♫ : rise, my fellow eddie fuckers. he’s been on my mind for days now, I’m in shambles.
I wrote this at 1am so if you see any typos no you don’t / j thank you to my wonderful fellow aqua queen daria @tiddieluvr for beta reading this ilysm
♫ : rise, my fellow eddie fuckers. he’s been on my mind for days now, I’m in shambles.
I wrote this at 1am so if you see any typos no you don’t / j thank you to my wonderful fellow aqua queen daria @tiddieluvr for beta reading this ilysm
♫ : rise, my fellow eddie fuckers. he’s been on my mind for days now, I’m in shambles.
I wrote this at 1am so if you see any typos no you don’t / j thank you to my wonderful fellow aqua queen daria @tiddieluvr for beta reading this ilysm
summary: After getting drunk with your best friend, Eddie, you find out he’s never been kissed before. You’re happy to help him in that area (and maybe others…)
warnings: SMUT, oral (male receiving), gagging, slight d/s dynamic, praise kink, establishment of a safe word, cum eating, friends to lovers (let me know if i missed anything)
Eddie had been your best friend since second grade. He had always been there for you, no matter what. Even when the two of you fought, he would always come over when you called him.
You would often spend a chunk of the day listening to Eddie bitch about Steve Harrington on your way to the video store. You knew he was just jealous of how Dustin adored Steve, the guy was practically a god to him.
But whenever you brought it up, he’d get completely defensive, going off about how he’s ‘not jealous, just worried that Dustin will fall victim to the disease that is popularity.’
Of course, if popularity was a disease- you don’t even know what you and Eddie were. You weren’t unpopular by any means, you were on good terms with the general school population, but you wouldn’t consider too many people your friend.
That pretty much caused your Friday nights to be spent alone with Eddie, but the two of you didn’t mind. You’d watch movies or have Eddie explain whatever plan he had for the next d&d campaign, you never really understood what was going on, but he always had you hooked on the story.
Tonight, it was your turn to pick, and you had decided on a game that has stood the test of time with sleepovers.
“No, no way I’m playing truth or dare.”
“Please! Come on, it’ll be fun!” You begged,
He shook his head, “Nope, can’t we do anything else?”
You stood your ground, “Hey, it’s my week to pick. And remember last week when you were half an hour late? You owe me a night of thruthing and daring.” You say, crossing your arms on your chest.
Eddie rolls his eyes, “Fine, truth or dares it is.”
after getting back from the upside-down, you’re left shaken up and dirty. and, after all of it, you cannot bring yourself to clean up alone.
warnings:SMUT (vaginal fingering, grinding, shower sex, light dirty talk) hurt/comfort, mentions of violence, death & gore, injuries, pet names (princess, sweetheart), kind of angsty
inclusivity warnings: reader is described as having hair long enough to shampoo and pull, as well as having breasts large enough to fully grab! (lmk if there’s anything else)
title is totally not inspired by leith ross
“Easy,” Eddie guides, ringed fingers curled around your waist as he helps you step into the light of the bathroom.
“Christ, Eddie,” You grunt, pulling yourself away from his grip, “I’m not thathurt.”
Summary:Billy has unfinished business with you after the incident Saturday night and he’s going to get what he wants, even if it’s in the school parking lot.
Summary: Billy spots you at a house party and his mind settles to have his way with you. You’re not making it home, so the guest bathroom will have to do.
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem Reader
Warning: a lot of cursing, NSFW, (heavy) choking, fingering (f recieving), dubcon, sex, sub/dom
Rating: M | This is smut, no one under 18! Minors, DNI!
Summary:You never imagined you would fall in love with Eddie Munson. It was out of the realm of possibility. But here you are. Kind of in love with a guy who’s not your boyfriend. | Ft. “I’m kind of in love with you,” requested by @thisisparadisemylove
Pairing:Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (college student!Reader)
Warnings:No spoilers for season 4 (other than Eddie’s existence), very light idiots to lovers, unprotected p in v.
Word Count: 7.4k (I don’t know how that happened either)
“Y’know,” Eddie began, voice startlingly loud as he broke the silence that had lasted significantly longer than you imagined it would, “I always pictured your room… different.”
When you shifted your attention from your own assignment to glance at him, dark edges stark against the soft colors of your childhood bedroom, you could clearly see the wonder written on his face. There was no malice in his comment - it was simply an observation, something he felt the need to breathe aloud in an effort to break the silence - and it made you laugh as you gave in to his distraction and tossed your pen onto the bed.
The corners of his mouth lifted in a pleased smile as he heard you shuffle to sit up, triumphant in the knowledge that he’d managed to break your concentration - and make you laugh, something he always seemed to be striving for - but he made no effort to glance at you as he continued studying the makeup of your bedroom.
Though this was far from the first time he’d stepped foot into your room, it was the first that he’d taken time to truly study his surroundings. Most nights, he stumbled through the dark to settle into your bed - or through the dark to leave your bed - and rarely ventured farther than between your sheets. In this moment, however, he seemed to revel in studying the pieces of your life.
Eddie’s eyes were wide, curious, as he glanced at the knick-knacks covering your dresser - the little objects friends and family picked out for you on trips or in moments of kindness, the books you’d left behind, the framed photos - but, as you studied him, you felt certain he would see a similar curiosity reflected in your eyes if he just spared you a glance.
There was something surreal about seeing Eddie Munson, the boy who’d remained at the periphery of your life throughout high school - always there, grinning when you caught his eye or cracking a joke to make you smile on the rare occasion he made it to any of your shared classes - but never quite fully enveloped into your routine, sat at the small desk in the corner of your bedroom. It was surreal to think that this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself there, that the scent of him was embedded in your sheets and that polaroids of his grinning face were tacked to your cork board.
More than that, it was surreal to think that Eddie Munson had managed to become one of the most important people in your life nearly overnight.
In the months following graduation, leading up to your departure from Hawkins, panic set in. In the pursuit of a way out of Hawkins - grades, extracurriculars, work experience - there was so much you feared you’d neglected to do. The goal had always been to survive high school, not really enjoy it, but that left you with a hollow feeling once the relief of managing that feat faded.
A small spark of anxiety nestled in your brain, made you fear that your college experience would be negatively impacted because of your reluctance to let yourself live, so you made a rash decision; you wanted to learn to really live, enjoy life, before you left Hawkins.
On a whim, you ended up at The Hideout after work - anxious to be around a crowd you’d never interacted with but curious. Seeing Eddie there was less of a surprise than it should’ve been and more of a relief than you ever imagined it would be. He was a familiar face, a comforting flicker of light in the dingy darkness of the building, and you gravitated toward him.
Watching as his confusion turned to glee - a look that quickly escalated to pride when you began to truly enjoy his band’s set - upon making eye contact with you made your heart race and your palms sweat. Seeing him in his element, truly enjoying himself and thrilled to be playing music (despite the less than enthused crowd of drunks), made you see him in a different light.
It should’ve been clear then that Eddie Munson was going to become important to you. It should’ve been clear - the moment that your breath caught in your throat upon seeing him after his set, hair damp and shirt clinging to his chest, the moment your heart began to race and your thoughts drifted to a place they’d never dared venture - that you were going to fall in love with him, head over heels with no hope of right yourself any time soon, but it was difficult to see beyond the glaring differences in that moment.
That first night, Eddie looked completely out of place in the pastel of your life. The black of his jeans and jacket, the silver of his rings, the roar of guitar as he drove you home - none of it seemed to fit into the little box you’d built for yourself. But after that night, Eddie became a permanent fixture in your life.
For three months, between graduation and moving to Indianapolis for school, you spent nearly every day together. After confessing that you were afraid you’d missed out - on what, you could never quite explain, but Eddie seemed to understand, regardless - he made it his mission to help you chase a life you’d always fantasied about leading.
There were moments of chaos - nights filled with laughter as he dragged you along, giggling and gasping, after getting caught making out at the lake by police; nights at The Hideout, dancing in your seat to music you never cared for before Eddie introduced it to you; early mornings sneaking into your house, limbs like jelly after spending a night in his bed, with swollen lips and a sated body. There were also moments of blissful peace - afternoons spent at his uncle’s trailer, listening intently as he taught you about Dungeons & Dragons; movie nights, face buried in the crook of his neck as you watched The Evil Dead.
Eddie helped you experience a life you’d always been curious about - sneaking out, staying up late, giggling as he let you smoke with him. But as you were heading off to college and he was staying behind to (finally) complete his stint at Hawkins High, the conversation that you so desperately wanted to have remained unspoken.
The label you so desperately wanted to give him - the title of boyfriend, the decision to be exclusive, the declaration of love - all went unsaid. There was a fear that things would change, that he would forget about you when you left, but the distance only seemed to bring you closer together.
And now, after months of allowing Eddie to chip away at the walls of your once sheltered life, he looked as if he’d belonged amongst the pieces of your life all along.
As he sat at your desk, you reveled in his presence. He looked beautiful - dark hair a frizzy mess, mussed from running his fingers through it as he attempted to focus on his essay, and bottom lip swollen from biting it in concentration - and you sometimes wondered how you’d managed to catch his eye. But that question mattered so little when he looked so at home in your space, with his jacket slung over the back of the chair and shoes kicked off near the door, that it made your heart ache.
Though you hadn’t said it yet - you sometimes wondered how much was appropriate to say, how vulnerable you could be with someone who wasn’t officially your boyfriend - you’d missed him more than anyone else. And, if the embrace he’d pulled you into the moment he landed on your doorstep was any indication, he’d missed you, too.
A call of your name, quiet - given his normal volume - but mildly concerned, tore you from your reverie. It was then that you realized you could feel the weight of Eddie’s gaze, comforting and warm - a look that made you feel as if you were the only person that mattered, the same look he gave you for years before you truly noticed - on your skin.
When you glanced at him, blinked away the train of thought that distracted you so, Eddie pulled a face in the hope of making you laugh. “Do I have something on my face?”
Despite the teasing lilt to his tone, the look on his face when he settled back into his seat - furrowed brows, parted lips, narrowed eyes - expressed his concern that you had yet to respond to his observation. He was the one who spaced out, not you, but before he could question it, you shook your head.
“I can’t help myself,” you teased, grinning as you met his eyes, “you’re just so damn cute, Munson.” The dusting of pink that coated his cheeks warmed you from the inside, made your heart skip a beat, and you swallowed a giggle as he tipped his chin to avert his eyes. “What’d you think my room was going to look like, anyway; Barbie’s Dream House?”
As you engaged in the conversation, Eddie grew more animated. He allowed a beat of silence to pass as he pretended to consider your question. “Yeah,” he confirmed, nodding solemnly - though you could see the grin threatening to appear as he tilted his head to study you. Another beat of silence passed as he glanced around he room, eyes narrowing as he took in the objects you’d left behind, before returning his full attention to you. “I was expecting way more pink, if I’m honest. And, I don’t know, ruffles? Maybe a Tom Cruise poster.”
Eddie grinned triumphantly at the sound of your laughter - a look so pleased that it made you want to forget the entire conversation and pull him into a kiss; a look that brightened his entire countenance and made your heart ache. He waited patiently for your giggles to subside, head tilted as he observed you, and laughed when you shook your head. “How many girls’ rooms have you been in, Eds?”
The pink dusting his cheeks grew a little darker, more noticeable in the soft lamplight, and you bit your lip to hide your grin as he laughed. “Just yours,” he answered, honest as always - unwilling to hide anything from you, now that you’d let him into your life. “Why would I want to be in another girl’s room when I can be in yours?” When you blinked, heart pounding at his revelation, he simply shrugged as if that was the most obvious answer he could’ve given. “Anyway, that’s just what the golden girl’s room always looks like in movies. All neat and ruffly and pink.”
At Eddie’s revelation, the noise in your brain grew deafening. The implication that Eddie, like you, had been treating your relationship as exclusive, even without the label; the knowledge that he’d taken the time to consider what your room might look like, based on movies he’d seen and the reputation you held; the admission that, despite his experience with girls before you, your room was the first he’d snuck into - every thought rattled in your brain and made it difficult to focus on one singular train of thought.
Realistically, you knew that Eddie shared your feelings - the way he looked at you, the way he gravitated toward you, the compliments he paid you, the time you spent together - and that every feeling you wanted to share would be validated. Still, there was an unfounded fear that Eddie - sweet, beautiful Eddie who you’d fallen hopelessly in love with - didn’t share the feelings you’d been nursing for nearly a year. There was a glimmer of fear - one you assumed was standard for a first love - that you would ruin the bliss you’d been enjoying if you shared your feelings and that kept you from voicing anything of substance aloud.
Instead, you shook your head and reached for your pen. “Yeah, well, I’m not a golden girl in a movie,” you reminded him. The declaration was soft, not quite as teasing as you’d intended, but Eddie clearly heard it as he watched you settle back amongst the pillows on your bed. From the corner of your eye, you could see the frown tug at the corners of his mouth, confused by the sudden shift in your mood, but before he could ask what prompted it, you shook your head. “You need to focus.” The directive was as light as you could manage - not an order but far from the playful prompt you gave the moment he arrived with his backpack in hand - but still felt harsh as you continued, “Finish your essay and you’re free to do whatever you want for the rest of spring break.”
Eddie allowed your statement to linger in the air, gave you both a moment to ruminate on it - you to cringe at how you continued to get in your own way, Eddie to frown at what he could’ve possibly said - before he nodded. A small part of you awaited a joke, something to ease the sudden tension, but Eddie seemed uncertain as to how he should proceed so you nearly held your breath as you waited for his response.
“Yeah,” he finally agreed, voice as quiet as you’d ever heard it - confusion evident in the way he turned his eyes away from you. His attention fell to the cassette player in the corner, surrounded by tapes and records - most of which he’d introduced you to. “Mind if I put on some music? I work better when I can’t hear myself think.”
Despite the sudden heaviness you felt in your limbs - the fear that you’d made an awkward moment worse by letting yourself get in your head - you shook your head. “Go for it.” When he returned his attention to you, soft brown eyes studying your face, you gave him what you hoped passed for a real smile as you gestured to the small basket on the corner of the dresser. “Most of the good tapes are in there, they’re the ones I took to school with me.”
As tempted as you were to return to the assignment spread across the sheets in an effort to distract yourself, you allowed your focus to remain on Eddie as he stood. Though you were reticent to admit it, you missed everything about him.
The sight of him stretching, arms lifted above his head and head tilted back to expose his neck, captivated you. The Metallica shirt he wore lifted slightly, black material giving way to a sliver of skin just above the waist of his jeans, and it instantly sent a jolt of heat through your body. That particular spot was free of ink - for the time being - but rarely free of color. It was the same spot you painted purple with your mouth, teeth nipping at the delicate skin, each time you were given the opportunity to explore his body and the sight of it had your breath catching in your throat.
Eddie knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his movement caught your attention and you could see that a glimmer of the light in his eyes had returned. There was a mischief glittering there, deep brown bright with amusement, as you lifted your head to meet his gaze. When you made eye contact, he lifted the corner of his shirt quickly - flashed the few small splotches of ink etched into his torso - and winked exaggeratedly.
There was a distinct lack of your touch on his skin - a lack of red and purple decorating his chest, his hipbone, his neck - but you knew that would change before he left. When you flustered, desperate to keep yourself together, Eddie smirked and moved to cross the room.
“It’s alright,” he assured you. There was an exaggerated air of confidence to the reassurance, a teasing lilt to his words as he ran his fingers along the edge of your dresser, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing as he waited for you to glance at him from beneath your lashes. He moved slowly, purposefully, and brightened when he seemed to realize that your mood - in this case - was eased by his actions.
As you took a moment to soak in his appearance - arms slightly more toned than the last time you saw him, hair a little longer, eyes a little brighter - Eddie preened under your scrutinization. Each time he realized what an effect he had on you, each time he realized you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, his chest and shoulders straightened with a sort of pride that made you want to reach out and pull him into a kiss.
With a smirk, Eddie swept a hand down his body - fingers teasingly grazing his stomach, catching on the leather of his belt. “Who wouldn’t miss all of this?”
The question was in no way serious and you were grateful for the moment of levity as you launched a pillow in his direction. “Yeah, yeah.” The dismissal came out in a huff, laughter badly hidden, and you knew that Eddie could see through the roll of your eyes. He knew the effect he had on you and reveled in it as he turned to shuffle through the tapes. “Just pick something and get back to work. You’re passing Ms. O’Donnell’s class and graduating this year whether you like it or not.”
An indignant huff escaped his mouth as he nodded, almost distractedly, and shuffled through the cases. “Believe me,” he sighed, “I’d like to graduate.” There was an instant desire to assure him that he would - to remind him of how hard he’d been working to finish the year and finally, finally leave Hawkins High - but he corrected himself before you got the chance. “I’m going to graduate,” he declared, certain of the fact. “With your help on this essay, I’ll pass this fucking class and snatch that diploma. Eighty-six, baby.”
There was little doubt that he would finally manage - he’d admitted, quietly, that there was nothing left for him in Hawkins - to walk across the stage. You had full confidence in him, a fact that he was aware of, so you nodded as you reached for your book once more. “Eighty-six,” you agreed easily, “totally your year, Eds.”
The conversation tapered off then, you immersing yourself in the book you’d been assigned for English and Eddie busying himself with digging through the contents of the basket. The quiet clatter of plastic tape cases colliding filled the room, followed by the occasional hum as he dug through the contents - noises of approval, for the most part - before a quiet laugh drew your attention.
Eddie paused his shuffling and turned to spare you a glance over his shoulder. When you met his eyes, he smiled. “These are the tapes you took with you?” He gestured to the basket, filled to the brim with the tapes you listened to most, and smirked when you nodded. At your confirmation, he hummed - pleased - before turning back to the basket. “Most of them are ones I gave you,” he observed. Though he no longer faced you, you could see the pleased look on his face through the mirror.
Some small part of you wanted to remind him that, before you met, the only music you really listened to was whatever played on the radio. He’d expanded your horizons in more ways than one - helped you learn about life and good music - but that reminder went unspoken as the look on his face shifted.
A grin, honest and bright, lit his face as he lifted a tape with a hand-drawn label. “You’re not sick of this one yet?”
In his hand, he held the first mix-tape he’d made for you - given to you a few weeks before you were due to leave Hawkins, just after you’d spent the night in his bed, smoking and listening to his array of music. The tape was full of music you never would’ve given a chance had Eddie not been the one to introduce it but it had become one you played so often your roommate could recite the track-listing by heart.
The cover was something Eddie drew himself - a silly little illustration of the characters you’d created together for a campaign you never got a chance to play - and the track-listing was a thoughtful mixture of artists he loved and songs he admitted reminded him of you.
“Not even close.” The fact that he’d even bothered to ask was ridiculous - as if you could grow tired of something he made so carefully - and you scoffed as you moved to sit cross-legged in the middle of your bed. “This really cool guy that I’m kind of in love with made it for me. I’m gonna keep playing it until it falls apart. Then, maybe he’ll make me a new one to wear out.”
Eddie grinned as he popped the case open and turned back to the tape player. “Who says I haven’t already made you a new one? You’ll get it before you leave. I just needed a reason to invite you over.” Though you knew that was a lie - Eddie never needed a reason to invite you over, especially when you both knew that it would end in you lying in his bed - you didn’t bother calling him on it. Instead, you watched with a fond smile as he turned back to the desk.
He made it only a few steps, hummed only the first few seconds of Ozzy’s Now You See It, before the bright grin on his face shifted into an emotion you’d never seen from him. Eddie paused, body going stiff at the foot of your bed, before turning to you with wide eyes and parted lips. “Wait. What’d you just say?”
With a confused frown, you watched him lift himself onto the bed to settle a few inches from you. As he searched your face, brows furrowed, you racked your brain. “I just said that the tape was made by this cool guy that I’m in… Oh.” The declaration you’d been swallowing for months, words pressed so tight to your chest during each phone call and visit, escaped so easily - without any notice - but Eddie caught it.
It was no surprise that he’d catch the slip - he seemed to know you better than anyone, seemed capable of reading you so easily - but the look on his face did manage to catch you by surprise. He looked awed, as if he couldn’t believe you might love him, and thrilled - overjoyed by the possibility. Wide eyes remained glued to your face, eagerly searching for any hint of deception, as he requested, “Say it again.”
“I, uh, I’m… I think I’m in love with you, Eddie.” The admission was quiet, a near whisper, but it felt as if you’d shouted it. When you glanced at Eddie from beneath your lashes, eyes searching his for any indication as to how he felt, the music faded into a persistent ringing in your ears. The beginning of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and you felt a bit of the weight on your chest begin to disappear. “I know that we’re not, like, official or whatever and that I’m not your girlfriend, but -“
Before the words fully escaped, Eddie surged forward and reached out to cup your cheek. “You are my girlfriend,” he exclaimed, voice clearly louder than he intended as he frowned. “Aren’t you? I mean, that’s what I’ve been calling you this whole time.” He searched your face, unsure of whether you meant this to be a joke or if he’d misread your entire relationship. “Was I… Should I have asked? ‘Cause I’m definitely in love with you.”
The revelation that Eddie considered you his girlfriend - that he referred to you as such, that he had always thought of you as such - and that he loved you hit you square in the chest. It simultaneously lifted the weight off your shoulders and sent your heart rate skyrocketing. There was a moment of immense relief as you realized your anxiety had been for naught before you dissolved into a fit of laughter.
“I’m such an idiot.” Despite the hold Eddie had on you, ringed fingers pressing into the heated skin of your cheeks, you attempted to glance away from him as you lamented the amount of time you’d wasted.
Laughter rumbled in Eddie’s chest as he leaned forward, tilting his head to get a better look at you. “This would be really embarrassing if you’re weren’t so cute,” he teased, grinning brightly as he shook his head. When you opened your mouth to reply, retort on the tip of your tongue, Eddie smirked and leaned in to press his mouth to your neck.
“Eddie!” The hum of his acknowledgement rumbled in his chest, vibrated against the column of your throat, as he pressed a kiss to the delicate skin just beneath your ear. You could feel the curve of his mouth - lips turned up in a smirk - when you giggled at the feeling of his hair tickling your neck. “You need to finish your essay.” There was no real admonishment, no desire for him to get back to work, and you both knew that.
Another hum of acknowledgment, this one followed by a sharp nip to the corner of your jaw, sounded as he nudged you back. He swept a hand to the side, easily knocking the books from your bed, as he settled above you. “I can finish that later,” he declared, grinning as he pulled away just enough to see you settled amongst the pillows. “What I need to do,” he began, eyes darkening as he gave you a once over, always eager to witness the dishevelment he’d caused, “is show my girlfriend how much I love her.”
The air in your room began to feel stifling - heavy with the scent of smoke, leather, and Eddie’s shampoo - but that mattered so little when Eddie hovered above you, eyeing you as if you were the only thing that mattered. The look in his eyes, so focused on you, was one you’d seen a thousand times before. It was the way he’d looked at you from the very beginning and suddenly, you could see it for what it truly was.
“You love me.” The declaration was breathless, whispered into the room and lost to the Metallica song crackling through your speakers, but he heard it clearly.
Instead of offering a reply, confirming what you both knew to be the truth once more, Eddie surged forward. His dark eyes glittered with a warmth that bled into your very bloodstream - the cool bite of his rings against your heated waist paled in comparison to the flames you felt lapping at your skin - and you nearly mourned the loss of eye contact as he pressed his lips to yours. He tasted of cigarette smoke and mint - gum he’d used to hide the taste you so often teased him for - and it was quickly becoming a combination you associated with home.
Eddie’s body enveloped yours, the weight of him a welcome comfort you swore you would never tire of. As the unwarranted anxiety began to fade, blistering arousal quickly took its place. The press of his lips to yours, the sting of his fingers digging into your skin, erased everything from your mind; in that moment, the only thing that existed was him.
Though you were used to frantic moments stolen in the dark - fingers fumbling in the dim light of his bedroom to unbuckle his belt, lips bumping earlobes or chins as you attempted to find one another in the dark of his van, jewelry tangling in clothes or hair as you tried to keep quiet in your bedroom - this was what you craved. There was an eagerness to his actions, a desire to provide you with a physical representation of the love he’d just expressed, and you had no desire to stop him.
As his lips moved with yours, tongue and teeth clashing in a kiss that lacked grace but overwhelmed you with passion, his hands drifted down your sides. Sure fingers slipped beneath the cotton of your t-shirt, bunching the fabric just beneath your breasts as calloused fingers raked across your skin.
“Eddie,” you whined, breathless as he pulled away from the kiss to nose at your jaw, “touch me. Please.”
The smirk curling his lips made your chest tighten and sent a rush of heat to your aching core as he shifted to study your face. “So needy,” he teased. “I’m trying to show my girlfriend just how much I love her and all she wants is to rush me.” He tutted, eyes narrowing playfully as he leaned in to ghost his lips over yours. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”
Eddie reveled in the sight of you beneath him - always had, as evidenced by the Polaroids he’d taken of you in the moment, tucked away in a box in his room - and took a moment to study you. As his eyes roved your skin, you took the opportunity to return the favor.
His hair was mussed from your hands, lips swollen from the kisses he’d planted across your skin, and cheeks flushed a soft pink. The Metallica t-shirt he wore rode up, exposing the skin of his waist, and you could clearly see the evidence of his arousal tenting his ripped jeans. You were enamored with him, in awe of his beauty, and made no effort to hide the fact.
“You’re so pretty, Eds,” you whispered, music nearly drowning out your compliment as you lifted your hand to trace the line of his jaw. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, hidden as he swallowed harshly, and a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I’m so in love with you.”
A flash of something softer, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him, crossed his face before it was quickly smothered by a teasing smirk. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, sweetheart.” With a wink, he shifted to his knees and reached for the collar of his shirt.
The fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt fell to the ground with a soft thud, tossed into a pile to be forgotten until the early hours of the morning, before his hands fell back to your hips. As you studied the ink decorating his chest, soft fingers traced the width of your ribcage.
“You ever thought about getting a tattoo?” The answer was simple - not until you’d started dating him - but the words remained stuck in your throat as calloused fingers ghosted along the heated skin just beneath your breasts. Instead of responding, you shook your head and focused on keeping your breathing even as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. “Hm. Maybe that’s a good thing,” he mused, eyes shining with mirth as he reached for the bunched hem of your t-shirt. “You’re already so fucking gorgeous, I don’t think I could handle you getting any hotter.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you returned, breathless as you sat up to help in the removal of your shirt. As Eddie laughed, your lips curved into a mischievous smile when you reached out to trace the tattoo just below his collarbone. “I always thought you were cute but the tattoos definitelyhelped.”
His laughter echoed through the room, bounced off the walls in tandem with Joan Jett’s voice, and settled low in the pit of your stomach as his hands fell to the button on your shorts. “Everyone thinks I’m the bad influence,” he hummed, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized you, “but I think it’s you. Getting me in your bed, flattering me.” He tutted, the sound a playful taunt, and shook his head teasingly. “You’re downright ruining me, baby.” As he began to tug at the material, ready to guide it down your thighs, he smirked. “Maybe I should return the favor.”
The drag of his fingers over the delicate skin of your inner thighs was deliberate, teasing. He traced the spots his mouth so often attached to, pressed his fingers into the soft skin and watched - fascinated, dark eyes captivated as your lips parted in a soft whine - and inhaled sharply when his eyes dipped to discover the wet patch darkening your panties.
“Already so desperate for me,” he hummed, pleased at the sight of you beginning to unravel. “I’ve missed this,” he admitted, voice dipping lower as he trailed his fingers over the cotton hiding your aching cunt from his hungry eyes. “Missed you, sweetheart.” With a wicked grin, he slipped his hands beneath the band of your panties and tugged them down your thighs, tossed into the pile at the foot of your bed. “And I don’t even need to ask if you’ve missed me. You’ve been waiting for this since I walked in the door. Haven’t you?”
A soft gasp fell from your parted lips as Eddie’s fingers dipped between your spread thighs. He traced your slick folds, eagerly gathering the arousal pooled there, and waited patiently for your answer. “Yeah,” you admitted easily, voice pitching higher as he pressed his thumb to your aching clit. “Please, Eds. Missed you, missed this. Touch me, please.”
His lips curled into an amused smile as his fingers ghosted along your slit. “I am touching you.” He dragged his thumb across the sensitive bundle of nerves in a slow drag as his eyes flickered to yours. “Is this not enough?” When you shook your head, Eddie tilted his and dragged his tongue along his bottom lip to wet it.
“Words, princess,” he encouraged, fingers dipping to press into your entrance. The cool metal of his rings drew a sharp gasp they bumped your heated skin and Eddie smirked at the arch of your back when you shifted your hips to gain friction. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Can’t leave my girlfriend hanging.”
The soft demand heated your skin, made your blood boil and the ball of fire settled in the pit of your stomach burn hotter, as you met his eyes. There was a sort of amusement there - he’d spent months encouraging you to ask for what you wanted, cooing over the way you averted your eyes or mumbled requests into the crook of his neck - as well as a burning desire to give in to your requests.
He would give you the world, all you needed to do was ask.
“I want…” His eyes fell to your mouth, watched intently as your tongue darted out to wet your lips, before they flickered up to meet yours. He nodded encouragingly, almost imperceptibly, and huffed a quiet laugh when you asserted, “I want your mouth, please.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” With a wink, he surged forward to press a searing kiss to your mouth before shifting down on the bed.
Eddie was eager. When he slipped between your spread thighs, large hands gripping the supple flesh to hold you open for him, he surged forward with no hesitation. He nosed at the juncture of your thigh, pressed a blistering kiss to the top of your mound, before he licked into you with reckless abandon. There were no tentative flicks of his tongue, no bored swipes that indicated he was acting out of some kind of obligation; instead, he swiped the flat of his tongue through your folds and lapped at you like a man starved.
Large fingers, warm and calloused from years of playing guitar, pressed to your aching clit as dark eyes flickered up to meet yours. And even with his mouth otherwise occupied, Eddie couldn’t seem to find it in himself to remain quiet for more than a few moments.
Words failed him - his tongue was busy lapping at the slick dripping between your thighs - but when your fingers tangled in his hair, he groaned openly, desperately, and continued to make little sounds of pleasure as he pressed his face impossibly closer. There had always been a charming eagerness to his desire, a willingness to give his entire self in pursuit of your pleasure, and the realization that it was a manifestation of his love had your stomach tightening, flames of unfettered arousal licking at your sweat slick skin, as you tugged at his hair once more.
With no reason to hide the bliss Eddie made you feel, you allowed the soft noises he loved so dearly to echo through into the room. Cries of his name, whimpers and whines as his lips wrapped around the little bundle of nerves or his fingers pressed deeper and deeper, joined the thump of Black Sabbath’s bass - blended with the deep moans Eddie released with each tug of your fingers in his hair, the wet sounds of his mouth working at your aching cunt - and rang in your ears as your vision began to white at the edges.
“Come on,” he urged, voice rough as he glanced at you from between your thighs. “Come for me. Want to make you feel good, baby.”
The combination of his voice - sounding just as wrecked as you felt, despite the fact you had yet to touch him - and the insistent press of his fingers, the latch of his lips to your aching clit had you barreling over the edge with a sharp cry of his name. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugged at the deceptively soft locks, and arched forward in an effort to hold yourself together as fire consumed your body.
Eddie watched, dark eyes trained on your face as your back arched and chest heaved, with a look so ravenous it made your heart skip. He continued working you through the release, hands and mouth steady, and only slipped away when you used the grip on his hair to shove him away.
As he sat up, he dropped his hand to your thigh, slick fingers pressing into your heated skin as he tugged you close. He nudged your shoulder, encouraged you to lie back, and chased your mouth with his own as he did so. His lips pressed to yours in a heated kiss, stealing the air from your lungs as he slotted himself between your parted thighs, and you tugged at his hair once more.
“Please,” you begged, breathless words muffled against his mouth. “Fuck me, Eds. Wanna feel you. Wanna make you feel good, too.”
Eagerly, as his mouth moved against yours - a messy clash of lips and tongue and teeth - you dropped your hands to his belt and began to tug. The impatience you expected of him, the desire to press himself into you after weeks apart, made him shimmy his jeans just low enough to free his cock from the confines.
He swallowed each noise you made - soft sounds of pleasure, eager whimpers as he wrapped your leg around his waist, a sharp gasp as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance - and pressed his body as close to yours as he could. “I love you,” he huffed, words muffled against your skin as he dropped his head to press against your shoulder. “Fuck, I love you.”
With that declaration, he pressed forward and filled you with a careful thrust of his hips. Your moan filled the room, a broken sound that saw Eddie press his fingers into the flesh of your thighs with enough pressure to bruise, as he filled you for the first time in weeks. Your breath caught in your throat as you dropped your hands to his arms for an anchor point.
Eddie moaned, the sound desperate and low in his throat, as he mouthed at the pulse point beneath your ear. “Shit,” he laughed, breath blowing sticky and warm over your heated skin, “you feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” He gave an experimental shift of his hips, pressed as deep as your body would allow, and swore as you clenched around him. “Christ, you’re perfect. An angel,” he babbled, lips ghosting over your sweat slick skin. “So good for me. How’d I get so lucky?”
As desperate as you were to counter his statement - to remind him that you were both lucky, that you were two halves of a whole who’d managed to find one another - the words died on the tip of your tongue with the first snap of his hips. Eddie mouthed at your skin, nipped at the hinge of your jaw and the column of your throat, as he dropped a hand between your thighs to rub rough circles over your clit.
“Take me so well,” he praised, voice low in your ear as he rutted into you. The weight of his body atop yours, the feeling of his hands gripping you and his mouth on your skin, made your heart hammer in your chest.
“Feel so good, Eds,” you moaned, desperate as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He followed easily as you tugged his face to yours - deep brown wide and glassy, lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him. “Treat me so well, babe.”
Eddie keened at your praise, sound wrecked as his pace began to falter. He dipped his head, pressed his mouth to yours in a blistering kiss, and you knew that he was close. The rhythm he’d built, the sharp snap of his hips and the rough drag of his thumb, combined with the sound of his voice in your ear pressed you closer and closer to the edge and you swore you heard Eddie huff a noise of relief when you came around him.
“Where?”
There was no need for him to elaborate. Instead, you wrapped your leg tighter around his waist and used your grip on his hair to hold him close. “Inside,” you requested, voice a wavering moan as you barreled toward overstimulation. “Please!”
With a string of swears, Eddie’s hips stuttered. The praise he spewed was mumbled, an incoherent babble lost to the ringing in your ears, but you clearly heard the moan that escaped as he finally met his end. He snapped his hips a few final times - desperate to finish and press his release as deep as he could - before pulling away and collapsing at your side with a laugh of disbelief.
In the silence, as you both fought to catch your breath, Metallica’s For Whom the Bell Tolls nearly eclipsed the soft sound of Eddie’s laughter.
“What?” You turned your head, eyes heavy but curious as you traced the line of his jaw.
He looked beautiful, hair a mess and body flushed. The few splotches of red - lines from your nails, nips from your teeth - that decorated his chest would darken and he would lament having to cover them but in that moment, nothing seemed to matter outside the bubble of your room.
Eddie shook his head, curls a tangled mess as they lay across the pillow. He turned to look at you, eyes shimmering with an easy amusement that reminded you just why you fell in love with him in the first place. “When I imagined what your bedroom looked like, I never thought I’d end up in your bed. I never even thought I’d see it,” he teased, lips curling into a soft smirk as his eyes fell to your mouth. “But, fuck, I’m glad I did.”
“Yeah?” Eddie scoffed, as if to say ‘of course,’ and grinned when you reached out to tangle your fingers with his. “Me, too.” As he squeezed your hand, you thought for a moment before adding, “And I’m glad you’re my boyfriend, even if I didn’t realize it.”
Eddie’s soft laughter enveloped you, wrapped around your heart and squeezed in the best way possible. It was not mocking - if anyone understood the little tendril of anxiety, it would be Eddie - but reassuring. He squeezed your hand, eager to anchor you to the moment, and tugged you closer as you both allowed the music to wash over you. Little else needed to be said, especially after so much had already been revealed, but you knew that the rest of your break would be anything but boring.
There would be time later for you both to finish your assignments just as there would be time for you to spend with your boyfriend. And that thought made you smile as you curled into Eddie’s side and allowed sleep to overtake you.
Author’s Note: I’m going to title every one of my Eddie fics after an 80s song. Also the next Eddie fic is a) not going to take place in reader’s bedroom and b) not going to be with a golden girl. I’m gonna take one for the fellow metalhead girlies and write Eddie with a girl into the same music. Anyway. I’m down bad, besties. THIS MAN. Oof.
my back arched like a cat, my position couldn’t stop you were hitting it / steve harrington
Two large hands spread across the stretch of your ass, thumbs pulling apart the soft skin of your inner thighs with your face planted into the sheets and back arched real pretty for him while a tongue laps messily at your clit, that’s how Steve likes to eat your pussy.
He loves when you get his face all wet like this. There’s so much spit that it drips down onto the bed in clear, thin strings, so much so that he can’t tell if it’s from his mouth or your pussy. And every once in a while he gathers your wetness and his saliva into his mouth only to spit it back onto your clit, intentionally switching between sucking it and tongue-fucking your hole.
“Fuck, Steve, just like that,”
He sucks on it teasingly and flicks it between his teeth, just to get a rise out of you; grinding his hard-on into the mattress with each deep moan that rumbles your chest and gripping your ass so tightly that it leaves deep-colored crescent marks on the flesh, groaning at the sweet taste of your arousal on his buds with his pointed nose buried between the slick, puffy folds of your cunt as he deeply inhales the headiness of your scent. Hips moving back on their own accord to near themselves closer to the source of your pleasure, damn near smothering him in the process. He loved getting you like this.
“Steve!”
“Shut up,” his lips pop from your bud with a wet slick sound, already missing the sensation his tongue provides, writhing against the sheets and hole fluttering as he rises to his full height behind you. “C’mere.” Using those same hands to roughly pull you to the edge of the bed by the hips so your legs dangle at the border, towering over your fully naked form as he takes his aching cock that he neglected in favor of satisfying you first with his left hand. The free one leaves a chilling sensation down your spine as he spreads the fat of your puffy lips, alternating between swirling and just barely dipping his thumb past your entrance. Replacing it with the hard bulge of his length at your opening and eyes flickering up to your trembling figure when you abruptly hiss, slowly gliding it through your slit and getting it wet enough to tease you as if he’s about to put it in, pulling back each time you try to press him in yourself.
“Calm down,” he warns you once, going back to examining your cunt before he brings his palm down on your ass harshly in a slap that makes you cry out. “I said calm down.”
He adored how beautiful you looked in this position: tits pressed firm against your chest while you tried your best to back up against his dick into that cute fucking arch of yours and arms reaching out in front of you as hard as you could in an almost cat-like pose. And your ass, he doesn’t think couldn’t even begin to phrase how round and perky it was when he had you on all fours.
But if he was being real, he really just liked the way your pussy looked. Two pretty, drooly lips that squished around the swollen bud that peeked in the center and a tiny little hole he could barely fit his dick in, and how beat up and bruised it looked after he was finished with you, all puffy and red from fucking you so rough. It was perfect.
Your patience level starts to run low in result of his dazed admiration mistaken for constant vexatious teasing— prim brows pinched at the middle and words flying out snappy and demanding as your arch presses deeper. “Hurry up, you’re taking too long,”
Steve doesn’t like that one bit. Hand sliding from the opening of your cunt all the way up to your freshly styled tresses that you had just gotten done by your stylist a few days back, knotting itself through your strands and yanking you up in one swift movement. You’d moan out a complaint about him messing up your hair if you weren’t so eager for him to shove his dick inside you.
“The fuck do you think you’re rushing? You know I can leave you here, right?”
His words turn hard and rigid at your insolence and you know he’s not playing with you at all, but you don’t seem to care about anything in that pretty little head of yours except for one thing. Lip slightly tugging between your teeth, angelic eyes pleading up at him over your shoulder with hearts dancing in your pupils and hips jutting out as you shamelessly beg. “Gimme, I want it,” tone whiny but alluring all the same, and it makes his dick hard.
“Not gonna give you shit if you keep runnin’ that mouth.” he heeds you no warning before his fat tip is stretching out the opening of your pussy and slamming into you at full force, releasing your hair and letting you plant face-first into the sheets as he begins to pound you into the mattress.
“Don’t know when to shut the fuck up,” five fingers hook behind your nape while the rest grip roughly at the side of your hip, eyes fluttering and chest palpitating from choked cries while you fail miserably to control your breathing.
“S-Shit,”
His fingers move from your nape to wrap around your throat and you lose your mind when you feel him plunge deeper, feeling the head of him just a couple centimeters shy from your cervix just as he promptly tilts your neck upward, forcing you onto your hands with a whine.
The fibers of your muscles feel sore and your legs turn to jelly, practically vibrating whenever Steve urges you back into him. The walls of your cunt clamping down on his length as you finally reach the soft hairs at his base, and a soft fuck comes to life from his lips watching you grip the sheets for dear life with weak moans and pleads leaving your pretty mouth. You’ve always been a lazy lover, laying on your back and doing the bare minimum by letting your boyfriend take care of all the hard work, never having to worry about anything but being his good slut and taking his dick.
Unfortunately for you, Steve has a low tolerance for brats and back talk. You know this, why do you always have to go and test him? Making him pull out of you knowing goddamn well he doesn’t want to, letting a wet pop consume the air around you as your hole returns to its shape without the fullness of his cock, watching your head whip around your shoulder once more in frustration and pushing your ass out with need.
“Give it back, fuck me,” you whine. The display of you backing your pussy up on him paired with your words looks and sounds so desperate, and it almost gets him to give in— almost.
“Uh uh, work for that shit.”
A pout befalls your lips, hoping that he’ll take pity on you and give you what you want, “You’re fucking stingy,” you can barely finish your sentence before he’s sliding into you again, brows furrowing and feeling each throb of his thick cock inside your walls.
“And you’re lazy, better move your ass or I guess you’re not gonna cum, princess.” Three whiny sobs get caught up in your chest as you finally decide to move, gradually picking up the pace bit by bit until you’re slamming back into him hard. So hard that you almost make Steve stutter back a couple of steps despite his stature and build, so hard that you feel each sweet kiss that his cock delivers to your cervix when you go all the down on him like he instructs you to.
“Faster, baby,” your eyes disappear into your skull and you mindlessly allow the drool you were so desperately trying to hold back to drip down your chin and the corners of your mouth, tits bouncing while you focus on fucking yourself on your boyfriend’s cock. You feel lust-dazed, and you’re almost positive you probably look crazy right now but you don’t care, you just need to cum. Steve doesn’t care either, too mesmerized with the way you coat every vein on his length with cream and slick, lips halfway parted and groaning out curses with a steady hand sitting at the bottom of your waist to keep himself level-headed, trying to convince himself you’re not fucking him as stupid as you’re fucking yourself as he watches your ass bounce and ripple each time you meet him. “Steve, you’re so - fuck,” senseless babbles spill out of you and it eggs him on even more than before, subconsciously narrowing his thick brows in concentration as his other hand finds your waist so he can fuck you harder, faster, rougher.
It’s too much, all of him is too much to handle all at once; Steve’s going too fast and he’s in too deep, and your cunt rejects him. It fucking rejects him.
Your walls tighten at the same time you attempt to pull back, run from his dick. But how wet you are doesn’t seem to aid you in efforts, only allowing him to sink into you further.
“Stop tryin’ to push me out, open.” The words barely manage to make it past his sharp gritted teeth, voice commanding and you somehow clench around his shaft impossibly tighter.
You shake your head. “Can’t, fuck, I can’t—”
“Why not?”
It’s a genuine question though you both know the answer, still, he wants to hear you say it.
Your mind pictures the spot where your mons meets the soft plush at the bottom of your abdomen and the huge rounded bump that’s formed, that’s where Steve is.
“You’re in my tummy, Steve.”
Do you really think he gives a fuck? Surely not.
It was safe to say you loved getting fucked by your boyfriend like this, it was maybe even your favorite position for him to put you in. Given there were many times you’d act all bratty like you can’t take it, claiming that he’s ‘fucking you too good’ and that you ‘can’t take it,’ or whatever other kind of shit flies out of your mouth when your drunk on his cock but you always wanted it in the end. Because when Steve fucks you from the back he fucks you hard. And not only does he fuck you hard, he fucks you dumb. He leaves you sore for days sometimes, even making you walk and talk funny when he gives it to you really rough, and it never fails to have you coming back for more.
“Open,” his callous tone drips with warning and he slightly presses forward, not caring about the adorable pleading look you give him before he’s giving you a sweet thrust past the resistance of your cunt that makes you yelp, “Open.”
You pout and sniffle before you finally let him in again, relaxing your walls, his pace increases and his hips never falter and you allow him to bully his fat cock into your cunt, meeting his thrusts halfway and trying to fuck him back just as hard.
The sounds he makes from pounding into your little cunt are almost as loud as you, both of them suffocating the air with nasty schlicks and squelches as you gush around him, wetting his balls and entire lower abdomen in your juices.
“Mm, so deep baby,” a fucked out, dopey smile possesses your pretty features that Steve returns, his cock pulsing at the way it twists into a lust-drunk one and how you tighten when his thumb presses into your other hole all the way down to the first knuckle. He coos to you, totally in love with the way your cunt swallows him whole, “Yeah, you like that shit don’t you?“
You look like a whore. And he has half a mind to break out the old camcorder and film the entire thing, make you a real star. Mouth covered in spit, eyes brimming with salty tears and cheeks flushed and puffy from the ones that already managed to slide down them, nodding your head mindlessly with the guidance of his firm grasp on your chin like a braindead slut. “Yeah, I do Steve… - f-uck!,” the tips of your nails bite into the thin clean linen, knuckles losing color from how hard your fists clench, high coiling deep in the bottom of your stomach.
You feel yourself being pulled up as you near closer, a gasp sucking air into your lungs as your back sits flush with Steves’s hard chest, giving him free rein to pry your drool coated lips open with his thumb and forefinger. “Get that fuckin’ tongue out, show me,” his grey eyes bore down into yours with hunger when you obey him, lolling the pink flesh out with an “Ah,” that vibrates the base of your throat through hazy lids already knowing what to expect next, greedily accepting the thin line of spit that falls onto your tongue.
He hits your sweet spot with each brutal stab of his dick into your poor little pussy like a mad man, leaving you a sobbing, incoherent mess below him. He hovers over you, the tendons in his biceps bulge tautly and the muscles that house the immense cross tattoo on his back flex, making your eyes roll past your lids every time his heavy balls slap your clit and crying out for him to fuck you harder— as if that’s impossible.
Breathing labored and picking up by the second as your tight cunt sucks him in and brings him closer and closer to his own orgasm. You barely make out a squeak. “…Steve…” The flesh of your ass stings and you cry, really cry when his palm connects with the skin in a harsh slap.
“What darling? You gonna cum? .” he bites through his teeth, driving himself into you with all the strength he has.
“S-Steve!”
Better.
Everything around you goes black. You cum with a loud cry and your body wracks with multiple sobs, spasming around him and wetting the inner flesh of your thighs along with his pelvis as you squirt, head bleary and slurring your words, hand quickly reaching down to rub fervent and messy circles into your throbbing clit. “Cumming, cumming, cu— cuh- ming!”
Steve doesn’t stop. Even after you cum, still stretching out the plush lips of your cunt with his fat cock whenever he consciously decides to jam himself into you, deaf to the incessant moans floating through his ears as he continues to make you squirt on him in buckets.
Holy fucking shit.
He only stops his merciless thrusts when it’s time for him to cum, the slaps of skin connecting with skin dying when he pulls out to throw his head back and angrily fist his cock, grunting and groaning over your limp form as thick white spurts of his hot cum paint your ass. He intentionally aims some of it at your pussy, hissing while sliding the warm liquid between your puffy folds with the aching head, collecting a huge glob of it and burying inside your abused hole with a whine.
The room spins around you and he lets you come down, feeling the warmth of his lips trail in sweet kisses up your spine that glistens with a thin layer of sweat all the way to the crook of your neck and that’s when you feel it. How your bones and back aches, keening into the fabric underneath you when you finally snap back to reality.
“Nnngh, I think you broke my fucking back,” you complain and hear the steps of your boyfriend descending into the bathroom, presumably to get a towel as he leaves you in the exact same position he just fucked you in. Hole fluttering, nerves twitching and breathing still erratic. “You’re just a crybaby,” he returns with the wet rag in hand, shivering a bit when you notice he used cold instead of warm water again to wipe his cum off of you.
A hum vibrates your chest, “Baby run me a bath please,”
you feel a lazy grin tug at the corners of your mouth when you hear the loud splashes of the bathtub filling up. Simp. He retrieves you after a few minutes, picking you up and carrying your tired body into the adjoined room bridal style before he settles you both into the tub.
Not even five minutes have passed by and you’re already up to your shenanigans again. Giggling at his lame jokes, letting him playfully squeeze your tits under the sweet-scented essential oil and bubble infused bathwater and grinding your ass into his lap.
“Baby…” you trail off, innocently running your fingers along the skin of his knee.
“Hm?”
“…Can we fuck again?”
His brows draw together in slight skepticism, “Again? We just fucked, greedy ass.”
“I wanna fuck again though, and don’t call me greedy.” You splash a bit of the water at him, pulling a tiny chortle from him at your faux annoyance.
He’s in love with you.
I REALLY HOPE U GUYS LIKE THIS!! IDK IF THIS SUITED HIM BUT IN MY MIND IT DID SJJFJF
Summary: A search for the truth is underscored by a scorching summer fling with Billy Hargrove. Hot. Sweat-slicked skin. Feral.
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader
Warnings:Language.Smut. Mild violence. A little horror. Underage drinking and smoking. Teenage Angst. Fluff.
A/N:@geminimoonbeamx and I wrote a joint story about a pair of readers who have their own experiences with the cursed town of Hawkins. Check out her page to read her Steve Harrington x Plus-size!Reader story!
Summary: A search for the truth is underscored by a scorching summer fling with Billy Hargrove. Hot. Sweat-slicked skin. Feral.
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader
Warnings:Language.Smut. Mild violence. A little horror. Underage drinking and smoking. Teenage Angst. Fluff.
A/N:@geminimoonbeamx and I wrote a joint story about a pair of readers who have their own experiences with the cursed town of Hawkins. Check out her page to read her Steve Harrington x Plus-size!Reader story!
