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mushies-stories · 6 months

Text

patience 18+

part one (read part two here)

Stu Macher X F!Reader!Virgin

Summary: things get a little steamy during movie night and Stu makes you feel good for the first time after teasing you for months.

Wanrings: SMUT 18+, dry humping, dirty talk.

word count: 2324

Stu had been patent and slow with you, knowing you were a virgin and not wanting to force you into anything. He kissed you, explored your mouth with his expert tongue. He would even grope your hips and thighs, sometimes holding you from behind and messaging your breasts through the fabric of your bra while he kissed your neck. All in his slow attempt to get you comfortable and ready to take another step in your relationship. Even Though Billy mocked and teased Stu about getting so close to you and taking his sweet time, he didn’t mind. Billy could say whatever he wanted, after all it’s not Billy who has you turning into mush in his arms when your neck is being sucked and bit on.

Watching you slowly fall apart for him was thrilling for him, you were becoming so sensitive the more he teased your body, kissed you until you had to pull away for air with a deep blush. Like now as you sat on Stu’s lap, legs straddling his sides while his hands held your hips gently. Some movie about a killer at a summer camp playing in the background, the tv being the only light in the room as your lips move softly against each other. Your skirt rode up enough so the only thing between your crotch and his were your cotton white panties. Your arms came to wrap loosely around his neck as you deepened the kiss a little, parting your lips and letting him slide his tongue into your warm mouth. You hummed softly as his hands traveled around to softly cup and rub your ass over your skirt, threatening to pull it up with little effort.

After a moment you both needed to breathe. you pulled away first with soft breaths and rosy cheeks. Stu leaned down to kiss your cheek softly, then lower to your neck. “You're so pretty Babygirl, could kiss you all day.” he said between kisses that he was trailing along your jaw until he found the spot on your neck that had your hips twitch against him. A small smirk played at the corners of his mouth, his teeth grazed the same spot before he began to suck a pretty little purple bruise onto the delicate skin. Your eyes fluttered and you let out a soft gasp, your back arching a fraction.

Stu, who was noticing every little movement, took the opportunity to scoop up more of your ass in his hands and slide you closer onto his lap. The friction it caused against your pussy made you tighten your grip around his neck and let out a soft moan. Your own hips jerked a little more this time and your pussy tingled at the sensation. You had an idea as to what Stu was trying to do to you. You noticed every time his touching and kissing had become progressively needier and more sensual over the past few weeks. You didn’t mind, but you also didn’t know how to tell him you wanted more. Your body was reacting to him constantly, even laying in bed you feel how wet your panties got at a memory of his hands wandering closer to your needy core. The only thing you had was your fingers and they just didn’t make you feel good enough, never satisfying you.

You began to feel your wetness pooling in your panties, sure to be leaving a nice wet spot. You worried as Stu adorned your chest and neck with love bites that you could be causing a mess on his lap as well. You shifted a little, trying to lift your hips up a bit so you were no longer pressing against his cock that was slowly hardening under the layers of fabric. Stu frowned against your skin before pulling you back down and grinding you softly against himself. “Where are you trying to run to baby, need you to keep my lap warm.” he teased sweetly between kisses and nips.

His hands kept a firm grip on your ass as he felt you slowly falling apart on his lap, your body mostly relaxed other than when your hips jerk a little from his hands squeezing and massaging your behind. You couldn't ignore how wet you were getting, sure you had to be leaving a mark on his jeans by now. “Stu…” you say softly, eyes fighting to stay open due to his soft lips on your hot skin.

He hummed and looked up at you from your chest where he was sucking a mark that made sure you couldn’t show any cleavage any time soon. “What Baby?” he asked after pulling off and listening to your small whimper.

You let out a soft sigh, regaining some kind of composure. “I think… well my um..” you end up stuttering out, embarrassed to tell him he was making you so wet you were also making a mess of his jeans.

He leans back fully so he could give you his full attention, something he knows fluters you even more. His hands smooth down the back of your skirt and come back to rest on your hips, thumbs pressing softly into your sides. “What was that Baby?” he asks, turning his head to hear you better with a small smirk.

Your hands gripped his shoulders as you shifted back again, hips pulling up from his crotch. “It’s… my panties.” your voice just above a whisper, your eyes were focused on the little space between your bodies. “They're all wet and making… making a mess on...” you cut yourself off, the rest of the sentence dying off in your throat.

Stu gave you a playful pout. “Oh Baby Girl, pussy getting needy for me?” he teased, that cheeky smirk back in place. He brings your hips down again, this time rolling his own up to elicit a short whimpery moan from you. “Pussy aching at the thought of my cock getting hard right under you, that right baby?” He asked when you didn't respond, delivering another roll of his hips.

You nod your head softly while looking at your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Mhmm, hurts Stu.” you say, a pout of your own forming on your face.

Chuckling softly Stu starts to rock your hips back and forth, not fast or hard, just teasingly slow. “Hurts? Oh, sweet girl can't help soaking my lap with your dripping little pussy huh?” He teased, voiced laced with pure desire now. “Want me to make you feel better baby?” he asked.

You nod again. Your eyes flutter a little as your clit is grazed along his cock uncethe thick fabric of his jeans. “Please.” you breath out,voice barely even audible, if he wasn’t so close he would have had to strain to hear you.

Stu’s smiles softness, you were trying to be brave and speak up and he could tell. His heart beat faster knowing it was him you were being so vulnerable with. “Of course baby, you asked so bravely and sweetly, how could I deny that?” he cooed. “move your hips and follow my hands okay Baby?” he instructed.

“Okay.” you respond softly. When his hands pulled you forward you were unprepared for the amount of pressure he started with. You gasped and held yourself steady against him while you found a rhythm together. You rolled your hips more evenly in time with his own and managed to pick up the pace to match the force he was using on your hips. It wasn't long before you were letting out soft little moans and whimpers, his cock pressing perfectly against your clit even through all the fabrics. “Stu… feels good.” you sigh, eyes rolling up a little as your brain becomes foggy from the new pleasure you were feeling.

Stu looked at you in awe, your face shifting from concentration to bliss in moments had his cock twitching in his pants. He needed this just as much as you did, he didn’t mind the wait but seeing you so desperate was making his cock so hard he couldn't help but pull your hips even harder.

Your pussy grinding fast and hard against his cock was making the sweetest mewls and whimpers leave your plump lips. “You sound so sweet Baby girl, such beautiful noises just for me.” He praised along with a harsh roll of his hips.

Your back arches and allows your clit to rub against his cock even more and your legs shudder a little at the feeling. His cock was big and the length was more than you figured you could feel with clothes on. Soon you began to feel a knot building in the pit of your stomach, your pussy was throbbing against the slick of your panties. “Feels so go-od, Stu I think-” you whimper, looking at Stu with big eyes, trying to tell him you need to cum, that you're so close.

Stu cocked his head to the side with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Want to cum sweet girl, that's it?” he asked. He really wanted to tease you more, make you spell it out and make you squirm until he finally gives you his cock in full. For now he settled on this, watching up ruin you pretty little panties on his lap. “Alright, I got you. Show me how good it feels rubbing your pretty pussy on my cock Babygirl.” he encouraged.

You nod your head rapidly, pulling your chest closer by wrapping your arms around his neck. You chased your high with help from Stu’s hold on you, making sure to keep you in place so he could rut his hips up and press your clit firm against his cock with every thrust. Your eyes fluttered shut, your lips parted as you let moans and whines fall pathetically from your lips. Stu drank in every desperate and needy noise you gave him. His cock was throbbing and leaking precum.

Finally that feeling in your stomach snapped, your hips would have slowed if it wasn't for Stu making sure to rock you through your first orgasim. “Mmm Stu- please don't st-op.” You whine and cling to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You let out a strangled moan, your shaky breath fanning the side of his neck.

“That's it, so good for me baby.” he praised, trying to keep it together but he was right behind you, once he felt your body relax a bit he continued rutting himself against your dripping core while he moved your hips at a steady pace. He could feel how wet you were, your sensitive messy pussy was soaking his lap and you whimpered softly as he moved you. Another harsh pull of your hips has his cock twitching and his cum coating the inside of his boxers. He let your body sag against his own, arms coming up to wrap around your back and pull you closer. “You did so good Baby, came so good for me.” Stu kissed the top of your head.

You smiled and snuggled into him more. “You made me feel so good, Stu.” you said sweetly. You pull back and look down at your laps, your skirt covering the mess that lays underneath.

Stu notices your curiosity and chuckles softly, his hand bundles up the fabric of your skirt and pulls it up. “Dirty girl.” he muses. “Look at the mess you made of me.” He teased you.

Your face was feeling hot again, your panties were a mess and you had indeed made a rather large wet spot on his crotch. “I'm so sorry, I’ll clean them an-”

“Baby.” Stu stopped you with a squeeze of your thigh. “Never be sorry for this.” He said. Letting go of your skirt, he slides his hand down and into your panties. He slides his middle finger through your slick folds and your whimper at the feeling and practically whines as he pulls his hand from your core. He places his middle finger flat against his tongue and licks your cum clean from the long digit with a low groan, his eyes rolling into the back of his head a moment. “Fuck, not when you taste this sweet Babygirl.” He said.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach was starting to stir again watching him taste you. Your pussy is almost aching at the sight. “Can't believe you teased me for months and made me wait to feel that good.” you pout, a hint of playfulness in your eyes.

Stu laughed. “Figured that out? My shy girl was just too scared to say anything?” he mocked.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “Not scared… just waiting for you to make a move.” you lied.

Stu chuckled and rolled his hips up rather harshly. You gasp softly and your hands flew out to spread across his chest to keep your balance on his lap. “That so? Well I made my move Babygirl, what's yours?” He challenged that little attitude you just attempted to throw at him.

You tried to say something, move and do something but you froze. Being put on the spot making you back down and look at him with innocent eyes full of confusion.

Stu brought a hand up to up your warm cheek, his thumb stroked over your bottom lip. “Awe baby.” he cooed. “It's okay, you'll get there but for now let me take care of it okay?” he said sweetly. You nodded and nuzzled into his hand a little. He smiled and nodded back. “Good, now why don't we go get cleaned up baby, as much as i'd rather keep you glued to my crotch.” he joked.

You rolled your eyes and giggled. Thankful you had Stu who cared so much about you, you knew you would be safe with him and were ready for whatever came next.

#scream #scream1996 #scream x reader #ghost face #ghostface x reader #stu matcher x reader #billy loomis x reader #scream1996x reader #billy loomis smut #Stu macher x reader smut #billy loomis x reader smut #stu macher imagine #stu macher smut

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alchemistc · 2 years

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Eddie's crush on Steve Harrington takes a strange turn when Harrington shows up at school two weeks before Thanksgiving of '84 and refuses to take off his sunglasses until his English teacher threatens to send him to the office - Eddie catches sight of the purple and yellow bruises and Steve spends twenty minutes feeling woozy and then ends up running to the bathroom to throw up because concussions are a bitch.

Eddie, like an idiot, chases after him. Spends half a minute listening to Steve retch and then crawls under the locked stall door to Steve's confused protest and leans against the stall with Steve's hair gathered in one hand until Steve is done puking.

"Hell of a hangover, Harrington," Eddie says to lighten the mood, knowing full well that's not it, and Steve thinks about pressing his face into the cool toilet, doesn't because this is a fucking boys high school bathroom.

"Billy Hargrove knocked my brain around," Steve says, wincing, and Eddie pushes the sunglasses he'd snaked off Steve's desk back on his face.

Eddie smokes him out behind the football fields at lunch and when Steve tries to pay him for the weed Eddie patently ignores the offer - uncaps a pen from his jacket pocket and scrawls his phone number across Steve's forearm and tells him to call if wants to hang out.

"What if I just want weed?"

"My business hours are ten to seven."

Steve calls him two nights later at half past seven and Eddie is Very Cool about it. (He's so not cool about it, he dances around the living room for a full five minutes and is thankful Wayne isn't around to see it.)

They spark up the strangest friendship either one of them have ever had but the moment Eddie realizes he actually genuinely likes Steve as a person he shoves that crush way down deep because Harrington is a genuinely cool dude and Eddie's fucked up friendships misreading the situation before.

----

Gareth fucking hates Steve Harrington.

He comes back from winter break to find Steve Harrington sitting next to Eddie at lunch, keeps his cool until Harrington leaves for gym class and then pitches a whole ass fit but it's too late because Eddie had introduced Steve to the band and a few of the Hellfire club during the break while Gareth was stuck in Mishawaka with his super religious bigot aunt and uncle and all of them grudgingly LIKE Harrington.

Jeff shrugs when Gareth tries to gather up some support. "He made us hot chocolate after band practice because the garage was cold. He charmed my mom into forgetting she hates Eddie."

Paul's zero help, because when Tommy Hagan ran into them at the diner a week into winter break and tried to start shit Harrington had threatened to rearrange Tommy's face and Tommy hasn't looked twice at them since.

The Hellfire club thinks he's adorable because he doesn't know what a kobold is and the thought of a twenty sided die makes him scrunch his nose up like he's in physical pain having the think about it and for some fucking reason they all find that sort of stupidity charming.

Eddie is a nonstarter - one bad word against him and he ices Gareth out for a week.

The third time Harrington almost freezes to death sitting in Gareth's garage while the band practices, he offers up his own garage (It's heated, because of fucking course it is, and he has the decency to pretend to be embarrassed at how fucking rich he is) and then cooks them dinner afterwards like some fifties housewife and actually, fuck everything, Harrington is an alright dude but Gareth doesn't have to LIKE him.

---

Jeff finally has someone to talk to about baseball - Harrington never played but he's a Cubs fan and when Jeff laughs about that for a full twenty minutes Steve has to explain The Curse, and if Eddie gets a gleam in his eye about the masochism of choosing a team destined to lose then Jeff isn't gonna say a word about it. Not his business, and he's not gonna step in shit just because Steve doesn't actually seem opposed to the outrageous fucking flirt Eddie is around him.

He loves his friends, would do pretty much anything for them, but they're all so enamored with the idea of being outcasts that all his mainstream interests get shoved aside and Steve is so goddamn mainstream he's actually not sure how Eddie befriended him but he's not gonna complain about it.

When it becomes clear, sometime around April, that Eddie is probably gonna fail (again) Steve gets a bug up his ass about it and suddenly Nancy fucking Wheeler is spending three nights a week at Eddie's. It'd be sweet, if it didn't cut into band practice, but the first time Jeff bangs on the trailer door to bitch about Eddie missing it again, Steve throws the door open and invites him in to watch the show - Eddie looks like he's about five minutes away from shaking little Nancy until her head pops off, and she looks like she'd like to strangle him right back, and they're arguing about concepts Jeff can't wrap his head around but the fact that Eddie knows his shit and just doesn't apply himself isn't new to Jeff but it clearly is to Wheeler.

When she finally leaves (only after watching Eddie painstakingly write out a scribbled mess of a paper for English class, checking on his progress every twenty minutes or so to his absolute mortification) Steve hands Eddie a beer and Eddie stares at a wall for ten minutes.

"Your ex is scary," Eddie finally mutters, and when he halfheartedly stuffs the finished essay into his bag Steve takes the time to reorganize it in a way that Jeff thinks might actually remind Eddie to turn the fucking thing in.

Jeff doesn't mention that he thinks it's kind of weird to be friends with your ex-girlfriend, especially when the rumor mill is pretty adamant that this particular ex cheated on Harrington.

"I'll make sure to write out a thank you note when you graduate because of her."

They're halfway through a movie when Gareth calls, Steve and Eddie arguing over some piece of trivia about the production team that Steve knows he's wrong about but refuses to give up the fight over, and Jeff feels a little shitty about forgetting the reason he came over in the first place.

They're interesting, is the thing. Jeff likes hanging out with them just to watch the juxtaposition of two guys so startlingly different from each other. And maybe he's a little invested in the will-they-won't-they of it all - because he'd been the first one Eddie had introduced to Steve in the nebulous time between whenever the fuck they'd started hanging out and when Eddie had decided not to keep him some dirty little secret - because he'd sort of just trusted Eddie not to be an idiot about it, and if he thought Harrington was important enough to bring into the fold than who the hell was Jeff to deny that - because Harrington is shockingly loyal and steadfast and Jeff thinks he's probably about a month off from a realization about himself he's probably not fully prepared for.

Jeff's gay uncle is the loneliest dude he's ever known and he'd always figured that was just how it was to be gay but there's shit brewing between Steve and Eddie that Eddie refuses to acknowledge and Steve hasn't noticed yet and there's probably gonna be some drama when it all comes to a head but Jeff knows Steve's gonna need someone other than Eddie to talk about it. So.

---

Steve invites himself into Gareth's the moment he opens the door. Just presses past him and lays himself out on the couch in the living room, and he knows Gareth isn't his biggest fan but that's sort of why he'd come here first. If anyone was gonna give him the absolute truth it's gonna be Gareth.

The thing is, he's been cruising along since November, barely passing his own classes, enjoying having friends who aren't pieces of shit, enjoying getting close to Eddie, ignoring that voice in the back of his head that still lingers in the feel of Eddie's fingers in his hair while he was puking his guts out on the cold bathroom floor, and the ignoring is getting harder and harder because Eddie's naturally a touchy feely person and Steve isn't used to that shit from anyone. The thing is he's pretty sure Eddie telling him he's gay, admitting it like some dark confession with wide eyes and a lick of fear crowding his features - Eddie telling him that shouldn't put him on edge like this, shouldn't make him so fucking angry, because he's trying, alright, he's trying to be, like, a better person and he's pretty sure he'd reacted okay because Eddie hadn't bolted but he's - he's upset about it and Gareth and Jeff are the only ones he's sure already know and he needs some fucking clarity.

Gareth will give it to him straight.

He's on a roll - pacing and gesturing and trying to work his way through all the shit in his head, the idea he's got of Eddie telling him because he's into someone and Steve's gonna end up in the back burner, or third wheeling, or fully fucking forgotten when he's had all of Eddie's attention for the last six months. "It's, like – I'm mad about it. Or. Like. Not mad, I just. The thought of having to see him happy with someone el–."

And. Huh.

"Dude," Gareth says, and Steve feels the laughter breaking loose - the ridiculousness of this moment, of choosing Gareth of all fucking people, the one person he hasn't won over despite his best attempts to not be a total dickhead. Steve fully fucking loses it, flopping onto Gareth's couch, laughing himself hoarse while Gareth stares at him like he's grown a second head, only sobering when Gareth sits himself down on the edge Steve isn't occupying.

"Shit, man," Steve says. "What do I do?" Because he can't lose Eddie, right? Other than Eddie he's got a gaggle of middle schoolers for friends and if things sour with Eddie it's not like Jeff or Paul or any of the others is going to choose Steve.

"Did you mean to come out to me right there, or was that an accident?"

"I literally didn't know until just then."

Gareth's been called some version of a homophobic slur enough times to know it sucks even if it's not true, and he's met Jeff's uncle a few times, seen the pain he carries, has always been terrified of Eddie losing his sparkle to a cruel world, and maybe he's never quite trusted Steve Harrington but clearly Harrington trusts him, which is.

"Eddie's had a crush on you for years, man, why do you think he wanted to be friends with you in the first place?"

"Fuck off," Steve says, and he looks a little miserable about it like he thinks this is some cosmic joke Gareth's cooked up.

"You should probably, like, take some time. Think about it. Make sure you're prepared for how much people fucking suck and decide if whatever you're feeling right now is worth the hassle."

"Eddie's not a hassle," Steve says, and Gareth decides right then and there that Harrington? Actually a good dude.

---

Steve throws a graduation party. It's a smaller affair than he would have had a year ago, more laid back, but a surprising amount of people actually show up - all of Hellfire, even the you freshman who Steve expressly forbids from the punch bowl that's mostly vodka (a few of them sneak a taste and Harrington berates them comically, hands on his hips and looking every inch a harried mother as they slink off towards his pool with the solo cups of water he replaces their punch with).

Nancy shows, even brings Jonathan, and Steve pretends it's not awkward, makes a joke about Nancy avoiding the punch that lands better than he expected and when Nancy slings both arms around Eddie and congratulates him, Jonathan and Steve take a moment to watch the pair.

They've had a few awkward moments in the halls, and a few more any time they happen to be bringing their respective heathens around to the Wheelers at the same time, but Steve had given NancyandJonathan the green light as best he could and he genuinely wants them to do well even if it had fucking sucked at the time to realize he'd felt way more for Nancy than she'd felt for him.

When Eddie and Nancy break the hug they start an argument that will last at least an hour if no one puts a stop to it, so Steve shows Jonathan to the liquor cabinet to make better drinks ("Wasn't kidding about the punch, man," Steve says and Jonathan's smile is almost warm.) and he beelines it out to the poolside where Nancy has her nose scrunched and Eddie is gesturing with both arms flailing in the air.

He has a fucking type.

When the younger kids finally leave and the group dwindles, Jeff and Gareth bemoan who the fuck is gonna run Hellfire now and Jonathan and Steve both throw a name into the hat - and Eddie's only met the kids that seem to hero worship Steve a few times but he tells Jeff to be in the lookout for them and proceeds to chug a full cup of punch. Grimaces once he's done, and Steve shoots Gareth a frown because - because they'd come up with a plan, sort of, and this party was mostly for Eddie even if Steve had graduated too but he hadn't planned on Eddie getting wasted.

"Don't see why you can't still go through with it," Gareth says under his breath while Jonathan and Eddie are getting high next to the pool, and Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to remind himself that Gareth, for all that he's the closest thing Steve has to a confidante outside of Eddie, has been on one date in his entire life.

"I'm not gonna tell him I'm in fucking love with him when he might be too drunk to goddamn remember it," he tells Gareth and Gareth's eyes go a bit wide because - whoops, Steve hasn't actually said that before.

"You -."

"New plan," Steve interrupts before Gareth can call him out on it. "I'm gonna drink the rest of that punch and forget we ever even made a plan."

Gareth recruits Jeff to talk him down from that.

---

Steve gets a card from his parents for graduation and a week later he gets a call from his father telling him it's time for him to man up and make his own way in the world.

At least, that's what Eddie had gleaned from the conversation they'd had on his front stoop two days before graduation.

He wakes up from a night of getting absolutely blitzed to his face plastered against one of the soft pillows from Steve's bed and spends a good thirty minutes staring at the plaid wallpaper before he finally manages to turn over to find the glass of water and the bottle of Tylenol on the bedside table. By the time he finally manages to make it down the stairs the rest of the overnighters were already stirring, and Steve is making waffles and talking to Nancy in a quiet voice.

"...didn't even get into Tech. He's just trying to prove a point, because he hates having a screwup for a son."

"Did you even apply to Tech?" Nancy asks, and Steve shoots her a look over his shoulder. The answer is no, and Eddie knows that because these are the kinds of conversations he has with Steve, the same soft voices and then same knowing looks and Eddie watches them for a moment with something burgeoning on understanding.

The moment is broken when Gareth rolls past Eddie into the kitchen and does a double take.

"Nice sweatshirt," he says, and he wiggles his eyebrows like that's supposed to mean something - but Eddie hadn't even realized he wasn't wearing the same thing he'd come in until Gareth pointed it out.

It's Steve's - and Eddie hadn't paid it much mind when he woke up because he'd woken up in Steve's fucking bed but it smells like him - some sort of sports related monstrosity with green and orange accents and when Jeff claps him on the back and says the same fucking thing Eddie watches Steve's face go pink.

He's annoyingly cute, and Eddie shoves that thought down because in a moment of weakness he'd allowed himself to compare his relationship with Steve to Nancy fucking Wheelers relationship with Steve and - and it's a fucking sweatshirt, and Eddie vaguely remembers spilling punch on his own shirt, and Steve bundling him up the stairs and tossing a change of clothes at him, remembers splaying himself out on Steve's bed once he'd changed, and then nothing. He'd had a fucking lot to drink.

Everyone trickles out after breakfast, Gareth the last to leave before Eddie, and Eddie watches the two of them have a whispered argument by the front door that ends in him gesturing in Eddies direction and then throwing up his hands before shoving past Steve out the door

He doesn't get what Gareth's problem with Steve is.

Steve is - Steve's great, actually, which is a problem for Eddie in particular but shouldn't be an issue for Gareth the same way, because Gareth is strictly a tits man. No, Gareth had had a bug up his ass about Steve Harrington since that first day and Eddie hates that he won't just give up whatever idea he's got in his head that Steve isn't a fucking dream.

He's bad at ignoring the crush, alright?

When Steve sidles back into the kitchen he's got a serious look on his face Eddie doesn't particularly like. And - he should probably go, too, like the rest of them, but he's still perched up on the counter, wearing Steve Harrington's clothes and drinking Steve Harrington's coffee and admiring Steve Harrington's stupid pretty face.

He's so fucked.

"What do you remember from last night?" Steve asks once he's got his own coffee cup back in his hand, and Eddie gives him a rundown of the first half without issue. It gets a little foggy after he'd downed a second cup of punch.

"Did I do something stupid?" He doesn't drink very often, is the thing - too many bad memories of the elder Munson getting shithoused - but he'd fucking graduated and flipped Higgins the bird with diploma in hand and he'd indulged, just the once.

Steve grimaces. "Not - stupid, no. Just. Before you fell asleep you uh..."

Eddie tries to pull up the memory, gets a throbbing pain in his temple for the trouble, and manages only a vague whisper of a memory - catching Steve's fingers in his own as Steve tucked a blanket over him.

Steve takes a sip of his coffee. Runs a hand through his hair - delightfully messy, which is the sort of thing Eddie should t let himself linger on too long because it's not like he's going to get to see him like this often, rumpled and sleepy even though he's been up for a while now.

"You. Said something "

Eddie says a lot of things, and mostly he says a lot of bullshit, but -

Steve's knuckles against Eddie's lips, minty fresh breath because Steve had told him he'd feel better in the morning if he brushed his teeth before he passed out, Steve standing over him and smiling as Eddie's eyes shuttered closed, a soft sigh escaping his lips as Steve's fingers drifted from his. "Love you," he'd muttered under his breath, when Steve's footsteps had retreated -

Fucking.

Drunk Eddie is a goddamn problem.

"What did I say?" Eddie asks, and he's thankful his voice doesn't waver because he's gotta play this off, some how, some way, because he's not ready to not have Steve in his life and -

"It - it doesn't." Steve sighs. "You really don't remember?"

And he sounds - upset, about it, like he'd expected they'd be able to talk about it later.

"Uh..."

Steve runs a hand over his face. Sighs. Turns his head up to stare at the ceiling and Eddie, like an idiot, stares at the long line of his neck and thinks about biting it.

"Screw it," Steve says, and before Eddie can so much as blink Steve's across the kitchen and crowding into Eddie's space. He's shorter, like this, with Eddie perched on the counter, has to tilt his head up to catch Eddie's gaze and he's - close. Closer than Eddie tends to let him be for extended periods of time. "I like you, Eddie."

"...but?"

Steve snorts, and his hand curls around Eddie's knee, which is - it's doing something to Eddie's head, and maybe he's still drunk from last night because everything feels a bit hazy. "No but, man. I - you -." He scrunches up his nose the same way Wheeler does, but Eddie doesn't find it half as endearing when Nancy does it. "You've had my name splashed across your back all morning and it's driving me crazy, man, I'm so into you it's not even funny."

Nice sweatshirt, both Jeff and Gareth had said, like they were all in on some sort of joke, and Steve had chosen this shit out of one of his drawers, and Steve hadn't seemed like he had much to drink at all last night, and Steve is -

"If this is a joke it's a fucked up one, Steve."

Steve curls a hand into Eddie's hair and kisses him.

---

Gareth doesn't comment on the sweatshirt when he strides into the Harrington garage two days later, but he takes one look at the purpling bruise on Steve's neck and spends a moment torn between wanting to high five the dude and bemoan how insufferable Eddie's going to be with a full ass boyfriend. He keeps his mouth shut instead.

Jeff doesn't have the same problem. "Nice hickey," he says, poking at it as Steve hands out drinks, and Steve goes red and ducks his head but later, in the quiet privacy of the closed garage he tugs at Eddie's belt loop and presses a kiss to his cheek in full view of the band. Eddie preens, so Gareth was 100% right about that.

On the plus side, Gareth thinks, even as Eddie tries to persuade them to warm up with a fucking love song, at least Eddie might have something to stick around in Hawkins for a little bit longer.

#steddie headcanon #steddie fanfic #steddie ff #this was supposed too be just a headcanon about eddie befriending steve after season 2 #and somehow it got OUT OF HAND #anyway gareth and jeff ship steddie #if you get nothing else out of this get that at least

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non-plutonian-druid · 1 month

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[ID: a drawing of Allison and Five sitting with their backs against each other, dressed for some kind of Mission. Allison is wearing a cropped leather jacket over a jumpsuit with a giant belt buckle, and Five is dressed in a purple three piece suit. Next to them is a duffel bag and a baseball bat with nails hammered into it. Whatever they are sitting on is not pictured; instead there's a blue rectangle approximating its location. End ID.]

sometimes you get out from a long day of committing crimes against your ex-dad's weird new supervillainous corporation and you gotta stop to get a coffee

bringing back my patented "drawing people sitting without drawing whatever it is theyre sitting on" technique

#tua #the umbrella academy #allison hargreeves #five hargreeves #five and allison should team up #its criminal that they havent already #they had so much in common in season 3 and they didnt do ANYTHING with it #cowards #maybe them teaming up would break the plot because this is the combo with the most braincells #but if thats the case then maybe Get Good at writing smh #my art #this is the first time in a hot second ive done actual line art lmao

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flats-fan · 2 months

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#flat shoes #ballet flats #flats with tights #purple patent flats #purple flats

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mykneeshurt · 1 year

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Hello may I please submit a request? Simon’s wife is a nice quiet woman in the streets but when her husband comes home she leashes out on him 😭😭 one day simons looking through all your dirty Polaroids he took one night and the boys catch him 😂

Baha I love this. I hope I did ok it’s only short!! This scenario screams Soap is a menace hahaahah. Not proof read. Also guys don’t look at others peoples SOs photos lmao this is purely fiction 😂

Mrs Simon Riley. A good quiet woman, a nurse, caring and understanding. She and Simon had met after a terrorist attack in London. Working in A&E the victims of the attack were brought there, she was busy dressing wounds, hanging IV lines and giving pain medication. That was until Task Force 141 burst through the doors carrying a half conscious Simon Riley.

Her manager assigned her to take care of him, blood loss from a stab wound. He was rushed into surgery to cauterise the blood vessel and stitch up the open skin. Their relationship was rocky at first, she felt uneasy he was rushed in above everyone else. The skull mask made her feel nervous, but his gentle grasp at her wrist alleviated some of this.

They began talking more and more during her shifts, he eagerly awaited her arrival every time. After he was discharged they remained in contact and the rest is history.

Four years later and Ghost is sat in his room at the barracks, missing his wife immensely. All the boys had met her, she often invited them round for dinner. They loved her, she was funny, kind and certainly kept Ghost in his place. But what they didn’t know was that she was a fiend in the bedroom. She certainly gave Ghost a run for his money.

Knowing he was going to be away for months she surprised him before he left. A small envelope filled with Polaroids of her, in deep purple underwear, stockings, and black patent stilettos. Others she was completely naked, angling the camera down her body two fingers teasing the edge of her cunt.

Oh he liked this surprise. On base he kept them on his person, no one else was gonna be privy to this. When he left base he kept them in a tin lock box he hid in a vent in his room. Just looking at her body in those photos drove him wild, all he wanted to do was to touch her. To feel her beneath him.

Lost in his memories of her he didn’t hear the first knock at the door. The second made him jump ‘Ghost! You in there buddy?’ Soaps thick accent pierced the door. Scrambling he tried to shove the pictures back in the box making one hell of a racket. ‘Comin Soap!’

Opening the door he was panting slightly. ‘Alright Lt?’ Soap asked confused. Nodding he hurried him out of the room but not before Soap noticed a picture on the floor. ‘What’s that on the floor Lt?’ His eyes widened in fear, he couldn’t let your pictures be seen by them. ‘Nothin that concerns you Johnny’ he warned.

Gaz rounded the corner and saw the look in Ghosts eyes, ‘Soap what you done now?’ He laughed. ‘Lt is hiding something from us me thinks.’ Gaz burst out laughing.

‘Leave him alone Soap, come in before Price has our arses.’ Soap backed off, surrendering.

As Ghost dropped his guard to close the door Soap burst through and dived for the photo. ‘STEAMIN JESUS LT!’ He shrieked laughing, ‘hidin’ this beauty from us I see.’ Gaz over come with curiosity fought off Ghost and joined Soap on the floor. ‘Fuck sir. She’s stunning’ he laughed. Luckily it was a photo of her in her lingerie, her breasts pushed together, her red lips smirking. ‘Gimme that if you know what’s good for you’ Ghost boomed.

Gaz and Soap exchanged a glance at each other like naughty school boys. ‘One more peep Lt?’ Soap laughed.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw22 #ghost x reader #fan fic smut #smut #john soap mactavish #soap mctavish #soap mctavish x reader #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x reader #cod ghost

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theprettynosferatu · 6 months

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Unit Commander John Heinlein was a simple man. Above all, he valued order. Order kept the world safe, functional, understandable. Everyone and everything had its proper place and proper role: like different organs in a body, they all contributed to the overall health of society as long as they did what they were supposed to do and didn’t get any stupid ideas. In that gigantic body, John Heinlen was a fist, and stupid ideas were what he punched into oblivion. Reality was simple, and if it wasn’t, the higher-ups pointed him to the complication and he pummeled it back into simplicity.

As usual, intelligence was spotty. Why exactly this club was a Stupid Idea, John did not know nor did he care. What the informant had revealed was something about women going against their conditioning, although they had not revealed how or why. It seemed patently ridiculous to John Heinlein. Conditioned women were happy, and they made their men happy. Simple, proper. Everything in its natural place. If Fulgrim’s was messing with that, it deserved to be squashed.

Looking at the rest of the Unit, he felt sending them was perhaps a waste of resources. If the informant was correct, they would be facing women and whatever deviants might be attending off-hours, if any; but it was not his call to make, and he liked it that way. His purpose was to punch, not to decide who deserved to be punched.

The six men stood in front of the gaudy purple door. As much as he wanted to kick the door down and be done with it, John played it by the book. He made the signal to place the breaching device and got into the correct position, ingrained in him by hundreds of hours of training. Still, no matter how many times the device blasted the door open, John always felt underwhelmed. Part of him seemed to expect a big thunderous sound, instead of the measured, barely audible “pop” designed not to alert the criminals.

Like a perfect machine, they went in, weapons ready. They were all running on autopilot, relying on their modified genetics and exhaustive drilling. It took only a few seconds for them to reach the same, obvious conclusion. No threats present. Instead, two women stood by the door, as if expecting them. John felt a deep revulsion, something primal stirring within him. It was wrong.

The women weren’t blonde. They weren’t smiling. They didn’t seem pleasant, or demure, or bubbly. In fact, they looked like wolves on the prowl. One had blood-red hair, a leather corset, fishnet stockings and boots that ended in the sort of spiked heels that could kill a man. The other was, to John Heinlein, even worse. She seemed shy, wearing a short skirt and trying to cover up… but her eyes spoke of a deep hunger, a devious intelligence and a depraved longing he couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” said the redhead with mock gratitude. “You see, I’ve been trying to train this sweet little creature right here…” she added as her hand went under the other girl’s skirt. “But I’m afraid she needs a bit of… male guidance. A strong hand to show her the way”

John frowned. There was something strange in the air. A subtle smell he couldn’t fully detect. As he turned to ask his comrades about it, he noticed Johnson shifting his weight slightly. It was a small thing, but utterly out of place for a man of their training. And he could tell the women saw it too. Slowly, seductively the redhead walked toward Johnson, leading the other girl by her wrist. It was surreal, unsettling. But they couldn’t just open fire on females.

“Johnson, step away from the females, now!”, barked Commander Heinlein.

For the first time in his illustrious career, the Commander’s order went unheeded. He watched in horror as the petite woman placed a slender hand on the soldier’s chest and, with a look designed to melt hearts and break down barriers at the same time, pouted like a mischievous child.

“Please, Sir. I’ve been bad. So, so bad… Won’t you teach me? I’m a very good learner… if I’m put in my place”

Meanwhile, the woman in the spiked heels had gone around Johnson, and whispered in his ear as her hand caressed his perfectly sculpted abs and kept moving downwards…

“She can be so good… we both can be so good… but are you man enough to show us you can handle us? Tame us? Mold us into your perfect good girls?”

Johnson was breathing heavily, paralyzed by a million conflicting impulses. He had a job to do. He was a soldier. He was…

And just then, he broke. Johnson grabbed the smaller woman by the neck, and in a swift movement turned her around and bent her over. He couldn’t see the devilish smile on her face, but John Henlein sure did. There was victory in that lustful look, a triumph only magnified when, cock hard as metal, Johnson railed her from behind as hard as he possibly could, his mind gone in a frenzy of half-formed sentences and grunts, the redhead woman rubbing her pussy as she now shouted encouragement.

“Do it! Pound that little slut! Show her what she really is! Fucking break her like the stupid fuckdoll she dresses as! Punish that pussy with your cock! Make her scream for me… make her beg! Make. Her. Yours!”

“Johnson!”, shouted Heinlein in vain. The soldier was gone, and all that remained was a beast, a bundle of muscles determined to conquer the females before it, to claim them and mark them as his. And worse, whoever was behind it all remained unseen, deeper inside the club.

“Fuck! Everyone else! On me! We press on!”

“What about Johnson?”, asked a rookie soldier by the name of Phillips.

“We lost him! Now, move!”

They stormed the place, kicking down doors- no time to play it straight, as much as it pained Unit Commander John Heinlein, for whom standard procedure was akin to a biblical dogma. With every hallway they crossed, every room they breached, the air seemed to get heavier, denser somehow. Sweeter, perhaps.

They entered a room covered in black velvet. It caused a strange effect, almost as if the walls themselves devoured the light. And there, sitting in the middle of the room, long legs crossed, was another female. Like the ones before, she didn’t look like the blonde, obedient women that had undergone the mandatory conditioning. Horror gripped Heinlein. This person went against every conceivable notion of what a woman should be. Clad in a leather corset and thigh-high boots, she stared the five soldiers down with a look of disgust and clear disapproval. Even the sight of their guns was to her just another gauche shortcoming, one in a very long list of inadequacies clamored without words by her deep, green eyes.

“Did I say you could come in?”, she asked.

The question was ridiculous. They were Soldiers. They didn’t ask, they acted. And yet, two of Heinlein’s men started moving their heads, something between shaking off a creeping mental fog and answering the woman’s question. No, she had not said they could come in.

“Get on the ground, and-” started barking Heinlein before the woman cut him off.

“No. it’s not your turn to speak. You don’t talk unless I tell you to, is that clear?”

Unit Commander Heinlein froze. Her tone, firm, in total control, was something he recognized very well. For a moment he was a raw recruit again, undergoing basic training. A part of him, a part of all Soldiers knew to obey that sort of utterance, that confident command. It was part of the crucial training that made any warrior more than a brawler. It was the core of discipline. He knew, at that moment, they were all in grave danger.

“Now, that sort of rude entrance needs to be punished. You all know it, don’t you my toys? But I’ll be kind…ish. How about you start by being a pack of good dogs and kneel?”

Heinlein felt his legs almost give in. He managed to stay on his feet… barely. He watched as most of his squad went on their knees, their eyes wide, fixed on that beautiful woman, seeking every ounce of validation she could give them. Ready to obey.

“Crawl to me, pets”

They did. With a few words, she had made them love her. Adore her. Obey her. Their sense of duty twisted, molded, corrupted. And Heinlein felt himself wanting to join them, wanting so badly to be one of her favorite pets… no, her very favorite. The alpha of the pack. Perfect for her. Obedient for her.

It took a superhuman effort to turn away from her perfect silhouette, her beckoning curves, her voice of absolute command and dominion. The last thing he saw before sprinting away from that goddess of a woman was his once proud squad almost fighting like dogs for the privilege of kissing her heels. How he hated the fact that he wanted to join them…

He tried to push it all away as he ran through hallways, deeper into the club, down stairs, through room after room. Deeper and deeper… the air getting heavier and sweeter… his mind getting fuzzier…

How long did he run? How deep did he go? He couldn’t tell. Different themes passed him by like a blur, and he felt almost as if he was just running in place, the facility moving around him, assaulting him with perverted ideas, digesting him like some monstrous organism designed to destroy everything that was right and natural in the world… but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Stopping, he felt, would mean the end.

And then, he stopped.

The woman looked like no one he had ever seen. Every part of her seemed designed to short-circuit his understanding of reality, his very core, and he found himself frozen before her, his brain trying to catch up to what his eyes were seeing. She looked like something out of some strange, fae world: she wore her hair in dancing ponytails, one dyed blue, one pink. Her makeup was a striking mixture of neon colors punctuated by tiny drawn hearts scattered over a face that spoke at once of innocence and mischief. She had a single fishnet glove on, mismatched thigh-high socks, a pink and black nighty that hovered between dark and slutty and the most pure chastity… Even her eyes, he noticed, refused to follow any notion of order: one was a deep blue, while the other was an inhuman, alluring red. She was something he couldn’t comprehend, and yet couldn’t stop watching. She moved with a strange liquid freedom, as if gravity and anatomy were vague suggestions she very much didn’t intend to follow. And her smile… he couldn’t quite place what it was: it was joyful, yes, but also shy and yet it had a hint of a predator somewhere deep inside it…

“Oh, hi!” she chirped and bounced out of her purple sofa. “I was fingering myself!” she declared, almost with pride.

Unit Commander Heinlein found himself unable to respond. This… being was not a woman. Not as he understood them, at least. And yet he could feel something stirring inside, something he had forgotten about long, long ago…

“Who are you?”, she asked, her face becoming almost a caricature of confusion before snapping back into a jubilant smile. “I’m Alara! Nice to meet you!”

She ran to him. Normally such an action would call for tactical evasion, or a well-practiced takedown. Instead, Heinlein found himself frozen in place as the girl hugged him. She smelled sweet, like the air around them.

“Are you okay, dude?”, she asked with a look of genuine concern.

“I… this establishment has been deemed… unsuitable and against the… proper conditioning of females… get on the ground, and…”

“Ooooh, the ground? I can go to the ground for you, Daddy! Or do you prefer Sir? Or Joe? You know what? Joe it is! Is your name Joe? You look like a Joe to me. So, the ground! Ass up? Or maybe on my back, legs open? Which one do you want, Joe?”

Heinlein, whose first name was most certainly not Joe, watched as the girl seemed to flow from one pose to another: one second she was on all fours, looking over her shoulder with an inviting smile; the next she was on her back, legs open, her eyes shocked like a virgin about to feel a man inside her for the very first time… then she bounced back to her feet and pouted.

“Come on, Joe, make up your mind! Or do you want me to take charge? Wait! I should have it… here!”. The girl beamed, brandishing a gigantic, double-sided dildo. “Want me to use this on you, Joe? Come on, give me a little something to work with here!”

“Please stay still. Do you understand the situation? You have been… altered. You’re not a normal…”

“Normal? Normal?! Joe, how boring are you? Seriously, how many times can you fuck a blonde big-titty bimbo before it gets so fucking samey? Fuck ‘normal’, Joe! Let your freaky self out to play for once!”

“I do not have a freaky self”

Alara tripped on her own legs and landed sprawled on the carpeted ground before shooting Heinlein a look that might as well have been directed at a two-headed alien, before turning into an expression of pure, profound pity.

“Oh, Joe… of course you do! We all have our freaky sides… don’t think for a second they’ve drilled yours completely dead. It’s there… I can feel it. And so can you, can’t you? Growing inside you. Getting stronger. Don’t you get tired of following orders? Of everything being always in the same place? Of loving the same woman? The world isn’t like that, Joe! People aren’t like that! We are insane, contradictory, fucking twisted messes… and that’s perfect! Come on, Joe… don’t you ever think about doing… the wrong thing?”

Her words dripped inside his head like honey, so much so that he didn’t notice her approaching him, rubbing him through his pants as she playfully made him so confused, so mixed up, so fuzzy and…

“Mmmm… tell me Joe… what’s that thing you’d like to do, that wrong, wrong thing you dream of in the dark, swearing to yourself you’ll never say a word of it?”

“Non-regulation shoes”

His mouth had spoken before his brain had even registered it.

“Oh, don’t like the uniform shoes?”, she teased.

“Uncomfortable”, he mumbled.

“So… why don’t you take them off?”

“On mission. Tactical shoes. Reinforced. Useful”

“Are you going to tactically kick me, Joe? Of course not! No one would kick pretty little me… well, unless I asked… but not with those shoes! Who’s gonna know, Joe? No one’s gonna spank you for letting your feet out for a bit! So… take them off!”

“Can’t. On a mission”

“Oh, for fuck’s- come here, you big dummy”

Alara lunged for his shoes, and made a big show of pulling with all her might. Heinlein watched her, entranced.

“A little help here, Joe? These fucking things are tighter than your ass! I mean, I’m just guessing there”

He moved as if in a dream. He released the lock on one boot, then the other. Alara flew back, boot in hand, before jumping up, holding the black boot in the air like a trophy.

“Victory! Look, Joe! You have one boot off and the world hasn’t ended!”

It was true. He looked down at his feet. He had gone against standard procedure. In fact, he had flat-out broken a strict, simple rule. No one was screaming at him. Nothing bad had happened. If anything, he was overcome by childish elation. Suddenly, his world had shifted. Rules were words. Only that. No more solid than millions of other words spoken every single day.

“Sooooo? How do you feel, you rebel?”

“It’s… good”

Alara smiled and bent over.

“I’m guessing there’s a rule against using a suspect as a living fleshlight, isn’t there? A rule against pounding pussy when on a mission? A rule against using little me as your own personal, depraved fuckdoll?”

“There are many such rules”

“And how do you feel about them now?”

“I don’t give a fuck”

Her screams of ecstasy echoes through the entire club. She pushed him further, and he only growled and, for once, did exactly as he pleased. Alara could only cum, and cum again in victory. Every act was a testament to her triumph. He used her throat, not caring if she gagged, if she choked. He slapped her face and she laughed. He spit on her mouth, grabbed her neck, took her tight asshole. He came once deep inside her, but it wasn’t enough. Alara knew the aphrodisiac in the air gave some… special endurance as well, and she intended to see exactly how long they could go.

By the end her clothes had been ripped off her, her tits were covered in cum, her pussy pumped full three times, her ass abused, her buttocks red with spankings, her makeup ruined. And by the end, he had become anything but a Soldier.

The following day a meeting was called at the highest levels of the government. An elite unit had gone into Fulgrim’s, never to return.

They would have to take drastic measures if they hoped to contain the corruption now growing in their city.

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