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onmyyan · 7 months

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Kiss the goat

A/N: Horror isekai? Horror isekai, here's part one of the Scream chapters, unedited, hope you like cuz it was so much fun writing

Pairing: Yandere Poly Ghostface x reader

It was such an odd sensation, you don't think you'd ever truly get used to it, no matter how many times it washed over you.

It was always the same, tranquil lull, and it always started in your lower tummy, like this wave of ice cold water suddenly replaced all the blood in your veins.

Whenever you first 'woke up' somewhere new, that damn feeling was always the first thing you noticed, and the only warning you'd get.

This time though, something was different. There was this mix of fear, confusion, and awe tossed in with the lull because you clocked your location immediately.

Ba-dum Ba-dum Ba-dum

For a moment all you could hear was the the blood pounding in your eardrums, slowly , as you forced yourself to breathe, the surrounding noises faded in, at first it was just the chatter of a busy school, then you noticed the shuffle of feet dragging on concrete, with your heart pounding furiously against your rib cage, you pinched your thigh through your baggy blue jeans and began walking, focusing on forcing your feet to move, rather than the millions of other thoughts buzzing through your skull. Why? Well because there you stood, dropped right before the soon-to-be infamous Woodsboro High.

As you walked amongst the crowd of people there were a few things you noticed immediately about yourself, at least this version of yourself, which seemed to change with every new plot you were forcibly thrown in.

The jeans you wore were loose fitting and well loved, small holes in the denim here and there gave you a typical 90's degenerate vibe, the soft cotton of the band T-shirt you were in felt comfortable against your skin, around your waist hung a oversized burgundy flannel with accents of mustard yellow, the fabric looked old and smelled of weed, a sigh rolled through your chest at the familiar smell, it was a bittersweet reminder of your life before this insanity began.

Glancing down at your outfit made you breath out a sigh of relief, at least you dressed better in this one. In the small shirt pocket, you felt a book of matches, the scratchy texture of telling you what it was without needing to pull it out, good to know.

Shaking your head you try your best to look as bored and uninteresting as possible, you've found these things were best tackled from a stealthy perspective. As you finally enter the school, the second you step through the open doors, there's this intense, hair-raising feeling that washes over you, everything in your gut is saying run away, turn around, but you don't.

Instead, you swallow the fight-or-flight instincts and continue your pace as if you hadn't noticed the predatory stare on you. It didn't surprise you, after all, the self-proclaimed directors of this twisted movie were bound to notice a new player being introduced so suddenly, you just hadn't yet gotten used to the uneasy feeling of being in the presence of a murderer.

Or in this movies case, murderers.

The stares you received from the rest of the student body helped to distract you from the heavy stares burning into you, as you leisurely walked down the halls people either mean-mugged you or ignored you, it helped to get a better feel for the role you'd been assigned, depending on how well you played said role was going to determine whether or not you ended up on the kill count.

For now, you kept it pushing, your hands resting comfortably in the pockets of your jeans, your right hand, which you only now noticed was covered in rings, brushed against the cool touch of something small and metal, you quickly pulled out the object to reveal a switchblade, the handle a glossy white with a simple heart scratched into the surface, quickly you tucked it back where you'd found it.

The grin that had stretched across your face as you traversed the halls was downright wicked, in your mini search you'd also come across a crinkled class schedule and a pack of gum. Curious (e/c) eyes diligently scanned the face of every student that passed, searching for any clue as to when exactly you'd popped in, having a clear timeline in mind made these things run so much smoother.

Casey Beckem gave you that answer in the form of a cliché shoulder check as she rounded the corner. She made a point to dust off the area that had touched you, and her scoff of 'Watch it freak.' made a snort leave your nose, god you loved the 90s, even the bullying was better.

Considering she was still amongst the living, you gathered this was before the start of the movie, fantastic. You pushed forward, far too wrapped up in your building excitement to pay any mind to the very dangerous man you'd caught the sight of.

You found your first class a few minutes early, thankfully the school's layout wasn't too hard to navigate, you were intent on taking proper inventory and prepping as well as you could. The teacher took you in with a surprised noise, clearly judging your character on your appearance.

You'd gotten pretty good at handling your, particular situation, so good in fact you'd begun to relax a little. Taking a seat by the window in the back felt very final girl of you, the thought making you giggle to yourself. Whatever entity responsible for isekaing you into this movie flashed between a real asshole and a slightly smaller asshole with each reincarnation, this time it looked like they were feeling nice as you started with a weapon.

Your inner workings were put on an abrupt pause as Randy Meeks burst in through the door earning a glare from the otherwise silent teacher. The bright-eyed male made a beeline for you, his expression was akin to a puppy who just had its bone taken away.

"What the Hell San Francisco? I spent the last 15 minutes running around like some mook looking for ya'." he paused to sit down at the desk directly on your right. "You ask a guy to show you around then ditch em'? Cruel, undeniably cruel." You learned pretty quickly to just roll with it whenever someone from Canon spoke to you.

"My bad Meeks, I'll make it up to you." At this, the energetic man rolled his eyes, now leaning even closer. "Oh yeah? Meaning what- you'll actually take me up on my offer instead of responding with that cold familiar brand of cynicism? C'mon, it'll be funnnn." He trailed off in a whine. "Whoever told you begging was an option for you lied." You laughed, shaking your head at the way he visibly deflated.

You kicked your faded black Converse all star's on the back of the seat before you, legs bouncing as you allowed yourself to ponder your answer, the nervous habit had developed sometime between this movie, and one of your earlier incarnations and subsequent deaths.

This was a little more complicated, see the omnipotent fuck who put you here liked to screw with you, very much into the concept of seeing you mix with whatever plot that laid before you, so much so that anytime you fought against whatever scenario you were thrust into in any way you died horribly. The first time you'd been plopped into a movie was the original My Bloody Valentine,- a chill ran through your body like a punch to the gut at the thought, yeah you'd come a long way since then in terms of working the system but nothing was set in stone.

You figured whatever this offer from Randy was, would no doubt tie you into the plot, knowing better than to fight the waves, you pretended to think about it before shrugging. "Sure. I'll bite." The simple statement had him shooting out of his chair to fist pump before quickly falling back in his seat.

"Yessss-okay it's super easy, I spend my time rewinding the utter garbage the general population consumes on a daily." He was practically buzzing in his seat as he spoke. "Once in a while, the boss leaves for an extra long lunch break and I get to watch whatever I want- Child's Play, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street- you name it I got it." The redhead spoke proudly, leaning back against his chair with a self-satisfied look.

"You should be a salesman Meeks." The male bristled beside you, a tinge of red on his cheeks. "Yeah yeah, whatever Frisco- don't come crying to me when you don't have anyone to sit with at lunch." He teased, leaning over his desk, you smile toying with the ring on your hand, popping your neck with a sigh you took a second before responding, "Oh god, how will I ever survive sitting alone, whatever will I do." you spoke in a dead tone making the male at your side pout.

"You're cold (L/n), couldn't even pretend to care about my threat huh?"

You looked over with a teasing grin, "Course' not- I'm not a liar Randy.", it was then and only then that you noticed the tall Blonde unashamedly staring you down from the door.

Stu Macher had made his appearance earlier than expected but you didn't sweat it, or the almost hungry look he was giving you. Nope, not sweating at all. Instead, you quickly averted your eyes, praying he hadn't caught your stare.

He had, naturally.

The taller male nearly took up the entire door frame, he looked a lot more intimidating in person. The playful look on his face was all the more haunting the more you thought about who he really was underneath it. What he was hours away from doing.

Randy, feeling the sudden rise in tension, refused to be left out, and tried to not so subtly block Stu's vision of you by standing up and not so casually sitting on his desk, his back to the future killer. "Anyway Frisco', I don't want you mixin' in with the wrong crowd okay?" He made a point to flick his eyes back towards the now pouting blonde, "Bad company makes for bad times. Just stick with me I'll show you the ropes." He made sure to mutter that last part, his expression drenched in fear for the briefest moment.

Before you could respond Stu had rather aggressively climbed his way over a few desks to plop into the seat in front of you.

His dimpled grin was rather infectious.

"Now that's no way to talk about your friends Randy." He almost seethed out his name making the shorter male curl in on himself like a rabbit, he turned to face you with flare.

"Hi, there hot stuff- Stu Macher, bad company." He took your hand in his much larger one, completely enveloping your own, the tension was broken by the comical handshake, how hard he shook it up and down dispelled all previous bad vibes, his devious little grin only grew at your response, "Hi Stu, I'm (Y/n). Worse company."

"So whatcha' running from in San Francisco? Girl's like you don't just show up outta nowhere for no reason." He didn't even try to hide the way he was checking you out, his half-lidded eyes eagerly drinking in every inch of the alluring stranger before him.

"Who says I'm running big guy? I might be the one doing the chasing." Maybe teasing a soon-to-be serial killer wasn't the smartest move, but you just couldn't help it, he leaned his head into his palm, the wide toothy grin promising nothing but trouble. "I think I like you- come sit with us at lunch."

"You askin' or telling?" You met his heated gaze with a cold indifference that only fueled the ever-growing fire burning in his belly. The larger male quickly fell to his knees from his seat on the chair, bringing his hands together in a dramatic motion, "Pretty pretty please hot new kid come sit with meee." The laugh tumbling past your lips was real, you quickly ushered him back to his seat, "As nice as ya look on your knees- this is embarrassing please get the hell up I'll sit with you."

He backed off with a victorious grin not knowing you'd just lied through your teeth, there was no way in hell you'd willingly put yourself in Billy's cross hairs, Stu was unavoidable apparently, but Billy? You'd hold out as long as you could, when lunch rolled around you managed to convince Randy to eat on the roof, and used the friendly conversation to get more information out of him.

It was during this conversation you discovered in this world, whoever you were, was Randy's new neighbor.

After the school bell had rung for the final time, you made a point to linger around Randy, usually, when you spawned in one of these things the plot was well into swing, but this time you were here early, and the change in routine felt all the more dangerous.

Thankfully, Randy came to your rescue, you tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear him say,

"-if you even want to that is- we'd mostly be watching the classics." He finished nervously glancing to and from, you managed to space back just in time to greet him with a half smile and a shrug. "Lead the way, Meeks."

"It's so cool how you live next door- when you told me at first I thought you were yankin' my chain." He said bouncing his way down the road.

Randy had stumbled home with sleep in his eye sometime around midnight, you weren't too worried for the guy as you knew they hadn't started their spree yet.

That was until the phone rang.

For a moment all you did was stare. You knew who was on the other end it just didn't make any sense.

Swallowing the thick ice cube of fear suddenly in your throat, you caught your breath as casually as you could.

As if on autopilot your hand scooped up the house phone, you surprised yourself with how calm your greeting was.

"Hello?.."

"Hey there sweet thing- you're up awful late aren't ya?" You tried to look as casual as you could, steadily making your way to every door, and securing each entrance, but it was hard to ignore the twinge of accusation in his tone.

"You're up too.." Was what you managed to get out, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Hm, that's fair. What were you up to? Have some fun with your boyfriend?" The last word sounded harder than the rest, with no humor in his tone, almost as if it was said through gritted teeth, like whoever spoke it spat the word out.

So he was definitely watching you, your mind racked with the best answer to keep Randy from harm's way.

"Just watching some scary movies with a friend- you like em'?" You asked leaning against the island in your kitchen. "Oh, honey- you've got no idea." Before you could respond he continued, "I will see you later gorgeous." and then he was gone

#yananswers #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere male #yandere slashers #yandere slasher x reader #yandere ghostface #ghostface x reader #yandere billy loomis #yandere stu macher #yandere ghostface x reader #poly ghostface x reader #poly ghost face #kiss the goat

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trendywaifus · 4 months

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ugh, thinking about being pussy drunk while eating out street racer! miko on the hood of her sports car ( she can do the same to me fr) cw: oral fixation, gn! mechanic! reader, reader is absolutely pussy whipped, squirting, pet names (pup, beautiful), cursing.

your head is buried between her plush thighs, eagerly licking at her folds and sucking on her pulsing clit. her well–manicured nails scratches your scalp and occasionally tugs at your hair as your warm tongue laps up her sweet juices.

“ look at you, so eager to please me. “ she purrs, enjoying the sight of your face smushed against her sopping pussy. “ can’t help it, you look s’good, i couldn’t resist—god miko, you taste so fucking good.” you moaned, firmly clutching her thighs with needy hands as you drag your tongue along her soaked folds, not caring if drool and slick runs down your chin.

“ i-i must admit, “ yae breathes, falling backwards so her back can touche the flat, cool metal surface of the hood of her pink sports car. “ y-you’re giving me quite a treat as congratulations for my victory.“ heels brushes against your mid back as she firmly squeezes your head with her thighs. the lack of air is slowly making your head spin but you rather pass out eating her pretty pussy than pull out for oxygen.

“ yeah beautiful. .wanna make you see stars as a reward. .” your tongue teases her slit before sliding inside. “ nngh. .! “ yae lets out a beautiful moan, tugging your head further into her cunt, causing your nose to rub against her puffy clit. your warm tongue greedily thrusts into her hot, gummy walls. “ such a good pup for me. .! “ she moans out, wrapping her legs around your head; you could feel the leather texture of her knee–high heels press against your skin.

“ taste sooo good—fuck i’m so glad i’m your mechanic.” you babbled, slurping and making a mess of her dripping hole. her slick and your drool runs down on the metal surface. she forces out a strained laugh and buckles her hips towards your face, still gripping your hair. “ th-that’s right, you should be honored to be my mechanic—mm, pup, you’re doing so w-well, i’m just right th-there! “ she utters out, tugging your hair one last time before her hips stutters and squirts all over the lower half of your face and on the car.

her release didn’t stop you from continuing to fuck her pussy with your tongue, making her see stars like you promised.

#trendy #yae miko x reader #yae miko smut #genshin impact women x reader

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seren1tyhaze · 2 months

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poison in my mind

PAIRING: idol!jisung x afab older stylist reader

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

SUMMARY: he has been your poison for years - Jisung with his innocent looking face, steely gaze, and wicked tongue. you do your best to keep a professional relationship with him during your work as a stylist for NCT Dream but his calls of "Noona" on set continue to test your patience.

AUTHOR NOTE: A VERY belated happy birthday to Andy Park and a big thank you to SM for letting us have that Poison live performance at the end of the year. This has been half written ever since the Poison track video behind vlog went up a million years ago but fueled even more by the dance intro at MMA. His more recent lives may have also served as inspiration. I hope you all enjoy this very self indulgent fic made especially for all my friends who also love Jisung <3

WARNINGS: explicit smut, idolverse, pet names (including Noona kink I'm so sorry)

PLAYLIST: Poison by NCT Dream, Quiet Down by NCT Dream, OK! by NCT U

dreaming 'bout you, dreaming 'bout you

~~ The set is buzzing with nervous energy in the dimly lit space, dark blue light cascading over the stage area dressed with large floral arrangements that almost make it look like the ocean floor. Renjun is talking to the camera filming their behind vlog footage and you look up from the shirt you are steaming when you hear his voice.

“Dream will try for the sexy vibe for the first time,” with a sly smirk.

You can’t help but chuckle as the makeup artist next to you elbows your side and you tut at her, waving the steamer to quiet her. It wasn’t a secret that the Poison track video was going to be beloved by fans because of the concept and the way the members were styled. You had been tasked with pulling some of the key looks for the video, taking an opportunity to incorporate different textures like the metal grommets and fringe on the leather jacket Renjun currently was wearing. You watch proudly as he stretches his arms over his head in the center of the flowers, torso muscles rippling under the sheer mesh shirt.

You hadn’t been on staff for very long, a couple years of working under the main stylist under your belt. They had been hesitant to give you bigger opportunities due to your young age and lack of experience, but your boss saw that you had a great eye. It didn’t hurt that you were always the first one to volunteer for less than desirable tasks and always arrived early to shoots and stayed late.

“Sorry, this one’s a little too small, did you have others?” comes a voice behind you and you turn to see Mark, holding out one of the large metal rings you had laid out for him in his dressing room.

“Oh sorry, yes, of course,” you reply, smiling softly at him before kneeling down to dig in your bag for the small pouch holding the extra accessories. He was always so polite to the staff, greeting everyone and even when he was clearly exhausted, doing as many takes as the director needed.

“This one might work better and it’s adjustable,” you reply, taking his hand and sliding the ring on his pointer finger. You squeeze his hand gently before he inspects the rings, holding it out in front of him.

“Noona,” comes a harsh and low voice suddenly, causing you to move your head to the side of Mark’s leather clad legs to see an annoyed looking Jisung with crossed arms, shirtless and barefoot.

“Jisung, where is your shirt?” Mark replies, half laughing as he turns to face him, scratching at the back of his neck.

Ignoring him, Jisung returns his gaze to you and glares at your crouched position on the floor in front of Mark. A curious Renjun walks up at this moment, peeling a tangerine and flicking narrowed eyes between the three of you. Mark shrugs at him before walking away, answering a message on his phone.

“You tailored the crotch of these pants wrong, it feels weird,” Jisung continues, voice even and tinged with frustration.

Your face flushes at this, dropping the pouch back in your bag and grabbing your pins, suddenly on your feet and in front of Jisung.

“How do you know it’s wrong?” you ask, knitting your brows together as you look up at him.

He looks good and you know he knows it. Something has shifted in Jisung in the past year - especially since they returned from tour. He carries himself differently, with a different level of confidence and wears it well. Today is no different and the fact that he just barged onto set without a shirt on is evidence. His dark blue hair is styled perfectly, long strands dangling in his eyes and contrasting beautifully with his sharp jawline.

“Here, feel,” he tells you simply, pulling your hand to his crotch and you almost let yourself palm him through the tight denim until you snap back to reality and pull your arm back. His eyes hold no emotion, dark and still, long eyelashes blinking at you temptingly. His lips are soft and plump and you want nothing more than to close the distance between the two of you and taste the glossy lip mask.

And there it is, your poison, Park Jisung. When you had graduated early from your program a few years ago, you had been focused on your career and hadn’t spent much time dating. You had some people you went out on dates with every once and a while and had your fair share of waking up in a stranger’s bed after a long night out. But Jisung had caught you by surprise. Something about the way he was so forward and aggressive with you made your brain turn to mush around him. Your heartbeat would quicken, palms sweat, and filthy thoughts would swirl in your mind until you could indulge in them with your hand pressed between your thighs later that night.

A heavy sigh comes from Renjun, accompanied by a shake of his head, as he walks out a nearby door muttering something about not wanting to see Jisung’s dick.

You flush violently, grabbing at Jisung’s bicep harshly and pulling him to his dressing room, leaving the door propped open intentionally as you take the layered black tank off the hanger and hold it out to him.

“Please put the rest of your outfit on, I think they are going to be ready for you soon,” you sigh as soon as you’re alone, reaching for the box that holds the platform boots you were reusing from a shoot with Haechan a couple months prior.

You both move silently as he pulls the shirt over his head, staring at the long leather cords before lifting his head back up to you. You move behind him, reaching over his broad shoulders to pull the leather cords around his neck and then letting the ends dangle in front of his toned chest. You try to avoid brushing your hands against his bare shoulders as he steps into the boots and ignore that his ass brushes against your stomach when he bends down slightly to zip them up.

“I just don’t know about these pants, are they the right length?” he asks, tugging at the material at his thighs. His tone is whining and defiant, lighter than how he was in front of everyone, but still slightly combative. He knows you’re weak for this very tone, as he can usually get you to do whatever he wants if he just adds it into whatever he says.

You sigh and move around him, dropping to your knees at his feet, slapping his hand away from pulling at the fabric. You pull the pants leg out of his left boot, pulling lightly and examining the hemline. You’re about to correct him when you suddenly feel his hand soft on your hair.

“You look so good from this angle,” he murmurs, voice low and sultry, causing you to jerk your head up and look at him from the floor.

Your lower lip is instantly caught in your teeth, sinking into the flesh deeply as you try to control your breathing, unable to stop yourself from blinking up at him. You feel drawn into his dark eyes and his hand in your hair is almost overwhelming.

He lets out a groan, tightening his fingertips on your scalp, exhaling audibly and clenching his other hand into a fist at his side.

“What am I going to do with you,” he tuts, dropping his hand to your chin and gripping it gently.

You rise from your knees, glancing at the open door just as Jaemin bounces by, screaming at something Haechan is doing. Suddenly aware of where you are, you step forward, adjusting the cords aimlessly.

“What happened to my sweet, innocent Jisung?” you whisper, staring at the soft skin of his collarbone and wishing you could press your lips against it forever.

“Don’t act surprised. You created this monster, Noona, dressing me in all these sexy outfits. How could you think I would stay your bright eyed baby Sungie forever?” he asks back, tucking loose strands of your hair behind your ear. His words are biting, even if they do hold some truth.

Memories of him dozing off on your shoulder during long bus rides and hastily helping him into heavy jackets and necklaces during quick changes on tour come flooding in, mixed with the heavy, lustful stares you feel on you when you wear a low cut shirt or on hot summer days in Thailand when you wore thin athletic shorts in the airport.

He had kissed your lips gently a year ago after many bottles of soju and when the rest of the members were preoccupied by endless rounds of karaoke. You had stopped him then, told him that as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. Ever since that moment, he had made every effort to get you alone when he could, using every excuse under the sun, today’s outburst nothing new. You still remember how soft his lips felt on yours and the fire under your arm as he held you close after you rejected him.

Back on set, you’re packing up your bag again when you’re called over to check something on the computer from Jeno’s scenes. You give your feedback and suddenly your eyes are drawn up to where Jisung is filming, camera close to his face, light illuminating his beautiful features perfectly.

“Dreaming ‘bout you, dreaming ‘bout you,” echoes across the large soundstage and your heart is pounding in your chest as he plays with the cords at his neck, just as you had earlier, chests pressed up against each other in the dressing room. He makes eye contact with you briefly when the take ends and you look away quickly, embarrassed.

While you had been released to go for the day, you take your time packing the rest of your stuff, helping the makeup artists clean their station and even rearranging some chairs that barely needed adjustment. You watch the way he moves confidently, take after take, adjusting the jacket so his shoulders show boldly against the dark material. His fingers brush through the cords, pulling them up to his teeth at times before dropping them, leaving plump lips open before cracking a large smile at the reaction of the staff. In between takes he shakes his dark hair, casting his gaze down to the floor until someone asks him a question. You watch as he smiles and winks at the makeup artist powdering his cheek and you feel nervous energy stir in your stomach. You can’t bear to watch much more, so you slip out when he isn’t looking in your direction.

When you finally are home, feet pushed into fluffy slippers and sipping on steaming green tea you had just prepared, you peel the sheet mask off and rub the remaining serum into your cheeks and forehead. You are flipping through a magazine your coworker had given you on set, paying attention to the tabbed pages they had flagged for inspiration when your phone buzzes on the table next to you. A message from the head stylist fills your screen as you tap into it.

Jisung left his street shoes at set, did you take them home? He said he “needs them” for tomorrow.

You sigh and go to the shoebox by your door to find his Nike sneakers tucked neatly, laces wrapped nicely. You quickly reply to your boss, saying you don’t mind bringing them to the dorm since you know the managers had a late night meeting tonight. Running a brush through your hair, you dot some perfume on your wrists and behind your ear before grabbing your keys.

You fiddle with the edge of your oversized sweater in the elevator as you climb the floors to his dorm, feeling a nervous pit grow in your stomach. Finally outside, you knock quickly before dropping it down to hold the box with both hands.

The door swings open and Jisung is standing tall in front of you, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair damp. A dark zip-up hoodie covers his chest and it’s unzipped just enough that you can tell he isn’t wearing a shirt underneath. You can’t help but let your mind wander back to shirtless Jisung pulling your hand to his crotch earlier and wonder if he was just lounging in his room in the sweatpants. Or worse, just his boxers.

“Hi baby,” he slurs out, lips curving up at the edge into a mischievous smile as he props his arm up on the door, leaning down as if he might kiss you. His sweatshirt hikes up on his waist when he does this, revealing a large swath of skin.

You shove the box at him, pushing him back into the room with it, letting it drop into his hands. You fling your bag on the table near the door and step out of your shoes.

“Don’t hi baby me, Park Jisung. I know you left these there so you could see me tonight. Did it really take you multiple hours to realize you weren’t wearing the shoes you came in?” you reply with a huff, picking up a sealed water bottle on the kitchen counter and taking a long sip.

Sweat is pricking at your hairline and you are starting to regret not texting one of the assistant managers or drivers to come get the shoes instead.

Jisung chuckles and sets the shoebox on a chair, reaching out to take the water bottle from you and gulping down the rest.

“Don’t be mad, baby,” he replies, leaving heavy emphasis on the pet name, stepping closer to you and wrapping strong arms around your waist, thumbs instantly finding the hem of your sweater and travelling across your lower back.

You can’t help how your body reacts to his touch, feeling your chest meet his, nipples hardening under the knit fabric now tugged down and exposing your cleavage. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes for the second time today.

“Come on, I’m catching up on our show,” he says softly, lips grazing across your cheek gently. You had been watching the same show for the past few months, texting each other during episodes here and there, and chatting about it whenever you saw each other. He had complained none of the other members would watch it with him and while you would never let him know this, you had lied and said you were also planning to watch it.

Against your better judgement, you let him guide you to his small room, where his large tv is paused on the latest episode of the space docuseries.

“Oh, I haven’t watched this one yet,” you admit, dropping down to sit at the edge of his bed.

He clicks to restart the episode and unzips the sweatshirt, moving to remove it and reveal his bare chest.

“Jisung,” you say sternly and he chuckles, zipping it back up halfway, and plopping down on the bed next to you. He pulls the hood up over his dark hair for good measure before propping himself up against the pillows he has leaned against the wall. You settle back, leaving some space between the two of you and pulling a hamster plushie into your lap to nervously fiddle with.

While your eyes had started to get heavy back at your apartment, you are now wired, your body coursing with electricity and hypersensitive to every movement from the man next to you. He reaches for his phone occasionally, letting out light chuckles at messages from Chenle and even daring to post a couple Bubble messages. You thank whatever higher power exists that your phone was still tucked in your bag at the door, so he didn’t see yours light up when he sent the message. It was a drunken guilty pleasure you had indulged in and ever since receiving the first message tailored with your name, you couldn’t stop yourself from renewing the subscription.

His legs keep brushing against yours when he readjusts his position on the bed and somehow has gotten so close that his shoulder is now brushing against yours. You try to shift away, but he only closes the distance again when you do so. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re having a difficult time focusing on the show.

Suddenly the screen is filled with bright colors as they depict beautiful graphics of what scientists imagine the birth of a star looks like and a gasp falls from your lips as you lean forward, eyes flickering across the screen to take in the beautiful scene.

“You’re so pretty when you nerd out over this stuff,” comes his low voice, suddenly close to your ear, hand resting in the middle of your back.

You lean back in reaction, trapping his arm between you and the pillow, turning slightly to face him.

“Coming from NASA’s number one stan, please,” you reply lightly, shoving the plushie at him playfully. You let a chuckle fall from your lips and shake your head lightly, causing your hair to cascade over your shoulders.

He grabs at it and throws it off the edge of the bed, hands suddenly tight on your hips and pulling you into his lap, possessively gripping your ass as you straddle his legs.

Your lips drop open in surprise, both of you breathing heavy at the sudden movement. You feel your responsible self tapping your shoulder but finally decide to let the years of desire bubble to the surface and propel your lips to close the gap with his.

You move your lips across his gently, resisting the urge to push your tongue out immediately or bite down on his lower lip. He tightens his grip on you in response, pushing his crotch up to meet yours. You swear you can feel him through his pants which only makes you want him more.

He pulls away, taking your cheek in his other hand and looking between your eyes as if searching for some sort of silent answer to a silent question. You can almost see his own voice of reason forcing him to pause, if only for a moment.

“You ready to deal with the consequences of that monster you created, Noona?” he asks in a devastatingly low tone before moving his lips down to mouth at your chest, pushing the knit fabric to the side to bite at your shoulder.

A sigh falls from your lips as you let your head roll back, entire body on fire as he marks the skin at your neck, teeth sharp on your skin. You can’t help as your hands slide over the zipper of his hoodie and unzip it slowly, pushing the fabric down his shoulders to expose his toned chest. Running your hands over his hard muscles, you dig your fingernails gently, eliciting a deep groan from Jisung.

“Babyyy,” he sighs out, sliding his hand up to your throat and applying pressure there, pulling you forward to meet your lips again. The kiss is more urgent this time, tongue pressing deep into your mouth and hand gripping you tighter as he continues.

You let your hands slide down his torso, running over his abs and sliding them to his back to pull yourself closer to him. Before you can pull yourself fully flush against his chest, you are being flipped over, head falling back into the pillowy surface.

“Are you sure about this,” you ask, voice wavering despite every intention you had to form a confident question. Your eyes are flicking between his dark ones, as they had many times before, but suddenly holding so much more meaning in this intimate space.

“Are you not?” he asks back, head cocking lightly to the side, thumbs never stopping the circles they are rubbing into your hip bones.

“That’s not an answer,” you quip back, grabbing onto his hands to force him to focus. Unfortunately for you, it did the exact opposite.

You pull your eyes away from his, looking at your hands now pressed up against each other against the comforter. Your hand looks tiny next to his, his fingers could almost wrap fully around the tops of yours and that makes your mind fuzzy. You pulse your fingers, stretching them along his, feeling the length of them and how hot they are to the touch.

“Noona,” he calls, not as harsh and biting as on set, but still drawing you back to reality quickly.

His voice finally softens as he sees your watery blinking eyes, overstimulation creeping up on you before you’ve done much more than make out. He drops his thumb down the side of your face, caressing the space between your ear lobe and jaw tenderly. You want to look away, you want to push up and capture his lips in yours, you want to pull that stupid hamster plushie over your face and hide your burning cheeks.

“You know, I want it, I like,” he states, as if that is a full sentence other than in the context of the song they were filming with all day. His lips turn up in a small, shy smile at the end, showing a glimpse of that quiet boy you’ve always known and your heart settles a little in your chest. You nod rapidly a few times, sinking your nails into the palm of his hand and letting your eyes flutter shut.

His lips are on yours again quickly and that wicked hand that was just caressing your skin is now tightening around your neck again, which forces you up into an arch on the bed, pressing your lower body against his hardening cock. His tongue feels hot and wet in your mouth and you can’t help the moans that are escaping every time you have to pull back for air.

He sits up, straddling either side of your legs, tugging at your shirt and you manage to sit halfway up on your elbows, almost tearing the delicate fabric of your sweater as you rip it off, fumbling with the clasp of your bra as Jisung’s mouth is suddenly latched onto your neck, dropping heated kisses down your collarbone.

He sees you struggling and simply presses a strong thumb to the clasp, letting the cotton fabric slide off your arms and he tosses it clear across the room. This draws your attention to the door, which you realize now is cracked and you pray to every higher power that Renjun isn’t home.

“Hey, eyes on me,” comes the low voice above you again and you’re drawn back in, tuning out the distractions around you. He seems more amused than annoyed, which you have to appreciate given how long you’ve both waited for this exact moment.

Jisung makes quick work of removing his pants and boxers, reaching for a condom from his nightstand as you push down your own sweats, pausing at the thin band of your underwear. He sees you, dropping the foil packet to the bed and dips his head down, teeth dragging the elastic quickly, causing you to jump and let out a giggle.

“SUNG!” you yell weakly, trying to push his dark blue locks away as he continues to drag the dampened fabric down your legs.

He somehow manages to do it pretty easily, without getting too caught up on your knees or thighs, only struggling once he’s at your ankles and ripping them off with his hand, letting them drop to the floor with your bra.

He simply shrugs at you, a smile tugging at his mouth as he smooths those huge hands over your thighs, kneading the flesh there, eyes transfixed on your naked body. Your whole body is on fire and you silently beg for him to get on with it, even as it looks like he is about to swallow you whole.

A creeping monster your in your brain tells you you should feel more self conscious with him seeing you like this, despite both being equally exposed, realizing how many times you’ve seen him half clothed or even less. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he reaches up, covering your breast easily with his hand, thumb teasing your nipple absently. Your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but hold your breath as pleasure begins to flood through your body.

You beg your own gaze not to lower, not ready to see the size of him fully hard. You’ve unfortunately seen almost all the members’ dicks but usually in quick, embarrassed, accidental glimpses. Well, except for that one time Jaemin was literally helicopter swinging it around in the dressing room when you walked in with a tray of iced americanos. Both him and Jeno couldn’t speak to you for two weeks while Chenle continued to bring it up every chance he could, even mimicking the motion during sound check at their next stop.

You are startled at the sound of him tearing the condom wrapper, rolling it quickly on and leaning back down, face inches from yours as he cups the side of your face again. You instinctively nuzzle lightly into his hand at the contact, letting your eyes flutter shut as you draw your lips to his hand, smelling faintly of the lube from the condom. You kiss in between his thumb and forefinger lightly and before you know it, he’s slipping his thumb in between your spit covered lips, pad of his finger gently pressing against your tongue.

You gasp but drag your eyes lazily to meet his, knowing your own hunger is visible now not only in your gaze but also in the eager sucking of your lips.

He groans, taking the chance to push into you and you swear you see stars. Your eyes widen but pull his thumb further into your mouth, teeth grazing across the tip of his finger erratically as your hips buck up to pull him impossibly close.

Jisung’s eyes are fluttering shut, thumb dropping from your lips, now flushed red with teeth marks and slick with spit, sliding down to clutch your throat once again. Your own hand flies to your chest, groping at yourself, desperate for something to hold onto as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

He’s quiet, but with deep and passionate groans tumbling from his lips every once and a while. You watch as sweat begins to form at his hairline, perfect face beautiful in the dim light of his room, quiet music floating from his tv’s speakers as the episode is long forgotten and scrolling through the credits screen endlessly. Each noise that bubbles up from his chest equally soothes and paralyzes you, your own personal brand of poison seeping coldly through your veins. Your lips are perpetually hung open, mouth becoming so dry you can barely squeak out your own moans.

You feel your orgasm building suddenly after a particularly strong thrust and you swallow harshly, moving to speak to alert him. He doesn’t need any warning, reaching down to throw your leg over his shoulder and angle his lower body to perfectly hit that same spot over and over.

In seconds the poison is washing over you, lapping first at your feet like waves at the shore, nearly knocking you out as you float high above yourself, almost feeling like you’re having an out of body experience. Your chest is heaving as he slows his movements, as if he’s going to pull out.

A confused look forms on your face, head cocking to the side as you grip his arm, shaking your head wildly. Your hair is sticking to the back of your neck and you feel too hot on his plush bedding, but that isn’t reason to stop.

“Wait…what about…” you ask, confused, knowing he hasn’t come. Your eyes flick to the door again, wondering if he’s heard something while you were swimming a galaxy of bliss post orgasm.

He smiles at you, sliding out slowly and disposing of the condom quickly. He walks back over and takes your hand, bringing you to rise on shaky legs, standing naked beside his bed as he takes both your cheeks in his hands and kisses you deeply on the lips.

“I was thinking it would be better to continue what we started on set,” he purrs against you when he finishes ravaging your swollen lips.

A mischievous look forms in your eyes and you drop your hand to his stiff cock, giving it a few experimental pumps with the mix of lube and pre cum.

“Oh yeah?” is all you can reply, sinking slowly to your knees, still managing to tease him at this moment. You drop your hands to let them rest at your thighs, pressed together in an attempt to cool the burning heat still there.

He hisses out as soon as he can see you below him, bicep flexing as he runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head in feigned annoyance. His lids are heavy and all you can see are the whites of his eyes as they roll up in ecstasy.

You run your hands up your body, fingering the side of your neck and then tangling your fingers in your own hair seductively, never looking away from the man standing above you.

“Show me how good you can be for me, Noona,” he grunts out suddenly, gripping your chin way tighter than he had in the dressing room earlier. You grit your teeth but try to keep your face even as he tilts your head lightly, as if studying your face.

You gulp audibly and take him in your hands, finally faced with what you already knew was going to be stretching your cheeks as you were definitely going to struggle fitting him in your small mouth.

You tongue at his slit teasing it gently before sucking at the tip, letting it rest in your open mouth, eyes flicked up at him menacingly. You can tell from the look in Jisung’s eyes that he is dying to ram his cock down your throat but is trying so hard to let you set the pace.

Without any warning, you're sliding him further and further into your mouth, hands massaging his smooth calves to ground you. He’s getting louder now and one of his hands is playing in your hair, every once and a while gripping it tighter.

It only takes a few gentle thrusts till his voice becomes more strained and he’s tapping you on the head as a poor attempt of warning you he’s close. You resolve to let him spill into your mouth, but as soon as he comes the sudden movement causes most of the mess to land on your cheek and shoulder.

His loud exclamation of his pet name for you still ringing in the air, his hand loosens in your hair and you’re on your feet, hands settling on his broad chest, a hazy look of satisfaction on your face.

He seems mesmerised by you covered in his cum and draws a thumb up to that same spot between your ear and jaw, sliding it down and through the mess he made on your face. It’s as if everything’s moving in slow motion as your bottom lip drops open without a word and he slides his thumb into welcoming lips. You taste him, all of him, as he watches you suckle on the digit and blush form on your cheeks under the shine of your skin.

“Fucking filthy baby,” he whispers out, yanking you towards him as he sits on the edge of his bed and lifts you into his lap.

You can feel him harden under you and feel yourself warm up as his cock brushes against your core. You grind down on his lap which is met by him only gripping your waist tighter and landing a light smack on your ass. You grin at this and lean forward to kiss him, pushing your tongue greedily into his mouth.

“Already wanting more?” he asks with a mild mocking tone when you pull back, breathless and red in the face. He’s fully groping your ass at this point, massaging your cheeks with his fingers and pressing his palms into the thick flesh there.

You nod aggressively as you grind down on his cock again, spreading your thighs a bit more for better leverage. You want nothing more than for him to slide his bare cock into you right here and let you ride him through multiple orgasms, your tits bouncing right at eye level as he groans into your mouth through open mouthed kisses.

He merely laughs, pulling you out of your fantasy and reaches awkwardly for another condom, hand firmly keeping you in place.

“As much as I want what you want right now baby, let’s make sure there’s no-“ he starts out, rolling the condom on with shaky hands.

“SUNG, PLEASE!” you yell, clasping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

Even in the midst of it all, all the lustful years leading up to this moment, all the hidden glances and late night drunken thoughts, he is still your poison. Something that worms its way into your mind, into your heart. Normally, you wouldn’t even imagine being this close to someone without protection but somehow, Jisung does something to you that makes you want to be reckless. You want to be reckless with your heart, let it be swallowed whole by him. You want to throw your body on him, let him tear you down and degrade you and use you. You want to give him everything and every bit of love you can offer. You think you can see the two of you growing old together, sitting quietly in a park watching your grandchildren play together in the distance.

But you see, that’s the problem with poison. It gets in your veins, in your lungs, in your heart and slowly sweeps and finally, finally tears you down. You float high above yourself again, seeing stars as Jisung releases into the condom and his head falls against your chest. You are both quiet and unsure of what comes next. The poison of this night will wear off soon and reality will set in, leaving you only the memories of this night to return to in your dreams.

#nct smut #nct fanfic #nct x reader #park jisung #jisung x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #jisung smut #park jisung x reader

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4w25-cc · 4 months

Text

Simple Classics Furniture Set

Available on Patreon and CurseForge.

Know what I like about these previews the most? Everything in them is created by me from scratch, and I don't have to rely on other people's work, such as body meshes and textures, to display it. Besides, they are straight to the point: you get exactly what is shown. They might not be aesthetically pleasing in the way complete interiors are, but their technical aspect is more important to me.

I had a different design in my mind before I started making this. It wasn't planned as an outdoor set at all, I just went with the flow at some point. It is somewhat inspired by my previous set, so core elements and blocky look are similar. MySims with extra steps.

I actually managed to fit all the items and majority of the color options in the main renders. There are 3 table sizes to choose from, 2 options for outdoor lighting, a chair with a bench, and a functional picnic table. 12 swatches. It's hard for me to come up with more when it's simple wood and metal, so I do share PSD files by request.

Buffed environment scores again, didn't change any slots this time. The lights have smooth vertex paint and look very cute in the game. They also have been disabled for placing in water and on slopes, and sims won't be walking over them. Just like in my previous set, all the items have correct color tags, so I encourage you to use them. You can refer to the spreadsheet to see what else has been changed in the packages. If something isn't mentioned there, it's either obvious (meshes, textures, thumbnails), or I haven't touched it at all (tunings).

The screenshots are taken in vanilla base game and aren't edited.

PATREON | INSTAGRAM | PINTEREST | DISCORD | CURSEFORGE

#sims4 #ts4 #s4 #sims4cc #ts4cc #s4cc

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pralinesims · 1 year

Photo

UNION Glasses

A remake from scratch on of my old Altul glasses (2017).

Reasons on why you should download this new version:

Brand new, completely reworked low-poly meshes + textures. (Altul = almost 4K, Union = almost 1,4K) - thus: more gameplay friendly!

More maxis-match friendly, the metal doesn't shine up to the jupiter anymore.

Tons of new colors (220 color options all over).

Additional transparent versions!!!

Sizes and shapes got adjusted.

They look nice on sims' faces.

➔ DOWNLOAD (Patreon FREE)

If you like, please consider to support my work 🖤 ● ALL MY CC DOWNLOADS

#my cc #ts4cc #s4cc #the sims 4 #the sims #simblr #ts4 #sims 4 #sims #sims 4 custom content #ts4 cc #s4 cc #🌙

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originalartblog · 11 days

Text

"Nawy what do you MEAN quick-ish 3D render it's got scratches and everything and I thought this was real for a minute!!"

Well, first, thank you very much that was the intention ❤, and second, you see, all speed is relative, and between finding my references, modeling, texturing and lighting, on top of having to learn how to make convincing gems, it still took me quite a few hours. I, however, cut corners everywhere for speed, and I wouldn't put this piece in a portfolio in its current state.

But! for the curious, I thought I could do a simple breakdown of how the witchcraft happens, without using too much specialized language to make it more accessible. In short,

In this case, I’m talking about a 3D model that was textured (colours and stuff) and then lit (lights on!) to make a pretty final picture. The objective is not to make a tutorial, but to put in simple terms what a 3D artist does to make something go from this, to that:

(people curious and/or trying to see if this interests them welcome)

I'm skipping the 3D modeling part altogether, since it isn't where most of the magic happens here. Just know that to be able to add colour and stuff on a 3D object, you have to go through the process or "unwrapping" it, which is like doing those foldable cubes in reverse

and then we can draw on it!!

Now, the good stuff:

Surfaces (metal, plastic, fabric, wood, skin, etc.) have different looks that make you able to differentiate them on sight. To make something look realistic, you have to try to replicate real life into the 3D world (duh.)

The software developers took care of the hard part (math and coding), so as artists we can play with the parameters available to make something pretty. What those parameters are depend on which "recipe" we're using. One of the most common "recipes" for realistic results is called PBR: Physically Based Rendering, named that way because it's trying to replicate real-life light physics. In this case, the 4 basic parameters are called albedo, roughness, metalness, and normal.

Albedo is the base colour of the surface (easy stuff). Roughness is to determine if a surface is rough or shiny. Metalness is to say if something is made out of metal or not. The normal is there to add all those tiny details you don't want to or can't sculpt on your 3D model (engravings, fabric bumps, etc.)

The roughness and metalness are black and white images because the information you're giving to the software is black = no and white = yes. It's easier to understand in the metalness image, where everything that is NOT a metal is black, and everything that IS a metal is white.

The normal is a bit more complex, but in short, it uses the colours green and red to know what is up/down or left/right, and will help the software fake relief on top of the model. You don't make it by hand; it's computer-generated from other stuff I'm not getting into.

With the technical stuff out of the way, we can actually use these. There are specialized softwares that will let you preview the results of each parameter in real time, so you can see what you're doing easily. This is what I have.

That software comes with some types of surfaces that are already set up, like the fabric in my piece, which was already 85% good for me straight out of the box. Then, it's up to me to use the tools available to decide how shiny a surface is, if there's dust or scratches and where, what colours things are, if there's metal parts, etc. That's where you can see a 3D artist's skills.

And finally, you bring it all together into a specialized software that can render 3D stuff and use those images on the corresponsing parameters, and then light the scene.

Because it all comes down to this: the light! For something realistic, light is vital to get right. You can pour your heart and soul into those tiny scratches, but if you don't light the scene correctly, well...

So we carefully light the scene to get some nice highlights to make the textures look good and highlight our subject (it's basically a photography studio inside a computer)

And then we add some camera effects...

and voilà! pretty picture!!

... and if you somehow did notice something different with the bolo tie from my last post, I did find out while taking all these screenshots that I messed up my initial renders in a way that made everything darker than it was supposed to be and that's why my gold looked so muddy...

I hope this was interesting and that you learned a thing or two!

#welcome to nawy's 3d school for complete beginners #nawy's 3d #technically not art but... you know...

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lovebugism · 1 year

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hi!! i just had to drop by and say the customer’s always right was some of the best smut i’ve read in so long. omfg it was perfect and i can’t stop thinking about it. and that cliffhanger?! you’re trying to kill me i swear 😭 do you think you’ll end up writing a part two? 👀

THE CUSTOMER’S ALWAYS RIGHT | screw the deal

summary: "there's an angel in his trailer, washing his cum-stained jeans after getting off on his thigh, and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve it." pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 6.7k warning: thigh riding, tit play, talks of asshole boyfriends, smut 18+ mdni a/n: ok so i'm still a bit overwhelmed by the support from the last part. like, seriously, you guys are way too fucking nice <333 i hope this lives up to expectations and if it doesn't we can just pretend, okay? be on the look out for many, many more parts to come because i can't get enough of virgin!eddie.

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

The credits of Fast Times at Ridgemont High roll beneath a jittery static of a nineteen-inch TV. Eddie, dressed now in a fresh pair of thin, plaid pajama pants, bangs on the side of the thing with his fist to physically jostle the grainy texture from the screen. It only half works.

He feels about as fuzzy as the lingering white noise on his television — like he’s not all there, like his brain is still misty and he needs to lie down. He’s still reeling from the after-effects of his freight train of an orgasm where he stands even now. And you were just touching him through his jeans.

“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you’re inside me,” you purred to him in a breathless promise. He understands, now, that just might kill him.

It’s lame. He’s lame. And he thinks he might be in love.

You don’t seem to be as affected by it as he is. Though, to be fair, you’re not the one that just came in their underwear. Either way, you’re able to avoid the bubble of bliss that settles over the trailer like a warm and weighted blanket. You evade it all with a level of finesse that makes his chest swirl with an emotion that he can’t name but he can feel. Like, if he could reach through his ribcage right now, he could physically pull it out of him and hold it in his hands, it’s so damn palpable.

You’re standing at his decade-old washing machine with his cum-stained underwear and black ripped jeans in a wadded ball at your hip. You lift the weighty metal lid and throw the dirty clothes inside, then rise on the tips of your toes to reach for the detergent and fabric softener on the cluttered shelf about your head.

The way you float through the trailer is gut-wrenchingly admirable. It's almost like you’ve lived here as long as Eddie has.

You’re still fully dressed, alarmingly put together, and not at all as jostled-looking as the boy across the living room. Your sweater isn’t wrinkled, your skirt is pulled down from where it had ridden up, and your boots are still on and squeaky clean. You look like a professional and move like one too, totally unfazed by it all, as though making men come so hard they see stars is just a pastime for you.

It almost makes him jealous, knowing your magic has touched other, undoubtedly unworthy guys. But he can’t find it in himself to get angry or bitterly self-conscious. You’re in his trailer now, not out with some other asshole, and you’re washing his fucking clothes.

It makes Eddie feel like you’re his already. A primal sort of possessiveness wells deep within him. He wants to protect this moment and keep it to himself forever.

You peek subtly over at him while sprinkling in the washing powder, pretending to scratch your jaw with your shoulder under the guise of catching a glimpse of the boy behind you. He’d put up quite the fight about you laundering his dirty bottoms upon realizing how serious you were, but he’s quiet now.

“I made the mess, Munson,” you’d argued. “Let me clean it up.”

That shut him up real quick.

You find that he looks more comfortable now. He’s out of the usual leather jacket and tight pants duo that most people rarely see him out of — it feels like a privilege to observe him like this. He’s traded them for a pair of loose red sleep pants spotted with barely-there stains and tiny holes like he’s had them for ages. They probably used to be Wayne's.

His rings stay on, however, and the Def Leppard tee too.

You can see more of his body without the thick jacket to shield him. The way the fabric clings to his upper half, you can just make out the subtle lines of his torso, the tightness of his chest, and the soft pudge of his stomach.

He looks less like he’s trying, but he’s somehow even prettier this way.

His chocolate eyes glimmer beneath the dim light of the living room while his hands fidget something fierce at his sides. It’s like he’s itching to do something with them but has convinced himself not to.

You wonder if it’s the urge to touch you that he’s fighting.

You wish that he wouldn’t.

Shutting the heavy lid, you press the faded green button on the start pad. The sound of water trickling from the top goes muffled. The machine starts to shake, wobbling back and forth with age and fatigue alike.

Once you spin on your heel to face the boy, you’re able to catch a much better look at him. And the way he suddenly and oh, so casually flits his gaze to the ceiling in an effort to pretend like he wasn’t just staring at you.

His hair is wild and his eyes are tired. He probably just wants to sleep.

You begin to fear that you’ve overstayed your welcome. This wasn’t what this was supposed to be, after all. Some heavy petting was expected, of course, but certainly not of this magnitude. Eddie was prepared to cop a feel, not watch you while you wash his fucking clothes.

So out of worry that you’ve turned this — whatever this was — into something that it wasn’t, it becomes your mission to ease the tension you’d singlehandedly crafted.

“Oh. You must be tired, huh?” you question sympathetically with an awkward hand on the back of your neck. “It is getting pretty late. Maybe I should… I should go—”

“What? No! You don’t— You don’t have to go!” Eddie is quick to interject with the rapid shake of his head. Fluffy curls shake around the frame of his face. His eyes go wide. It makes your heart sing.

But now he’s the scared one. Fearing he’s come off as overzealous, he backtracks with a shrug. “I mean… If you want to. But I… I don’t really…”

“You don’t really what?” you press once he trails off, brows raised ro your hairline and a smile teasing at the corners of your lips.

“I don’t know… I— I guess I’d just... I’d kinda like it if you stayed.”

The revelation seems to shock you, delightfully so, because you’re lighting up again like a christmas tree. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, suddenly shy. His chin falls to his chest, and he takes to gazing at you with a sparkling gaze through his lashes as he confesses: “I didn’t… I didn’t even get to touch you.”

His eyes squeeze shut and his face scrunches as he silently cringes at how lame the words sound spilling from his mouth.

“Oh, right. The deal,” you lilt, missing his unstated point and forming your own. You laugh a little at yourself. “That’s literally why I came over in the first place. Sorry. I guess I got a little… carried away.”

“Screw the deal,” he blurts. “I just wanna make you feel good.”

It’s the first thing he’s said to you all night where his voice isn’t shaking. His sudden confidence seems to take you both by surprise.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to hide your sheepish grin and failing. With your hands clasped behind your back — inadvertently jutting out your chest and the twinkling pendant resting upon it — you take slow steps towards him, like a tiger sneaking up on its prey.

Except you’re not exactly being sly about it.

Eddie’s just not running away.

You manage to look so innocent still, all flushed out and smiling at him. “You don’t have to touch me to make me feel good, Eds.”

His brows furrow. “…I don’t?”

“I just like spending time with you,” you shrug shyly when you finally reach the boy. He remains frozen by the television that’s gone static again, the screen all fuzzy in time with the misty haze you’ve put his brain into.

You wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders, pressing your warmth so intently against his body, like you would melt with him if the rules of the universe allowed it.

Eddie swallows thickly at the foreign feeling of having someone so close. His gaze falls to your quirked-up lips. He wonders if it’d be too inappropriate to kiss you now — if he still needs to ask or if the two of you crossed that bridge an orgasm and a half ago.

You notice his unabashed, button-eyed stare and grin at him with a similar brazenness.

“You don’t have to, Eddie. Promise,” you assure with a softness that was previously unfamiliar to him before now. “That’s not why I did that — you know, so you had to return the favor or whatever.”

“No, I know. I just…” he trails off for a moment and darts his tongue out to wet his chapped lips. “I’d really like to make you feel good. If you’ll let me.”

You shake your head at him. It’s not a rejection, though, just an expression of disbelief at how he hasn’t gotten the hint yet. So you just come right out and tell him. “I’d let you do anything to me, Eds.”

He swears, it’s that fucking scene from Fast Times all over again, the same one that got him into this mess. Eddie’s starting to convince himself that this is all just one big fever dream and that you’re his personal Phoebe Cates sent to haunt him in a fantasy far too heavenly to be real.

He’s the Hawkins freakshow, for chrissakes — since when does the town’s local weirdo get to dabble in such simple pleasures?

“Well, what do you wanna do?” you ask him like you’re the timid one. Like you didn’t just make him bust in his pants like a teenager half an hour ago.

He can’t tell if you’re playing coy to get him riled up or if your coquettish nature is just a symptom of your nervousness. It’s hot either way, he concludes, but asking him for guidance is a mistake you don’t even realize you’re making.

His hands falter where they rest on your hips — fidgeting, squeezing, and fidgeting some more.

“I, uh… I want you to…” he does his best to keep his gaze locked with yours, egged on by the intrigued glint in your eye, but it’s a difficult feat. “…to rub yourself, you know, against my— my thigh… If you want.”

He feels like an idiot, the total opposite of cool and mysterious and sexy. His cheeks burn cherry with embarrassment. You smile sweetly up at him, anyway. It both soothes and sends a sick feeling of anticipation swimming in his stomach.

Eddie’s always so sweet with you. Always asking to do something, but only if you want to. He’s all shy and finicky, like he’s nervous you might turn him down, though you’ve only ever said yes to him.

It makes you wonder if he’s ever been dominant with a girl before or if this is the first time someone’s asked him what he wants to do in bed.

It sends a foreign flash of pride in your chest.

“Okay. How about this?” You concede with a grin. Your hands fall from his shoulders and move down his torso, smooth like drops of water. You rest your palms on his hips as you walk him slowly backward. “I’ll ride your thigh, and you can play with my tits. You know, so you don’t get bored.”

The back of his knees meet the couch and he falls lamely onto the cushions. He blinks up at you. “Don’t get… bored?”

Who the fuck is getting bored when there’s a woman getting off on their lap? he actually wants to say but isn’t quite brave enough to.

“Yeah,” you shrug like the answer is obvious. “Most guys have a hard time, I don’t know, being present if it isn’t about them.”

“Well, most guys are stupid.”

“You’re definitely right,” you scoff out a laugh, though it’s mostly muffled when you strip your sweater up and over your head.

The motions come easy to you. There’s an obvious lack in overthinking that Eddie notices right away because it’s the thing that’s been plaguing him all night. He’s both envious and fascinated, but more so mesmerized by the sight that is slow to unfold before him.

Your bra isn’t anything special, just a white cotton number with a cute little bow sitting neatly between your tits. It’s a size or more too small for you, as though you’ve had it for quite some time. The tops of your breasts bulge from the cup. Eddie so desperately wants to sink his teeth into the skin there.

“How could anyone get bored of you…?” he mumbles softly to himself, not realizing that he’s actually said the words out loud until you’re answering him.

“I don’t know,” you respond with a breathless chuckle, tossing your top onto the couch beside him with a dull thud. “You should try asking my ex-boyfriend.”

“Fuck that guy,” Eddie blurts without thinking.

You laugh again. It’s comforting. Like a familiar face in a sea of strangers or a warm hug when you’re freezing. You’re smiling when you finally settle over his lap, your thighs straddling over one of his own. You were just here minutes ago, but it still feels so new.

Eddie wants you here, against him, forever.

“You don’t even know him.”

“Well, he let you go,” he reasons as he places two unconfident and shaking hands along the bare skin of your thighs where your skirt had ridden up. “So he’s gotta be a little bit of an asshole.”

“How about a lot a bit?” you playfully correct with a faltering smile and wandering eyes that flit to the ceiling.

You’re certain Eddie hasn’t noticed your momentary, faraway blip at mention of a boy who made your life a living hell. But when your gaze meets his again, you find a pair of bushy brows furrowed in concern beneath his curly bangs. His rich, chocolate cake colored eyes are coated with concern.

In an effort to deflect from the silence and the brief flicker of following awkwardness, you grip the boy’s shoulders and reach for a kiss.

He isn’t quite swayed, however. Not even when your bottom lips brush together when he asks you: “…What’d he do?”

“Let’s maybe not talk about my ex-boyfriend when I’m trying to kiss you, okay?” you advise without decreasing the proximity. Your mouth still chases his, desperate in more ways than one.

“Okay—”

You’re kissing him as soon as the word tumbles from his lips. You lick into him without warning and he huffs a pitiful moan. You feel the exhale of it against your cupid’s bow.

It’s sloppy, all tongue and teeth, like two teenagers trying to figure out how to kiss each other. That’s what it feels like, anyway. You explore his mouth like it’s undiscovered territory, like he’s all yours to claim.

He lets you.

His head falls back to the edge of the couch, mouth obediently agape for you, as you rut the rough pad of your tongue against his own. You part from him only to suck at his kiss-bitten bottom lip, and you pull away from him so achingly slow just to watch the rosy plush pop back into place.

You smile like you’ve won some sort of prize with him. Your eyes are sparkling and heavy with desire.

Eddie fidgets beneath you at the unfamiliarity of it all. It makes his chest so warm and fuzzy that his heart begins to ache. He can’t tell if he wants to keep looking or close his eyes to hide from it. So he just kisses you — or rather, tries to.

You’re pulling back with a mischievous sort of grin before your lips can meet.

The sound of his discontent comes out in a muffled whine trapped in his throat. A low and yearning sound that makes your smile widen.

Unamused by your teasing, Eddie huffs a rather dramatic sigh. He grips your hips with ring-clad fingers and drags you further against him. The fabric of his pants creates a rough friction against your cotton underwear and you feel it all against your clit.

Before you have the chance to moan, Eddie’s lips are already back on yours.

His touch is more confident now, not just in the way he keeps you pressed against his thigh, but in the way he kisses you. You’re no longer in control as he shoves his tongue in your mouth, perhaps more aggressively than intended. He roams the ridges of the roof of your mouth and the soft, irregular-patterned pad of your tongue like it’s an undiscovered island. And you let him — you beg him without words, and only in hushed and breathy moans.

He trails wet kisses down your chin and your jaw to your neck, leaving the warmed skin glistening with his spit and cooling when he leaves it.

While he mouths desperately at your collarbone, just beside the strap of your bra, his hands rise rise rise — fingers tickling below the hem of your skirt before traveling up to your hips. Eddie squeezes softly at the skin when he reaches your naked waist.

You laugh with merriment when he does. He can feel the rapid rise and fall of your shoulders from where he rests against you. A soft smile tugs at his lips. You can feel the contortion of it against your skin.

He stops kissing you when his fingers try their hand at unlatching your bra. You’re not sure he even realizes it. He loses the ability to multitask when he finds that it’s a harder feat than he thought.

You can imagine the look of concentration on his face, brows furrowed and tongue poking out of his mouth, as he fidgets with the clasp. It makes you smile to yourself.

“Need help?”

“No, I— I got it,” he declines quickly. “—Shit. Was this made by a fucking rocket scientist or some shit?”

You giggle again. It feels like being bathed in rays of sunlight, adding heat to his already burning cheeks.

“Have you never taken off a girl’s bra before?”

You don’t sound like you’re teasing him. You just sound curious and kinda of shocked at his struggling. It makes him tense anyway.

His virginity makes him feel like Spiderman. Like he’s got this alter ego that he can’t possibly reveal to you because it might change everything. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to — yet — because his hands inadvertently freeze and the clasp behind your back clicks lowly when it unfastens.

He’s able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Your bra eases its constriction on your chest. The tight straps loosen at your shoulders, and your fingers tug them until they're slipping down your arms.

You don’t even look at him at first, not the slightest glance to gauge his reaction. He wonders if it’s intentional — your nonchalance — as you pay more attention to the bra you toss off to the side than to the boy suddenly rigid beneath you.

And when you do finally look back at him, you can’t quite measure the expression on his face. His eyes are heavy and focused on your tits, his face lax and void of any readable emotion.

He doesn’t say anything, not for a while — or at all — and you don’t know what to make of it. It’s the first time you’ve shown your tits to a guy who wasn’t squeezing them right way (and far too roughly) or biting at them so hard they leave teeth marks.

You hate that shit. But it might be preferable to no reaction at all.

Without thinking, you bring your hands to your chest, crossing your arms over your breasts as embarrassment burns against your cheeks.

You make a sad joke of it, a measly “Sorry, if I didn’t, you know, live up to expectations—”

Eddie’s quick to stop you then. It’s like life returns to him as he reanimates, his hands suddenly springing from your waist to your wrists.

But, again, he doesn’t speak. He just holds onto your hands and looks up at you. His gaze swims with something you have difficulty placing — it’s a little sad like yearning, but wild with craving. Lust.

His cinnamon eyes blink up at you and tell you everything without saying a word.

You breathe a sigh of relief through your nose as you relax against him. You let him pull your arms back down to your sides, leaving your tits on display for him once more.

This time when you burn hot, it’s of the fire he’s lit in your chest.

“Do you like them?” you wonder meekly.

Eddie nods. He eyes your breasts like a predator would with its prey. His mouth falls softly agape, looking desperate to be kissed — filled.

“Can... Can I— Can I…” he stammers like a child, though he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. He just wants to hold you, to taste you, and you’re so goddamn close.

You respond with an affirmative shake of your head. A soft smile hints at the edges of your lips while you relish in your first time rendering a man speechless with your tits. You watch with glittering eyes as his shaking, terribly unsure hands raise to touch you.

He merely grazes the top of your chest with his fingertips in a featherlight touch that sends a shiver down your spine. He fondles you so gently, too timid yet to touch you where you want him most. Like he’s teasing you.

He isn’t, of course, he’s just feeling out the new terrain — literally — but you don’t know that. You just think he’s being playful with you. So you take his hands in yours and press your palms against his knuckles, your fingers against his ring-clad ones, and flatten him against you.

The metal bumps lightly when it meets your pebbled nipple. Chill bumps erupt on the surrounding skin when it does.

His moan entwines with yours.

Eddie grows more confident with his fleeting touches. He squeezes your breasts softly in his palms, more gentle than anyone’s ever been with you, and takes a moment to marvel how warm they feel in his hold.

No one’s ever taken the time to admire any part of you like this before.

When he starts playing with your nipples that stand desperately at attention and ache to be touched, he observes how you react to his touch. You twitch against him when he presses against them, moan when he tweaks the hardened buds between his thumb and forefinger, and throw your head back with bliss when he pinches them.

It’s not for his own pleasure — though he is desperately, desperately turned on — but he likes seeing how he makes you feel so he can do more of the thing you seem to like the most.

He’s attentive in a way you’ve never seen before.

And though every single touch of his is experimental, it feels good, like lightning strikes to your pussy.

Your underwear is more than damp now, more than it already was when you were just feeling him up. It leaves your vision practically blurry with desire. So turned on you’re dumb, there is no thought in your head other than Eddie Eddie Eddie. You want to feel him everywhere.

“That feel good?” he wonders like you aren’t moaning above him without hardly being touched.

“Mm-hmm,” you sigh with a nod. You tilt your head back down to face him and release your bottom lip from where it was caged between your teeth. “You can put your mouth on them if you want.”

And it’s not like it’s the craziest question in the world. You’re just giving him consent to touch you further, which is more than most asshole men in Hawkins wait for, but it drives Eddie absolutely wild.

He’s seen it in porn a million times over, fantasized incessantly about how a girl might feel against his tongue, his teeth. But the moment is here now, sitting right in front of him — just when he thought he might die a virgin — and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“My… My mouth?”

You nod again, quick to reassure him. “Only if you want to. You don’t have to—”

“Wanna do everything with you,” he interjects without realizing.

“Everything?” you smirk with raised brows and bright eyes. “Think you can handle that, Munson?”

Fuck no, I can barely take this, he thinks to himself.

But instead of saying all that, he just shrugs. “Got to.”

His breath leaves him in a shaky exhale that you can feel against your warmed skin as he nears you. He presses a tentative, too sweet kiss to your sternum and your eyes flutter shut. Not out of pleasure maybe, but from the sheer softness of his touch.

It feels illegal to be handled so gently, like you were some endangered species that he had to be careful with. There’s a lingering sense of undeserving that you have to bat away.

He’s reserved with his kisses at first, only brushing his lips against your tits like he’s trying to commit how they feel to his memory. You only wish he’d do more, leave you whining and gleaming with his spit.

But there’s something spellbinding about his meticulous touches, like he’s trying to wind you up until you snap. You like that.

So be it, if you have to suffer through some teasing, as long as he’ll break you after.

His tongue darts at against your sternum and you moan.

It was accidental, of course, he was just wetting his drying lips, but you seemed to enjoy it. So he keeps doing it.

He lets himself become more assured in the way he touches you, because you seem to like everything he’s done so far. And when his kisses grow wetter and deeper and more passionate, you start to buck your hips against his lap.

He’s not even completely sure if you realize it.

Unthinking, he turns his head and takes your nipple into his mouth. It was instinctual more than anything, it just felt right to touch you there. It’s easy to stop overthinking when you moan louder for him.

He’s got his right hand kneading the skin of your right breast while he mouths at the left one, flicking his tongue against the delicate bud while it’s sucked between his teeth. Your cry is breathy, ethereal, heavenly. Your hands dart to his head, entwining your fingers with the curly strands as you hold him to you.

“God, you're so sweet,” he practically moans against you, reveling in your taste and the feeling of your clothed pussy against his thigh. “And sensitive— god, that’s so fucking hot.”

“Eddie,” you moan when he licks you with a flattened tongue.

He stops for a moment, looking at you with wide, twinkling, innocent fucking eyes, like he’s not effectively ruining you. “Is this good?”

“’S fucking perfect, Eds,” you manage to assure him, though it’s hard to form thoughts of any kind, much less words.

You’re still so wildly turned on from getting Eddie to come in his jeans. It’s got you so embarrassingly close to coming, but the boy mouthing at your sensitive tits doesn’t seem to care, so you don’t either.

He keeps his focus on your chest, switching between squeezing one and licking the other. The combination of his rings rutting against your nipple and his tongue playing wetly with it is a wild one.

All you can feel is Eddie. All you can think about is Eddie.

He’s got you chasing the bleary haze of pleasure against his thigh, moaning at the deviously sweet friction of your cotton panties against your clit.

“God, I’m so wet for you right now,” you moan into his ear, words slurred and quiet.

You’re not trying to drive him crazy, you just are.

He exhales deeply through his nose with his mouth still on you. His breath fans against you and makes you shiver. He grips you hips and pulls you closer to him, desperate to have you nearer like your tit isn’t in his mouth and you’re not getting off on his thigh.

You’re further against his lap now, practically sitting on his hip, and the position change puts all the more pressure on your clit. When you buck your hips against him now, that’s where you feel it all — the pleasure is so concentrated on the cotton-clad, terribly delicate button that it makes you whimper with every pass.

Eddie shows no mercy.

His large hands start to control your movements, squeezing your hip on the up stroke and pressing you harder against him, before gently releasing his hold on the down stroke.

“Eddie,” you cry fragilely.

He pulls off of your tit with a pop. “Yeah?”

“‘M so close.”

“…Okay,” he nods like an idiot, staring up at you with a gaping gaze.

Fortunately for him, your eyes are squeezed shut in bliss, so you don’t see the the brief flare of panic that flashes over his features. He tries to remember what guys do in porn when their girls start getting close.

They talk them through it, right? the stream of consciousness in his head tells him.

But here’s the thing about Eddie — the boy can’t talk to save his life. He’s good at telling off Jason Carver (because fuck that guy) and he’s even better when he’s campaigning, but put a pretty girl in front of him and the dumb facade of the snarky metalhead boy goes out the window. He’s got no earthly idea of what to say now.

So, in running theme of the entirety of this night, he just says what feels right to say.

“Can you come for me?” he asks you, sounding somehow more desperate for your pleasure than you are. “Please?”

You moan louder, hold him closer, hump his thigh him faster.

He wonders, then, if dirty talking is your thing. He makes a mental note to get better at it for you for next time — if there is a next time, the voice in his head reminds him bitterly.

He remembers that this might be the only time he’ll ever get to touch you. He fears that you’ll still think he only wanted to do this because of some stupid deal you made and never allow him the chance to prove that you’re more than just his favorite customer.

But he figures if this is the last time he gets to have you — if he can make you come so hard that you see stars, and if he can commit this whole night to memory — he’ll be the happiest dumbass alive.

“Can you come while I suck on your tits?” Eddie continues to plea before scratching your spit-soaked nipple with his teeth. Your cry racks through your chest. “—You sound so damn pretty when I do it.”

“Yes,” you moan with your head tilted towards the ceiling. He can’t tell if it’s an affirmative answer to his question or a chant of a mindless prayer. “Yes, yes, yes—”

His touch is all consuming, ardent in a way you haven’t felt before. You don’t have to work at your orgasm for it to rise within you, don’t have to think to climb the peaks of pleasure. It’s quite the opposite, really.

You don’t have to work for it, because it’s chasing you. You don’t have to think about anything, because you can’t.

There’s a fire welling within you that leaves you momentarily frightened because you haven’t felt anything like it before.

He’s long past winding you up, you fear, now he wants you to snap.

So you do.

With one final pass up his lap, you still against him, though your legs keep shaking something fierce around his thigh.

Your mouth falls open in a moan, though it doesn’t quite leave that way — you’re silent for a moment, before a meek and fragile cry escapes your throat and fills the empty trailer.

Your hips twitch in time with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Eddie stays with his mouth against your chest and grumbles a moan when he can feel the subtle throbbing of your clit against his thigh.

He doesn’t have much choice in the matter, anyway, because you keep him firmly locked to your tits with your hands in his hair while you come down from your high. He doesn’t much care either. He’d happily drool on your tits every day of the week if you’d let him.

The post-orgasm haze is slow to fade.

You’re buzzing at his touch, feeling fuzzy like you’re stranded on some white, puffy cloud. You just feel Eddie — his hands, his mouth — and that’s when you realize the hold you’ve got on him.

You’re quick to unravel your fingers from his curls and sputter out an apology even in your bleary haze. “Oh— shit— I’m so sorry—”

“No, it’s okay. I liked it,” Eddie assures as you pet his wild head. He pulls back and smiles sloppily at you with pink lips all swollen from his kisses and shiny with his spit.

“Oh?” you hum with a similar lazy grin. “You like having your hair pulled, huh? That’s good to know.”

His eyes fall back to your chest. Your tits glisten with his spit, rising and falling with each of your heavy breaths and catching the light in different places — the red lovebites he’d sucked onto your supple skin, the hardened and raw buds of your nipples.

It makes him feel like he’s claimed you in some way and the thought has him growing hard again.

He shifts his hips beneath you in attempts to soothe the ache blossoming between his legs. You twitch and breathe out an almost inaudible moan when his thigh brushes against your still sensitive pussy.

“Sorry,” he apologizes meekly, though he doesn’t really mean it. He wants to do it again, wants to make you come again, and keep making you come until you can’t decide if you’re crying for him to stop or to keep going.

He can feels your damp pussy on his leg. He wonders if you’ve stained his pants. He hopes you’ve stained his pants.

It makes his head spin to imagine what your panties must look like right now, all sticky with a wet spot in the center of the dainty cotton, your pussy drenched and gooey with your come. His mouth waters with the sudden desire to taste you.

“I made the mess,” he’d tease you with your words from earlier, slipping your drenched panties to the side and sliding a finger between your velvety lips. “Let me clean it up.”

Instead, he just apologizes like an idiot and lets you slip away.

“’S okay,” you breathe with your head tilted backward, still on the come down.

“Was that… Was that good for you?”

“Eddie,” you huff in a scold. “I’d tell you if it wasn’t.”

“…Would you?” he presses.

“Probably not,” you concede with a shrug and then look at him with a playful smile. “But it was good. It was fucking amazing. I mean, I can’t even feel my legs right now, so… You should really work on your confidence when it comes to the whole sex thing.”

He sighs. “You’re probably right.”

“Maybe I can help you...”

“Please,” he begs in a whisper and happily accepts the kiss you press to his lips. It’s slower than before, less messy but no less passionate. It’s soft and sickly sweet, a series of small pecks that makes his heart sing. He never thought someone would be this gentle with him.

The washer beeps a grating and daunting beep, beep, beep that Eddie curses because it puts an end to the sweet moment. You rise from his lap with one last, lingering kiss, and pull the hem of your skirt back down your thighs.

Still in your soaked panties and totally topless, you waltz from his living room and into the kitchen.

You bend over to retrieve his clean pants from the washing machine, momentarily flashing the supple round of your ass, before throwing the clothes into the drier. The thing rumbles lowly in the quiet and clanks every time it beats against the washer.

Eddie watches from afar, his head lolled against the back of the couch. This must be a dream, he figures, because there’s no way you’re real.

There’s an angel in his trailer, washing his cum-stained jeans after getting off on his thigh, and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve it.

“You’re good to get them out of the drier, yeah?”

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” he answers with a breathy laugh. “But if it means you have to stay for another hour, then no, I’ve never worked a drier in my life.”

Your smile is a sheepish one that you bite to conceal as you waltz back over to him.

You want to stay, you do, but it’s late. And his uncle is bound to come home from work in the following hours. You want Eddie when you’re allowed take your time with him, when there’s no threat that someone might catch you — no risk, no responsibilities, just two people who want to make each other feel good.

If he even wants that, you think to yourself.

The negative self-talk always seems to arrive after you’ve fucked. Most people get a taste of you and don’t go back for seconds. Why would he be any different?

You tug your sweater back over your head. Without your bra to hide you, he can see the perfect outline of your nipples through the soft material. Eddie tries not to stare.

He fails.

“I gotta get home,” you tell him as you shove your arms through the sleeves. “I’ve got a cat to feed and… everything.”

“Oh. Right… Okay.”

He sounds both disappointed and dismissive, like he wants you to stay but doesn’t care enough to make you.

You might’ve, if he’d asked, Bowie would surely survive until an extra early breakfast. You wouldn’t even need to have sex or makeout or anything, you’re all too happy just to spend time with Eddie in this rundown trailer on the wrong side of town.

But he doesn’t ask. And he won’t.

Because he doesn’t know any of that.

As far as he’s concerned, you’re in a rush to get home because you don’t want to be here anymore. Watching you get dressed, Eddie’s starting to feel like this was just a one time thing. He came, he returned the favor, and now he’s only got the memory of you twitching against him while you orgasmed with your tits in his mouth.

He grieves the moment like he’s lost something real and starts to let you leave without saying a goddamn word.

You’re standing at the screen door with your hand on the knob when he notices your pearl-colored bra strewn on the floor.

“Hey! You, uh, you left, your um…” he can’t seem to say the words as he stands with it in his hand, motioning for you to take it. You don’t make an effort to retrieve it, however, as you smile tiredly at him from across the living room.

“I kinda did that on purpose,” you confess bashfully. “So I could have an excuse to come back...”

Eddie glows red with your admission. “Oh. Well. You don’t— You don’t need an excuse to come over.”

“No?”

“No. You can just… pop in, you know, whenever,” he shrugs sheepishly, with his head to his chest and his syrup-y eyes peering through his lashes. “To smoke or… to hang out… or...”

“Fuck?” you finish with a half-sincere laugh.

Eddie shrugs again. “Whatever you wanna do.”

“You said we were gonna do everything, remember?” you remind with a teasing grin and eyes that glimmer with mischief. Eddie nods quickly, all bright and excited like a ball of sunshine and your smile grows. “I’m looking forward to it, then.”

That’s how you leave him, half-hard with the promise of more.

Eddie Munson is so in over his head he can’t breathe. He isn’t completely sure if he wants to. He’s all too happy to drown in you. And It’s scary, a fun kind of scary, like going on a rollercoaster.

He’s never felt this way before and doesn’t want it to stop.

Fuck, he can’t wait to do everything with you.

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #virgin!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #st oneshots <3 #published by bug

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joshsjipple · 17 days

Text

A Starved Man

DANNY WAGNER X FEMALE READER

A/N: Hey my loves! Sorry for being a bit MIA, I’ve been sooo busy. But I have NOT been able to get this man out of my head. This is so short and not my best work, but I promise I will be back full speed very soon!

WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content! MUSTACHE DANNY!! language, face riding, overstimulation, oral (f rec), a bit of a pain kink, some praise, some dom & sub if you squint. Heavily unedited!

Word Count: 1.5k (so short)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

It’s been a month since you’d last seen Danny. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t beyond excited for his arrival tonight. You planned a nice dinner in your apartment, cooking his favorite meal before slipping into a short blue dress.

He loved the fabric on you. He always recommended it when you asked what to wear on days the two of you would go out. You loved the dress put it was on the shorter side so you had to be extra careful when wearing it.

You clip a dainty silver necklace around your neck. The thin metal is cool on your skin and you brush a strand of hair behind your ear as you admire it. As you stare at yourself in the mirror, your eyes drag across a Polaroid picture of you and Danny a few days before he left for tour.

Biting your lip, you have a hard time believing he’s yours. Never in your life have you ever seen a man as gorgeous as he. His looks are a plus considering how he treats you.

A knock on your door forces you away from the picture. You’re hardly able to contain yourself as you skip to open the door. You twist the handle and tug it open only to be met with a stronger force keeping it in place.

“What? Danny?” You question, standing on your tippy toes to look through the peak hole.

“It’s me. Just wait a second,” he says.

“Quit being mean! I’ve missed you. I want to see you,” You give the door another tug.

“I have a surprise but I need you to close your eyes,” he tells you.

“Danny-”

“Nope. Close your eyes, love.”

You sigh and take a step away from the door. “They’re closed.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Now get your ass in here before I lock you out.”

Danny laughs and closes the door behind him. It takes every ounce of strength in your body not to open your eyes and throw yourself into his arms. Remembering your promise, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter.

You hear Danny suck in a deep breath, the kind that makes your knees give out. Your jaw falls slack when he places his hands on either sides of your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles over the material of your dress.

“You look so gorgeous in my dress,” he says, messing with the hem of the dress.

“Can I open my eyes?” Your voice shakes as you ask.

“Be patient,”

You groan but don’t object. Danny’s hands trail up your inner thigh making you wrap your arm around his bicep. You can hear the smirk on his lips as he lets out a taunting giggle. His fingers trail over your panties making you let out a pathetic uncontrolled whine. Biting down on your lip you squeeze his arm a little tighter.

“Oh God,” you whine as his finger brushes across your heat. “Daniel, please kiss me.”

“Someone’s excited to see me,”

“I’m serious. Stop teasing. I’ve missed you so much,”

With one hand gently circling your clothes clit, the other cups your cheek. His thumb rubs your skin as his warm breath coats your face. Finally, he breaks the distance. His wet lips meet yours, a satisfied noise leaving your mouth. Your hand wraps around his neck, tugging him into your face. When his face is fully pressed into yours, a slightly rough texture scratches just above your lips.

You tear away from him but keep your arms locked around his neck. Your eyes—now opened— stare in utter shock at the man before you.

Usually when he was on tour, the two of you FaceTime regularly. It just clicked in your mind that you hadn’t FaceTimed since you last saw him. You’d asked a few times but he always turned it down, saying he was busy or he was exhausted.

Now, you stare, mouth agape as you scan the lower half of his face. He smirks, allowing you to make up your own mind about his new look.

“Do you like it?” He asks after a moment.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you shake your head. “Fuck, it’s so hot.”

“Oh yeah?” He gawks as you run your fingers across the hair.

“Is this why you didn’t FaceTime me?”

“Yeah. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

You raise your eyebrows and lick your lips. “Well I’m very surprised,”

“A good surprised?” He tilts his head.

You don’t give him an answer. Instead, you grab his hand and direct it under your dress. He takes the hint and cups your pussy. You groan at the slight contact he makes with your clit.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers. “That’s so hot. What do you want, darling?”

His fingers move the material to the side. His finger drags through your folds, gathering the slick on the tip of his finger.

“I want to fuck your face,” you admit, eyes locked on the mustache.

Within seconds he has you pinned against the wall. His lips crash into yours, teeth clashing against each other. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer to you. His hands explore your body, pinching and tugging at your skin. Your dress is hiked up to your waist, leaving you almost bare. He pulls away from the kiss, dropping to his knees and dragging your panties along with him.

You step out of the material and watch him toss it to the side. He kisses up your legs, nipping and biting at your flesh as you whine in pleasure. His fingers knead your skin as he nears your heat. Using one of his hands, he forces your legs open. His big brown eyes stare up at you, twinkling as he watches you bite down on your lip.

He tosses your leg over his back before he licks a stripe up your center. Before he continues, you tug him away by his hair.

“Isn’t there a more comfortable place to do this?” You ask.

“I can’t wait any longer. I’m a starved man,”

With his explanation, he dives into you. Your fingers immediately dig into his scalp as his tongue flicks across your clit. Your back arches away from the wall, a screech leaving your mouth. Danny’s hand grips the inside of the leg draped across his back. His fingertips dig into the fat of it, guaranteeing small raspberry-like blueberries to be left in its place.

He eats you out like he’s never eaten before; like he was put on this earth to make you cum on his tongue. You claw at the wall behind you, bucking your hips across his mouth. The slightly rough feeling of his mustache adds to your pleasure and you feel the pit growing in your stomach with every move it makes.

“Just like that, baby. Oh God,” you whine, hips rolling into his face.

He pulls away for a second to speak. “Ride it, baby. Ride my mustache, pretty girl,”

Your knees shake at his words so he uses his free hand to help support you. It sits on your ass and he squeezes it hard enough to make you yelp. You’re grinding into him, whimpering as you watch him suck your clit. Your hand plays with your painfully hard nipple as you try to fight off the orgasm that’s headed full speed towards you.

With one roll of your hips, the hair of his mustache scratches across your clit. The rough sensation sends you flying over the edge in a pile of cries. Your legs shake viciously under you as you work through your orgasm.

He works you through it and once you’ve come back to earth, you begin to pull yourself off his face. You squeal when his hands grip onto your waist and drag you back onto his mouth. Immediately, his lips tug your clit back into his mouth. He sucks on your sensitive bead as you try to pull yourself away again.

“Danny— I can’t!” You cry.

“I want it again,” he tells you. “I want you to cum on my face again. You can do it. Be a good girl,”

With that he returns to your core. He licks and sucks, mimicking the moves that make you jump. Tears stream down the sides of your face as the fire in your stomach nears explosion.

You’re crying his name as you cum again, panting as you ride out your orgasm. Your heart beats ferociously in your chest and your knuckles, buried in Danny’s black curls, are white. He keeps working you through your orgasm until you’ve entirely collapsed onto his face.

With a heave, he pulls away and gently coaxes you to the floor. Leaning against the wall, you close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Danny sits in front of you and runs his hand across your sweaty face. He clears the skin of hair and as you open your eyes, you find his entire jaw coated in your arousal.

Once he sees you’re watching—because he’s cocky like that—he flattens his tongue and swirls it around, gathering your cum. The hair on his upper lip sticks to his face but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Did you like that?” He teases.

“Never shave,” you pant and grip his hands.

“If having a mustache means I get to have you ride my face like that, I’m never touching a razor again,”

·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka #josh kiszka smut #sam kiszka #greta van fleet smut #josh gvf #josh kiszka fic #sam kiszka gvf #danny wagner smut #danny gvf #danny wagner

134 notes · View notes

loveshotzz · 1 year

Note

I have a pretty good one awhile ago but I don't ever see myself writing it.

Reader and Eddie are good friends, Argyle drops by his trailer to buy, and he ends up flirting with the reader. Later reader and Eddie go to a party, Argyle is there, and in sure you know where it goes from there

Argyle x fem!reader

You can call me names if you call me up

Warnings:18+ Weed dealing, weed smoking, mentions of drinking, slight mentions of hellcheer? (eddie has a crush and we make fun of him for it) kissing, semi public fingering (f! receiving)

Word count: 5.8k

beta’d by @superblysubpar

Authors note: This is my first ever Argyle fic! Thank you @sleepy-princ3ss for letting me write this! I had a lot of fun this one but it’s scary to write a new character so let me know what you think! I also had a good time writing Eddie as our best friend who doesn’t want to fuck us. Wild right? Still, there’s lots of Eddie in here too 💕

The summer heat always feels extra sticky inside Eddie’s trailer this time of year, the stale breeze that floats through his cracked window does nothing to cool you down. Thumbing through the worn covers of the records Eddie keeps in his room you hum along to the last few chords of Ride The Lightning. When the covers of Back In Black and Blizzard of Oz stick together, you grimace as you pull them apart. A crumpled cut of a babe from a Heavy Metal Magazine is the ‘glue’ that was holding them together.

“Eww Eddie! What the fuck?” god, your best friend was gross.

Clumsy loud footsteps bring him to the entrance of his room, bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat, his face flushes an even deeper shade of red when his eyes zero in on what you’re glaring at.

“I - uh,” coughing nervously, he scratches the back of his neck, the chain wrapped around his wrist sliding down his arm, “I don’t - I don’t know how that got there.”

Scoffing with a roll of your eyes you examine it a little more closely, careful not to touch it. The blond hair and the big blue eyes were a dead give away why this had to have been his favorite.

“She kinda looks like Chrissy don’t you think? Like if she got a metal makeover or whatever you’d call this,” snorting when his face turns into a tomato, his own glare takes over his features when he narrows his eyes at you.

“Why are you even snooping through my records, this one just started?” blinking quickly with embarrassment he looks like he’s ready to explode and you’ve never been more pleased with yourself.

Opening your mouth ready to bite back with something that you were sure was going to send him over the edge, the sound of three quick knocks followed by a single fourth one cuts you off before you can even start.

“Who’s that?” confused at his lack of communication with anyone crashing your hang out, he snaps - gesturing for you to step away from his records before he answers you.

He’s halfway out his bedroom door with you quick on his heels when he finally does.

“Jonathan and his friend from Cali are here to pick up real quick,” groaning at the sound of Jonathan’s name, Eddie laughs loudly before signaling for you to shut up with a finger to his lips.

It wasn’t that you hated Jonathan, he was just always such a downer when he’d join in on your smoke sessions.

Opening the door when you cross your arms with a nod signaling you’ll behave, he turns his charismatic Munson charm up to a ten with a wide grin.

“Byers,” giving him a slight bow, he extends his tattooed arm wide inviting them in, “Byer’s friend.”

You see Jonathan first, who gives you an awkward small wave and a tight lipped grin, lifting three fingers you give him the same energy.

“Oh hey man, the name’s Argyle excited to see what kinda weed you got out here,” Jonathan’s cute friend that follows him in was not what you expected as he clasps his hands together rubbing his palms excitedly stepping through the threshold.

Chestnut hair longer than Eddie’s sways as he walks in, the top of it hidden by a flipped bill green cap. Its smooth texture makes your hand twitch, you’re almost positive it’d feel like silk against your fingertips. A big dopey smile graces his full pink tinged lips as his already bloodshot brown eyes meet yours when he finally turns to see you in the hallway.

All the loud colors and clashing designs on his clothes makes the corners of your mouth tug up. Curiosity piqued, you throw him a more flirtatious wave, fluttering your lashes for good measure.

Eddie rolls his eyes from behind him catching onto your antics, but Argyle looks like he’s been turned to stone, frozen in place as he takes in your barely covered frame. Leaning a shoulder against the wall you watch his eyes trail up the uncovered expanse of your legs till he hits the frayed ends of your jean shorts, your spaghetti strap tank top gives him the perfect view of the curve of your breasts barely hidden beneath the thin fabric. Sweat beading off your heat kissed skin.

Clearing his throat he shakes his head when he feels his jaw go slack, glancing worriedly at Eddie who’s already too busy rummaging around the living room looking for his trusty metal lunch box.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just my partner in crime,” waving a dismissive ringed hand in your direction as he digs behind the couch Jonathan just got settled on, Argyle’s face falls slightly at the nickname.

That still didn’t stop him from watching you push yourself off the wall and walk to the kitchen island, sitting yourself on the cleared spot on top. Legs moving to the beat of the music still bleeding out from the speakers in Eddie’s room, you knew he was completely transfixed on you as he rocked back on his heels.

“Got it boys!” cheering himself on loudly, it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Only you would lose your lunch box full of drugs Munson,” winking at Argyle after you roast your best friend, his smile turns shy when he looks away.

“Bold of you to insult me when you smoke for free,” squinting with threatening eyes, he flips the lid open, the metal connecting with the wood of the coffee table in a loud clunk.

Sticking your tongue out at him he scoffs before turning his attention towards Jonathan pulling out two different bags of the new strains Rick had just supplied him with.

Argyle watches you both with confused eyes, unsure what to think of your banter as he feels the shift in your stare. The heat of it makes all the blood rush to his cheeks when he dares to meet it. Waving him over, you remind him to actually finish walking in. Eyes going wide at the realization, he looks down as he walks over to stand in the space right next to you.

Leaning his back against the formica countertop, your knee brushes the side of his arm with every small kick of your dancing feet. He smells like the kind of weed that makes you feel bad for whatever Eddie’s about to sell them and a hint of an earthy toned cologne. Dark eyes lifting up to yours, his breath catches in his throat when you meet his gaze instantly.

“Sooo, how’s it going?” purposely nudging him this time, you get a smile to finally break across his nervous face.

“It’s uhh- it’s good, Jonathan’s mom is super nice. Her cooking is shmackin,” giggling a little, he told himself it was because of the lingering effects of the weed they smoked on the way here, not because of the way you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you listened.

“Oh yeah, dinner at Joyce’s is always a hit. She really is the sweetest,” eyes crinkling in the corners when you grin at him, he was even cuter this close.

“How long are you visiting?” resting your chin on your shoulder when you look up at him, the height difference is still noticeable despite your advantage. His cheeks turn bubble gum pink at your flirty questioning.

“Just for a few weeks, I don’t want to put them out too much you know? She’s got a full house over there with everyone back,” you catch a hint of sadness in his mellow voice. He missed his best friend, that was more than evident. The thought of only seeing Eddie a few weeks out of the year sounded miserable.

“So you and Jonathan huh? How’d that even happen?” The difference in their personalities was astounding, but even you had to admit that Byers came back from California a little more relaxed. Meeting Argyle you’re starting to figure out why.

“Ahh yeah, dudes was like having a total meltdown at school one day about some stuff with Nancy, I felt bad you know, he looked like someone kicked his dog.” Glancing over at his friend he laughs at the memory.

“So I just showed him the ways of Purple Palm Tree delight and the rest was history.” Smirking proudly when he looks at you, his eyes briefly drift towards your lips curled up into their own grin.

“Finally! Someone got Byers to chill out!” Your praise is loud enough to get a side eye from Jonathan and a laugh from his cute friend.

“It’s super nice of you to come all this way to visit Argyle, I hope you make the most of your time here,” sweetness drips from your words making his eyes grow as big as saucers when he catches the slight invitation hidden inside them.

Jonathan finally speaks loud enough for the whole room to hear, snapping your attention away from the pretty stoner boy.

“Are you guys going to the party at Rick’s tonight?” shoving the bag of weed he just bought in his back pocket, his beady eyes dart between you and Eddie.

Argyle’s still in his own world and Eddie’s got a front row seat to his completely smitten gaze dead set on your face. Despite being annoyed with you all afternoon, you’d always been a good wingman when he needed it. Lips pulling up in a mischievous smirk he wiggles his eyebrows at you before answering.

“We are!”flipping the lid to his lunch box shut with obnoxious force, you’re truly shocked he hasn’t broken it yet with his need for dramatic flair.

The sound of metal clanking loudly snaps Argyle out of whatever lovesick daze you already had him in from just from batting your lashes and showing a little interest. His eyes connect with Eddie's, a sheepish look taking over his face from being caught openly gawking.

“We are? what part-“ Eddie glares at you before cutting you off.

“The party I was literally just telling you about before they got here,” he looks pointedly at the boy shuffling his feet next to you.

Argyle’s eyes stay fixated on the dirty carpeted floor doing his best not to stare, completely oblivious to the way Eddie was trying to help him out, not scold him.

Glancing over at the cowering boy, it’s like a light bulb flashes on top of your head when you realize Eddie was trying to help you get laid.

“Ohhh that party! Sorry, stoner memory you know?” bumping your shoulder with his, your lips twist up in a grin when the chocolate of his eyes meet yours, “Totally going”

The look on Argyle’s face is hard to read as a mixture of excitement and fear cross over his features at the same time. Shifting uneasily, he keeps looking at Eddie from the corner of his eye but he can’t stop the smile that slowly spreads across his soft lips, big pearly whites flashing at you.

“C-cool, I’ll totally see you there,” coughing as he scratches the back of his neck before quickly turning his attention to Eddie, “And uhh- you too man, I’ll uh see you there too!” the last part comes out loud enough to be a yell, his nerves making his voice shake.

“Uhhh, yeah man. For sure,” Eddie’s tone is laced with confusion, eyebrows raised in question as he looks at Argyle like he’s growing a second head.

Jonathan looks at his friend with wide eyes, his cheeks turning rosy from embarrassment from his outburst. Shaking his head, he stands up with a pat on his thighs - giving the universal gesture for ‘it’s time to go’

“Alright, well this got awkward. I think we’re gonna head out, we’ll see you guys tonight,” beckoning his friend to follow him towards the front door, he steals one last look at you before almost tripping over his own feet following Jonathan, flashing you a lopsided grin.

Shutting the door behind them Eddie turns to you with a smirk that you want to smack off his face.

“Look if that’s what you’re into -“ you throw a stray Readers Digest at Eddie before he has a chance to finish teasing you.

“Oh? Would you like him more in a pleated skirt waving some Pom Pom’s for Jason and his goons?” jumping off the counter you go for the jugular, your smirk growing when you get the same hard glare from earlier in his room.

“Listen, Caspian likes who he likes. I’m just the guy behind the wheel,” hands raised in mock defense, you snort rolling your eyes walking away with crossed arms.

“Eddie, your dick isn’t the Prince of fucking Narnia,” his boisterous laugh booms over the music and your glad he can’t see the way your lips twitch up at his antics, butterflies making their way inside your stomach at the thought of seeing Argyle’s goofy smile again again.

——

You’ve always hated parties, especially Reefer Rick parties. Messy and way too loud, it wasn’t just the usual crowd at Harrington's, dodging leering stares around every corner, you cling to Eddie’s arm as a deterrent.

“I don’t know what you were thinking wearing that skirt to Rick’s,” laughing at the permanent look of disgust that was stuck on your face as the two of you weave through the crowd, you turn your head up to stick your tongue out.

“You’re gonna give that poor kid a heart attack,” Eddie shakes his head when he sees the Cheshire smile that takes over your face as you approach the makeshift drink station, “Death by bone - Byers!”

Eddie’s outburst makes you jump when your eyes meet Argyle’s from over the keg on the dining room table, the stoned grin on his face faltering when he sees your arm wrapped tightly around Eddie’s. Big brown eyes only grow bigger when he gets a glimpse of the expanse of your legs and another thin tank top covering your chest like earlier, leaving little for his imagination.

The rosy color comes back to his cheeks when you let go of Eddie as you approach with a smile that seemed to be reserved just for him pretty on your glossed lips.

“Hey Argyle,” breathy and smitten, your own cheeks heat up when the corner of his mouth turns up, lopsided just how you like.

“Hey - wow, you look - wow - yeah you look gorgeful,” stumbling over his words, Jonathan looks exasperated with his best friend already, “I mean gorgeous, err — um beautiful.”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows in a greeting at you before taking a sip from his red solo cup, doing his best to ignore the stuttering mess next to him as he greets Eddie with their dude shake.

Argyle catches Eddie’s passive stare and it only seems to make him more nervous.

“Hey man, you look, you look uhh great too!” stammering a little less, his voice raises a few octaves borderline yelling just like in the living room earlier.

“Careful Argyle, keep smooth talking me like this and I’m gonna think you want me and not my friend here,” Eddie winks with a dimpled grin spread wide across his face before he scopes out the scene of the party. Zeroing in on a home base on the couch in the living room that sat miraculously unoccupied.

“Think I’m gonna post up, you know what they say ‘When in Rome’,” he gestures with his head to the spot to Jonathan, “Wanna join? I got a joint with our name on it.”

“Isn’t Rick gonna get pissed at you for selling at his house?” finally tearing your eyes away from Argyle who’s openly gaping at Eddie, you look up at your best friend.

“Pffft, please. It’s not like he’s not going to see the fruits of my labor, it’s fine, trust me. He’s probably already plastered and passed out on his waterbed anyway,” shrugging off your concern he looks at Jonathan expectantly.

“You good with that buddy?” clapping a hand on his friend's back, Argyle’s brown eyes dart back and forth between you and Eddie, repeating the words “my friend” like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Yeah, he’ll protect me from all the creeps won’t you,” grabbing his hand, the heat of his palm is an instant comfort against yours. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you look up at him from under your lashes. His cheeks turn the color of cherry blossoms when he finally meets your stare, squeezing your hand gently, he looks back at the two boys finding his nerve.

“Yeah I’ll protect this pretty little princess with my life man,” saluting your best friend, Eddie raises his eyebrows seemingly unimpressed before turning back to Jonathan.

“Ready?” ignoring Argyle’s pledge you snort at Eddie’s casual bitchiness.

“Yeah, let's go. Look, be cool man, don’t take anything anyone here offers you, got it? I’m not taking care of you again like that time you ate the mushrooms you found in the woods,” Jonathan looks a lot like the guy you’d always known talking to his friend like he would his little brother with a finger pointed in Argyle’s face.

“There'll be no mushroom consumption on my watch, Byers,” mocking Argyle’s salute, your antics earn an eye roll from Eddie knowing damn well if the offer was given to both of you, you’d fold.

“Alright! You kiddos, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Eddie grabs Jonathan by the shoulders aggressive enough to have his beer slosh over the lid and you were almost positive that annoyed scowl would be stuck on his face all night.

Watching them till they both got lost in the crowd of bodies, you and Argyle finally dare to face each other. The air between you thickening now that you were alone, and he was still very much holding your hand.

“Do-“

“How-“

It was like a cheap rom com the way you both went to talk at the same time, cheeks heating up as you both look at the ground, a new shyness taking over. Squeezing his hand you encourage him.

“You first,” soft and sweet, you swear you his pupils dilate from the way you look at him.

Argyle gets the same expression on his face Eddie does when he’s forced to talk to Chrissy when she comes to buy weed for her friends. He was silently hyping himself up. Straightening his shoulders he clears his throat before the smile that made your stomach do flips graces his kissable lips.

“Can I get the pretty lady a beveregino?”

A stumbling drunk someone knocks into you before you have a chance to give an answer. Flying into his chest he lets go of your hand to grab at your hips, helping you regain your balance. The slurred apology falls on deaf ears when you and Argyle lock eyes from this close, chest to chest his fingers dig into you just enough to notice.

“I’m not much of a drinker, more of a stoner. Wanna go by the lake? I stole a joint from Eddie before we left,” grinning with pride at your sticky fingers, his lips twitch up, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Woman after my own heart, hell yeah! Let's blow this popsicle stand,” turning you around he keeps his hands on your hips, lips coming close to your ear from behind, “Lead the way my weed smoking goddess”

Goosebumps rise, dancing across your skin at the feeling of his warm breath fanning down your neck as you lead him through the crowd. His hands never leave their spot from your hips, their grip tightening as you get closer to the sliding glass door that takes you out to Rick’s backyard.

Stepping onto the wooden deck he finally lets you go, there’s just a few stragglers outside smoking cigarettes too lost in their own conversation to notice the two of you. The air has lost most of its humidity, leaving the night in a post heatwave glow. The stars gleam bright next to the moon in the clear night sky, reflecting off the water it lights your way as you walk hand in hand down to the lake. Stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye the whole way down, you catch him doing the same thing, both of you giggling every time your eyes meet.

Finding a place nestled next to Rick’s boat house, you were far enough from the party for the loud music and constant chattering to seem like a faint noise in the background. The laps of the water hitting the shore take center stage as you curl your legs under your thighs when you sit like the princess he claimed you to be on the plush grass.

His knee brushes yours when he plops down Indian style next to you, his curious eyes follow yours as you look down at your exposed cleavage. Digging into your bra you pull a perfectly rolled joint with a smug smirk on your face, twirling it around in your dainty fingers he can’t help but throw his head back and laugh.

“I thought chicks only did that in movies, that’s some secret spy shit,.” the smile he gives you makes you want to squirm, “Crafty and beautiful.”

Not used to the kind of confidence he was giving you alone like this, you bite your lip to try and hide your smile as you tuck your hair behind your ears.

“Please, Eddie’s just oblivious,” scoffing, your face feels like the hottest part of the day from words that were sweeter than the ice cream cone you had earlier at Benny’s.

“I think it’s a little bit of both,” winking as he leans back, eyes watching you the way every woman dreams of as you search for a lighter.

“I think Eddie still has the lighter,” the cute pout that pulls at your bottom lip has his fingers twitching.

Holding up his index finger he starts digging through his multicolored jogger pockets.

“No need to worry, I’ve got us covered beautiful,” pulling out a bright yellow Surfer Boy Pizza one, he hands it to you with a lazy lopsided grin.

“My hero,” leaning forward as you snatch it, you dare to press a chaste kiss on his cheek as a token of your gratitude.

His eyes go wide enough to see the whites behind them and that perfect kind of smile that pushes against his cheeks is almost brighter than the moon hanging in the sky.

Scooting closer when you flick the lighter, the breeze that washes over the lake has other plans when it keeps snuffing the flame out. After the third failed attempt Argyle scoots closer, shoulders and thighs touching his big hands cover yours as a shield.

“Thank you,” daring to look at him from this close, his eyes meet yours almost instantly, catching the way they flutter down to your lips and how he has to wet his own after.

Tearing your gaze away, you focus on lighting the joint, the flame catching almost instantly with his help. Twirling it around so it burns even, he lets his hands fall at the same time as you. The palm of yours landing on the top of his, your eyes meeting again as you hollow out your cheeks taking the first hit. He just smirks, not moving an inch, the heat of his body is warm against your skin from this close.

The silence is comfortable as the two of you pass the joint back and forth for a while, fingers brushing purposefully with every hand off. Leaning completely against each other with pinkies hooked between you, he’s the one that breaks the silence when you hit the middle of the joint.

“So have you lived here your whole life?” plucking at the grass next to him he looks up at you with soft eyes as you finish filling your lungs.

“Yep, pretty much. My parents lived in Indianapolis till I was three then moved here for a quieter life,” snorting at the cliche of it, you pass him the joint, “What about you? Always been in California?”

“Yeah, it’s just me and my mom. She’s like the best ever though, so, you know I don’t really need anyone else but her,” taking a big hit of the joint so he didn’t have to elaborate further, you changed the subject.

“Would you ever leave? Like, move somewhere else?” it’s your turn to pick at the grass, the nerves of getting to know a boy getting the best of you.

“What? Like here?” smirking at you when he hands you the joint, your cheeks heat up at what he’s implying.

“No! Don’t move to Hawkins, there’s nothing here,” smiling around the end of the joint you take a hit to distract yourself from his playful stare.

“I don’t know, it seems pretty cool to me so far,” you don’t miss the way his pinky squeezes yours after the sentence leaves his mouth, eyes looking at you pointedly daring you to catch on.

“You wouldn’t survive the winters, I’m sure of it,” looking at him from under the hood of your lashes, your teeth tug at your bottom lip barely hiding your smile when you hand him back the joint.

“What about you? Do you wanna move?” his eyes glaze over when he takes his hit starting to reach the end of it, your bodies buzzing with the high and the excitement of a new crush.

“More than anything, Community College is just really cheap out here and I don’t know what I want to do yet, so the plan is to move anywhere that's not here after I figure that out,” sighing at the thought of finally leaving Hawkins you meet his gaze when you feel the chocolate of his eyes on you.

“I’m going to Community College too! And I also don’t know what I’m doing! Look at us two peas in a pod man,” he’s loud with excitement sending you into a fit of giggles and you lean even deeper into his side as he hands you the joint.

“Just need Eddie hurry it up, he finally graduated but he still has to take two summer school classes. We’re supposed to do this college thing together,” he catches the small frustrated pout you try to hide.

It’s quiet for a minute, the elephant in the room coming back as the sound of the water and crickets fill your ears.

“So you and Eddie like never..?” not bold enough to meet your side eye after the question leaves his mouth, you smirk as you take another rip. Exhaling slowly before handing it back to him.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids so naturally, we tried kissing once. It happened the summer before Junior year,” sticking your tongue out like there was a bad taste in your mouth, the memory makes you shudder, “Too weird, we’re too close.”

Argyle just nods trying to keep his poker face as he takes a hit when he hears that Eddie has actually kissed you before, but you catch on quick.

“Besides, despite the metal appearance,” leaning closer like you were about to indulge in a secret you whisper, “He likes cheerleaders.”

Earning a snort from him the smoke of his inhale flows freely out his nose and mouth as he chuckles at your antics.

“And I like pizza delivery boys, especially cute ones from California,” the weed settles enough to make you feel bold and you watch him freeze at your flirty words.

He slowly meets your gaze, bloodshot eyes scanning your face for any trace of humor but he’s only met with the hungry look in yours staring at his lips, and he swears your brows furrow with want when your tongue glides across wetting your bottom lip.

“Yeah?” his voice cracks when he puts out the remainder of the joint into the ground, angling his body more towards yours.

Nodding, you squeeze your hooked pinky with his silently begging him to give you what you want.

Taking your cue, he leans forward close enough for your noses to touch, the hesitation to fully commit has your lips brushing feather light against his. You can taste the last of the joint as you breath each other in, grabbing a fist full of his shirt when you’ve finally had enough, you close the gap with a satisfied hum when they mold instantly with yours.

It feels like the Fourth of July behind your closed lids, still a month away but the fireworks you swear you feel blur your vision when you lose yourself in him. Begging for more when your tongue swipes across his bottom lip, he groans low when he gives you everything you want. Tongues and teeth clash together desperate like years of pining finally come to an end despite it being less than a day, maybe it was the weed or maybe it was him, but it feels like it’s everything you want and more.

The initial intensity dwindles as you start to move lazy and slow against each other. Taking his time, he savors every giggle and gasp he pulls from you. Your hands find their way into his long hair, it’s even softer than you imagined when your fingers run through it. His hat falls off when you give it a gentle tug at the base of his neck.

Working up enough courage to pull you on his lap, he swallows your moan when you feel the bulge in his pants. The lace panties you wore just for him and the thin material of his joggers is the only thing between you and what’s underneath. Your skirt sits bunched up at your hips with his hands and you can’t help it when you rock against him, feeling every inch of him against your clit.

Pulling you down closer, his lips take a break from yours to make their way over your jaw and down the curve of your neck. Nipping and sucking against all the sweet spots that sit nestled just behind your ear. A high pitched whine escapes you when he applies just the right amount of pressure with his teeth, smiling against your skin, his nose nudges against your earlobe, a soft “Yeah?” sending your nerves down your spine.

His hands make their way to your thighs squeezing at the soft fat before his fingertips drag their way across the expanse of them finding their new home at the curve of your ass. Toying with the sides of your underwear you collect his lips again with your fingers holding onto his chin.

Rocking with a little more force when your tongues meet again, his hands grip you harder making you bite his lip in response.

“You- you can touch me,” your voice is quiet when you dare to say the words out loud, his lips stopping abruptly against yours.

“A-are you sure?” his eyes look black even in the moonlight when they meet yours from over the bridge of your nose.

Nodding against him, you encourage his hand as your lips meet his again, pulling your panties to the side he groans loud into your mouth when he’s met with your slick folds coating his fingertips.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re real,” staring up at you, he’s mesmerized at the way you shudder when the pads of his long fingers rub circles on your clit.

Mewling when he lets the tip of his middle finger poke at your entrance, you dig your nails into his broad shoulders when he finally pushes one in, your velvet walls gripping him hard, pulling him deeper. His hips jut up at the sensation only adding to how good it all feels.

“G- god Argyle don’t - don’t stop please,” your demand comes out as a whine when he adds a second finger, curving them slightly brushing that spongy spot inside of you.

“I like that, I like when you say my name like that,” the pad of his thumb meets your bundle of nerves as you start to shamelessly ride his hand, the need to cum taking over all the bashfulness from before.

“Yeah?”

Nodding against the side of your face he nips at your jaw before taking your lips, the strokes of his fingers becoming more deliberate.

He manages to say, “Do it again” between kisses as he curves his fingers once more, getting him exactly what he asked for.

Kisses turn sloppy as you get closer to your release, your hands leave their place on his shoulders to dig at the roots at the nape of his neck, tugging the way that earned you a moan the last time.

He increases the speed of his fingers, the sound of how wet you are is loud enough to be embarrassing but it only makes him twitch inside his pants as he thrusts up, your mouth falling open against his.

“I’m gonna - god - I’m gonna cum,” pulling his hair hard enough it should hurt, he only pushes himself deeper in response, the new intensity sending you over the edge.

“Yeah? Good, come on let me feel it,” his voice is hardly recognizable the moment those words come out of your mouth. Deep and thick with want, it has your thighs shaking as you drench his fingers, face buried in the crook of his neck you let your orgasm wash over you like a storm.

“Jesus, you look like an angel right now,” his voice comes out like a whisper, almost like he’s saying it to himself.

His hips stop their movements as his fingers slow their pace when he feels your body start to calm down, pulling them out despite the fight of your walls they keep fluttering around nothing from the aftershock.

Your gasp is quiet against his skin when you don’t feel so full anymore. You’re too stoned and too tired to open your eyes when you hear the sound of him sucking his fingers clean.

“You’re sweeter than fucking pineapple, I swear,” chuckling at his own revelation your lips tug up into a smirk finally having the strength to meet his gaze.

“You like pineapple?” you had no idea the question would elicit such a strong response until his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Do I like pineapple? Do I like -“ Jonathan’s panicked voice rings out over the lake interrupting the out of body experience Argyle was about to have about fruit.

“Come on guys, Rick kicked Eddie out for selling at his party!”

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