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andvys · 2 months

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter five ⭐︎ 'Cause you know it could never be

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of the upside down, mentions of unrequited feelings, mentions of Stancy (I guess), but none really

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Weeks had passed since your conversation with Steve, and things between you have shifted into a different direction...

Word count: 8k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult shoutout to my bestieeee, thank you for helping me and for keeping me in check, I love u

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♡

As the weeks passed, the warmth slowly started to surround Hawkins. The flowers have all bloomed, the sun is blessing the town with light and it’s something you greatly appreciate, knowing that things could’ve been so different had victory not been the outcome weeks back.

The day Steve had come by to apologize and talk, things had started to change between the two of you. While you tried to avoid him at all costs, fearing more confrontations and arguments, Steve had done everything to show you that he really wanted to keep the peace between you both.

You felt awkward around him for the first few days after your conversation, especially because it felt like he was walking on eggshells when he was around you, he bit his tongue whenever you tried to throw a jab at him, he looked at you differently, he was careful with his words and it annoyed you to no end. You never wanted him to feel like he had to be nice to you after what happened. Luckily, he couldn’t keep his act up for long, the moment you said something that was enough to set him off, you went back to your usual banters – though, it didn’t feel as rough as it did before.

You were also dragged into everything involving the whole group. It’s something you would have hated if it wasn’t for Eddie who somehow had nestled his way into your life and reached for the title ‘best friend’ before you could even blink. Despite the fear that still lingered deep inside of you, you let him in and you are glad that you did so. You really needed a friend.

But you are not the only one who grew close to Eddie in the past few weeks, Steve has also taken a great liking to him, and you now see more of him than ever before, because now it isn’t only the weekly movie or game nights that you spend time with him, it’s also Tuesday nights at the hideout, Wednesday nights at the movies, Sunday mornings at the diner and… you don’t mind for a single second.

You used to watch him from afar, now he is everywhere you go and while the relationship you two have isn’t exactly friendly, you still appreciate it. You’ll take anything you can get when it comes to him.

You eye Eddie through the vanity mirror, watching as he lounges on your bed, flipping through some old magazine he had found on your shelf. His curls are wild on his head, a little tamer than usual though, a few new rings adorn his fingers as well as the new shirt that doesn’t exactly fit the occasion.

“Eddie, you could have at least put a nice shirt on! A black one! Without a stupid band logo at the front!”

“Stupid?” He gasps as he sits up, staring at you, looking very offended, “let me remind you, Sweetheart. None of them are stupid, they are meaningful and artistic.”

Max scoffs at him, trying not to shake her head as you’re still using the hot curling iron on her hair.

“Right, because the music video of that Samuel made absolutely fucking sense.”

He drops the magazine and jumps up from the bed, his jaw dropping at her words.

“You mean Samson!?” He almost yells, “Biceps of Steel is a masterpiece, Red!”

You and Max share a look of amusement through the mirror, scoffing simultaneously.

“Yeah, you made me watch that video like four times,” she rolls her eyes at him.

Eddie squints his eyes at her, continuing his ramble while you smile at their bantering.

Not only did you and Eddie grow closer, he and Max did too. Eddie’s new home is close to Max’s, just like back in the trailer park. And the teen just loves to bother Eddie and Uncle Wayne, more so Eddie in the early morning hours, knowing how grumpy he will get. She still snaps at him and judges his ‘poor’ taste in movies and music but he only judges back, though playfully. They behave like siblings and you never get bored watching their banters.

Eddie is the brother Max deserved to have.

“Bla bla bla,” she rolls her eyes at him, sighing in relief when you finish up with the final touches.

“Who taught you to be so rude, Red?” Eddie shakes his head in disapproval.

Max only laughs in response, she leans closer to the mirror and turns her head to the side as she touches her curls. Her eyes meet yours and a smile appears on her face, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smile as you put the curling iron on your vanity.

Max gets up from the chair, she walks out of the room and into the hallway, still limping a little but the cast on her leg is already gone.

“I’ll call Lucas and see if he’s ready,” she says as she walks down the stairs.

You turn to face Eddie, who is staring at the dress you are wearing, like he only noticed it now. The playful smile on his face is now gone, replaced by a teasing one.

“Got all pretty for someone?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You tilt your head and squint your eyes, “it was a formal invitation, Eddie! You just didn’t get the memo.” You point to his band shirt before you turn away from him and sit down on the chair, picking up your lipstick that you haven’t applied yet.

Eddie rolls his eyes at your words, walking closer to you, he leans down and puts his hands on his knees, staring at you through the mirror.

“Darling, apple of my eye, sweetheart, long lost soulmate… I am not buying shit.”

You keep staring at your lips, careful not to go over the lines as you apply the rosy tone to them, only when you’re done and you put the lipstick in the bag you had picked out earlier, you look up at him with a sigh.

“It’s the same as always, Eddie.”

“Is it?” He tilts his head, still looking at you with that same teasing smile. “Cause while you do wear all these trendsetter outfits, I never saw you wear a dress this… fancy.”

“Trendsetter outfits?” You laugh, furrowing your brows at him. “And fancy? It’s just a black dress!”

He raises his brows, stepping away as he looks down at the silky fabric on your form.

“A little black dress.”

“Well, look who’s the trendsetter now!” You snort.

He walks back to your bed, picking up the fashion magazine that has a little black dress on the cover. He raises it up, showing it to you, “Vogue taught me.”

Shaking your head, you look back at your reflection and add the final touches to your hair, before you apply your favorite perfume. You get up and smoothe down your dress, it’s beautiful and you have been dying for a chance to wear it. But your stomach suddenly fills with doubt because of his reaction. Are you overdressed? No… right? It’s truly nothing special. It’s just a dress, a little black and silky dress, nothing fancy about it.

Besides, Joyce invited you all to a formal dinner, after all. You can’t show up in jeans and a t-shirt, even Max put on a skirt today and that girl hates dresses and skirts with a passion.

But maybe Eddie was right, maybe… you did think of a certain someone when you bought this dress, and maybe you do feel your insides tingling at the thought of seeing him again tonight, maybe you did get pretty for him – even when you know that he will have eyes for somebody else all night. That thought makes you want to stay at home and hide from the world but you can’t back out now, you couldn’t even decline the invitation you got from Joyce herself when you ran into her at the coffee shop two weeks ago.

She is one of the few people in this godforsaken town that you have always liked. Finding out that she is now dating Jim Hopper – the very alive Jim Hopper, wasn’t exactly a surprise to you. You heard all the rumors about them, even before you were dragged into the mess your new friends had been in for the past few years. – The bored middle aged women who met up at the coffee shop every Wednesday afternoon just loved to talk about all the existent and non-existent relationships in this town and well, you loved to hear about all the gossip too, though you always acted like you were immersed in the books you had brought, you really never read a single line whenever they were providing each other new drama.

On the drive to the Byers/Hopper house, you picked up Lucas before you made a quick stop at the store to buy a cake, none of you wanted to show up with empty hands and you didn’t know what else to get – besides the little bouquet of flowers that Lucas got for Joyce.

As you look out the window, watching the passing trees, you listen to Eddie’s conversation with Lucas.

“You ever wonder how Hopper explained his return from the dead?” Eddie asks as he plays with his sunglasses, “cause I’m really curious.”

“I am too,” Lucas says from the backseat.

“Do you think he went with the kidnapping story?” Eddie asks, his sunglasses low on his nose as he glances at you. “Imagine he told Chief Powell and Deputy Dumbass about the upside down.”

“Don’t say that too loud, Eds. Or the suit wearing dicks will come back to take all our hush money back,” you snort. “And then you’ll lose your fancy house and your fancy Barbecue grill.”

He waves his hand at you, “I’ll take my fancy Barbecue grill and move in with you. I’ll still have a fancy house, rich girl.”

You snort.

“Oh, can I move in then too?” Lucas asks, grinning at you. “You always got the best snacks,” he points to the store bought cake on your lap.

“Eddie and I chose the cake together,” you chuckle.

“Well, duh, we’d make great roommates, sweets,” Eddie winks at you. “Same taste in food – but you still need to up your music taste.”

You scoff.

“Honestly, I think a girls only place would be so much cooler,” Max says to him, “just peace all the time, no boys, no stinky clothes lying around… just pure girls heaven.”

Lucas frowns at her, tilting his head, “you say that to your boyfriend?”

Eddie snorts at the offended tone in Lucas’s voice, while you shake your head in amusement.

The burgundy BMW is already in the driveway when Eddie pulls up, he parks his car behind Steve’s. You inwardly curse at yourself for feeling a rush of something just from looking at his car. You tear your eyes away from it and take in the beautiful sight in front of you, instead.

The light blue house has a big porch, flowers on the grass in front of it, a big willow tree on the right side – it’s so pretty and this neighborhood is a quiet one, it’s perfect.

Lucas rings the doorbell, waiting patiently with the flowers in his hands that Max keeps teasing him about, giggling and making jabs at him until he finally gets fed up. He picks out one of the daisies and turns around to face his girlfriend, he brushes her hair back and tucks the little flower behind her hair, which shuts her up immediately, her eyes widen and she starts blushing furiously.

You press your lips together, so you don’t burst into giggles at the look on her face.

Lucas sighs in contentment when she grows silent, he turns back to the door.

Eddie though, he starts chuckling.

Max clenches her jaw, she sends Eddie the deadliest glare you have ever seen. It only makes you want to laugh even more.

The door opens and you’re all greeted by a very happy El, a bright smile on her lips as she waves at you.

“Hi guys, come in!” She reaches forward to Max, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the house, “I need to tell you something.”

The two girls scurry away and up the stairs, leaving the three of you standing on the porch.

Lucas shakes his head, sighing, “you know, I wouldn’t be surprised if Max left me to be with El.”

Eddie throws his arm around Lucas’s shoulder as they both step inside the house, “every girl has a girlfriend, just deal with it, Sinclair.”

“What?” You laugh, following them,“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, it’ll happen magically, Sweetheart. Once you have a boyfriend, you’ll also find a girlfriend.”

“That literally makes no sense.”

“Oh,” Lucas smirks, looking over his shoulder at you, “he means, once you and Steve stop acting like you hate each other and you’ll fall in love and get together, you won’t only have a boyfriend, you will also have a girlfriend which is his best friend,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes and ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the word ‘boyfriend’. Steve will never be your boyfriend, he won’t even be anything close to it. Hell, he is barely even a friend. He is your frenemy.

You open your mouth to speak when Joyce walks out into the hallway, smiling at the three of you before a gasp falls from her lips when Lucas hands her the flowers.

“Oh, you’re such a sweetheart, Lucas,” she smiles down at the flowers.

You feel a little out of place, being new to this group, being in a tight friend group for the first time in your life feels nerve wracking. And while you aren’t the only one, Eddie is definitely way more sociable and open than you are, where you struggle to make conversations, he rambles on just about anything.

But Joyce makes you feel welcome, she greets you with a warm smile, placing her hand on your arm.

“We got you your favorite,” Eddie grins at her, taking the cake from your hands so you can greet her properly.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have! You’re all so kind,” she smiles at the both of you, “come on, I’ll put it in the fridge for now. You guys go ahead, Jonathan and Nancy are in the backyard with Hop, the kids are in the living room.”

When you step inside, you notice the smell of food from the kitchen and the dining room, the sound of music playing from the stereo – Joy Division. You know right away that Jonathan was the one who put on the music.

You greet Mike, Will and Dustin who are in a heated conversation about something D&D related.

Robin walks into the living room, her blue eyes meet yours and a smile appears on her face.

You eye her up and down, she’s wearing black dress pants, suspenders over her red blouse. Your lips curl into a smirk when your eyes meet hers. She opens her arms for you and you hug her, leaning closer to her ear, “if I was into girls, I’d be on the floor for you right now, Buckley,” you joke, suggestively.

She gasps and slaps your arm lightly, “naughty.”

A giggle falls from your lips when you pull away from the hug, “it’s the truth, you look hot in this outfit.”

She shakes her head, biting her lip as she tries to hide the blush on her cheeks.

“You’re one to talk,” she whispers, smirking when she takes a look at your dress, “how did Munson not crash the car?”

Your lips part in shock, and you look down, “i-is that too revealing?” You whisper, tugging at your dress.

She starts chuckling, “no, I just mean because you’re so gorgeous,” she winks. “I know I’d crash the car, I’d be too busy staring at you.”

“Oh my god,” you swat her arm this time, “Eddie and I are not attracted to each other.” And you’re certainly not lying about that.

“Robin, I see her the same way you see Steve,” Eddie suddenly says from behind you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. “Difference? I’m heterosexual,” he whispers to her before he looks at you, “no offense, it’s not that you’re not hot, it’s just that you’re a little gremlin to me already.”

Your eyes flash with amusement and you put your hand on your chest, “I will take offense to that actually.”

Your stomach flutters when your eyes fall on the figure in the kitchen.

“Sucks to be you then,” he chuckles, “anyways, how’s Vickie doing?” He wiggles his brows at Robin.

You don’t even hear Eddie’s words, you’re already too far gone, staring at the one you had your eyes set on since forever. You don’t know how he always does it, but he looks so gorgeous. His fluffy hair looking better than ever, a smile lingering on his face as he talks to Joyce.

His white shirt is tucked into his dark brown slacks that he paired with a black belt. He looks like he walked straight out of a 60s movie and god, he looks really good. He turns his back to you, and you watch as Joyce leaves the kitchen, walking out into the backyard.

You don’t feel your feet moving, but you feel yourself being pulled into the kitchen, still admiring Steve – his broad shoulders, the way his muscles are moving underneath the shirt.

You are practically drooling over the guy, and you feel shame but not enough to stop yourself from ogling him, maybe you’d feel a bit more ashamed if things between you haven’t shifted into something else, you still get on each other’s nerves, the bickering is still there, poking into each other's ribs to see who bends first, but all that is never too much or hurtful. The scowls are there, they never left, the scrunches of noses, the deadly glares. But you noticed that the bickering had gone from yelling to soft talking. Enough for just the two of you to hear, no one else.

It’s all still the same… but it also isn’t.

And you can’t help but love it.

Steve is cutting vegetables and throwing them into the bowl. Your heart flutters as you take another moment to look at him. While the others are chatting in the living room and in the garden, Steve is helping Joyce prepare dinner. Cute.

You lick your lips, moving closer to him, you brush your hand over his shoulder as you walk past him, not even realizing how soft your touch actually was.

Steve tenses up, not because he doesn’t like your touch – but because he does. He likes it, even if he would never admit it. He recognizes you by the sweet and flowery scent of your perfume, something that makes his insides tingle in an unfamiliar way.

“Hey, Lego head,” you greet him, leaning against the counter next to him, “nice mousse on the hair.”

A smirk tugs at his lips, he puts down the knife as he opens his mouth to speak, though when he turns to look at you, his breathing stutters, his heart stops beating and his eyes widen as the smirk slowly falls – instead, his cheeks heat up and he presses his lips back together, gulping as he takes in the sight of you in your beautiful dress. It’s not any different from the sundresses that you’ve been wearing a lot lately, but it would be enough to make him stutter if he tried to talk right now, because somehow, you look even more beautiful, right now.

You turn away from him, looking around at the food he had already helped prepare, giving him the perfect opportunity to ogle you. It’s a good thing he stopped cutting the fruit, and put the knife down before he saw you, he surely would’ve chopped a finger off by now, and he’s not sure if he would have noticed because, all that he is focused on is how pretty you look, with your glowy, smooth skin and the makeup that you don’t even need, the dress that almost has him on his knees.

But he gets dragged back into reality when your eyes meet his and he remembers who you aren’t supposed to be – a girl who effortlessly manages to make him blush. No one has ever made Steve Harrington blush, absolutely no one, and he surely won’t let you be the first.

“Blondie.”

“Do you think they’ll let us drink?” You ask, looking around as you try to spot anything but soda.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

“Are you twenty one yet? No. What makes you think that Hopper will let us drink?” He picks up the knife again, forcing his eyes away from you.

“We fought monsters and had near death experiences multiple times,” you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, “will alcohol hurt us?”

“No, but it might turn you into an alcoholic, better not start with that, kid.” Hopper suddenly appears from behind, causing you to flinch.

Steve watches from the side, laughing at the wide eyed look on your face.

You turn to face the older man, scrunching up your nose when your eyes instantly fall on the beer in his hand, “oh, really? What’s that in your hand then, alcoholic?” You mock him.

Hopper shakes his head, chuckling.

“So that’s where El’s attitude has been coming from lately.”

“Told you, miss sunshine over here is a bad influence,” Steve jokes.

“Don’t know which attitude you’re talking about, I don’t have one.”

At that, both Steve and Hopper burst out laughing, the latter squeezes your shoulder as he walks past you, “you keep telling yourself that, kid.”

“Well, aren’t we celebrating something today?” You ask.

Hopper opens the fridge, taking out another beer after throwing the empty can into the trash. He looks at you with raised brows, a smile tugging at his lips.

None of you know what this celebration even is about, that you all got invited to – except for El, Jonathan and Will, of course. They know all about it.

“Yeah.”

“So… can’t celebrate without the drinks,” you shrug, giving him a sheepish smile.

You’re unaware of the smile on Steve’s lips as he watches you.

“You’re nineteen, wait two more years–”

“We fought interdimensional monsters, this one almost got strangled to death,” you point at Steve, “not to mention all the times he got his ass kicked–”

“You didn’t need to go there, Blondie,” he rolls his eyes.

“I almost died! A girl can have a drink, come on!”

Hopper sighs, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks between the two of you.

You are desperate for a drink, it’s been months since you had any alcohol in your system, and you’re craving the buzz, feeling careless and free. All you felt after the night at the Creel house was pain… and more pain. Your head was constantly hurting, your vision blurred every time you got up, the dizziness drove you crazy – it’s still there sometimes, but you feel better now, much better, good enough to have drinks again.

But the stubborn man won’t let you have it and you can already tell by the look on his face that he will say no. So, you pull out the big guns.

You smirk at him, tilting your head.

“My dad told me what you used to get up to in high school.”

He holds his hands up, squeezing his eyes shut in annoyance.

“Didn’t you and Joyce used to smoke pot behind–”

Steve’s eyes widen as his lips part in surprise.

“Get this demon a drink, Steve.” He waves his hand and quickly leaves the room, sending you another warning glance over his shoulder.

“Why me…” Steve mutters.

“Cause you’re maid material, chop chop, Harrington.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes again.

“Oh hey Hop, long time no see.” You hear Eddie’s voice in the living room, followed by Hopper’s groan.

If you weren’t so fixated on Steve right now, you’d be watching Eddie’s and Hopper’s interaction, right now. It’s never not amusing.

“You sure you want me to make you a drink?” He steps away from the counter and bends down to open the cabinet he saw Hopper putting the whiskey into earlier, he looks through the few bottles and reaches for the rum.

You watch the way he furrows his brows, licking his lips as stares at the bottle. He straightens his back and steps up beside you again.

“Well, didn’t you used to throw parties and mix cocktails?” You shrug, tilting your head to the side.

Steve watches you, the way your flashes flutter as you blink, the way you look at him so innocently, something that makes him feel… intrigued.

“I never got to taste it,” you pout.

He swallows harshly.

“I’m craving something sweet on my lips right now, so please… Can you make me a drink?” You ask with a sickly sweet tone in your voice, not intending these words to sound so… suggestive and you don’t even notice it either.

But he does, and he almost drops the bottle he is holding. Your flirty words make his eyes widen and his stomach flutters. It’s not the first time something like this happened, you threw suggestive words or glances at him before but all this time he was certain that you did this unintended – even now, because the look on your face is innocent, genuinely innocent.

You aren’t teasing, you aren’t even aware of how flirty you can be sometimes.

He turns away from you, walking over to the fridge, he grabs the pineapple juice and puts it on the counter next to the bottle of rum.

He looks up at the shelf, where all the long drink glasses are. How convenient it is that you’re standing right in front of it.

While you do everything unintended, he doesn’t. He knows what he is doing when he steps towards you. He looks down at you with that same innocent look that you just gave him, the only difference is that he isn’t innocent. He places his hand on your waist, testing the waters. “Excuse me,” he murmurs, squeezing your waist ever so softly. He reaches over your shoulder as he grabs the glass, he keeps his eyes on you, biting back the smirk when he sees the way your eyes widen and you visibly gulp.

Your lips part and you start blinking, looking up at him before your eyes fall to his chest and you squirm beneath his stare.

Got you. He thinks.

You stop breathing and your heart freaking jumps in your chest, his innocent touch is almost enough to make your knees buckle.

Despite the nervousness, you look into his eyes, watching the way they twinkle with mischief. Bastard. Is he doing this on purpose? Because he somehow knows that every slightest touch from him drives you crazy?

He takes way too long to get that stupid glass from the shelf but fuck, you can’t help but love the way his big hand feels on your body, or the way he is almost pressed against you, the way the smell of his cologne makes your stomach flutter.

And then, he steps away like nothing happened.

Because it was nothing… to him.

Even when there’s a hint of a smirk on his lips as he prepares the drink, you know that this was only because he wanted to get a reaction out of you.

“Here,” he slides the drink over to you, still smirking, “try it.”

You wrap your hand around the cold glass and take the straw between your fingers, stirring the ice around, furrowing your brows, “what’s this called?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, “the King Steve special,” he winks.

You scrunch your face up at him.

Wrapping your lips around the straw, you look into his eyes as you try it, the sweetness from the pineapple juice definitely overpowers the taste of rum, and you don’t know if you like it or not.

Steve ignores the way his stomach tingles from watching you – watching your glossy lips as they’re wrapped around the black straw.

“Jesus, that really is a high school drink, King Steve.”

He squints his eyes at you, “it’s a fucking drink, Blondie.”

“A horrible one at that.”

He places his hand on his hip, rolling his eyes at your words, but a smirk tugs at his lips and he suddenly leans closer to you to whisper in your ear.

“You really fooled me with that dress of yours… if only you kept your mouth shut.”

He wants to stay and keep staring at the shocked look on your face, at the way you grow so flustered beneath his stare. The smirk that lingers on his lips grows even wider when he sees the way your lips part but close again.

He left you speechless.

He reaches for the bowl of salad, “gonna bring this out,” he says, tilting his head into the direction of the garden, “they set up the table outside.”

You don’t even hear his words, you just stare at his lips before your eyes fall on the chain around his neck. You swallow and look down, hiding your flustered face as you take another sip of the drink.

Steve holds back the chuckle, he turns away begrudgingly and walks out, he would’ve loved to see more of that look on your face.

It takes you a moment to recover from whatever that was, you nearly down the King Steve Special in one go. And maybe preparing yourself a second drink is a mistake, knowing that you will probably feel more than just a slight buzz, you only had breakfast and you skipped lunch because you were too busy getting ready and stressing over your hair that never looks nearly as perfect as Steve’s does.

You step out into the backyard, the table on the porch is already filled with food and drinks, the smell of the Barbecue lingering in the air. Jonathan is standing in front of the grill with Nancy by his side, her chin on his shoulder, her arm wrapped around his waist, they’re talking and smiling at each other.

As you watch them, the sudden realization that you will never have anything like they do, fills you with a slight sadness.

You don’t envy them, you’re happy for them, you’re happy for anyone who gets to experience love. But maybe, you envy the love someone else still holds for her, someone you will never have.

You look down, frowning at your drink.

The teens all stumble out into the backyard as Joyce ushers them to the table.

You flinch a little when you suddenly feel an arm around your shoulder, instantly recognizing Eddie’s cologne, you turn your head to look at him.

“This could be us if you weren’t such a gremlin,” he says as he points to Jonathan and Nancy who are now kissing, in front of the sizzling meat that is probably now burning.

You squint your eyes, shaking your head disapprovingly.

You know he’s only joking, and it fills you with relief, because as much as you crave what they have, you definitely don’t crave it with Eddie. You crave to have this with Steve, and it’s something you feel stupid for. The guy may not hate your guts anymore, but he’s surely not your biggest fan either.

“You know, you’re a gremlin too, Eds.”

“That’s why we’re best friends,” he chuckles, patting your shoulder as he looks down at the drink in your hand, “what’s that?”

“King Steve Special,” you snort, offering it to him, “well, this one was made by me.”

“Can I try?”

You hand it to him, and his curious eyes widen when he takes a sip, “wow, that is uh–”

“Too sweet?”

He shakes his head at you, curls bouncing, “nah, it’s perfect.”

“Well, you can have it, I might get drunk if I finish that.”

“Already!?” He scoffs, shaking his head at you, “lightweight.”

"Uh, excuse me? I haven’t had any drinks in months, Eddie. Months.”

“Well, I haven’t had any in weeks, I’m still standing.”

“You only took one sip!”

He takes another sip and grins at you, holding up two fingers.

“Two sips.”

You can’t even help but laugh, slapping his shoulder lightly, “you are so–”

“Funny? Handsome? Perfect?”

“Too cocky?” Lucas says behind Eddie, grinning at him.

“Me and cocky?” Eddie raises his brows, “never.”

“Oh no, that kid is right, boy. You’re cocky,” Hopper sighs, “trust me.”

“Well, I am also very fast, Chief,” he smirks, winking at the older man, “but you already know that.”

Hopper’s amused face grows serious, a hardened look takes over and he grumbles something under his breath as he stares at Eddie. You can’t even help but giggle. – A sound that doesn’t go unheard by Steve who just sat down across from Robin, not even hiding the fact that he no longer listens to her rambling about some movie she watched with Vickie last night. All he can do, all he can see, all he can hear right now is you, just you.

The sound of your giggles is not something he is used to – he is used to your grumbling, to your sarcastic chuckles and the smirks on your face. A giggle? A very unusual sound to hear but something that he’s been hearing quite often lately. If your friendship with Eddie wasn’t so obvious, he might’ve thought that you took a liking towards him, but it’s clear that your friendship with him is just like his with Robin; Platonic with a capital P.

He can’t help but smile as he watches you, not because he likes you, god no. He just likes watching you. You are pretty, gorgeous even. He always knew that, even through his dislike, he always saw your beauty – he isn’t blind. And seeing you like this makes his chest feel… warm.

He eyes your dress again, the lace on the straps lay so prettily on your shoulders, the silky material fitting your upper body so perfectly, it’s loose on your hips, and it’s short, not too short but enough to make him gulp.

The chair scrapes against the floor, but even that sound doesn’t tear his attention away from you.

Nancy steps up beside you, exchanging a few words with you and Eddie before she turns her head into Steve’s direction, she lifts her hand and points at him, something that instantly makes Steve tense up, because not only did Eddie catch him staring at you, you did too.

With his cheeks blushing red, he clears his throat and turns back to Robin who is now rambling Dustin’s ear off. He places his elbow on the armrest, running his fingers through his hair nervously.

What is wrong with him? Since when does he spend time staring at you? Since when does he blush because of you?

“Here you can sit next to your favorite person, gremlin.”

He doesn’t know who he expected to sit down beside him, but he surely didn’t think it’d be you. He goes to lift his head when you pull back the chair. Just as he’s about to glance at you, he suddenly feels your hand on his knee and hears your groan as you stumble forward a little.

“Almost broke my ankle, for fucks sake. I’m sorry, Lego head,” you mumble, inwardly cursing at yourself for tripping over the stupid leg chair and using him to steady yourself. You remove your hand when you finally sit down, turning away from him to hide the flustered look on your face.

He blinks, swallowing the lump in his throat, he plasters a smirk on his face, “are you drunk from that one drink, Blondie?” He chuckles, watching the way you roll your eyes at his question.

You feel a slight buzz, but you’re not sure whether it’s because of the alcohol or his ‘flirty’ comment that certainly had no meaning.

Steve loves to flirt and he does it every chance he gets but he definitely wouldn’t flirt with you, no matter how desperate he’d be, you’d never be good enough for Steve Harrington.

When everyone is finally seated and the rest of the food is now on the table, Hopper is standing up with a drink in his hand, waiting for the teen boys to stop talking so he can finally open his mouth to speak. He tries to be patient, he really tries.

Joyce looks down in amusement.

Jonathan waves at Dustin, trying to shut him up, but the boy doesn’t see, too focused on the conversation with Mike.

“Mike,” El whispers, nudging him with her elbow.

He looks away from Dustin, and turns to look at his girlfriend when his eyes find Hopper glaring at him with that very intimidating look on his face.

His face grows pale and he slowly leans back in his seat, punching Dustin in the arm to shut up.

Hopper clears his throat, he puts his hand on the back of his neck, squinting his eyes a little. It’s silent now, except for the faint music that still plays in the living room. His throat bobbed as he looked around the table.

You can tell that he struggles to find his words, by the note that sticks out of the pocket in his flannel, you can tell that he had already prepared a speech.

Joyce gives him an encouraging nod as she reaches for his hand.

“I uh– I just, I thought that it would be a great idea for us all to sit down and uh… chat. I’m not good at all of this so I’ll just jump straight into it,” he starts, chuckling at his own words, before seriousness takes over his features again, “you kids went through a lot, you went through too much, every single one of you. But you were all so brave, you stuck together and defeated that… son of a bitch.”

Giggles erupt around him and his lip twitches a little.

“We defeated him,” El says, smiling at her dad, “we defeated that son of a bitch, “together.”

“Language, kid,” Hopper chuckles but he shakes his head at her, “but yeah, together.”

“The past few years haven’t been easy for any of you,” he continues, looking at all the young teens, at his daughter, at Jonathan and Nancy but also at Robin and Steve, and then he looks between you and Eddie too. “You all lost something or someone, you shouldn’t know what it’s like but uh, I guess in all of this chaos, you all found each other and I-I think that’s, that’s something, that means a lot.”

You can tell that he is struggling to say these words out loud, you hear the shakiness in his voice, the way he is holding himself together, the way he is speaking so softly because of how emotional he is after he spent the past few years in darkness after losing people he loved.

El and Joyce stepped into his life and so much chaos followed when he was dragged into a mess he had only seen in movies before, but it also brought him so much light and happiness again.

Just like it did for you and you wouldn’t change a thing about it.

If you had to go back and relive all the awful things you had to endure those few weeks back, you would’ve done it in a heartbeat. Because, despite the horrors and the darkness you had been pulled into, you have found friends, a family. You found a best friend again, Eddie who sits across from you, smiling at you because he too, found a best friend in you.

And you and Steve, you aren’t close by any means, but you are happy to have him in your life now, even if only like this.

“And I, I found a family and my uh beautiful soon to be wife.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in.

It takes another moment for everyone to lose their calmness.

When the soft smiles vanish and the shocked and surprised looks take over your faces, Joyce and Hopper can’t help but laugh.

“W-Wait what!?” Dustin shrieks, “you’re getting married!?”

“Yep,” Hopper nods, smiling proudly.

El is smiling excitedly, clapping her hands together, like she is relieved that it’s no longer a secret, “and I can’t wait for the wedding!”

Nancy and Jonathan laugh at her excitement, while Dustin still looks between the older couple.

You glance at Eddie, who is staring at Hopper like he wants to say something but he bites his tongue, not wanting to ruin the sweet moment with one of his jokes.

“And we want you all to be there,” Hopper nods with a small smile on his face, “it wasn’t my idea to invite you all, just so you know.”

Everyone laughs at his words and the fake grumpy look on his face, by now you all know that the former Chief isn’t as mean and cold as everyone always knew him to be.

“It was his idea,” Joyce smiles, cheekily.

“Of course it was, he loves us!” Dustin grins at Hopper.

“Well, congrats,” Robin smiles brightly, “I can’t believe you’re inviting a bunch of kids but hey, I’m excited!”

Joyce gives her a warm smile, while Hopper grumbles something under his breath as he looks between Dustin and Mike.

After all the congratulations go around, Hopper finally takes a seat, pointing at all the food on the table, including the few pieces of chicken that Jonathan had burned because he was too busy making out with Nancy, telling you all to finally ‘dig in’.

The conversations flow easily between everyone and it feels familiar despite being new to this circle.

And while you and Steve don’t really talk to each other, you feel his eyes on you every once in a while. You feel his arm brushing against yours, his hands grazing your knuckles whenever he reaches for his drink – and every slightest touch shoots electricity through your veins and your heart beats a little faster every time his skin touches yours.

You curse at yourself for feeling so weak for him, for almost crumbling after only these small and very innocent touches, for liking someone who spent most of his life hating you.

You spend the rest of the night avoiding him, trying to lean away, trying to look at anyone but at him. And even then, you can still feel his eyes on you and it’s driving you crazy and you suddenly can’t wait to get away from him so you can finally breathe and stop feeling so delusional – his comment, his touches, his glances are all getting too much. If he was someone else, you would think that he was flirting but he is Steve Harrington for god's sake, and he would never flirt, not with you.

You feel relief rushing through your whole body when hours later, Eddie announces that he is going home, you almost jump up and bolt towards the door but your best friend seems to have other plans.

With his hands on your shoulder and an apologetic smile on his face, he opens his mouth, “Buckley is driving my car tonight, I wouldn’t want to put you in danger, sorry sweets, you’re with Harrington tonight. Don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands.” He winks and pinches your cheek before he scurries away.

Robin follows him, winking at you as she walks out with Eddie’s car keys, and the teens following her.

Max gives you a sheepish smile, mouthing a ‘sorry’ before she walks out, as well, leaving you standing in the hallway.

What the hell.

You have been waiting to get away from him, now you’re forced to drive home with Steve? No. Just the thought of being alone with him makes you feel nervous.

You look around the empty hallway, you already said your goodbyes to everyone and no one will care how or who you went home with. You can just walk home… by yourself, and you won’t have to suffer through another car ride with Steve.

But as you reach for the knob, the sound of keys jingling stops you from opening the door. You close your eyes, clenching your jaw. You don’t have to look to know who it is.

“Running away from me?” Steve asks.

You look over your shoulder, meeting his eyes and the smirk on his face. Hazel eyes glowing beneath the dim lights.

“Come on, Blondie,” he murmurs, eyeing you up and down as he steps up behind you, placing his hand over yours so he can open the door.

His hand touches yours. His hand envelopes yours fully. His chest is almost pressed against your back. Your heart flutters and your knees almost buckle for real, this time.

His lip twitches and he licks them as he looks down at you.

You tear your eyes away from him when he opens the door. You quickly step out and breathe in the fresh night air, hoping that it will calm your racing heart.

“I-I didn’t know you’d be my ride tonight.”

Steve watches the way your dress sways as you walk down the porch steps. Fuck. He clears his throat, but feels unable to look away as he follows you. You don’t even look back at him, not until you’re standing next to his car and giving him a very annoyed look.

“Is that a problem for you?”

“Maybe.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle as he unlocks his car.

“Get your ass in the car, Blondie.”

Steve doesn’t know what it is about you today, but everything you do, everything you say drives him crazy. That cheeky smile that you throw at him as you open the door, the way you tilt your head as you lick your upper lip before you say “yes, sir.” Has him clenching his jaw.

He looks up into the night sky, taking a deep breath before he gets in the car.

He tries not to look at you, but it’s hard not to when he for some reason feels some sort of electric pull towards you tonight.

He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway without another word.

Neither of you speak on the drive home but Steve can’t help but steal glances, while you are completely unaware of it, just like you’re unaware of how much your dress rode up, not enough to reveal too much but enough to make him sweat.

Steve is under your spell tonight and you don’t even know it.

The drive to your house is too short for his liking and unlike him, who seems to be eager to spend more time with you tonight, you seem like you can’t wait to jump out of the car and get away from him.

You open the door, mumbling a ‘thanks for the ride.’

“You know, I really didn’t think that you could dress like that, Blondie.” He says, intending those words to sound… flirty.

A laugh falls from your lips because of how absurd this is. He didn’t think you looked cute, he probably thinks you dress too feminine for the attitude you have towards him, that’s all. This new kind of teasing is hurting you, but you can’t say anything about it to him, you can’t say that this hurts you, that it’s making you go insane. He would ask why, and you would have no excuse. You can’t face rejection, at least not right now… So you play along.

“Careful, Lego head. You’ll give me the wrong idea and make me think that you have a crush on me or something,” you joke with words he said to you not too long ago. You throw a wink at him and shut the door before he can even open his mouth to say something.

With his hand on the steering wheel and his eyes still stuck on you, he breathes heavily, his heart pounding and his cheeks burning as he slowly comes down from whatever high he had been on all day.

He swallows harshly, but his heart fucking flutters when he can smell your perfume that still lingers.

He watches you disappear into your house and shutting the door without giving him another glance or something.

He slumps back in his seat, throwing his hand into his hair, he runs his fingers through it as all the events come rushing to him.

The teasing, the touches, the… flirting.

Steve is stunned by his own actions, by how he acted towards you today – something that you were very unaware of, something that he is now glad about… Yet, he can’t help but feel a little disappointed that you didn’t notice the teasing.

He doesn’t even know where it all came from but he blames it on his desperation to feel something again, something that he had been craving for so long.

He was guided by lust, not by interest.

Because in no way, would he ever be interested in you.

All he saw today was a pretty girl in a pretty dress, it didn’t matter that it was you. He just needed to feel something, and he did… by teasing you.

But it’s something that will never happen again.

He swears, it will never happen again.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munsonlore @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @ibellcipem

I'm sorry if I forgot anyone again (I'm the worst at taglists)

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #stranger things angst

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saintkunii · 5 months

Text

Weighted Blanket

PAIRING. Diluc x F!Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut, morning sex, pronebone, crossposted from ao3 (I'm reposting my old works here again)

WC: 1.5k

MINORS DNI

You're drowning in a sea of red, limbs trapped under a heavy weight. You couldn't move your arms, you could barely move your legs, it's too constricting for you to even lift a finger. Groggily, you stir in an attempt to break free.

"Diluc…" your voice comes out hoarse and whining, forehead crumpled in a frown as you pull your arms from underneath your husband's hold, caging you as he lays on top with his face nestled against your neck. His arms are on your sides, so close that he doesn't even leave any space for maneuver, too close that the warmth of his every exhale almost lures you back to sleep. The cold weather makes him an even effective personal heater.

"...hm."

The vibrations of his chest as he hummed in response tickled your skin. He feels so comfortable in his position as he stays still at the cost of your own personal space and possible asphyxiation like he has no plans of moving anytime soon.

Diluc gets especially clingy in the morning, in the haze of a peaceful dawn. It’s not an unusual occurrence and as much as you love him and the thought that he can relax in your presence, you'd rather not want to die in his arms no matter how honorable it seems.

Crushed to death by a dashing man doesn't seem too good as your obituary.

"...luc" you called out again in a more slightly irritated tone. "...hmmvy."

You try to convey that he's crushing you with his weight but the sleepiness slurred your speech.

He nuzzles further into your neck, nose brushing against your skin and he inhales.

You wiggle in place trying to escape again when you feel him tighten his grip.

"Stop moving…" he whispers, tone heavy with sleepiness as well as he presses some kisses on your neck.

"...off"

For what felt like forever, you're finally granted amnesty from the burden of your husband as he rolls aside without breaking his embrace. He presses your back against his chest as you turn to your side to doze back again to dreamworld.

Silence falls once more. Only the sound of your soft breathing can be heard and the tickle of the grandfather clock that lays a couple of feet away.

If only it was that easy.

Diluc seems to entertain another plan as he slides a hand under your shirt, rough and calloused palm circling your stomach before it trails upward to your boob, squeezing it with barely any strength. It's like he's toying with it, fondling so softly and taking his time as you snore in your sleep. With your feet tangled, he pushes his thighs up bumping it against your ass and he couldn't help himself from grinding his hips, slowly and lazily rubbing his cock against the fats of your flesh.

You relax comfortably in his robust arms, tethering between dreams and reality as warmth blossoms on your abdomen. A sigh leaves your lips when you feel him behind you.

It feels so cozy to lay perfectly like this on a sunday morning. A day where both of you have no need to be up early.

Drowsiness kept your eyes shut but you swore you felt your husband on your neck again, his chapped lips planting kisses everywhere he touched. His lips would stay on your skin for a while there as he breathes down on the curve of your neck.

The gentle rocking of his hips only spurned you on, succumbing you to his intentions. With your eyes still closed, you covered his knuckles with your hand, interrupting his kneading, and brought it down to your sex where he cups you through your flimsy shorts.

Diluc dips his finger through the bands of your shorts and slides to the entrance of your hole.

You're a little wet. Not enough for him so he gathers up some of your slick, spreading it within your folds as he deliberately swipes your clit.

He draws out a sigh from you at the contact, almost a moan, probably a whine too as he massages, softly and casually.

The nonchalance almost made you forget about the growing hardness pressed closely on your bum.

You blink a few times, head turning to your side. Like you, he's barely even awake.

Even as he feels you stir, he only cracks an eye at you and latches on your lips, mouth hot and sloppy as he parts them.

Diluc is a gentle soul, the thought of you warmly snuggled in his embrace has him spill his entirety in your caress.

Not a word is exchanged. You didn't have to as you talk with your body. He's familiar with it, knows all the places that make you squirm in heat, has unlocked all the areas you're not even aware could make you melt. He had done this countless times and yet he could never really satiate his hunger to feel more of you, to make you feel whole, and to see you at your most vulnerable state, laid bare for him to worship. He knows just where exactly to touch.

You hum against his lips when he pokes a finger inside you, loosely stroking your walls at a snail pace. He drags it, unbothered by your thighs clamping his hands.

He's patient in his ministrations, kissing your supple lips in fervent fashion laced with the haziness of morning. He taps and rubs almost like he's scraping your insides. The pleasure running all over you brings you in and out of your drowsy state, waking you every once in a while. From the sighs he hears from you, Diluc can tell you're quite enjoying this yourself even if you're merely reacting from his actions out of instinct.

A soft gasp comes from your mouth when he joins another finger in, scissoring you as he stretches you out slowly. Heaving more than ever, his breath becomes more laborious, panting in your kiss and his strokes pick up pace, dizzying, electrifying, heat pools in your legs as you gush around his fingers.

It's hot. Your whole body trembles as your tongues crossed, saliva joining in your messy kisses, tongue to tongue proding each other's mouth.

You're almost there. The ghost of your climax hovering just around.

But before you catch that relief, he pulls his fingers out, pushes down the garters of his boxers to free his erection, and you whine at the lost contact.

You arch your back towards him, ass rubbing against his hips in anticipation. Using your fingers, you stretch yourself wide open for easy access to your husband.

You feel the burning touch of Diluc's tip pushing past your entrance. His cock throbs as he sinks deeper into your cunt, bottoming out with one languid stroke that has you stretching your toes at the intrusion. He groans, quaking as he puts his weight again on you, pressing you until you lie on your stomach, face buried against the sheets, and keeping you closer to him. His legs are on your side trapping your thighs.

Soaking in the high of your whines and breathy gasp of his name from your lips, he moves his hips in a tender roll, slow and careful but with more focus on your sweet spot.

He nips along the column of your spine. Affectionate brushes of his lips spill from his being as he marks your nape with his bites that you shiver. He pants raggedly along your neck as he fluidly pushes forward inside you and out again, carving deeply into you.

The delicious stretch of your hole got you sucking him in that it's all you could think about. The feel of his touch, the weight of his body on you, skin slapping skin.

Diluc's rough palms come to your hips and ruts into you, drawing a deep guttural sigh once in a while as you lay weakly under him, your hands fisting the covers as it drowns your ecstasy. You're so tight in this position, pulling him even further in at how easily he can reach your gspot like this. Every hit makes you roll your eyes in euphoria, and arc yourself to the mattress at how good he feels, spasming around his length that sets him off the edge.

He hastens, rocking his hips with more shallow thrusts and fucks into you even more deeply, drilling his cock inside completely covered in your slick. With every thrust he punches out your breath from your lungs.

You're losing your mind, completely overridden by the sensation of his veiny cock rubbing along your walls. You can almost feel your climax. It hovers around you as your abdomen tightens and heat stretching all over you.

Diluc twitches forward with more fervor at your signs and slaps his hips against yours more frantically, his breathing erratic and cuts short with his pacing. With a low mewl from you, your knot comes undone as you get your release, his hips thrusting into your twitching cunt. He stutters in his ruts and hot white of cum spurts inside you, releasing his load inside your warmth. It drips down into the bed, making a mess of the covers.

Muscles relaxing, Diluc bends down to kiss you, sighing into your mouth as you feel him soften inside you, twitching as you spasm. And with a hum, you feel his lips curve into a soft smile.

"Good morning."

You let out a chuckle.

"Good morning."

#✧| written works: one shots #diluc smut #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader smut #diluc x reader #genshin smut

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rosedom · 2 months

Note

hi there! I'm here because I wanted to share with you an idea I had in mind.

wanderer x guitarist boyfriend reader where he finds the reader's hands attractive and started to masturbate in his room imagining the reader's fingers inside him and reader catches him masturbating in his room once he got back to his place after a band performance.

I hope this is okay with you, I'm sorry if it's not though. I love your works btw! also can I be 🥯 anon?

"in an open match, 【 🥯 】 has invited WANDERER to play . . . a well-strummed man

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!male!reader, sub!ftm!wanderer, hand kink, fantasizing turned to masturbating, getting caught (by you), vaginal fingering, lots of love & praise .

A/N : i've been thinking about this scenario these past weeks, oh my goodness . . . (⁠♡⁠ω⁠♡⁠ ⁠)⁠ ⁠~⁠♪

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Kunikuzushi is a dead, dead man.

Listen. It's not like it’s his fault you’re a guitarist, much-less the lead of a band; and it most certainly does not fall to his blame that he’s been lonely, alright?

You’ve been out all weekend, and it’s already Sunday night. He—he won't admit he misses you, but it’s a close thing.

“I’ll be back Monday, baby,” you’d said, last Friday. You’d held him in your broad arms, your large palms a searing brand to his hips as he grunted at you for spinning him.

He had shoo’d you away, said, “Okay, okay!” and pushed you out the door with your guitar and damning crooked grin.

You had pouted, too, standing in the doorway like some kicked kitten, and Kuni couldn’t deny such pitiful look on your handsome face. “C’mere,” he’d grumbled, reeled you in and kissed you soundly on your lips. “Goodluck, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You’d kept your faces together for a few moments, breathing in him, before you ultimately straightened up. “I love you.”

With a scoff, another shove and a soft, “Goodbye—,” one you gave him back, your own adoring farewell—he had murmured, “I love you, too.”

(He hasn't seen the smile on your face for you turned the other way. It made your heart skip a beat, made you hold tighter to the purple straps of your guitar as you went to the curb your bandmates had been waiting for you on.

Kuni had seen, however, the grip of your fingers across the leather; he had seen it well. So well.)

Kuni groans. Your hands. He can't get your hands off his mind: your hands tightening around your guitar strap, your hands holding tight to his waist, your hands covering the expanse of his pale skin, your hands dipping down, your hands stroking his cock and nudging into his cunt and and—

he’s a goner. Not only dead, but gone: utterly, entirely, wholly for you.

Your hands are just so—enticing. That's it, that's all. They're nice to look at.

. . . and nice to imagine knuckle-deep in his cunt. Of course, they’re nice to feel actively thrusting in him, rubbing across his chubby cock and smearing the mess of slick and lube across his hole; but you're not here right now, and he's left with only a whisper of you in his imagination, and a video of you playing live.

He couldn't attend your show, thanks to a paper he had to submit by Saturday night. But tonight's Sunday, and the paper's squared away and submitted and done, and he's lonely, right now, replaying your recording, eyes watching the both steady and jerking movements in turn of your fingers across the guitar strings.

His cock throbs. “Shit.”

With another groan—albeit far weaker, without any gusto behind it—, Kunikuzushi lets his phone fall to the side and sinks full-bodied into the bed. The plush blankets wrap around him, swaddling him in a semblance of you, you, you. They carry your subtle scent in them, a mixture of your soap and his own embedded into the fabric in a heady mix that Kuni greedily drinks in, pressing a corner of it to his mouth and nose as his other hand teases down his body.

A tweak—gentle, mimicking your own soft touch—to his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt makes him lowly gasp. It’s not as satisfying, with his own touch, but the sensation still makes small zaps of pleasure zing up and down his spine, ending with a heavy pulse at his cock and sending his cunt dribbling.

Pulling off his briefs is an easy thing, if not made a bit messy by the string of slick that connects to and snaps from the seat of the fabric. It’d be embarrassing if you were here to see it, feel it, taste it; but you're not here right now.

He's sorely reminded, again and again: he's alone, for now.

(He misses the embarrassment under you, already, misses the way your touch is always so gentle against him, teasing him and bringing him to release again and again with those damning hands.)

He plays across his opening, now bare, with his fingers, just like you'd do. The wetness clings to his fingertips, and he mourns the loss of the calluses on your hands; his own are soft n’ smooth, providing little friction against the parts that need it most.

“Please,” he whispers to himself, to the air, to absolutely no-one.

He wants you here, so, so bad; but the next best thing is the slide of two fingers, right off the bat, right into the third knuckle. It’s slow going, but it's smooth, and he sharply exhales at the barely-there stretch.

It’s quiet save for the squelch of his fingers, the in-n’-out thrust

When his mind starts playing your voice, the devilish thing, he's a goner twice-over. “Takin’ my fingers so well, baby,” you’d say, he imagines you saying. He mewls at the thought, bending his fingers sharply in the way he knows you would. Though they don’t come into contact with his g-spot how yours would, not at first, the press against his sensitive walls makes him bite his lip still.

Sometimes, Kuni wonders if you know his body better than he does. (You do.)

He thinks, then, of the other things you'd say to him, pressed up close and deep in him. Maybe you would tell him, “So needy,” with a lilt to your voice that reveals you're really not mad at all. “All wet n’ dripping for me, aren't'cha? Aren’t I so lucky to have such a pretty boy under me?”

Maybe you'd lean down and lick at his cock while you spread him open. The thought makes him whine all loud-like, working a third finger in beside the other two, whimpering quietly after the shame of his initial whine.

“Turn over for me, babe,” the you in his head sweetly commands. He swears he can feel your phantom touch on his hips, murmuring, “There you go,” guiding him to roll onto his belly. The shirt he’s kept on bunches up, allowing a whisper of the cold bedroom air to brush his nipples. “My obedient, good boy.”

He feels safer like this, pumping his fingers into his cunt the best he can with the new position. The angle no longer allows his fingers to curl into his g-spot, but it mimics how you handle him: a worthy trade-off, he thinks. He imagines you on his back, stretching him on your fingers as you drape yourself across him, licking n’ kissing at his neck and blushing ears.

“Opening up so good f'r me,” you'd say; Kuni whimpers, biting the pillow—your pillow, saturated in the subtle scent of your shampoo—to muffle himself. He’s safe, like this.

This is as close as he can get to having you, right now—

until it's not.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Kuni, sweetheart.”

Fuck. Fuck.

“You—I—” Kuni wrings himself upright, coming right up to your face, inches away from his own. He growls at you, but it falls short—how could it, when he’s red-faced and pushes at your chest with his slickened hand? “When did you get home?”

“Just now,” you murmur, grabbing his hand and bringing it up to your lips for a kiss, for a taste of him. Then, “Have you cum?”

He rips his hand back. “You can't just—”

“So you haven't,” you say, grinning. Silently, he sputters, but then you're leaning in and kissing him soundly and pressing him down into your bed and—

“Gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” you ask. Your grin turns devilish when you dip your fingertips into him, just so, the callouses on your two fingers already resting so perfectly against his opening.

Your roughed-up thumb presses into his jutting cock, right as he whines, “Yes,” his whole attitude turned on a dime. Sweet, sweet Kunikuzushi.

“You're so wet,” you murmur, entirely awed at the slick glide of your fingers, able to slide a third in oh-so easily. While he had three of his own stuffed up to his third knuckle, your fingers are broader, wider—the knobs of each knuckle is prominent still, nudging each sweet spot in his cunt easy as anything. “God, pretty boy, what were you thinkin’ about to make you this messy?”

Kuni whines again, the sound airy and high, pleading n’ begging.

“Heard you keep saying my name,” you continue, curling your fingers and forcing the bumps at your fingertips against his g-spot in a way his own hands failed to. Asking, “What about me, hm?” makes him tremble, and you think his brain is too pleasure-mushed to process it.

But then he’s reaching for the hand you've got snug on his hip, and he murmurs, “Your hands.”

“My hands?” He nods, closing his eyes tight. You kiss the flutter of eyelashes. “What about them?”

“They're so—” a moan cuts up his words, your thumb working tight against him.

“They're so...?”

He groans. “They're so—so big, ‘nd they're always so warm, so hot in me, s-stretch me so—so good.”

“Yeah?” You pull apart your fingers at his words—only slightly, enough to feel the slight resistance of his cunt. “Like it when I open you up all nice n’ pretty for me?”

“Yes, yes, I l-love it.” Kuni’s so unabashed, now, so close to his orgasm. The clench of his cunt is uncontrolled, pulsing against your fingers and urging you to rub his chubby cock faster, harder, stretching him out and making his mind melt from his pretty, perfect lil’ pussy.

As his back unconsciously arches, his thighs jerking with the spasms of his muscle, he begins to plead you to let him cum. Soft begs fall from his lips as he clutches right at your free hand, both of his smaller ones holding yours tight when you lean down and kiss him, soft n’ sound right against his swollen lips.

You can't even finish your sentence, a gentle, “Cum for me, sweetheart,” before Kuni’s creaming around your fingers, the thick cum left dribbling in your palm and being smeared into his twitching cock.

By the time he’s dropped your hand to grab at your other wrist, he's left a whimperin’, whinin’ mess. You lie next to him and roll his body on top of yours, holding him close around his middle and letting him nuzzle into your throat.

His breathing eventually steadies, matching the gentle rhythm of your chest against his. “Thank you,” he mutters.

“For what?”

He sighs. “Makin’ me cum.” The tone of his voice makes you chuckle, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “What?”

“Nuthin',” you say, laughing. You kiss his forehead in apology, and you continue with, “I should be thanking you, anyway, for surprising me with something like that.”

“Shut up, you perv.”

You’re appalled! “Says the guy fingering himself on our—”

Kuni growls, jumping up and covering your mouth with his hands. “Shut up!” But those pretty indigo eyes soften, crinkling at the edges, and he leans down to kiss your forehead in turn.

“Missed you,” he says, a whisper against your skin—one you return to his sternum, pressing a kiss and your love so close to his heart.

Maybe, if this is death, like this, Kuni wouldn't quite mind being a dead man.

kuni's so real for this: hands r UNREASONABLY attractive. i hope this somewhat like u imagined, sweet anon 🦭🦭

6 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#【 🥯 】#technically this is modern au . . .#otherwise i wouldn't consider that he'd have a heartbeat or need to breathe 😵‍💫😵‍💫#sub scaramouche #sub wanderer #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #he has double the tags bc of all his dmn names #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #dom reader #top reader #male reader #ftm smut

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finalgirlfae · 11 months

Note

that miles smut was so good omg🤭🤭

pls write moree💕💕

thank you! ask and u shall receive ;)

sunday morning, miles morales

DISCLAIMER: miles is aged up to 19.

pairings: miles morales x afab!reader

summary: it’s sunday morning, and for breakfast miles is craving you.

tags, warnings: unprotected sex, soft sex, praise, teasing fingering, slight body worship, oral (f!recieving), miles using his webs🤭, uhh i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything!

you slowly opened your eyes with a quiet yawn and rolled over to the other side of the bed. the sunrise was climbing the sky and peaking through your white curtains, landing on miles’ face.

the golden yellow rays hit his featured perfectly. a small smile found its way on to your lips as you admired how peaceful your boyfriend looked. he was sound asleep, bare and toned chest rising and falling slowly with each breath he took. you took another moment to admire miles before turning away and deciding to get ready for the day. you pushed your self to the edge of the bed, feet not even getting a chance to touch the floor before you felt something sticky grab at your arm, immediately pulling you back into bed.

“miles!” you let out a soft shriek and turned to face your boyfriend who was laid on his side, arm propped up to hold his head as he stared at you with a soft smirk. “how many times have i told you not to web me from behind!”

“how else am i supposed to get to you stay in bed with me?

“ask.” you narrowed your eyes at him, only pretending to be mad.

“ok.” miles sat up. “i want you to stay in bed with me.”

you scoffed. “that’s not asking me that’s telling me.”

miles sucked his teeth at you. he moved his hands to your legs, grabbing you by your ankles and making you yelp again when he pulled your body closer to his, sitting you in his lap to straddle him.

“what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek. he smiled. “i didn’t use my webs this time.”

“shut up.” you cupped hands on either side of miles face, pulling the boy into a kiss. he immediately kissed back, pushing his lips into yours softly and nibbling at your bottom one.

soon his hands trailed up your waist, slipping under the t-shirt you wore and tracing over your back. “this is my shirt actually, and i want it off.” he muttered against your lips. you pulled away from the kiss. “oh yeah? come and get it bugboy.”

you slid off his lap and moved to the head of the bed, pressing your back against the pillows and looking at him. he sucked his teeth again and crawled over to you. “stop playin’ with me.” he put his arms out and pressed down on his palms, sending two webs to attach to either side of your shirt and pulling it off in one swift motion. you only laughed.

“i’m gettin’ good at that.” miles winked before attaching his lips to yours again. his hands hands cupped your boobs causing you to moan. he pinched the one he knew was most sensitive and began to roll it between his thumb and middle finger, after that he moved to kiss your neck, beginning to nibble and suck at your favorite spot. “perfect.”

“miles.” you whined at the compliment, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer.

he took his hands off your boobs and lips off your neck. miles looked at you for a second, rolling his plump lips together. he played with the band on your underwear. “take ya panties off.”

as if you could get any wetter right now.

you followed his order, taking off the gray cotton panties and tossing them somewhere in the room.

he gave you another quick kiss before laying you down on the bed. miles began to kiss your chest before trailing down to your stomach. he pressed kisses and sometimes little nibbles against your pelvis before laying down and spreading your legs, placing them over his shoulders.

he made eye contact with you, pressing a kiss on your inner left thigh before immediately beginning to roll his tongue on your clit. a moan fell from your lips and you threw your head back. he sucked your clit gently, bringing a finger to your pussy and pushing it in.

your legs clenched for a second at the sudden feel as the tip of his tongue swirled your clit. he added a second finger, beginning to pump a little faster and slightly curl them.

your hips bucked into his face and you reached a hand down, grabbing a fist full of his coils. “shit, keep doing that.”

he half listened to you, keeping the exact same swirl pattern on your clit but choosing to add a third finger. you immediately clenched around his fingers, letting out a very loud fuck. he pumped his fingers into you a little harder, curling them and making you scream a bit as you came around them.

he slowly pulled his fingers out and made eye contact with you asked he sucked them, letting out an almost pornographic moan. your jaw dropped at his actions and if it was possible, you were even more turned on.

“miles.” you whined out. he smirked at you and brought himself closer, using a hand to hold your jaw while he began to kiss you.

his let go of your jaw and slid his hands over your breasts again, squeezing each of them in his large hands.

the two of you melted into the kiss, hands moving all over each other but suddenly you were very aware that you were the only one fully naked. he still had on his blue flannel night pants.

you trailed a hand down miles stomach, tracing your finger tips over his abs before reaching down and palming your hand his large bulge. you gave his dick a gentle squeeze and miles let out a groan before grabbing your hand. he webbed one of your wrists above your head. “stop playin with me.” he muttered the warning against your lips.

you kissed back, “unfair advantage.”

“shh, you love it.” he leaned back, swiftly pulling off his pants and boxers. you glazed eyes over his body and found a small smile place on your lips. miles was so beautiful and his body was absolutely perfect to you. his arms and chest were so toned. you didn’t get mych time to admire him before his hands were back on your body. he grabbed your legs, pushing them back and putting you into a breeding press. he liked this position the best because like missionary; he could still see your face and kiss you but he had more control.

“look so pretty folded f’ me.” miles muttered to you before he began to trail hot and wet kisses down your neck. a large gasp left your lips as you felt something long, thick and hard slide into you. he went back to your lips, laughing at the gasp you let out “yea, its big. i know.” he whispered, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

you let out of muffled moan as miles slowly started to thrust into you. his dick before the bite was already kind of big and after it grew an extra two inches so it’s safe to say you were more than satisfied with your lover.

a curse slipped from your lips when miles gave a particularly deep thrust. he had set a medium level pace that felt good for both of you, not too sustained but also not too rough for morning sex. he was right in the middle.

he leaned up, taking one of his hands and pressing down on your stomach. “fuck oh my god.” you could feel everything now. every ridge, vein and every curve on his dick. miles gave you a small smirk, licking his thumb before circling it over your clit. your body jerked at the sudden stimulation and your tried to grab at his hand. he immediately grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours before moving both your hands above your head.

miles now had all the control. he body was pressed against yours, hips beginning to snap at a ruthless pace while your legs trembled and pussy pulsated around his dick. his tip began to brush your g spot with every roll of his hips.

“miles-”

“i know, i know baby.” he whined. “you feel so fucking good, fuck.” miles’ breathing became a bit heavier. he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, beginning to bite and suck at the hot skin.

his hands gripped yours tighter and a muffled moan fell from his lips as your wrapped legs around his waist. it drove him crazy when you did things like that, little actions that let him know how much you wanted him, how much you enjoyed the feeling between you two and the sensation of his body on top yours.

“shit,” miles spoke, snapping his hips against your faster. he was close and you could feel him throbbing inside you. miles moved his free hand down to your clit again, rubbing figure eights and immediately making you clench around him. the feeling of him thrusting inside you, rubbing your clit and kissing your neck was entirely too much and it didn’t take much longer before you came around him with a loud moan.

miles smirked to himself, pulling his face from your neck and pecking your lips before he pulled out of you. he began to stroke himself, tossing his head back and letting out a moan as he came all over your chest. when you came down from your high you looked at your wrist that was still webbed to the bed. “..gonna let me go now?”

miles gave you a laugh. “for what? we not done.” he moved your legs to lay flat, kissing down your stomach again and across your pelvis. “far from done.” he muttered into your skin. it was going to be a long morning.

•••

i need him so bad.

tags:

@multifariousqueer

#milesmoralessmut #spiderman smut #smutty #sunday #morning routine #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you

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aww-canon-no · 11 months

Text

Steddie Fic- 9 Stops

9 Stops

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rated: Everyone (but with kissing)

Deaf Eddie, newly deaf Steve, meet cute, modern fic, no upside down

Summary: And holy shit this might be his chance because…Yeah. Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him. It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

Note: You have all been so nice? Im crying? This fandom is so soft. Posting one more Tumblr one-shot tonight. This time with kissing.I gave you Deaf Steve so now have Deaf Eddie/deaf Steve (big D little d, not an innuendo)

Word Count: 2400

***

The train is quiet. In a literal sort of way, everything is quiet for Eddie Munson who was born deaf and remained deaf despite all the praying and laying hands and shit that adults were always doing at his parents’ church when he was little.

That was before CPS got involved and Wayne stepped in and made things better.

But in a more metaphorical way, the train is quiet because—what most people don’t understand—the Deaf community is loud. And he means that in every way it’s possible to mean that. Everything is turned up to max volume so they can feel it. When they get together it’s big gestures and faces all twisted up in expression and wagging tongues and stomping feet and…it’s a lot.

It ain’t your momma’s sweet little interpreter at Sunday Service kind of deaf.

He doesn’t regret the job working at the center, but he takes the train home instead of carpooling with the other guys because it’s going to get loud again when he meets up with the rest of Corroded Coffin for band practice. They met at school when Eddie was finally allowed to leave the nonsense of mainstream education he couldn’t actually understand behind him.

Garret wanted to call the band something like Deaf Devils which Eddie flat out refused because he will not—under pain of death or torture—ever be obvious or predictable.

Also why he takes the train.

At least, why he used to.

Now he takes the train because he takes the train. The Hair, Eddie’s been calling him. It’s a sign name that Steve Harrington doesn’t actually know about since he doesn’t interact with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t do intake or adult shit. He mostly works with newly deafened teens, or teens that have come from hearing homes and are finally allowed to get more involved in the Deaf community.

They call it socializing but it ’s mostly a way for Eddie to be able to run the most badass DnD campaigns known to man and get paid for it. It’s maybe the sweetest job he’s ever had and there’s no chance in hell he’s ever giving it up.

But he noticed Steve when he showed up—looking like a scared, lost little lamb the way they all do when their world has been flipped upside down. And Eddie does feel sympathy for him. Steve looks like the kind of guy Eddie hate. The kind of jock that liked to push Eddie into trash cans and lockers because—surprising absolutely no one—Deaf school had preppy jock assholes too.

So Eddie mostly avoids Steve and his polo shirts and his annoyingly glorious hair for a really long time. And he definitely doesn’t get soft on the inside whenever he sees the look of frustration on Steve’s face when he comes out of the ASL level one class.

Eddie remembers it pretty well, but not well enough to relate. He also never lost a sense so he’s not quite sure what Steve’s going through.

But he’s not a monster. He feels.

He feels too much sometimes.

He kind of wants to tell Steve that it gets not just a little better, but so fucking much better. That it’s a big deal that Steve came to the center because most people his age just get some metal and magnets slapped inside their skulls and hope for the best and move on without realizing they don’t actually have to choose between one or the other.

They don’t have to lose one to gain.

Or something poetic like that.

He needs to write that down. It sounds like it could be a pretty decent song lyric.

Anyway, Eddie used to take the two o’clock train, but now he pushed it to three because that’s when Steve shows up at the station with his head down and his hearing aids off and his fingers all twisting in his lap like he’s trying to quietly practice everything he learned that day. Eddie notices the shaking, and he notices the dark bags under Steve’s eyes.

Steve doesn’t notice him though. He’s not quite there yet. At that place where sight replaces sound naturally, and he starts noticing everything around him without waiting to hear it.

He can’t help but keep his eyes on Steve, even squashed between two dudes—one of whom is eating legit an actual to-go box full of fettuccini alfredo.

And of course that happens to be the moment Steve finally looks up and sees him. After six weeks, Steve finally notices.

His lips twitch. Eddie braces himself because he expects Steve to be maybe angry. It’s obvious Steve recognizes him.

Then Steve raises a hand—a small and subtle thing. ‘Hi.’

Eddie snorts. ‘Hi.’

Steve goes on a face journey which Eddie reads like one of his favorite novels and in spite of himself, he smiles wider.

‘You think this guy would freak out of I took a bite of his food?’ Eddie chances.

There’s no way in hell Steve’s that far along in his lessons, but he watches as Steve’s lips curve around a couple of the words he knows.

‘Don’t understand. Sorry,’ Steve finally signs, back—still subtle like he doesn’t want to be noticed. Then he yawns, the kind that Eddie knows probably cracks his jaw.

He stands up without realizing it and moves across to sit beside his not-friend. He sticks out his fist and they knock knuckles—a fairly safe greeting.

Steve sighs. ‘Sorry,’ he signs again.

‘I know,’ Eddie tells him. ‘Give it time.’

Steve must have learned that one from his teacher saying it over and over to his students. It’s not your average ASL class. It’s not hearing people trying to get a credit, or start a new job or something. It’s all people in Steve’s shoes trying to learn how to communicate again without making their brain feel like it’s full of static electricity.

‘You’re tired,’ Eddie signs.

Steve nods, then remembers to respond with a fist. ‘Yes’

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. ‘What’s your stop?’ He signs it slowly and fingerspells some so Steve will understand. Train-STATION, yours, which?

Steve licks his lips, then lifts a hand, pinky touching his thumb. ‘Sixth AVE.’

Eddie nods decidedly, then shuffles so close their thighs touch. Steve startles, but Eddie just reaches over and tugs Steve’s head until it falls against him. ‘Sleep,’ he tells him. They have nineteen stops to go—and that’s nine past Eddie’s. But he’s done worse things than ride the train all evening.

Steve stiffens like he’s going to put up a fight for a second, and then his body relaxes. He’s asleep before stop four. He’s snoring so loud that Eddie can feel it rumbling against his side by stop seven.

By stop sixteen Eddie hates himself for what he has to do.

At stop eighteen he gently prods Steve who wakes up with a jolt and stares around like he doesn’t know where he is. Their gazes lock, then his shoulders sag.

‘Thank you,’ he signs. His fingers are nice. Lovely, in fact, the way they tip from his chin. Watching him blossom into the language will be a real treat.

If Eddie’s invited in.

***

So.

Train naps become a thing.

Eddie meets him at the entrance to the station, and Steve tells him one or two facts about his day with his growing vocabulary—and he probably picks up some colorful commentary and slang—and some of Eddie’s home-grown home-signs which is alright by him. Just…hopefully he doesn’t get yelled at in class for using them.

Because then Eddie will get yelled at later. Scott Clarke will definitely know where they came from. But it’s kind of hard to care because Steve scrunches up his face when he’s processing something new.

And Eddie’s halfway in love and he’s not interested at all in pumping the brakes, even if Steve seems pretty goddamn straight and will only break Eddie’s heart in the end.

***

It’s twelve weeks now and Steve’s starting to look better. A little more rested.

It’s a Tuesday the first time Steve doesn’t fall asleep, but he also doesn’t put space between them, either. He stares at his hands for a while, then he looks up at Eddie.

‘I,’ he starts. ‘Went deaf overnight.’

That…’sss a surprise. That’s not super common to just randomly go deaf. At least, not in someone as young as Steve who can’t be more than twenty-five. Not that Eddie hasn’t seen stranger things, but still.

He can tell Steve’s not done with his story.

‘Dr told me I had three tumors and I would go deaf eventually,’ he signs it Deaf-future-later like he’s not sure which one is right and Eddie just lets him have it. His brain’s interpreting it juuuust fine. ‘I was sad, but okay.’

Eddie nods. That-that.

Steve smiles and bites his lip before letting it go and it’s all spit-slick and shiny and Eddie wants to taste it so badly. ‘I fell,’ he signs.

Eddie clarifies that he means he physically fell.

Steve touches the back of his head. ‘Nineteen STITCHES. CONCUSSION.’

Eddie winces. He’s has his fair share of head injuries from mosh pits and other stupid shit, but those were injuries he all-but chose to have. Steve looks devastated.

‘Dizzy,’ he signs. ‘VERTIGO.’

Eddie shows him the sign for that and Steve copies it.

‘I couldn’t walk. Tried everything. Fail.’

Eddie winces again. ‘Sorry.’

Steve shrugs. ‘They removed tumors. Hearing was gone.’

Eddie tries to think about what life might be like if he just woke up one day and lost a sense. And okay it would be different since he was already Deaf but he still gets it. As best as he can, anyway.

He sighs and turns, cupping Steve’s cheek. Steve leans into the touch like he’s starved for it, and God knows Eddie is, so he’s not in a hurry to pull back. He grazes his thumb under Steve’s eye. ‘Sleeping better?’

Steve laughs. Eddie has some—what the doctors call residual hearing which seems a little ridiculous since Eddie was born this way, but whatever. It’s enough to hear—just barely—the rumble of Steve’s laugh over the faint noise of the train. Mostly he feels it against his hand though.

‘Yeah. Better,’ he repeats.

Eddie sighs, but before he can mourn the loss of their routine, Steve shuffles closer and lays his head down. Eddie knows he doesn’t sleep, but this is good too.

***

For the first time in six months, Eddie doesn’t come to his ASL class. And it’s not like Eddie’s waiting…

Which is a lie. He’s definitely waiting.

The kids give him epic and endless shit for being distracted—to the point he gives up and lets Mike start his own campaign while he paces the room and feels all kind of itchy all over and he hates it. He hates it so much.

The kids all go home eventually and Eddie gets on the train at three and he stares at the empty seat that Steve should be in and it feels like there’s a sudden canyon or maybe a dark hole that leads into some alternate dimension that stole these moments away from him.

His stop comes and he almost doesn’t get off until he remembers he doesn’t need to wait nine stops past, and nine stops back. His knees are kind of shaky as he brushes past people and feels the silence kind of profoundly for the first time in maybe ever.

And then the world rearranges.

Steve’s there, leaning against the wall near the stairs with his arms crossed and a pissed off look on his face that’s both terrifying and really, really beautiful. Eddie feels like he might choke on his own tongue as he stumbles to a halt.

‘Nine.’

Eddie stares at Steve’s hand thinking maybe he’s got the wrong sign.

Then he does it again. ‘Nine.’

Eddie looks behind him, then at Steve again.

‘Your stop is before mine.’

Eddie flushes. Hard. So hard he gets a little dizzy. ‘Yes.’

Steve swallows hard. ‘Why?’

Eddie flops his arms and his whole body kind of moves with it, and he wants to pace and be loud with his body but they’re in public. Like, hearing public. Someone will definitely call the cops and tell them he’s on drugs, especially since he tends to vocalize a little loudly when he’s uncomfortable and it unsettles hearing people’s delicate little ears.

He takes a breath. ‘You were tired.’

Steve blinks at him kind of incredulously. ‘I was tired,’ he repeats. His face doesn’t give Eddie any indication that it’s a question but…

Maybe it is?

‘You were tired,’ he repeats.

Steve pushes away from the wall. Stalks a step closer. Then suddenly his hand is on Eddie’s cheek bare and warm and soft, and he mirrors that gesture, swiping a thumb under Eddie’s eye. ‘Where is your shoulder?’

‘My—’ Eddie starts. Stops. His hand hovers in the air. His shoulder. His own Eddie? ‘I don’t need one.’

‘Bullshit,’ Steve shoots back at him. It’s an older, more archaic sign he definitely got from Scott, but it hits the mark.

Eddie sighs and shrugs again. ‘You were tired,’ he just repeats. He needs Steve to get it.

And oh. Maybe he does, because he’s pushing in closer again and his hand has fallen to the back of Eddie’s neck and there’s absolutely no signing space between them now. Steve’s lips move like maybe he’s talking to himself—probably a habit he’ll never totally lose, but Eddie likes it. He likes the way Steve’s lips dance and he wants to feel them.

And holy shit this might be his chance because…

Yeah. Yep.

Yes.

But when it ends, Steve is still warm, and still perfect, and still touching him.

‘Nine stops,’ Steve manages to sign.

Eddie laughs. ‘Eighteen, if you count the ones on the way back.’

He feels Steve’s groan as he rolls his eyes, then he grins as Steve surges back in to kiss him.

Kiss him.

#Steve Harrington #Deaf Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Deaf Eddie Munson #Stranger Things fanfic #Steddie #Steddie Fanfic #steve x eddie

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loveronlineee · 2 years

Photo

Eddie Munson Masterlist

🌊 - Reader favourites

🧸 - My favourites

Thoughts and feelings on volume 2

Sibling! Readers

Just Checking (Henderson! Reader)

Off Limits (Henderson! Reader)

Can You Keep a Secret? (Wheeler! Reader)

Us Weirdos (Byers! Reader)

Basketballs and Bat Tattoos (Sinclair! Reader)

Untouchable (Sinclair! Reader)

Cat People (Mayfield! Reader)

Even Wallflowers need Sunshine 🧸 (Buckley! Reader)

My Dealer’s Sister (Lipton! Reader)

Established Relationship

Unlikely couple (Cheerleader! Reader)

Nervous

You’re in Trouble

Oh, Worm?

Are You Mad at Me?

Easy like Sunday Morning

Unexpected

Nightowl

My Girl 🌊

Jealousy Jealousy~

Friends to Lovers

I’m Okay

First

Eddie my Love

Pool Party (18+)

Acquaintances to Lovers

Different (Cheerleader! Reader)

Locker Room (Cheerleader! Reader)

Being a Freak 101 (Cheerleader! Reader)

Odd One Out (Cheerleader! Reader)

I.O.U (Cheerleader! Reader)

Pushing It (Cheerleader! Reader)

You Intrigue Me. (Cheerleader! Reader)

Glasses

Horror Movies

The Freak and the Freakette

Jammin’

One Scoop for Two 🌊

Doodles and Dates 🌊

Band Shirts

The Little Things

On Wheels

Coffee, Comics and Conversation 🧸

I Don’t Like the Pool Boy. (Lifeguard! Reader)

Take a Chance on me (non-binary! Reader)

A Witch and a Cult Leader walk into a bar… 🧸 (Witchy! Reader)

Strangers to Lovers

The Metalhead and the Material Girl 🌊

College Kids (College AU) 🦋

Three. 🧸 (Reader with powers)

I am on a break from writing Eddie atm

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #reader x Eddie Munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #stranger things season four #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #reader x stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 6 months

Text

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 5

Part 1 Part 4

Eddie’s filled a shitty back-to-school backpack with anything useful he can find. There’s more wet wipes, and gauze, antiseptic, and a hammer. He’s got a lighter, a few newspapers, and a few shitty plastic cups. In a fit of whimsy, he stuffs a pack of playing cards in there as well.

They go.

Hawkins is bigger than he remembers. Eddie’s not sure if it’s just the fatigue, the general atmosphere of this place, or it’s just another fucked-up thing that’s just a little off about this place. Hawkins, but not.

And god, he didn’t ever think he’d be homesick for Hawkins. His trailer, sure. Wayne, of course. But Hawkins? No way.

But he’s pretty sure he’d give his left kidney to be walking down 2nd street with all its residences clutching their pearls and crossing the street to avoid him.

The street stretches out before him unnaturally. It’s quiet. There’s ash in Harrington’s hair where he walks by his side. Eddie’s never felt more out of place in his life.

“Do you think we’ll make it back?” he whispers. It’s so quiet, it feels like his words bounce across the town, anyway.

Harrington’s gait stutters. It could be from his fucked up feet. Eddie doesn’t think so. His brows pinched, lips pursed, skin golden under its ashen sheen.

“Someone will have noticed us missing by now, right?” He doesn’t sound sure. Eddie can’t fathom why.

“It’s…Sunday, Right?” Eddie asks, not waiting for an answer before continuing, “I’m supposed to be at band practice. The guys will notice.”

Harrington nods, starts walking again.

“What about you?” Eddie asks.

Harrington’s eyes are shifting back and forth like he’s watching the ghosts of the real world in this fucked up mirror dimension. Hell, maybe he can.

“Nancy noticed,” he says, quiet enough that Eddie barely picks up on it. He’s looking down at his feet and he looks small. Unsure. Before he looks up at Eddie from the corner of his eye. “Right?”

Eddie looks at this guy he’s hated for years, this guys who Eddie’s sure didn’t even notice him enough to hate him back, and says the only thing he can, “Right.”

“She’s smart.”

“Wheeler seems like a baddess,” Eddie says, even though she doesn’t. It makes Harrington smile down at his borrowed shoes.

Eddie reaches out, squeezing lightly at Harrington’s elbow in comfort before skipping a few steps ahead, feeling his ears burn red. Harrington jogs to catch back up. They walk in silence after that.

The walk down the winding path surrounding the quarry is harrowing. It’s long, sure, but the way the red sky is reflecting back off the water’s surface has his gut sinking into his boots and weighing his feet down. It doesn’t look promising.

It looks even less promising up close. But beggars can’t be choosers, and Eddie feels one second away from falling to his knees and begging to a deity he doesn’t believe in.

He pulls out one of the stupid plastic cups, toes of his boots dipping into the red water as he bends over the reservoir and fills the cup, handing it to Harrington. Might as well take advantage of his tagalong jock test dummy,, and all that.

Harrington grabs it from him, staring down at it dubiously. He tips it sideways, eyeing the liquid speculatively as it pours out of the cup and onto the concrete at his feet.

It’s hard to tell if it’s actually red, even watching it drip onto the ground. The light’s too fucked, but it’s at least transulscent. It’s not blood, or at least not only blood. Eddie’s more concerned about the ash mixed in, to be honest.

Harrington’s still staring down at the remains of his cup like he’s not sure what to do with it.

“Don’t drink that,” Eddie says.

Harrington doesn’t reply, but he can feel him watching as Eddie digs through his bag, pulling out a drugstore T-shirt and the second cup. He snatches Harringtons cup from his fingers, puts the T-shirt overtop, and then puts the other cup on top of that, before flipping the cups quickly.

Some of the liquid splashes out as it pours into the second cup, but most of it makes it to its rightful destination. Eddie pulls the T-shirt away and eyes the cup. He pours it out again, humming in pleasure and there’s no ash floating in the puddle at his feet.

A glance in the original cup makes him gag. Harrington siddles up to peer over his shoulder at the congealed black sludge left at the bottom, smeared with ash and dirt.

“I’m glad I didn’t drink that,” Harrington says.

Eddie laughs, handing the remnants of the second cup back over to Harrington. The look in the other boy’s eyes tells Eddie he knows he’s the guinea pig in this arrangement, but he gamely takes a sip. Eddie holds his breath when Harrington makes a disgusted face, but when he doesn’t keel over and die, he takes another sip.

“Tastes like shit,” Harrington says, downing the rest.

When Eddie filters the next cup, he can’t help but agree. It tastes like too-strong coffee mixed with blood, and Eddie’s never liked coffee.

“How’d you learn to do this?” Harrington asks as the squat next to each other, Eddie filtering water, and Harrington filling the water bottles they’d collected from Melvald’s.

“I didn’t,” Eddie says, wringing the T-shirt out. When Harrington scoffs, he continues. “I just read about it in a book one time, and thought maybe it’d work.”

Harrington snorts. It sounds like a pig. Eddie hates himself for finding it endearing.

“You’re such a nerd,” he says, nudging his shoulder into Eddie’s. From his crouched position, Eddie almost goes tumbling into the water, but Harrington snags his shoulder and yanks him abc, laughing all the while.

“Fuck off, man,” he says, but it lacks its usual heat.

It’s hard to completely hate a guy who dragged you bodily out of a window and away from your untimely demise. It’s hard, but damn if Eddie’s not going to try.

They fill the water bottles. It takes longer than it should, as Eddie tries to find clean enough spot on the T-shirt to make filtering the water any more even possible, but they manage.

Eddie doesn’t put the soiled garment in his backpack before slinging it onto his shoulders. It’s heavier now, but something in him eases with the time they’ve gained with the water. Days of survival has now stretched out to weeks.

He thinks of that Thing again and wonders if that’s a good thing at all. With the way Harrington is grimacing as he slings his own pack onto his shoulders, he’s having similarly grim thoughts.

They both stare up at the steep path they’d come down, hours before.

“What now?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs, and starts trekking back up the hill. Without any better ideas, Eddie follows.

Part 6

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my fic #ive started posting the new portion of this when i have completed a new portion with one part locked and loaded #it's going pretty well!!!#also i am Not Editing it so feel free to send any errors my way #i plan to just write and release and then clean it up for ao3 posting

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spotsandsocks · 11 days

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Seven (and a few)Sentence Sunday 🏰🌳🌳🛖🌳🌕🌳🌳

Tagged by @daffi-990 @wikiangela @tizniz @diazsdimples @bidisasterbuckdiaz

Not sharing anything new today because I want an excuse to show this off commissioned by the amazingly talented @bucksketch thank you so much it’s beautiful ❤️

Lost Without You 28k 5/5 completed A fairy tale about a cursed prince and the man who tries to save him ❤️💔❤️

This bit comes right after the picture.

Buck runs a finger over the the two bands he can see on his arm, he really thinks these marks on his skin are the answer, that he now has a way to break the curse.

A contented sigh slips from his lips as he lies in the bed he just spent the night in with Eddie. A future with Eddie and Chris actually seems possible. All he needs to do is explain things to Maddie and his parents and they'll be happy for him, he’s sure of it.

With uncharacteristically optimistic thoughts about his future running through his head he drags himself up and is almost dressed when he hears the raised voices.

That doesn’t seem right and frowning slightly he quickly buttons up his shirt, pulls on his boots and goes to investigate.

The sight that greets him as he opens the door freezes his heart.

It takes him a moment to fully process what he sees, but it’s real, there are actually Palace Guards in the street and they have a man surrounded. The man is on his knees, head bowed and hands behind his head.

To his horror the man is Eddie.

Tagging people who might like to see the art and for SSS @underwaterninja13 @hoodie-buck @loserdiaz @monsterrae1 @elvensorceress @shipperqueen6 @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @rogerzsteven @caroandcats @exhuastedpigeon @princessfbi @watchyourbuck @wikiangela @thewolvesof1998 @thekristen999 @buffaluff @saybiwithme @bi-buckrights @spaceprincessem @jesuisici33 @father-salmon @fiona-fififi @toughpaperround @eddiebabygirldiaz @loveyouanyway @wildlife4life @weewootruck @bekkachaos @stagefoureddiediaz @bigfootsmom @bewilderedbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @pirrusstuff @giddyupbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @fortheloveofbuddie @loserdiaz @loveyouanyway @actualalligator @evanbi-ckley

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #911 abc #911fic #911 fic #magic au #fairy tale au #buddie au #fae #curses

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carolmunson · 9 months

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come get me, come love me (older!modern!eddie)

part four of who knows how many. orange colored sky set list surprise chapter, bitches. after we got rained out at the park, we finish our date at eddie's apartment in prospect heights, things heat up despite the storm. inspired by @loveshotzz older steve series: all i really want is you (see if you can spot the easter egg in this lil chapter.) tw: age gappy (reader is late 20s/early 30s, eddie is late 30s/early 40s), kissin', reader wears eddie's clothes but there's no body description songspiration: lovesick | banks

The door to the building is wedged between a restaurant and a pet store on a long street of bars and places to eat. You’ve been down here plenty of times, the ramen spot closer to the end of the street is to die for, and one of the ice cream shops is the best in this part of the city. He unhooks the carabiner from his belt loop and hurries the key into the heavy iron grate door before bumbling into the wooden one behind it.

“Whew!” he says when you both get inside, wiping some of the rain from his face. He leads you up the stairs to the second floor and down the small hallways. “Both doors are mine, but this is the front door,” he smiles, kicking his shoes off at the mat off to the side. You do the same. “Sorry if it’s a little messy,” he says, keys jingling in his hands while he opens the door, “Maid took the week off.”

You snort when you follow him inside but he looks at you over his shoulder, “No, seriously. It was her son’s birthday on Sunday so I told her not to come in. I try to keep it together for the most part, but – I don’t know, Sasha gives it a special somethin’ I’ve never been able to do on my own.”

It’s a little stunning, his apartment. And when you think a little you mean a lot, a floor and a half with a metal spiral staircase that separates the open concept kitchen from the living room, dining room hybrid on the wall closest to the door. Oak floors that look newly shined, a big and deep sectional closing off the space so a dining room table and chairs could be placed on the other half of the room. Even the exposed brick on the back wall looks like it was just put in. His hand rests on your back while he guides you up to the next floor, the metal cold on your bare feet, shivering against the coolness of the central air whooshing through the place.

“If you want I can give you something comfy to wear and throw your stuff in the laundry,” he says when you make it to the top, opening the door, “Bathroom is just around the corner.”

“You have in-unit laundry?” you ask with a breathy sigh.

“I know, I’m so dreamy,” he winks, “You gonna take me up on my offer? There’s towels in there already.”

“Sure,” you take off the linen shirt and pass it to him, “I’ll be right out.”

The bathroom is small-ish but well put together, it looks like he had it gutted and redone to be more modern, navy blue marbled tiles in the shower with gunmetal hardware – he has an eye, you figure. You open one of the cabinets to see dark blue towels folded and fluffy, waiting for you. The image that meets you in the mirror makes you frown when you wipe your face off – a wet rat with mascara running down her cheeks, blush and lipgloss long faded. You sigh and do your best to wash off your face with what you can, peeling off your wet layers and keeping them on the counter.

“Wanna swap?” he asks while knocking on the door. You ball up your wet clothes, holding the towel up against your chest while you open the door a sliver, easing them out into his waiting hand. You can’t see him but you hear his little snicker while he pushes the dry clothes into your open palm. “You got it?” he asks. “I got it,” you say, balancing them into the room and shutting the door quietly. “Let me know if you want something different,” he offers. You shake out the folded clothes, big black sweatpants and an old, soft band tee. Corroded Coffin spelled out in jagged letters on the front with a marionette dangling from a demonic clawed hand on the back. “This is fine,” you say, slipping them on, “What band is this?” “It’s mine,” he says. You can hear his footsteps walking away from the bathroom while he talks, “Told you I was a rockstar!”

When you’re fully changed into his sweats and shirt you emerge from the bathroom, padding out of the tiles in socked feet. You can hear him downstairs putting the leftover snacks into the fridge and freezer from the cooler. Like the sleuth you are, you take in what you can to learn more about him, inching down the short hallway and peeking into one of the rooms. His bedroom looks like a bachelor’s – not in the way a guy in their twenties would have it, but it’s clear he wants to semi impress whoever he’s taking home. You admire the coziness of the space: wrought iron bed frame – likely a vintage thrift find or thousands of dollars. Dark bedding with knit blankets at the foot of the mattress, a dark green rug under the bed atop the oak floors. His walls are littered with framed photos of him with people you don’t know. Show posters under glass from the 90s, some vintage posters from the 70s. It smells like cedar and a nice hotel lobby candle, manly and unassuming. His dressers are a deep walnut wood that compliment the floors with ease – he did say he had an eye for color. Your eyes wander, looking towards the doors of a walk in closet, more art on the walls. A beautiful baroque style mirror that looks straight out of a gothic mansion leaning heavy in the corner. However, you feel heat rush to your cheeks when, slightly hidden, you see two sets of handcuffs dangling off a small hook by one of his bedside tables.

“Find anything interesting, Nancy Drew?”

His low rumble makes you jump, turning to see him leaning against the wall of the hallway with his arms crossed. You breathe out a nervous giggle, “Sorry, was just seeing the place. Your room is nice.”

“Thank you,” he nods, “I just got it redecorated — got a friend who's a killer interior designer.”

“I bet you got a friend for everything,” you say, meeting him in the hallway where he opens the door to the next room. It's dark, covered in squares of soundproofing foam. A few different guitars hang from the wall above a big desk with three monitors, computer below whirring in a low hum.

“I do,” he says, “We exchange a lot of favors. This is where I work from for the most part. Laundry is just a closet next to the bathroom. And uh…you saw downstairs, so I guess that’s the tour.” “It’s a really, really nice spot,” you confess, heading back down the spiral staircase, “Super good location, too.” “It wasn’t when I landed here in ‘04,” he leans on the railing at the top step looking down at you, “But you were prob’ly learnin’ fractions back then.” “You’re annoying,” you cross your arms at the bottom stairs staring up at his boyish grin, he winks again – your legs are jello. “I’m gonna change real quick, I made you a cup of coffee – there’s creamer in the fridge if you need it,” he calls out before disappearing from the staircase to change. You go to the fridge where there’s a litter of polaroids stuck to the stainless steel – most of them of a German Shepherd puppy posed with him and another guy, clean cut, nothing like Eddie.

“Whose the cute dog?” you ask when you hear his footsteps against the metal.

“Oh that’s my nephew, his name’s Bandit,” he says, pulling a shirt over his head while he makes it back down the spiral staircase. Your eyes linger on the tattoos on his chest, trailing down his obliques, “The dog, not the guy in the pictures.” “I figured.” “That’s my buddy Steve, he’s like my brother. I was out in Chicago for a couple months helping him get his shit back on track – we got him a puppy to keep his mind off things,” Eddie snorts, watching you pour some cream into your mug. You offer to do so for him but he shakes his head, taking it from you to put back in the fridge. “Is he okay?”

“His wife just passed away,” he says quietly. You offer him a sad face and he shrugs in that ‘What can you do?’ kind of way that guys do when they don’t know what to say, “You clothes should be all set in an hour or so.” “Oh, and then you’re kickin’ me out?” you tease, drinking your coffee up against the counter. He smirks, running his palm over the scratchy scruff of his chin and jaw. “Nah, not at all. You can stay as long as you want,” he shakes his head, his curls already starting to dry around his face – big and defined now with the summer rain, “Just didn’t think you’d wanna hang out at some old man’s house all afternoon.” “See, I was thinking how fun it would be to clear you out of your Raisin Bran,” you smirk against the lip of your mug while he makes his way towards you. He crosses his arms, taking slow steps before he’s got you caged in against the counter. If your nose knows, he definitely spritzed a spray of his cologne before he made it back down stairs – dark, spicy sandalwood enveloping you with a whisper of laundry detergent.

“I’m almost out, actually,” he grins, lids half closing while he looks down into your eyes, “But it’s okay, I have an unopened box of Kashi multigrain in one of these cabinets somewhere.” He waits for your next dig, knowing it’s coming by the quirk in your lips – you’re full of them today. “Gotta keep that blood pressure in check,” you tease again, trying to keep yourself from smiling as he leans in, a deep short chuckle coming from his throat. You little brat, it sounds like. “It’s really good for your heart health, actually,” he corrects, brows raising a little. A smirk flits across his full lips when he watches you falter a little, your pretty eyes glazing and glassy while he looms over you. His voice gets low and smoky, just like his cologne, “Maybe you could learn a thing or two from me, hm?”

You shut your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek – you can’t show him how good he’s getting you right now, not so soon, “Oh totally, like what the best pill cases are for my future arthritis medicine.” He laughs, the soft crows feet around his eyes crinkling with it. It’s a barking laugh, quick and sharp – you’re sharp, he likes that, “I can definitely do that.” His nose brushes yours and you brace yourself for what’s coming next, ready to feel him kiss you. To feel the buzz of his hands on you like how they were when he led you inside, when he put his hand on your hands in the park. His lips ghost above yours, breath fanning over your face while you take a final one before the inevitable. “You’ve got a quick mouth there, kleine,” he says smoothly. He reaches around you to grab his own mug of coffee, taking a long sip. Eddie catches the miniscule drop of your shoulders, a silent win goes off in his head. You want him to kiss you so bad and that makes him feel like a million bucks – fuck that – a trillion bucks.

He steps back, taking a sip of his coffee while the apartment gets a little darker, the storm rolling further in. “What’s ‘kleine’?” you ask, trying to regain your breath. He smiles, walking over to the dimmer on the wall and easing the lights up to a warm glow. “It’s German,” he says, looking over his shoulder, “Loosely translates to baby girl.” “You know German?” you ask, trying to not let the translation send you directly into outer space. You watch him with his coffee cup make his way over to the sectional in his open living space. It’s big and inviting, covered in a sea of throws that it looks like he collected over the years. He plops down, tilting his head toward the seat next to him to encourage you over. “I did an extended run of Cabaret in Jersey like – pffft, I don’t know, a million years ago,” he shrugs, putting his coffee on the table in front of him while you plop yourself down on the deep, squishy cushions. You swallow hard when a waft of his cologne hits you again, trying your hardest not to crawl onto his lap to take him in.

“Saw the show in ‘98 with Alan Cumming, lost my mind – I mean, really transformative for an 18 year old I guess. Years later when I moved out here I saw there was auditions for it and just got knee deep in that shit, taught myself German and everything to make it sound more authentic,” he looks forward wistfully while he recounts the story, smiling at you when he comes back to himself, “Was very helpful when I went to Berlin a few years later.”

“Oh, how was that?” you ask, “Did you have fun? I’ve never been to Europe.”

“I’d tell you about all the fun I had if I could remember it,” he grins,flopping his arm up over the back of the couch, beckoning you closer. “C’mere, honey,” he says, the quiet of his voice putting you at ease. You scooch closer to him while he pulls one of the blankets from the end of the chaise cushion and wraps it around your shoulders. With the blanket comes his arm with no hesitation, his hand resting on your shoulder and then down to your waist. “I like to marathon the Twilight Zone when it gets shitty out like this,” he explains, “You down?”

“Yeah,” you smile, “I’m down. I’ve seen a couple handfuls of episodes.”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite?” “Hm,” you think, “I think The Monsters are Due on Maple Street. It’s the first one I ever watched.” “We’ll start with that one, then.” He operates everything from an app on his phone, it surprises you that you’re not as techy as he seems to be. It’s not long before the episode starts and his hold on you becomes more intentional, more cuddly. Thunder booms overhead when the episode gets more intense, making you embarrassed when you jolt. He giggles at you, pulling you in closer – a soft whisper of I got you leaves his lips, you barely hear it. You snuggle up together while the episode ends and another starts, you tilt your head up toward him, “What’s your favorite?”

“Ooh, good question,” he smirks, “I think The Hitchhiker – it was the first one my uncle ever showed me when I started living with him. Scared the shit out of me.”

“You? Scared?” you quirk a brow, looking down at the way he holds you – assured, confident, “You don’t seem like someone who gets scared very often.”

“That’s the old age, peach,” he chuckles out, low and rumbly, “All that Raisin Bran, really switches up that fight or flight.” When you laugh he looks down at you, eyes sparkling, noses close together, “Is that funny?” “Yeah, it’s funny,” you say back just as quietly, adjusting yourself a little closer to him, “You’re funny.” His eyes flick down to your lips and then back up, you feel his hand spread out on your waist while he leans in closer, pressing up against you.

“Just funny?” he asks, watching your eyes flutter closed and then open. His lips ghosting over yours, edge of his bottom lip skating over the curve of your cupid’s bow.

“No, not just…” you breathe, too intoxicated by how close he is, how his lips and breath tease you. His hand glides up from your waist, trailing a fingertip up the side of your neck, stopping under your chin. You shiver at the touch, goosebumps flooding your arms and legs, belly flipping in somersaults. He tilts your head up, his cocking slowly to the side while his watches for your reaction.

“The show’s about to come back on.” The words are soft and quiet when they leave your mouth, your last ditch effort while fear and excitement roar in your ears. His eyes feel like magnets that you’re constantly pulled too, locking with them while he leans in.

“It’s a boring episode,” he grumbles out quietly from behind a smirk, eyes closing while the tip of your nose is brushed with his. He teases one last time before his lips press warmly against yours, parting slightly to capture them. You breathe in sharp through your nose, butterflies fluttering and slamming against your chest for release. His hands come up to lay themselves against your cheeks, now hot with excitement while they find home behind your head and neck. He’s fiending for you in the insatiable way he’s felt before, the way a man fiends for a woman.

His leads, taking control of the way the kiss moves with each tilt of his head, changing the intensity each time he breaks away to breathe and come back to you. His lips are full and plush, a soft pink that works for him, it’s almost innocent, when you know he’s anything but. He comes in again, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently to encourage you to let his tongue slide into your mouth.

His hands greedily pull you in by the waist now that your tongues are brushing, wrapping up together with no space between. You whimper into it, unable to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay with his other hand roams down your back. You feel his lips stretch into a smile against yours, a growl of a chuckle coming out of his chest when he pulls away again. More kisses, soft and sweet with eyes closed, noses nuzzling before lips meet again. You climb onto his lap, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you – tight and protective. You lead this time, a hand coming up to cup his jaw while you kiss, taking his bottom lip between your teeth this time. He relents, grip softening on you, fingertips grazing the tops of your thighs over the material of his sweatpants. Your hips roll forward over his and he pulls away.

“Steady now, sugar,” he warns, looking up at you with heavy lidded brown eyes, “I don’t fuck on the first date.” You pout a little, he likes that face, “You got some kind of moral code, old man?” “M’just not that kind of girl, baby,” he shrugs lightly, taking your hand and pressing soft kisses to your fingertips. His eyes don’t leave yours, big and innocent – like he’s challenging you, “Gotta keep you wantin’ more of me.” You can’t imagine not wanting more of him, no matter how much he gave you. “Then how come you kiss me like that?” you ask, his lips still leaving pillowy kisses against your fingers, “Like you’re hungry for me?”

“Oh, I am hungry, peach,” he smirks, tongue sliding out and gliding up the space between your first and middle finger. The tip of his tongue flicks the pads of them at the top, before taking just your fingertips into his mouth for a moment – hot and wet. Your mouth hangs open, drool collecting under your tongue at the feeling – imagining it happening exactly where you both want it to. “I think we should cut into that icebox cake,” he offers with a smile, like he didn’t just tease you into complete stupidity, “That’ll solve my problem.” He kisses your cheek as he guides you off his lap to get up, feeling lucky that he put on boxer briefs to keep his now painful erection contained – though his sweatpants left little to the imagination. Eddie comes back with two plates with heaping slices of dessert, passing you a spoon while you try your best to calm down.

“You okay?” he asks sweetly, brushing a stray hair out of your face. You nod, shoving a bite into your mouth so you don’t scream over his gentle touch and soft eyes. So you don’t yell and stomp through his living room about how bad you want him to bring you upstairs and eat you out. So you don’t tell him about the butterflies. You eat, watch, and talk – getting stories on his tattoos, you tell him about how you just started living alone, he tells you all the best spots to get furniture. You share soft little kisses while cuddled under blankets, laughing at the bad special effects and talking about the good special effects for the 60s as the episodes continue on. You fall asleep on his shoulder and he lets out a big deep breath – he likes that you already feel comfortable enough to do so. He swallows hard, doing his best to settle down his own butterflies.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #stranger things au #stranger things fan fic #stranger things fanfiction

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bunnyreaper · 2 months

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wc - 4.6k

warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), age gap (older male younger female), bodyguard!au, threat of violence.

notes - another visit to dilfville, a new series, because that's all we need, right? lol. hope you enjoy ♥

Friday nights meant one thing: unwinding after a long week of working in your home office, braving the outside world, and heading to the comfy flat belonging to your friend Jules.

While visiting her place was always a blast, Friday nights were for DnD. Leaving behind Earth for its fantasy counterpart and getting lost in the adventures of your group's merry band of do-gooders.

Saturdays are usually spent drinking coffee, frequenting markets, and then rounding the night off with cocktails and dancing. (And Sunday's recuperating from being up on your feet all night, spending the day in bed reading whatever trashy romance novel is next on your reading list.)

Your weekends are your sanctuary—your freedom from routine and work is your refuge.

You dance around your bedroom, rocking your hips to the music as you pull on your clothes—a white blouse and black bustier to channel the vibes of your character Elora.

When the doorbell rings, it's entirely unexpected. Anyone close to you knows you're just a few minutes away from heading out for the night—maybe it's a neighbour, you suppose to yourself as you head to the door.

On the other side of your flat's door is an incredibly handsome man. Broad framed, ruggedly good-looking yet with a finely pressed white shirt and dress trousers. His features are striking, strong eyes and a brow slashed with a scar, stubble all over, and a neatly trimmed mohawk that strangely suits him. All in all, a sight for fucking sore eyes, standing so confidently and casually in your doorway like he belongs.

You hate how your eyes linger on his form far longer than they probably should, but the handsome stranger is just so enthralling.

"Hello?" You mumble, a little absent-mindedly, as you try to gather thoughts that aren't just lewd and dirty.

His stormy blue eyes meet yours, his cheek tugs into a half-smile that definitely doesn't meet his eyes, the faintest dimple appearing on his left cheek. "John MacTavish, ye maw sent me."

"Oh, the bodyguard." You reply dumbly. Fuck. If you were opposed to the idea before, you certainly were now... or maybe you're not.

On one hand, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you—on the other, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you, while you act normal about the entire thing.

You realise that you're acting completely the fool, so you snap out of your thoughts and step aside to allow the older man inside. "She didn't tell me to expect you... probably thought I'd run. Uh, come in."

"Thanks." He nods as he steps through the threshold, ducking slightly as he does.

Once inside, his eyes scan over the open-plan space of your living area, seemingly taking in every little detail.

You watch him, sensing that his training and experience make him focus on the minute particulars of a room that others would completely skip over.

Your mother had already clued you into the fact there might need to be security enhancements to the flat itself, and you assume those requests came at the behest of the man himself. He seems to be lost in evaluating what these might be.

"So, what can I do for you?" You ask, filling the air with some sort of conversation starter. You have no idea what you're doing in this situation on the whole, but especially not when it comes to hiring, negotiating with, and retaining a bodyguard.

"It's what I can do fer you." He turns, taking you in now, and you start to feel self-conscious about having too many buttons undone, too much chest on show.

Something tells you that MacTavish's gaze would make you squirm regardless—his eyes carrying a heaviness to them that seem like a fantastic attribute in a protector. Surely anyone who would even think about coming close to cause you harm would reconsider under his harsh look.

You start to wrack your brains for what he can actually do for you. Again, you have no familiarity in having personal protection, beyond what you've seen your mother undergo. Your work is fairly stable, you keep the same routine, and the biggest threat you ever seem to face is the creeps in the club.

Well, apart from the online threats, but something about the anonymous, cowardly messages doesn't frighten you.

"If I'm being honest,I don't exactly want a bodyguard. I don't see much of a point?" You admit, voice a little quiet. After all, you don't mean to upset or offend the man, but you're not sure he isn't just wasting his time with this job.

He squints, considering for a moment before he answers. "Yer maw sees things differently."

She does, and that's probably the only reason you agreed to go through with this in the first place. You don't want to worry her, especially since her own security has had to be tightened due to said threats.

"Yeah, she's really worried."

John's brows furrow, a small frown appearing on his lips. "Aye, rightly so, considering everything."

He seems serious and said severity gives you pause for thought. His job is to assess and protect against threats, so surely he wouldn't be here, acting the way he is were there not a valid reason for concern. The thought makes a lump form in your throat, makes your stomach twist in a way you'd rather not acknowledge.

You try to cope with it the best way you know how—humour.

"Eh, online threats are nothing new for a girl my age, you know? And it's not like I'm anyone important." You shrug it off, hoping that if you say the words aloud, they'll just come true. As you speak, your phone chimes with a notification from your group chat, reminding you of your upcoming plans—and the fact you're going to have to abandon this little meeting. "Uh, I'd offer you a cuppa, but I'm leaving soon."

"Don't drink it anyway, but thanks." The man smiles slightly, before turning away once more and scanning the room. He cranes his neck to get a look down the hallway, leading to your bedroom and bathroom. "There's a difference between lads online, an' the kinda people that make up extremist groups like those targeting your maw and her party."

"Really?" You laugh, a short, sharp sound that betrays your discomfort. You grab your jacket and keys by the door, desperate for something to fiddle with. "Thought they were all just sad loners, desperately searching for something to make them feel better."

"Except some of them have connections, dangerous connections."

There are a million and one reasons you don't want to go through with this, and very few urging you to. Though, removing a major worry from your mother's life is a big one—John MacTavish's gorgeous blues are another. The possible invasion of privacy lingers in your head, the worry that your father might be using this as an opportunity to have the inside track on your life, on all the things you don't tell your parents. Your mind also revolts at the idea of unnecessary restrictions to your plans, your friends being held under a magnifying glass.

The thought of the threats being real is the only thing more startling. You sigh, resigning yourself to your fate. "If this is what will help her feel better, then I guess I better find a way to make this work."

He nods firmly, joining you at where you hover nervously at the door. "I'd agree."

"Unfortunately, you arrived at the worst possible time, because like I said, I'm just headed out. Can't miss the tube." You force a tight-lipped smile, making your excuse to leave—the thought of being late makes you jittery, the thought of being late continuing this difficult conversation makes you feel worse.

"Where ye going?" He asks, head tilted.

You know it's the first question of many. Where are you going? Who are you going with? The atmosphere already feels a little stifling, the relationship a little strained. You and John aren't friends, never will be friends. He's here to do a job, watch over you, and take your security very, very seriously.

"This is how it's always going to be?" You ask, the question coming out a little snappier than you intend it to.

John takes it in stride, unblinking in the face of your shortness, and yet unrelenting in his need for information. "Aye."

Once more, you sigh. "Right... I'm going to my weekly DnD game at my friend's house, and please, I really don't wanna cancel." You plead, feeling like a child reasoning with their parents rather than two adults on equal footing. You hate the feeling, even if you know his intentions are pure.

"How many friends?" He asks.

"4." You answer instantly.

"How long have ye known them?" His questioning continues, and his focus on the people you trust naturally drives you up the wall, even if again, you know it's just his job.

Your grasp on your keys tightens, your agitation growing. "I'll tell you whatever I can some other time, but please, I hate being late." You gesture to the door, indicating that it's time for him and you to leave.

John grabs the door, opening it for you and allowing you to step through before he does. As you turn to lock the door, you expect him to arrange another time and to bid you farewell, but he doesn't. "I'll drive ye. Dinnae bother arguing, lass."

His words have a finality to them that quiets you anyway, but the use of 'lass' renders you all but speechless.

"Okay..." You mumble, leading the way down the stairs as his hand comes to ghost along your lower back.

MacTavish’s vehicle is parked out in the street, and as you approach the car, you can feel his eyes searching again. He beats you to the car, a sleek black Range Rover, opening the door for you before climbing inside himself.

The action would be nice under any other circumstance, and such propriety is something you're probably going to have to get used to, but right now it just reinforces the annoying, infantilising feeling that you're currently suffering through.

As you give your friend's address to John, he takes off without another word, flicking on the car stereo before he goes. The atmosphere is thick, stifling, and you can only hope that in time the feeling will lessen, especially if your mother makes him a permanent feature.

On the way over, he picks up his questioning where he left off. "So, how long have you known this group?"

"A good few years, since uni."

"We can go over names and details when you're ready."

You take a deep breath, holding it in and then forcing yourself to calm a little. Instead, you try to focus on watching John, the diligent way he drives. "I'm assuming you have a long list of things we'll need to go over."

His eyes don't stray from you. "Aye, that we do."

The two of you fall into tense silence for the rest of the drive, nothing but the music and the sound of the car to keep you company. In the quiet street your friend lives on, John pulls in to park on the opposite side of the road, killing the engine and the radio, making the silence almost deafening.

Your nerves are getting the better of you again, and yet John seems so comfortable, unperturbed by the awkwardness. You're unsure what comes next, what to say.

"Not to be rude but, I'd prefer if you didn't come in." You utter, saying the first thing that springs to mind, despite it probably not being the best thing either. You flash the man an apologetic smile before you continue. "I don't know how to deal with all this, especially when we haven't agreed on how all this is gonna work?"

You hope your earnest admission makes up for your temporary ill-manners.

"Tha's fine, I'll stay here." He looks completely impassive. "Not ideal, but it'll do."

He doesn't look bothered by the inconvenience, and you suppose you should assuage him of the idea it's going to be a quick visit.

"Really? I'll be gone for a few hours."

His brow quirks. "Yer maw paid upfront, so as far as am concerned, my job's already started." Once more, his statement is absolute, and you don't bother trying to argue.

"Right then."

John is out of the car first, headed straight to your side of the door, checking left and right before he opens to let you out.

The action makes you both laugh and curse, perplexed by the deed as you climb out. "You're not my driver, you know you don't need to open the door for me?"

He laughs too, derisive and short as he closes the door a little too sharply. "Not tae be rude, but I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you'."

"Gonna walk me to the door?" You ask, trying to shed yourself of your nerves and make the situation lighter.

You can't stay tense and subdued for the entire duration of this relationship—besides, now you're moments away from reuniting with the others in Albion Vale and forgetting all about this mess for a few hours. That alone is enough to raise your spirits.

John forces a cheeky, tight-lipped smile, the crow's feet at his eyes crinkling almost condescendingly. "Not feeling tha' gentlemanly anymore. I'm sure ye'll be fine."

"I'm sure." You make your way halfway across the road, before coming to a realisation, stopping and turning. "Oh, what's your number, you know, make this whole thing easier?"

John darts out, his arm falling just beside you as he ushers you across the road and onto the other side.

"Pass yer phone." He says, holding out a large, rough hand expectantly.

"Right, yeah." You nod, probably more than is necessary, as you pass your phone over to the man.

John takes the phone more softly than you expect, typing in his name and number before holding it back out for you to take. "I'll be here when yer done, to take ye home."

"Uh, thank you." You take the phone, before walking away sheepishly heading into your friend's block of flats and toward her apartment.

With each step you take, you try to push John and the threats and everything to do with the outside world far, far out of your brain.

The night passes by in a flurry of laughter and fun, lost in the adventures of Albion Vale and the antics of your party.

The session wraps up, and while you would usually be in no rush to head back—you know you can't sit around and leave John, however much a stranger he is, sitting in the car outside.

You text him to let him know you're headed down in five, and when you make it to the street less than 3 minutes later, he is there, leaning against the car door waiting for you.

"Thank you." You whisper, climbing inside. When John joins you in the car, he scrubs at his eyes before putting the key in the ignition. "Have you not been bored out of your mind?"

"Nothing I'm not used to." He replies instantly, pulling away before you can ask any further.

"What did you do before this?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

From your understanding, most bodyguards cut their teeth in the police or the armed forces, and have tonnes of experience under their belt.

John oozes an ex-forces demeanour–his perfect posture, constant alertness, and the scars littering his skin.

It'd be hard not to notice, but becomes immediately obvious with the way your eyes seem to love settling upon him when they can. You have to force yourself to squash down the drunken, misguided lust that flares within you as you watch his large hands on the steering wheel and notice his veiny, hairy, and muscular forearms.

"Army, Captain." He answers, pulling your attention back to him in a more professional manner properly.

Something within the way he speaks makes you think there's more to the story—though you suppose with that kind of background, he has a cache of secrets and tales that he can never really share.

"Oh." You nod, feeling a little soothed. If you have to be protected, you suppose someone with his level of experience is the best man for the job. "I'm in good hands then."

Once more, he flashes a forced half-smile. "Aye."

A moment passes, and you find more questions bubbling to the front of your brain. Naturally, you're curious about this man who is undoubtedly going to become a big part of your life from now on, but the fact that his nature is a little reserved makes your curiosity multiply. You've long been a sucker for closed-off older men—call it a character flaw.

"Why did you leave the army? If you don't mind me asking."

There's a beat of silence where you think he might not answer, but eventually, he does, eyes still fixed on the road.

"Medical reasons. Nothing that affects my ability to do this job." He rushes to add, a slight spark of defensiveness flashing through as his jaw visibly tightens.

You're no expert detective, and you haven't seen your protector in action, but your first guess is that whatever ailment made him leave isn't entirely physical. The fact he's been somewhat open about it puts your mind at ease, the fact that your mother has clearly vetted him even more so.

You offer an empathetic smile that he likely doesn't see. "I don't doubt it."

The drive home passes quicker and easier with a bit of mead in your veins, allowing you to loosen up enough to hum along to the music playing from John's speakers. The little buzz passing through you alleviates that sense of trepidation you felt earlier, luring you into a false sense of security.

When the car pulls up and John lets you out, you know just what to say what needs to come next. "Well, I guess you should come in so we can formalise things."

"I'd appreciate it." He nods, before turning back to the car to grab a bag and follow you into the building.

You and John sit at your kitchen island, tea in your hand and coffee in John's—a neat, stapled stack of papers sits before you.

"Here's the contract I signed with ye maw, but she's given us some wiggle room." John says, tapping the top of the paper where the bold letters of CLOSE PROTECTION AGREEMENT — 141 SECURITY sit.

"Nice of her to allow me a say, if I'm honest." You laugh dryly—you love your mother dearly, but you'd be lying if you said she wasn't overbearing. Your initial protests about this whole arrangement had been entirely shut down, and clearly, she didn't trust you to follow through considering she sprung John on you tonight, unannounced.

"I'm sure she just wants what's best for ye." John offers as you flick through the pages.

The contract outlines the agreement between the Guard and The Principal—with stipulations on activities, compensation, and conduct.

It's weird seeing it all laid out on paper, seeing the hefty cost of John's services, and the fact you'll be giving this man free access to your home and life. All of this to keep you safe from some nebulous threats that have not even been acted upon.

"She does, but this is inconvenient, and frustrating to say the least." You purposefully choose not to include the words 'fucking annoying' and 'torturing me with a hot man I can't have', though your next conversation with your therapist will absolutely include such descriptions and more.

"I can understand tha'." He nods understandingly, before raising his coffee and taking a sip—his gaze unwavering as he does. "You've never had close protection before?"

You shake your head. "No, this is all new to me."

"Okay. We'll start by discussing exactly what kind of protection you're looking for. Part of tha' will be dictated by what yer maw laid out, like I said, we can decide specifics."

"Sounds like a plan." You lean back in your stool, tea in hand as you contemplate. Admittedly, you should have done some research before this, but in your defence, you did think you had more time. You're not entirely sure what boundaries you can set—but you hope that John can lead the process a little. "I don't think I can do something 24/7, and it's not like you can stay here, I guess."

You cringe internally thinking about how fucking awkward that would be—your tipsy brain supplies the image of the world's most uncomfortable sleepover.

In your imagination, John looks grumpy and uncomfortable, still tucked up in bed in that stiff shirt with his boots still on. You are, of course, in little fluffy bunny pyjamas staring at him all gooey-eyed whilst he tries to pretend everything is normal. It takes conscious effort for you not to giggle at the mental image.

"I understand. I'd suggest I escort you anywhere outside these four walls, day or night, work and social events. Conduct security checks on your flat, vet close contacts, update your digital security, things like tha'." John supplies a rundown of potential actions like it's a grocery list, yet a very severe grocery list. His collected nature does put you more at ease.

"Sounds a tad invasive."

"I'll try to make it as little as possible."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." You smile slightly, truly thankful for his consideration and tact.

You give John a once over, thoughts once again ticking over. "If you're going to be with me everywhere, you can't walk around like that, outside of my work, that is. No offense, it's just, all my friends are gonna think I'm a self-important twat if I start showing up everywhere with some posh bodyguard." You stop abruptly, realising how much you're bloody rambling.

"Am far from posh. But, more casual look then, aye?"

You smile a little nervously, hoping you haven't completely offended the man. "Please."

This whole situation is beyond difficult to navigate—untreaded paths, forging new relationships, balancing existing ones. Your friends really are going to think this whole situation is beyond bizarre. They already find amusement in seeing your mother on the news. Having a bodyguard is going to leave you subject to endless teasing, relentless mocking, and attempts to make your and John's life a whole lot harder.

Your head falls into your hands as you rub at the sockets of your eyes, undoubtedly smearing your makeup and making a mess of your face. It'll get easier, you reassure yourself.

With your eyes closed and pressed into the heel of your hands, you don't see the way John's expression softens or the way he moves closer to comfort you before hesitating and stopping short. "Wha's the matter?"

"I'm just... incredibly anxious about how this is going to play out with my friends, with work."

John leaps into problem-solving mode, immediately pulling from his brain some words to soothe you, as well as making note of what bumps in the road to smooth out. "Ye mother said she already consulted yer work, and they're fine to make accommodations."

Of course, she'd already talked to David about the whole thing. "So it'll be fine aside from all the gossip it will cause."

"It's politics and I ken yer not naïve, everybody's talking anyway, no?" He offers, and yet you don't seem assuaged, so he tries a different tactic. "It's my job to blend in. They'll barely notice me."

"With that haircut? Sorry." You giggle—surprisingly you find the mohawk suits his rugged look, but it certainly isn't something you've seen on a man that wasn't walking the streets of Camden. Though, even with a more fitting haircut, the man is so casually striking and ever so slightly imposing that he just naturally draws attention. "In general, you don't strike me as a man who does blending in well, not in civilian life anyway."

His eyes narrow for a moment, before he struggles to fight off a smirk. "Hmm, ye might have a point. Not changing ma hair though, sorry. Nae sure ye family has enough money for tha' one."

His more playful side makes your heart soar, and gives you hope that everything might just be alright.

"I have a crazy idea." Okay, maybe you're more tipsy than you thought you were, as your brain supplies an outlandish plot and your mouth runs away with it.

His eyebrow arches and his eyes sparkle with intrigue. John MacTavish seems like a man who likes crazy ideas. "Go oan."

"I'll tell my friends that you're my boyfriend, and we're just so madly in love that you have to come everywhere with me. Means no real questions."

Your proposition is met with deafening silence, despite the huge, encouraging grin on your face.

John laughs, just the once, before his expression hardens. "Not a chance, lass."

"Why? You don't have to really do anything. Besides, it'll save you sitting outside in the car, or staring from the shadows and making everyone feel uncomfortable."

You realise now that while you noticed a distinct lack of a ring, there's the possibility that John is still attached, and what you're suggesting is wildly inappropriate—but it's not that point he argues on.

"Aye, so I just have to spend ma time socialising instead." He scoffs.

"Well, surely you're not brooding and mysterious all the time." You wager.

Once more, he finds a smirk tugging at his lips that he can't hold back. "No' at all, but it's been a long time since I was the life of the party, and something tells me that me an' your DnD friends don't have a lot in common."

"They might surprise you, but you also might surprise yourself. Maybe you're a secret nerd." You wink, still being jovial before you shift back to your genuine pleas. "It'll make my life a whole lot easier and be one less thing for me to stress about. My friends wouldn't second guess the story much once they got past the shock of me bagging someone older, wiser, and oh-so-handsome. Please."

You flash your softest, sweetest doe eyes and lay the compliments on extra thick in the hopes of swaying him. In the political world, you're used to using charm to try and get what you want, and know that without charisma you'd get nowhere. Perhaps it's a bit low of you to stoop to using flirtation on someone who could likely run rings around you when it comes to negotiation, but it's worked before, and at this point, you're desperate.

John straightens up in his seat, eyes you for a moment, and then lets out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine."

The fact he relents honestly takes you a little by surprise. You're relieved, but yes, surprised. "Huh?"

"Fine, I'll be whoever ye want me to be..." The look in his eyes shifts to something imperceptible, as he leans over the counter closer to you. "As long ye listen to what I say when it comes to yer safety and security. Deal?"

He holds out his hand, and your own feels dwarfed when you reach out to take his calloused palm.

"You drive a hard bargain, John MacTavish. Deal." You shake, and neither of you makes a move to immediately let go.

"Aye, a know." He winks, and the action makes your heart skip a beat, your cheeks flood with heat.

Each second passes slowly, his touch feeling like too much and not enough all at once. You know at that moment that life from now on is going to be especially difficult as long as John is around.

What he says next is the final nail in that particular coffin. "Would've done it anyway, but glad I got ye to agree to ma terms, lass."

#soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #bunny writes #run to you

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bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

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Older!Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

summary: you accidentally stumble upon your best friend/roommates porn stash, you quickly learn he’s the main star. After seeing him in ways you never have, will your friendship ever be the same?

⚠️warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, pictures for aesthetic purposes only, eddie is in his mid 30s & reader is 25, oral sex (69), throat fucking, dirty talk, slight degradation, unprotected p in v rough sex, hair pulling, squirting, anal fingering (f receiving), anal sex (f receiving), anal cream pie.

A/N: FUCK WHOEVER REPORTED THIS, IMMA KEEP REPOSTING 🖕🏻

Requested by: @lokis-little-fawn 💗

You’re not sure what lead up to this, well you are—but you’re not sure why you let your curiosity get the best of you. It was just a normal Sunday morning, you had the weekend off so you spent your time cleaning up your apartment and finishing up some much needed laundry. Your roommate and best friend eddie had to go into work for a few hours to work on a car that needed repair. You figured you’d be a good roommate by folding his clothes and putting them away for him, since he’s out working hard, but now you’re not so sure that was a good idea

You folded up all of his dark colored clothes which mostly consisted of band tees and black jeans, heading to his room with the red flimsy plastic laundry basket to put them away. You hang out in Eddies room all the time but you’ve never had a reason to look inside his drawers before. You slowly open the oak wood drawer and begin putting his shirts away, then moving onto the bottom where his jeans were held, you squat down trying to easily maneuver the jeans to fit with the others, as you try to close the drawer you realize it’s too full and decide to be an even better roommate and re fold them for him so they’ll fit properly, as you begin taking them all out you see a vhs tape laying at the very bottom—of course your interest was piqued so you reach for it, picking it up and reading the side that had been written on, “NOT PORN” it said and you couldn’t help but giggle, that was such an Eddie thing to do, that’s why you loved him. Yes, love as in deeply, madly, intensely in love.

You met Eddie after he moved to Chicago from Hawkins. He began working at White Castle flipping burgers while you worked the register, you quickly got close due to your schedules always synching up. You would close together and closing was always slow so it left a lot of opportunity for you and Eddie to get to know each other, he’d talk about Hawkins, his friends and the life he left behind so passionately, it was easy for you to gain feelings for him. At some point you both became inseparable so you and Eddie decided why not move in together? You both enjoy each others company and two incomes are better than one, but you quickly realized you and Eddie will always just be friends. You’d have to endure multiple occasions of him fucking girls at all hours of the day, and they were never quiet, no matter how much you hoped they’d be, it was torture but after awhile it just became the new normal. It began to hurt less when you started dating, you’d never bring them back to your place to have sex but it was still nice to focus your attention on someone other than Eddie.

You want to put the tape back and move on to the other house hold chores you have, but you know if you don’t find out what’s on it, it’ll be all you think about, so you continue fixing Eddies jeans, putting the tape off to the side—as you finish and close the drawer, you get up taking the tape with you and heading into the living room to put it in the vhs player. Your heart is beating a mile a minute—you’re not even sure why, it’s probably just some lame low budget porno with really shit acting, “we’ll see” you whisper to yourself as you slowly slide the tape in with shaky hands.

You step back and pick up the remote as the tape goes from static to a shot of someone’s bedroom, the camera is focused on a bed with obnoxious pink flowers on the bedsheets, nothing other than the bed can really be seen in the shot. You fast forward a bit until you see something that catches your eye and immediately press play, as you do you hear and see Eddie balls deep in some girl, the moaning is ringing out through your ears as you sit on the coffee table watching the display in front of you. Your jaw instantly drops and your stomach plummets with jealousy. You continue to watch the tape now more so out of curiosity, if you’re never going to be able to fuck eddie, why not watch him? You’ve always wanted to know what made all those girls scream like they did, and now you know why. He pulls his cock out of the beautiful brunette and she drops to her knees in front of the camera and starts sucking him off. Holy shit his dick is huge, you can’t help but clasp your hand over your mouth with wide eyes. Your best friends cock was the biggest one you’d ever seen, it totally makes sense why the girls would leave your apartment with a certain walk, all of them, limping out as if they were slightly in pain.

You can’t hold back any longer at this point, the whole thing has you worked up—pussy dripping into your panties, so you do the most logical thing you can think about in that moment. You slip off your little cotton shorts and black panties and head to the couch as you sit, you open your legs wide—throwing one over the armrest and the other on the other cushion beside you, your fingers find your bundle of nerves and you begin rubbing. You were so wet, worked up and sensitive it had been awhile since you had sex, you were kind of going through a celibate streak that lasted a little longer than intended, so you had a lot of pent up orgasms that needed release, as you move down from your clit you slip two fingers into your hole, you needed to be stretched out for sure. You were so tight, so you continued fucking yourself with your fingers while taking the other hand and rubbing your clit, the screen displayed a picture of Eddie fucking the brunette from the back while he had a fistful of her hair, slapping her ass and every once in awhile grabbing her throat. The filthiness only egging you on closer to your orgasm, you were so focused on Eddies movements, the way his face contorted, the dirty things he was saying and on your own release that you didn’t hear the door being unlocked and opened.

“What the fuck, where did you find that?” Eddie says as he walks to the vhs to eject the tape, both of your faces a dark crimson red—you were mortified, you wanted to die right then and there, you couldn’t believe you allowed yourself to get that caught up in a porno, of your best friend no less.

“Y/n” eddie says in a stern voice as he turns to look at you, he didn’t even notice you had been touching yourself to it, so intent on making sure you didn’t see the rest of it—you sat there with glassy eyes, knees together but barely covering your soaked pussy, and fingers all pruned like you’ve been swimming, your cheeks were flushed and your breathing ragged—it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what you were doing. Eddie raised an eyebrow looking over your whole body, It’s not that Eddie didn’t want to fuck you, he did, he really really did—but he didn’t want to lose you. You had been his only friend since he had to leave his behind after the big earthquake of 86’, he had no one here in Chicago, just you—and he wouldn’t throw that away for a quick fuck. You’d leave just like they all do, and he couldn’t bare that thought—but with you sitting there half naked, and rosy cheeked he couldn’t help but get hard, his innocent best friend or so he thought, touching herself to a video of him. This was so close to every fantasy he’s ever had about you.

“What’s going on here y/n?” He says with a smug smirk

“I-I um, I was putting your laundry away and found this” you stammered

“So you decided to rub one out to it?” — “did you see something you liked?” He continues teasing

“Uh” you couldn’t even find words, you were humiliated and now he’s making fun of you, your lip begins to wobble and you drop your head in shame

“Okay, y/n it’s okay I’m just fucking with you, baby” he laughs out “don’t cry” he says as he moves closer, now sitting on the coffee table facing you—his gaze roaming your half exposed body, hungrily. Your head lifts as you hear the word baby. He’s never called you that before, sure sweetheart or bunny, a cute nickname he gave you due to a constant nose scrunching habit you have that he finds adorable, but never baby—you never want him to stop calling you that.

“Y/n you okay? Where’d you go?” He says as he snaps his fingers in front of your frozen face

“I’m okay” you whisper

“Listen, it’s not a big deal okay? So I did some porn to make some extra cash” —“I mean it’s not the way I wanted you to see my dick, but it’s okay, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, okay sweet girl?” He says as he rubs your knee—making your breath hitch and all you can do is nod your head as you go over his words

“Wait how, um how did you want me to see your dick?” You say with the most pitiful tone you’ve ever heard come out of your mouth

He smirks as he continues rubbing, hand moving closer to your thigh “you don’t think I’ve had little fantasies and wet dreams about you, y/n?” — “what that sweet little pussy, looks and tastes like” he says voice low with a growl

“You have?” You say as your eyes widen

“Of course I have, have you seen yourself?” He says with some annoyance— Eddies always hated how much you doubt yourself and your beauty, how could he not want you? What man wouldn’t?

He was lucky he even got your friendship, you were far too good for the likes of him, well at least that’s what he thought but you never seen it that way.

“I mean, you just never said anything” you say as you finally look him in the eye, shame no longer present in your face

“Well, I can’t lose you y/n” eddie says as his movement on your thigh comes to a halt

“Lose me? Why would you lose me?” You can’t help but let out a little laugh, if only he knew how in love you are, he’d never question or think about you leaving him

“Everyone does” he says with a shrug of his shoulders

“I’m not everyone Eddie, I’m me” you say as you cup his chin and bring his eyes back to yours

He nodded his head in agreement, you’re right you’re not like everyone—you’re special, always have been. His hand begins moving closer to your inner thigh as he gages your reaction—silently asking if it was okay

You nod your head as you bite your lip, opening your legs back to assume the position they were in before he interrupted—his eyes fall to your still glistening pussy and he can’t help but to fall to his knees

“Fuck baby, look at this little pussy” — “it’s even better than I imagined” he says without taking his eyes off of it

“It’s really tight, too” you say —“haven’t been fucked good in a really long time” you continue with a voice as seductress as a siren pulling in her gullible victim

Eddies eyes snap up to yours, with a look no better described as carnal hunger

“You want me to stretch it for you, baby?” He says back, and fuck you about lost it. His dirty talk is so much better in person and when it’s said directly to you

“Yes, I do want that, so bad” you say

“What did it for you baby?” — he asks with a cocky grin —“huh?” You say face full of confusion

“On the tape, what got you worked up?” He asks curiously

“Oh um, well all of it to be honest, just you. Seeing you like that, really really made me horny” you respond making Eddies dick twitch, he loved hearing you like this — “but especially how rough you were with her, the way you pulled her hair and spanked her” you continue

“You like that kind of stuff, bunny?” — “who woulda thought” he says with a chuckle

“I’ve never done it before, but I want you to show me” you say voice almost as low as whisper

“Ok, I can show you whatever you want me to” — “whatever you’re okay with, I’m okay with” he says

You stand up and take his hand, heading off into your bedroom as you pull him along. You enter and walk to your bed, laying him down and crawling on top to straddle his lap, taking your hair out of its low bun and shaking it, then you begin to pull off your shirt—tits falling out of your little tank top “shit” eddie whispered to himself, you were completely bare for him now, and he knew he could no longer hold back—he had to give you all of him

“You’re fucking gorgeous y/n” — “the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen” he says looking you in the eye, face full of genuine adoration

“And you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen” you say back as you move closer to his lips, you give them a little teasing lick as you both giggle, before he grabs the back of your head and smashes your lips together, tongues meeting and teeth clashing, it was almost animalistic the way you both needed each other

You begin shifting in his lap, until you feel his hard cock straining in his jeans beneath you. As you roll your hips for some friction, eddies hands find your hips guiding you back and forth, your pussy completely soaking his jeans— “please take your clothes off Eddie, please!” You beg and whine

Music to Eddie’s ears, he can’t believe he has you this worked up, he feels like he’s dreaming a fucking gnarly wet dream, but he’s not—this is real you’re real and on top of him, heat radiating from your pussy as you beg for him—he could die a happy man

He gives your ass one good smack before he gently pushes you off, removing his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans, you stand up to help work them down his hips, once he kicks them completely off—you squat down and shove your thumbs into the waste band of his checkered boxers, slowly pulling them down his legs as you look up at him meeting his eyes— “oh you knew what your were doing, you little minx” eddie thought to himself

Once his boxers hit below his thighs his cock sprung out. The video tape didn’t do it justice, it was so much more beautiful in person and so hard, leaky tip an angry red. You couldn’t imagine how that stretch would feel—holy shit he’s gonna split you open

“Better in person?” He asks almost reading your thoughts

You look back up at him—“way better” you say as you lick your lips—“can I suck it?” You ask

“I have a better idea” eddie says, jumping up to lay on the bed—“come here” he motions you to climb on the bed too, but you’re lost not really knowing what he has in mind

“Sit on my face, baby” he says with an excited smile

“W-what?” You say in slight embarrassment, you’ve never done that before

“Sit on my face, I’ll eat you out while you suck my cock” —“is that okay?” He asks with a soft voice

The thought instantly breaking you out of your embarrassment—that sounded so hot, and who better to try new things out with

You climb up on the bed and turn to face Eddies legs, straddling his face and as you do he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent—making you moan out at the dirtiness of it—“fuck you smell so good” Eddie says, voice muffled between your thighs. You bend over closer to his lower body and take his hard leaking cock in your hand, pumping it as he moans into your pussy, he begins flicking his tongue on your clit—making you moan out in turn. You focus back on him giving his lower stomach a few open mouthed kisses, following the patch of hair to his cock. You lick up all the way to his tip—tasting his pre cum as you take it in your mouth and suck, making Eddie stiffen and moan underneath you, as you continue sucking and taking him deeper, his tongue becomes relentless. Moans and wet squelches filling the space around you—eddie begins bucking his hips up into your throat, fucking your face—your eyes begin to water and you gag a couple times but you’re so turned on you don’t care. He continues his assault on your pussy as he fucks you with his tongue. You can feel your tummy begin to coil, earlier’s lost orgasm hitting you—the feeling so much more intense.

You begin to moan around eddie, making him fuck your throat harder, spit and tears coating his cock—your legs begin to shake and you can’t edge yourself any longer. You take your mouth off of him with a pop and begin moaning—“fuck yes, I’m cumming, please don’t stop!”

Egging Eddie on, making his assault relentless—as he sucks and slurps on your clit. Your whole body shakes as you fall on top of him no longer able to carry your weight, this was the best orgasm you’ve ever had—you could cry and you were, some from Eddie fucking your throat and some from complete blissed out pleasure

As you lay there while Eddie works you through your high, he grabs two handfuls of your ass, slapping and gripping—so hard he was definitely going to leave marks, but you didn’t care you’ve wanted nothing more than to be marked up by him—this was a dream come true

Eddie lifts your hips signaling you to get up

“Sorry” you laugh out

“It would be a great way to go” he says while huffing in a deep breath — you both laugh at his dumb joke as you lay there, Eddie allowing you to fully come down before continuing

“Can you, um can you fuck me in the same position?” You say shyly

“Doggystyle?” He inquires with raised brows and a smirk

“Uh, yeah” you say back unable to look Eddie in his face

“Don’t go shy on me now, princess” he laughs out

“I-I’m not, I just I’ve never done that one before”

“Hey, I like being your first for new things, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about I actually think it’s fucking hot” he growls

“Really?” You say with furrowed brows

“Yes, baby it’s so fucking sexy that I get to corrupt you and turn you into my personal whore” he spits out making your cheeks blush

You can’t help but bite your lip and nod your head, at this point Eddie could call you any name in the book and you’ll agree to it— “come on, ass up baby” he demands

You get into position, head down on the mattress as your ass wiggles in the air—you feel so exposed like this, but you’re too drunk on the idea of Eddie fucking you to care

“Mmm, this is a beautiful view” he says as he brings his palm down on your ass hard. You moan out, a reaction Eddie was not expecting—“oh you like that?” He says with a devilish smile

“Fuck, we’re gonna have so much fun princess” — “you gonna let me use you like this? Be my little fuck toy whenever I need my dick wet?” He growls as he slaps his cock against your ass—“yes, use me Eddie” you wail “shit, say that again, baby!” he demands as his cock begins breaching your pussy. You’re so lost in the feeling of him stretching you open to pay attention to what he just asked—SMACK! Eddie slaps your ass again, you never thought you’d be into being spanked but you were loving it—you moaned out again as you looked back at him with a smile—“I said say it again” he says through gritted teeth as he grabs a fistful of your hair pulling your head back towards him, plunging his cock deeper inside you “fuck, eddie use me”—-“use my pussy, please!” You shout

“That’s right, my little whore” he spits as he bottoms out inside you “fuck this pussy is so tight, goddamn” he whispers

“Fuck Eddie, you feel so good!”

Eddie begins thrusting in and out of you, pounding harder and harder as he hits your g-spot just right. You and eddie are loud—cussing, grunting and moaning could probably be heard down the block. You felt bad for your neighbors but you didn’t care enough to keep it down, it felt like heaven—better than you could’ve ever imagined

As Eddies fucking into you, you feel something wet hit your other hole— Eddie takes his thumb and begins rubbing the spit around—“has anyone ever played with this hole, baby?” He asks while continuing to fuck into you “no, never” you say as you bite your lip while looking back at him with curiosity

“Fuck, look at this little virgin asshole, can I play with it?” —“I promise, I’ll make you feel so good, princess” he begs

Butt stuff always scared you, after having a bad experience with an ex—but this is Eddie, you trust him and he promises to make you feel good, so of course you grant him access

“Yes, please” you say as you nod your head

Eddie spits another big glob right down on your pink hole, rubbing it in again and then pushing is thumb in slowly, inch by inch until his whole thumb was inside to the knuckle

“Holy shit” you mewl

Eddie stops his thrusts with his dick and finger— to check on you “you okay, baby?” He says voice full of genuine concern

“Yeah, yeah don’t stop please” you begin pushing back, fucking into his cock and thumb

He slaps your ass again, holding it with his free hand as he continues pounding into you. He’s stretching both holes out and it feels so good, too good—that familiar burning sensation creeping up, but one you’ve never felt before

“Eddie, hold on hold on!” His thrusts start slowing down—“what’s wrong, did I hurt you? Was that too much?” He begins

“No, no it’s prefect I-I just think I have to pee” you say with flushed cheeks, embarrassment washing over you

“Mmm, yeah?” He says as he starts to speed up again

“Eddie, baby please I-I can’t” you can’t even finish the sentence as the pleasure washes over you—“that’s it baby, just let go, make a mess”—“squirt all over my dick, you little slut” he growls as his free hand snakes around your waist to rub at your clit—he continues working his thumb in and out of your asshole

“Fuck, you like both of your holes filled hm?”—“like to be filled like a good little slut?” — “fuck, I knew you weren’t as innocent as you pretend to be, you’re just a secret little whore. Eddie just had to give it to you baby, that’s all you needed isn’t that right?”—his words tipping you over the edge, you cum as you scream Eddies name, he pulls his cock out and rubs at your clit with more aggression, making you squirt all over his dick as he groans out

“Fuck that was so hot”—“got my dick nice and wet, might just have to put it in your asshole” he says with a smirk

“I want you to, please?”— “please fuck my asshole, eddie”—“I need it” you whine

His eyes widen at your words “you sure baby?”

“Yes, I’m so sure, please!”—“I want you to fill my asshole with your cum” how the fuck could he say no to that?

“Fuuuck, y/n” he can’t even gather words, you’ve rendered eddie speechless

He takes his finger out and spits on your hole and on his dick, getting it nice and wet. He pushes your ass down a little so he has easier access, grabbing his cock and lining it up with your untouched hole. It’s a way bigger stretch than his finger, but he’s going so slow helping you get use to the feeling of being filled. Once he bottoms out he asks if you need a minute, you shake your head no—making Eddie thrust into you, slowly at first until you begin moaning out a “harder Eddie”

He starts fucking into your asshole relentlessly—it feels so good now. Eddies losing his composure above you “holy shit baby, fuck” —“I’m not gonna last much longer, your asshole is way too fucking tight, it’s milking my cock” —“fuck, I’m gonna fill it up, gonna fill this tight asshole up” —“Every. Last. Drop.” He says between thrusts

He grabs a handful of your hair again, lifting you up so your back is flush against his chest—he kisses your neck and shoulder as he continues his thrusts—“fuck I’m cumming” he moans out, you turn and grab the nape of his neck pushing his lips into yours, you kiss him through his orgasm, as he grunts and moans into the kiss

He pulls out with a hiss and kisses you on the nose guiding you to lay down as he grabs his discarded shirt on the floor and cleans the cum that’s beginning to seep from your fucked out hole

You whimper at the act

“You okay? Was I too rough?” He asks, you can’t get over how thoughtful he was when it came to sex, no man has ever made sure you were okay, the way he did. It made you fall even harder—getting to see him in this new light, you knew you’d never be able to go back to just being friends, but that was a topic for another day.

THANK YOU FOR READING

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