to make sure your work is perfect. He can smell your perfume and shampoo, every sense he has is overwhelmed by you.
The hours pass and you two talk and talk, learning little things about each other, laughing at jokes that fly between sentences. It’s like you have known each other forever. He learns that you’ve been tattooing for years, starting in the underground tattooing world- even apprenticing under one of the guys who did his old tattoos. Small world!
Finally, he hears your voice chirp excitedly, “And you’re all done!” You’re pulling away and setting your tattoo gun down. You come back with a cool wet paper towel, wiping the excess ink off his chest. He doesn’t miss the way your hand moves extra slow, like it’s lingering against him. “Stand up n check it out!” You say, he is obsessed with the way your hands nearly shake with how ecstatic you seem to be, wanting him to see the work you did. “Alright, alright!” He chuckles, slowly sitting up, “Gotta give me a second, I’ve been sitting in the same position for hours.” He says, getting up and making a show of groaning as he gets up.
“Awh! So now you’re complainin’?” You tease, “you sat so well the whole time, were being sooo good f’me and now you’re complaining.”
He doesn’t miss the way you have a slight purr to your voice or the way your eyes linger on his bare back from the mirror. Did you just want him to bend you over and fuck you stupid in the studio?! (The answer was absolutely).
He laughs off the way that simple sentence makes him flustered and he shakes his head, “Not complain’, sweetheart. Just being honest.” He says, throwing his own little bit of flirting in the ring. The pet name makes your throat go dry, it rolls off his tongue so smoothly that it seems like he thinks nothing of it. You wave him off and turn around to take your gloves off, hiding your bashful expression. When you gather yourself you stand up and meet him at the mirror.
“Sooo what do ya think?!” You say in a sing song voice as you rock on your heels. He admires your work in the mirror- your work was fucking incredible. The lines were crisp, the black was opaque, and the subtle shading you added around the expanse of the tattoo made it so much better. “Holy fuck this is so awesome…” he laughs out in disbelief, all attempt at sounding suave and flirty out the window as he sees it finished for the first time. He’s eve leaning closer to the mirror to look at it in awe.
Your smile widens exponentially when you see how happy he was with your work, you’re even clapping softly. “Yay! I’m so glad you like it, it was genuinely so fun to do.” You say, catching his eyes in the mirror from where you stand behind him. “It looks really good with your other tattoos too!” You point out. He nods in agreement and turns back to you. “I guess I gotta just keep coming here…I don’t think anyone could compare to your work.”
You can’t help the blush that rises to your face, the praise from him boosting your confidence. You make a show of doing courtesy, giggling as you do it. “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.”
He laughs turning back around to face you fully, you’re a couple feet apart. He’s so much taller than you, you nearly have to crane your neck upwards to look at him. You two stand there with goofy smiles on your faces, each standing idle in the thick cloud of sexual tension that hangs around the two of you.
“Do you want to go on a date?”
“Can I have your number?”
You both speak at the same time, words fumbling from lips in a hasty nervous attempt at trying to meet up again- to do anything to ease the ache that is in both of your lower stomachs. Your laughter echos Nam-gyu’s as the overlapping sentences break the silence. You’re both nodding in response to the others question.
“Yeah, we can go on a date.” He says as he smiles down at you, your eyes cant stop drifting down to stare at his bare chest. “Then…yes you can have my number.” You answer, still giggling. You catch his eyes falling to your chest, eyes tracing over your tattoos and then settling on your cleavage.
You take a slow step towards him, he follows, his hand reaching out to hook a finger around one loops of your jeans and pulls you all the way into him. Your hands find purchase on his chest, careful not to touch the raw skin where you just tattooed. With how he pulled you into him, you can feel his erection press into your lower stomach. “You were hard the entire tattoo, huh?” You ask bluntly, smirking up at him.
Nam-gyu falters a bit, covering it up with a laugh, “A pretty girl like you touching on my chest for hours…c-can’t really help it.” He says a bit bashfully. You bite your lip, finger tracing shapes on his stomach, watching as he tenses up under your touch. “We could do something to help that…” you mutter, your voice low as you bat your eyelashes up at him.
He can’t take it anymore, he brings his hands up to hold either side of your neck and jaw, leaning down to connect his lips with yours. It’s raw and primal. Hours of built up sexual tension pouring out as your lips move together. You giggle a bit when you hear him let out a soft whine into the kiss when he feels your pierced tongue run along his bottom lip. He regains his composure and greedily sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s hypnotizing truly, your kind going blank as your mouth is filled with the taste of him.
Nam-gyu pulls away, connected to you my a string of spit. You’re panting, trying to catch your breath. It’s not easy when he’s tilting your head up and running his nose down your neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume that has been overwhelming him this whole time. Your hands reach to his hair, pulling the long black locks as you sigh out blissfully. He leaves open mouthed kisses along your skin, teeth biting into your skin every so often. “Had me so fucking hard the entire time…” he mumbles against your skin, pulling back to lock eyes with you once more.
You bite your lip, fingers tightening their grip in his hair and tugging. A low rumble, resembling a growl escapes his lips as he grinds his painfully hard cock against your lower stomach, like he’s trying to further prove his words. “Bet you were thinkin’ of all the dirty things you wanted to do to me, huh?” You tease, tilting your head mockingly. He huffs, obviously not too enthralled by your mocking, he can’t deny the way it makes his dick jump in his boxers, though.
He pulls you back into him, lips crashing on yours. This time it’s much more frantic, it’s fast paced and full of spit and teeth. It’s messy, filthy even. As his lips wor against yours, his hands are dripping from your jaw to your hips. He’s wasting no time, his hands moving to hastily unbutton your jeans and pull down the zipper. You’re helplessly whining into his mouth, greedily sucking his tongue into your mouth as he’s guiding you backwards.
Your back hits the leather fabric of the seat you were just tattooing him in. His fingers grip at the loops of your pants pulling them down your thighs. He’s groaning into your mouth when he feels his fingers brush against the soft expanse of your thighs. He has to be dreaming.
His large hands work your jeans down to your knees. He’s pulling back from the kiss, spit still connecting your lips together. He grabs at your hips, mumbling a breathless “jump” before he’s helping you up to sit on the chair.
When you’re sat all pretty up on your bench he’s slotting himself between your legs and reconnecting his lips with yours with a desperation that makes your mind spin. He kisses you like you’re a hit of the strongest, rarest drug he’s tried. One taste and he’s addicted to you.
He clumsily pulls your jeans off your legs entirely. Fumbling even more to pull them over your shoes. You’re giggling into the kiss at his eagerness, his hands throwing your jeans to the floor of the studio and reattaching themselves to your bare thighs, grasping at the doughy flesh and moaning into your mouth as he does.
“G-god fuck-“ Nam-Gyu begins to mumble against your lips, “so. Fuckin’. pretty.” He hisses out between kisses. He thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world, there’s no fucking way he’s got you writhing against him, biting on his lips like some fucking she-devil. Your hips roll against his torso, ass grinding against the leather seat under you.
In a breathless motion, he’s pulling away and dipping his head to your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along your pulse point. There’s no true technique to it, it’s like he’s trying to just taste you. And he is. Maybe you’re wearing some pheromone perfume or something, he doesn’t know, but every time he runs his tongue along your skin, your taste flooding his taste buds, his cock is twitching in his pants- wet spot most certainly forming in his underwear.
He pulls away for a moment to simply admire you, trying to imprint the image of you into his mind just in case this is the only time he gets a chance like this. Your thighs are splayed out so nicely, the plush skin widening with how you’re sat. The slit of your sweet cunt practically hidden by your thighs, giving him the most delicious preview of what’s to come. And what is that…no fucking way….oh he’s already planning his next tattoo appointment just to make sure he sees you.
Nipple rings.
He could see the hardened outline of your nipples and the bars that went through them. Jesus Christ, you were going to actually send him to an early grave. He’s back on you, mouth back on your neck and hands coming to cup your tits over your shirt, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your shirt, massaging your nipples with feather light touches that have you jumping in his hold. Your arms find purchase on his shoulders, wrapping around his neck and gripping at the hair at the back of his neck, pulling his head further into you.
“N-nam-gyu…” his name falls from your lips in a nearly silent whine when his teeth dig a little too hard into your skin, the sharp bite of his teeth sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. He pulls away from your neck, trailing his tongue down to the sweep of your breasts, “say it again.” He mumbles tersely against your skin, lips tickling you. “Say my name like that again.” His thumb and pointer finger pinching the hard peaks and pulling the slightest bit, the black fabric of your tank top stretching with the pull.
“F-fuck! Nam-gyu, p-please.” You’re ashamed you’re already pleading with him, but the throbbing in your cunt has become almost unbearable at this point. You can feel the grin that twists against his lips as he releases your skin from his mouth. He pulls back to admire his work, his thumb moving up from your nipple to brush over the red and purple marks that begin to blossom across the top of your breasts.
“Mhm…that’s it…” he hums, nodding his head slowly, his eyes never leaving your chest, the image of your skin littered with marks made by him had his cock throbbing. So fucking pretty, he thinks. His eyes flicker up to your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your kiss swollen lips, the way your skin is stained with the imprints of his teeth and red splotches that span over the tattoos that are inked into your flesh. It’s like some macabre renaissance painting.
He can’t wait any longer. He’s dropping to his knees and pulling you by the hips towards the edge of the chair. Your skin squeaks against the leather and you squeak out, almost afraid you’ll fall. Your hands grip the edge of the seat, your eyes are wide as you look down at him. “‘M not gonna let you fall, I got’cha princess.” He breathes out as he throws your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open finally.
You watch as he stares at your cunt, his pupils as big as saucers as he takes in your pussy. “O-oh my fucking god…” he laughs out in disbelief, not only do you have the prettiest cunt he thinks he’s ever seen, the hood of your clit is pierced. He’s spreading your lips apart to get a better look, thumbs massaging the sides of your pussy as he takes in the perfect sight before him. He looks back up to you, his face nearly as red as yours, “where the fuck have you been all this time.” He’s chuckling and looking back down to your dripping pussy.
He rests his head on your thigh, his thumb starting to trace feather light circles on your clit, thumb running over the little piercing. You jump into his touch, breath catching in your throat. “B-been here the whole time..” you whine out, hips trying to shift to meet his mouth but he’s too far away, “…t-tattooing T-thanos- ahh!” Your words are abruptly cut off by Nam-gyu delving into your pussy.
He doesn’t start slow or work you up, no, he did it to shut you up. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks, hard, tongue rolling over your throbbing clit in figure eights. You cry out, hand flying to his hair and fisting it into your hands. It’s so much at once, but it’s so good.
“Don’t fuckin’ say his name when I got my face near your cunt..” he growls, lips dancing along your puffy folds as he speaks. He licks a flat stripe up the entirety of your pussy, drenching his tastebuds in your saccharine taste. “Only wanna hear my name.” His words are once again punctuated by his tongue flicking deviously against the silver jewelry adorning your clit. Your hips are pathetically rutting down onto his mouth, urging him to give you more.
But he’s fired up now. Years of being Thanos’ shadow, having to watch as the purple haired rapper got all the girls and left him for nothing. This was his time. His chance. He was the one getting to fuck you, not Thanos. “I’m the one who got you spread out like a whore in your lil’ tattoo studio, right?” Nam-Gyu hisses out, eyes catching yours as he waits for you to answer. You’re sucking in a shaky breath, hand tightening its grip in his hair, nodding.
His change in tone makes your cunt flutter around nothing. “Mhm…y-yeah, jus’ you.” You slur out, hips rolling to try and meet his mouth, every time he backs away so he’d be just out of reach. The corners of his lips curl up when he hears how your voice is higher, words wavering and breath heaving. He’s the one doing this to you. It feels surreal to him. He accepts your answer it seems because he’s diving back in.
His tongue is working messily along your folds. Mapping out every crevice and corner, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Nam-Gyu is watching intently, taking in every reaction you give him. Every twitch of your brow, every time you bite your lip, the way your chest heaves and stomach clenches, he’s spinning. He’s on his knees devouring your cunt, worshipping you like a goddess. He’s not shy about his noises, he’s slurping and lapping up every drop of arousal that pours out your clenching pussy.
“Taste shoo fuckin’ good.” Nam-gyu’s words are slurred by your puffy folds, tongue mapping out every inch of your throbbing pussy. He makes a whole show of dropping his jaw wide open so you can see the slick that drops down his pink tongue and coats his face. He’s so messy, paying no mind to how wet his face has become, how your thighs are painted in your own arousal. Your chest is heaving, your nails are hitting into the leather on the edge of the tattoo seat.
“So fuckin’ pretty too, y’know that?” He hums, his dark eyes trained on your cunt as he pulls back just slightly to take in the beautiful sight before him, “such a pretty fuckin’ cunt.” When he finishes his sentence you have no time to utter a response because he’s diving nose deep into your cunt, tongue circling your sopping entrance as the bridge of his nose rubs so deliciously against your clit.
“N-nam-gyu!” His name falling from your lips is a sound that makes his ears ring and his head fill with static. It’s such a high pitched creaky, pleading whine that’s so different from your voice it shocks him in the best way. One of his hands removes itself from your hip to fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans. His cock is so painfully hard he had to free it from his boxers. When his hefty cock springs free as he pulls his jeans and underwear down just enough, he’s growling into your pussy.
His tongue flattens and he licks a fat drag up the entirety of your cunt, slurping down your thick arousal greedily. “‘M I making you feel good?” He murmurs, eyes watching your every reaction even though your head is tipped back in ecstasy. You nod frantically, eyes screwed shut as he licks up and down, up and down in slow, deliberate drags. “Tell me. Wanna hear it.”
When you open your mouth to speak moans cascade from your lips, it takes a moment for you to even think straight enough to form a coherent thought. One of your hands flies to his hair, pulling the strands back out of his face and fisting the soft strands into your fists. Your head falls back forward, a weak gasp catching in your throat when you immediately catch his eyes, “Mhm, s-so fucking g-good. T-tongue feels so good!”
You can feel the way his lips widen into a smile, satisfied with your words. He nods a bit, his head shaking in your pussy, he’s practically glued. The taste of your cunt is something that not even the best high could compare to. His hands run up your hips and torso, grabbing at the top of your tank top and pulling it down. Your breasts spill out of the fabric giving him the angelic view of your bare tits. Tattoos line your chest, almost like arrows that guide his eyes directly to your pert nipples accessorized so prettily with barbells that have little hearts on either side- framing your nipples so perfectly.
His eyes are fluttering and rolling back at the sight, moaning into the depths of your cunt as he slurps up every possible ounce of your arousal. He can’t help it, he has to remove one of his hands off of your body to reach down to jerk his cock. You writhe and choke out a moan at the sight, his wrist twists around his thick length, smearing the pre-cum that bubbles out of his red tip, smearing it along his throbbing cock. Your hips grind down even harder into his face, his nose grinding so perfectly against your clit as his tongue licks greedily at your insides.
Babbles of his name are lost between wanton moans and pleas for him to continue. Every time he pulls his mouth back the slightest bit you get the most perfect view of his face, absolutely drenched in a milky-white sheen of you. It drips down his adam’s apple tantalizingly, wetting his neck- and he doesn’t care, if he does it only makes him more excited because he’s diving right back in, nose deep to fuck his tongue back into your twitching cunt.
“Ohmygod!” The babbled cry is ripped from your lungs, your hand gripping at his hair harder- nails biting into his scalp. His tongue pulls out of your entrance to lick a fat stripe back up to the hood of your clit, dancing around that pretty little piercing you have, “I’m- fuck! ‘M gonna cum!” You sob out, eyebrows upturning.
As much as Nam-Gyu wants to taste your cum pour down his throat- that would have to wait. He’s so painfully hard, he wants, no, needs to feel you cum on his cock. He’s pulling away, nearly cumming when he hears your whine, so desperate and needy, begging to cum. He stands back up, leaning forward and gripping your face, capturing you in a kiss.
It’s so messy. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. The wetness that was left along his face is smeared across your skin. You’re moaning into his mouth at your own taste, your hands reaching to wrap around each of his wrists as you lean further into him. His taste, although mixed with yours, was something you know you’d forever be addicted to now.
Nam-gyu pulls away breathless, “‘m sorry pretty, I really need to feel you cum on my cock.” He apologizes against your lips, “I’ll make you cum, I promise…” as he speaks, one of his hands snakes down to tap at your clit. He laughs against your pillowy lips when your whole body jolts with each wet tap of his finger pad against your clit.
You nod, hips rolling against his hand, “P-please… Nam-Gyu I-I need to cum. ” You pant out. And how could Nam-Gyu say no to you. He grabs at your hips and pulls you off the bench. Your knees are weak nearly giving out but his grip on you keeps you up right. He’s spinning you around and pushing at your lower back- bending you over the tattoo bench you were just sat on. You whine when you feel your own wetness as you’re laid over the leather, now dirtying your stomach.
Nam-gyu’s hands run up and down your back, pushing up your tank top so he can see the tattoos that are inked on your back. His thick cock is slotted between the valley of your ass, rocking back and forth. You’re shivering, hips shaking left and right to try and urge him to put it in. “Be patient…” he hums, “lemme admire you.”
His hands dance along your skin, taking in all of you, feeling you under his palms. When his hands land on your waist he lets out a low growl. His hands are so large, engulfing your waist. It’s such a sinful sight, if he had an image of it he’d put it as the lockscreen of his phone. He wants to tease you more, draw this out longer, but the throbbing in his cock is painful at this point. He has to be inside you.
Nam-gyu shifts backwards, gripping the base of his dick and swiping it up and down your sopping cunt. Moans echo through the studio as you feel his fat cock head drag through your folds, catching your clit with each slow drag. When he feels the softness of your pussy along his tip he is also moaning, the hand still on you grabbing tighter at the fat of your hips.
When he’s coated his cock in your arousal he lines up with your entrance. When he makes the first push into your tight heat, both of you are letting out blissful sighs. He’s hardly in and you just know he’s going to fill you so well. Ever so slowly, he pushes in deeper. When his fat cock head is fully inside you, your cunt lets out a sickening wet ‘pop’. The high pitched, creaky moan of his name that you let out makes something particularly superior bloom deep inside him.
“Oh fuuckk…” it’s a long drawn out growl, his hands gripping the globes of your ass, the grip only tightening the further he sinks into your tight cunt. It’s so slow it’s nearly killing you, inch after agonizing inch his cock is stretching your pussy impossibly wide over his thick girth. You can feel the engorged, throbbing veins run along your walls, only serving to make the whole thing feel so much better. “P-please put it in! A-all the way.” You cry out, looking back over your shoulder at him. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and his eyebrows are knitted together as he traces every tattoo that litters your back to memorize them. Especially that little tramp stamp you had…that was real cute.
“E-easy…” he hisses out, “You’re so t-tight, sweets. Ya gotta relax if ya want me to go faster.”
His hand reaches around to splay itself across your pubic bone, his deft fingers running along the edges of your cunt where you’re split on his dick to collect your arousal. Traveling back upwards, his fingers meet your clit to rub slow circles into the throbbing bud. You must have loosened up because he’s groaning and sinking in deeper, “Fuucckk yeah, there we go, stretching so pretty around me.”
His words have you moaning, your head falling forward, forehead resting on the leather of the chair. With one final push he’s sinking balls deep inside you. A whine is ripped from your lips, your back arches pushing your hips even further back against him. He’s keeling over you, hunching over and letting out a shuddering breath when he feels the whole length of his cock wrapped in the gooey warmth that was your cunt.
You’re already gushing around him, the force of his cock stretching you out forced a cascade of your arousal down his balls. “Fucking h-hell, so tight. Can feel you clenchin’ around me.” Nam-gyu huffs, his fingers still working on your clit, making your hips roll against him, trying to get him to move. He can’t move right now though, he just knows the second he moves he is going to blow his load deep in your cunt. He tilts his head up and a smirk spreads on his face, a perfect distraction was in front of him.
He leans over you, once of his hands running up your spine, tracing a line of your tattoo, crawling up your neck and grabbing a fistful of your hair. He pulls your head off the bench and you’re met face to face with your own reflection. The same mirror that he used to check his tattoo was now continently placed right in front of you. Your face was flushed, kiss swollen lips hanging agape as you pant. “Look at youuu…” Nam-gyu coos, using his grip on your hair to wiggle your head around to further mock your state.
You look so fucked out, it’s embarrassing, your eyes screw shut trying to hide away from the sight. “Not gonna move until you open your eyes.” The sentence is uttered through clenched teeth, coming out in a hiss. You don’t obey, your eyes are still shut. Your hips try to circle back against him but a desperate cry is ripped from your lungs as he draws his cock back, pulling nearly all the way out until just his heavy tip rests in the tight ring of your cunt.
“I know you can hear me, c’mon.” Nam-Gyu growls, jerking your head back and forth once more by your hair to really get your attention. Weakly, your eyes pry themselves open to look at your reflection in the mirror. You look up and you see his smile widening his black hair falling forward in front of his face like some scandalous curtain. When he knows you’re going to keep your eyes open, his hips are surging forward. When he sinks his cock into you again, a loud ‘squelch’ comes from your pussy, echoing throughout the tattoo studio.
“Good girl, y-you’re so pretty, ya gotta look…can’t waste a view like this.” He praises, his words shuttering every so often when he feels your cunt pulsate around him. It’s an addicting feeling, so tight, so warm. A soft, drawn out whine comes from your throat as you feel his thick length sink so deep into you, you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His fingers are still dancing along your clit, sending wave after wave of exhilarating pleasure throughout your body.
“God you feel so good, so fucking wet…” Nam-gyu huffs out, beginning to piston his hips into your ass, drawing in and out of your sopping heat in dizzying strokes. “Making such a- fucking hell- a fucking mess on my dick.” You watch the way his eyes are focused downwards, where you two are connected. Watching as the frothy white ring that forms around the base of his cock grows with each devious plap, plap, plap of his hips.
“S-so fucking big, sooo deeep.” You whine, your words slurred and drawn out, bouncing in time with each forward drive of his hips. His ego swells even bigger, your fucked out tone and babbled speech just makes him speed his thrusts up, a rumble reverberating in his chest when he sees the plush fat of your ass recoil and jiggle against his pelvis.
He releases his grip on your hair, your head falling forward, cheek resting on the leather of the chair, moth lolling open in silent gasps. His hands grip at the soft flesh of your ass, nails biting into the flesh as he rocks your ass back harder against him, slamming you back onto his cock so anytime he drives balls deep into your gushing cunt, the fat tip of his dick is pressing against your cervix in a way that’s making you delirious. “Yeah? Feels good? Tell me how good it feels.”
You’re drooling at this point, hands gripping helpless at the fabric of the bench. “Mhmm!!! So fucking good!” You cry out, “o-oh my god, so, so good!” One of your hands reaches backwards, gripping at the wrist of one of his arms desperately. “Thaaattss it…” he murmurs, his chest heaving, hips never letting up.
“Fuck yourself back against me, lemme see it.” You waste no time in following his orders, rocking your hips back to meet his thrusts. He expects you to go slow and work up to a faster speed…but no- you’re slamming your hips back against him with a violence that rivals his thrusts. You need to cum.
Nam-gyu thinks he’s in heaven, every time your ass meets his thighs he’s diving impossibly deep into you, stuffing you oh-so-full and stretching you incredibly wide. Anytime you pull away, you can feel the wetness that dirties his thighs and your ass string you two together in some macabre, pornographic connection.
It’s raw and carnal, Nam-gyu’s head tips back in pure bliss as your cunt greedily sucks him in. With each wet slap of your ass against his pelvis you’re driven further and further to your climax. Every time your hips piston backwards his fat cock is bulling itself against your g-spot. “R-right there!!” You cry out desperately, you need to cum.
“Yeah? Right there? That’s the spot?” Nam-Gyu huffs out, his hands digging even harder into the flesh of your ass, hips pile driving into you meeting every one of your backwards thrusts. He angles himself upwards the slightest bit, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you like a target. Your head shakes up and down in a frantic ‘yes’, babbled praises falling from your lips trying to spur him on.
He drives his hips meticulously into that spot over and over. It’s raw and carnal, each thrust is harder than the last and has you moaning out for him like the prettiest song. The tattoos etched into your lower back and hips ripple and stretch each time your ass recoils against him. “Fuck, look at you…” He coos, one of his hands releasing your hip to run back down to your cunt. His fingers run along your puffy folds, feeling the way you’re stretched so wide around him. “Taking it so well, just like I knew you would.”
Nam-gyu’s words go straight to your cunt, you knew he was hard while you were tattooing him but the verbal confirmation that he was thinking about fucking you that whole time just confirms it in the best way. “O-oh fuck, i-i think I’m g-gonna-“ your words are creaky and so broken up by moans, you can’t even finish what you wanted to say because it just feels too fucking good.
“Fuck, yes.” Nam-Gyu growls, his fingers moving up to your swollen clit and dancing along the pulsating bud in mind blowing circles. His tone is one that resonates deep within your mind, igniting every one of your nerves on fire. It was like those words were the ones he’s been dying to hear this whole night. “C’mon pretty girl, I need to f-feel…fuck! I need to feel you make a mess on my dick.”
Your eyes screw shut and you’re helplessly fucking yourself back on his cock, meeting each one of his mean thrusts to drive his cock so deep inside you. His fingers work deft circles on your clit, making even more of a mess of your pussy. You can feel of sloppy you’ve become, your arousal has dropped down your thighs and started to coat the tile below the two of you.
His thrusts are mean and deliberate, speeding up and driving into that sweet spot over and over her needs to feel you cum around him. Moan after moan falls from your lips, each one becoming more higher pitched than the last. You’re clenching around him tighter, spasming in a rhythm that nearly traps him inside your cunt. “F-fuck!! ‘m cumming! Ohmygodohmygod Nam-gyu!” It’s a babbled mess of his name and gasps of pleasure, your back arching even more, your hips shuddering in sloppy thrusts backwards until they stop completely.
Your orgasm makes your vision blurry, your ears ring, and your mind fill with static. When you cum, you cum so hard. Harder than you think you ever have. You’re gushing around him, sobbing out as your body shakes against him. Nam-gyu’s head is tipped back, eyes rolled so far back into his head that he swears he could see his skull. The vice like grip you had on his cock is hurling him towards his own end.
“F-fuck!” Nam-gyu nearly yells out, hips and fingers working you through your orgasm in sloppy movements. “W-where do you want it? F-fuck ya gotta tell me, ‘m so close.”
You can hardly make the words out to respond, but you need it badly, so after inhaling a large, heaving breath and answering him. “I-inside, w-want to feel it..hah!..p-please!” The words are slurred and damn near incoherent- but he hears them perfectly.
With a few more rough thrusts, he’s driving his hips flush with your ass, pushing his cock balls deep into you and cumming deep in your tight heat. You can feel every thick rope filling you up, prolonging your orgasm to the point where you can hardly breathe. His hips rock shallowly into you, making sure every last drop of his cum is pulled from his cock and painting your walls.
You both still, sweaty and breathless, bodies feeling like jelly. “Y-you came so much…” you whine, hips rolling against his mindlessly. Nam-gyu hisses, over sensitive, hand pulling away from your clit so he can hold both of your hips, stilling you. “Mhm…” he hums out, catching his breath, “couldn’t help it, pussy felt too fucking good.”
You smile dumbly, letting out a weak giggle and slumping against the leather bench. With every giggle you let out, your pussy clenches around him like a vice. Nam-Gyu slowly pulls out, his whole body shivering as he slides out of your cunt. He keeps his hands on your ass, spreading you open so he can watch as his cum seeps out of you in thick globs that drop to the floor and mix with the mess you’ve already made.
His thumb glides over your pussy, smearing the mess as he admires it. “Now that’s a fuckin’ sight..” he hums out, chuckling slightly as you shake anytime his thumb runs over your overstimulated clit. Nam-gyu slides his hands back up your body as he leans down, placing a line of kisses across the back of your shoulder.
You smile when you feel the comforting weight of him over you, trapping you against the chair. You turn your face to try and look back at him, a blissed out smile on your lips. He meets you halfway, booking his face over your shoulder to capture your lips in a slow kiss. It’s languid and full of tongue. You can still taste yourself on his tongue.
“Aren’t we supposed to fuck after the first date?” You mutter against his lips, giggling softly. “Mmm…yeah I guess…but seems like we do things differently.” Nam-gyu says as he pulls away from the kiss, one of his hands is brushing hair out of your face. The next moment he’s holding his phone in your face open to a new contact screen. “Gotta give me your number so we can plan that date.” He says laughing, placing a kiss on your temple.
You can help but laugh, taking his phone and beginning to type in your contact information. Even adding a cute selfie of your fucked out face with makeup smeared and all to the contact as the photo- after your date and the many dates to come he could change it when he had more photos of you (or not).
You didn’t plan to get fucked stupid on your tattoo chair but you weren’t complaining at all, you were so glad he had made an appointment.
I hope you guys liked this one, it was on the back burner for a long while and I really wanted to finish it! I promise I’m still working hard at requests 🙏🙏 thank you all for your support!! Let me know what ya think of this one!! love yew guys!! - <3 kiwi
hello there. i wrote this because im pissed off and id like other people to know that it is okay to be sad over a stupid boy because its normal, their all dicks :) (other than the one direction boys, they have my heart 😻😻)
i would just like to add that im okay, and just like billie eilish once said
“But next week, i hope that somewhere laughing
For anybody asking, i promise i’ll be fine”
———————————- 🩷 -———————————
It’s currently 2:12 in the morning on boxing day and im sat in bed holding back tears because i hate you.
I hate how you made me feel like I was the most beautiful and amazing girl in the world and that no one compared to me.
I hate how you would fall asleep on call with me after telling me you love me more than life itself leaving me with a heart full of warmth.
I hate how you put in so much effort to connect and talk to my friends even though you didn’t like them just to see the smile and laugh on my face.
I hate how you would call me petnames like,my princess, sweetheart and baby because it would make me blush and giggle to myself and feel like a little girl being called pretty for the first time in her new poofy dress
I hate how you would take genuine interest in my day and my interests and ask me questions I hadn’t even thought of myself that makes me feel giddy and excited to answer knowing you would judge me, just listen with smile on your face.
I hate how you promised you would come see me when the time was right and make memories with me that I could keep in the necklace I got for us that you never knew about because you left to quick.
I hate how you lied to me and told me she wouldn’t be that part of your life again because she hurt you more than you could ever think of.
I hate how your going to get hurt again and feel the same pain I saw in you when we first met even though I told you to let her go, not for me but for yourself.
I hate how your not there for me to go to after something fun has happened and I need to show someone pictures and something silly my friends did.
I hate how your not there for me to come to when I need to sleep but struggle because your not there to tell me ‘Sweet dreams my princess, I love you more than you will know’.
I hate how you make me feel now that your gone, like theres a hole in my sad little heart no one can fill but you and your stupid curls.
I hate how much I love you after only a short amount of time and how I trusted you to stay with me and not leave without warning like the others.
I hate how it's not hate; it's the ache of missing someone I loved too quickly. Trusting you to break the cycle, to stay when others left abruptly, only deepens the sting. I hate the lingering love after such a brief encounter, the self-loathing for getting attached too easily. In just a week and a bit, you became a tear-stained chapter, leaving me to grapple with emotions that linger far beyond our time together.
So, here I am, torn between hating you for the hurt and missing you despite it all. It's a complex web of emotions, and I grapple with the reality of loving you within a remarkably short time, only to find myself hurt and questioning my own vulnerability. But in the end I just want you to know that I don’t hate you, I just hate who she makes you.
