#(there are good reasons for both the rule and the exception but that's a whole damn post on it's own to explain) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harmonictechnicality · 1 year

Text

*wrote this for @vecnuthy's birthday, so here you go babe! i baked you a word cake 🥰🎂* *ao3 link here*

Nobody gets cool shit on their birthday after the age of sixteen - Steve stands by this statement firmly. That year, he got his permit. And by yuppie parent default-mode, he also received his first car.

He almost, almost had a quarter-life crisis on his twenty-fifth birthday. Steve was seconds away from buying a motorcycle. Robin was very dramatic about this decision, kept threatening to order his gravestone if he followed through on an impulse purchase.

This, however, would’ve nullified his Adults Get Lame Birthday Gifts theory entirely. So Steve apologized to the salesperson, and tucked his credit card back into his wallet. Robin canceled the order on his gravestone as well, thank god.

Gifts have continued to be lackluster every year since then. And his 30th birthday is no exception to this rule.

A gift card from his parents. A pair of athletic socks from Dustin. And a t-shirt from Robin. Essentially, the starter pack of Welcome to Adulthood.

Except for one minor detail:

The shirt from Robin is exceptionally soft. Bamboo fibers or something, he wasn’t really listening to her description. Even the color is soft. Muted red, almost pink. Everything about it is soft. Airy.

Touchable.

Okay - that’s not an observation Steve makes upon receiving it. But it’s one that Eddie Munson will never let him forget.

The first time it happens is a week after Steve’s birthday. The two of them hit up a bar on the outskirts of town. A place Eddie frequents a lot, occasionally dragging Steve along as his Token 9 to 5 Friend.

“Welcome to the Dirty Thirty Club, man!” Eddie crows, already diving into Steve’s atmosphere for a hug.

“Thanks! Good to see you, Munson.” Steve chokes out, returning the massive hug with a single pat on Eddie's back.

The guy always gives the most suffocating hugs, fucking cages Steve into his arms and steals the breath of out his lungs with one squeeze. Steve has to inhale through his nose, smells the soapy steam rolling off Eddie’s skin.

Shower. Eddie just showered before meeting him here. It’s so fucking clear by the way he feels damp, smells clean.

Steve hates that he notices that. Wishes he didn’t care about Eddie’s hygiene schedule. But the scent of shower gel is addictive, breathing it in fast. Big gulps of fresh air. Lungs extending like they can capture Eddie's atmosphere and keep it there.

Okay, seriously. Steve thought his Eddie Munson Crush had been buried with the rest of his trauma back in 1993.

“Dude. This shirt is so soft, holy shit.” Eddie is rubbing his hand all over the back of Steve’s shirt, fingertips pushing into the fabric.

“Uh yeah. Sure is.”

Eddie must’ve blazed up back at his place, it’s the only reasonable explanation as to why they’re hugging for this long. Gotta be some strong shit too - strong enough to make him sound completely blissed out over a damn shirt.

He’s is humming now, both hands petting Steve’s shoulders, one on each side. Pinching the material, twisting it till it curls around his index finger.

“Gotta get me one of these bad boys.” Eddie chuckles, turns it into a playful growling sound. “Could touch this all day.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve does an awkward wiggle out of the embrace. He looks down at his shoes, cheeks growing warmer as he continues to take Eddie’s words entirely out of context.

Look, the sensible part of his brain knows that Eddie is talking about the shirt. That’s it. But the insufferably needy and more prominent part of his brain wants Eddie to be talking about himself in general.

That he could touch Steve all day long - shirt or no shirt.

Right. Steve needs a splash of water on his face. Could use a splash of water on his goddamn imagination too. Dilute the delusion for christ’s sake.

It happens again about four months later. Lucas invites the whole crew over to throw a surprise party for Max’s promotion at work.

Of course, Eddie is running late - he didn’t fail senior year twice solely from his shitty GPA. But showing up late to a surprise party? That’s a new level of risky. Not everything has to be a thrill-worthy adventure. Ugh.

“Max should be getting off work right about now.” Lucas explains, peering around the living room. “So everyone should head to your designated hiding spots.”

Nobody budges, just carrying on with their conversation.

“Alright, asshats - you heard Sinclair!” Steve snaps at each of them, glares for good measure. “Find a hiding spot or get the fuck out.” He gives a quick nod to Lucas, who still looks severely stressed, eyes ready to bust out of his skull any minute.

The coach-esque threat does the job. Everyone, ducks into place, voices descending into whispers. Whispers descending into shushes as the minutes draw closer to Max’s arrival. Steve is folded up behind the couch, arms wrapped around his knees.

There’s a small creak coming from the front door. A few people yell 'surprise.' Steve peaks to the side to see Lucas shaking his head at them.

“No, nobody move.” He instructs, voice caught between a yell and whisper. “I was just letting Eddie inside.”

Instinct takes over. Steve twists around the corner of the couch, needing to see for himself that Eddie is here. That he really came.

Clearly, he didn’t move fast enough. Although he could’ve sworn he moved so embarrassingly fast that the vertebras in his back sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies (post-milk).

But no one is there. No Eddie. No Lucas. No one.

“What the-” Something grabs the back of Steve’s shirt, pulling at his collar. A few people start aggressively shushing him.

“Chill out, Stevie.” Eddie is right there, meeting Steve’s face with a lopsided smirk. He’s close, way too close. Still holding the collar of Steve’s shirt with one hand, stretching it out. Keeping them close.

“Just trying to check the tag,” He releases Steve just an inch or so. His voice is so hushed, the quietest Steve has ever fucking heard it. “Wanted to see where I might be able to purchase such a godly article of clothing.”

“Ever heard of a thing called boundaries?” Steve hisses, swatting a strand of Eddie’s hair out of his face.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

They haven’t talked much since that night, barely any interaction for four months. But watching Eddie lean in, angling his head lower to study the tag on Steve’s shirt, hot breath on his neck…

It resets the clock. Flips the hourglass on Steve’s feelings for him.

He’s infatuated all over again, and all it took was Eddie invading his personal space. Just like he always does.

“You’ll have to ask Robin.” Steve whispers. Tries not to flinch when Eddie smooths Steve’s shirt collar back into place. “She’s the one that bought it for me.”

“Damn. Buckley has good taste.”

“Sure does.”

No distance is created. Neither of them move away. Eddie’s eyes continue to sketch over every stitch in Steve’s shirt, every hemline. He seems hyper fixated on it, too fixated to notice Steve’s pink-ish cheeks, thank god.

If it weren’t for the shirt, Steve would assume Eddie is checking him out, looking him up and down with a heavy gaze. Dark pupils, casted darker by the dim lighting.

“Can I?” Eddie raises a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He pauses, lifts an eyebrow at the end of his question.

Steve’s jaw is too tight to answer or counter back with a joke about how Eddie never asks permission before popping personal bubbles. All he can do is nod a little too eagerly.

Eddie reaches into Steve’s sleeve, rubs the material from the inside. A small grin forms on his face. He looks so pleased, purely amused. That’s enough to untangle Steve’s muscles, relaxing under Eddie’s light touch.

But that’s the other thing. He’s barely touching Steve. Every now and then, his knuckles roll over Steve’s skin. Really, that’s it, that’s all he’s doing. And god, Steve craves more.

Eventually, Eddie switches it up, pinching the material between the pads of his fingers. He scoots closer to Steve’s side to do so.

Time feels paused. Time feels rapid. It’s going nowhere and already slipping through his grasp. All Steve can think about is placing his hand underneath Eddie’s chin, bringing his lips up to his own. Kissing him till the clock stops ticking. Till the sand stops running.

“Softest shirt ever.” Eddie gives the material a slight tug. Smiles wider.

Steve gulps. “If you say so.”

“I mean, seriously - it must be made from the glow off an angel’s halo or something, cause damn.”

“You’re a trip, Munson.”

Steve has to keep telling himself that Eddie is obsessed with touching his clothes - he’s not thinking about taking them off of Steve. No matter how much he wants that to be the reality of the situation.

It’s not.

They stay like this till the doorknob clicks, turns. Steve almost forgot that he was at a party, surrounded by other people.

Immediately, all of his senses flip back into Extrovert Autopilot. Everyone jumps out, yells a combination of surprise and congratulations (because they failed to coordinate that apparently).

He stays in this zone for the rest of the party. Talkative and breezy. Charming the pants off Max’s coworkers with silly little anecdotes about her as a kid.

Steve is damn good at hosting. It’s probably in his white-collar bloodline or some shit. Still, anytime Eddie walks by, he glitches up. Temporarily out of sync.

He doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Eddie ducks out early, waving broadly before slipping through the front door.

Time does that weird thing again. Feels paused and rapid all at once as he watches the door shut behind Eddie.

“You okay, man?” Lucas nudges him.

“Yeah.” The gentle gesture returns time back to normal. Brings Steve back into this moment.

“Doing just fine.”

It’s all he thinks about for weeks. Anytime there’s a lull at work or a commercial break on television, Steve drifts. Pictures Eddie is in his shirt, the one he’s so obsessed with.

At first, it’s just that. Basic. Eddie standing in front of him, wearing that muted red, almost pink, shirt. Sometimes smiling, sometimes expectant. Either way, it’s always enough to make Steve’s neck feel flushed, creeping up to his cheeks.

Gradually, it evolves into something more complex. A fantasy, almost dreamlike. He imagines Eddie running his hands all over himself, his torso, his chest. The thin material of the shirt moving and shifting under his palms. His head tipping back, lips plush and red from where he’s gritting down, biting hard. Holding back sounds.

Those images get Steve in trouble. Panting on conference calls and boners at his work desk.

He’s alone in his apartment when it grows, branches off into darker urges. Desires. Steve glances down at the floor, can’t help but wonder what Eddie might look like down there, staring up at him. Wearing Steve’s clothes. Begging Steve to take them off. Rip them, ruin them.

“That fucking does it.” Steve scolds himself, scolds his dick too. He’s calling Eddie Munson right now - before he has time to overthink it.

His hand is trembling as he picks up the house phone, dials out the number he didn’t even know he had memorized. The trembling thing is kinda embarrassing, but it's still better than sticking it down his pants and jerking off while the Cooking Network plays reruns in the background.

Every ring feels drawn out. Stretching time like taffy.

Eddie picks up on the fourth taffy-length ring. “Eddie here.”

“Hey, man.” His voice comes out all strained, bone-dry.

“Shit. That really you, Harrington?”

Apparently his voice comes out unrecognizable too.

“The one and only.”

Eddie snorts loudly into the phone speaker. “Doubt that very much - seems like a common enough name.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, smartass.” Steve rubs his neck, scratching his skin. Working his way to extracting the words out of his throat. “So um… you busy tonight?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers.

“Cool. Me neither.”

There’s silence after that. Well, almost silence. Just a slight hissing sound from the phone line can be heard. Not enough sound to make things less awkward though.

Steve has no good reason to be so antsy, so wired with anxiety. They’ve been friends since metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan back in ‘86. So being outwardly weird around Eddie? It’s too damn fishy.

“Is that it?” Eddie says. “Did you just want to bond over our empty schedules?”

Of fucking course, Eddie would call Steve out on his weird bullshit. Doesn’t know subtlety if it bit him in the ass.

Bad time to think about Eddie’s ass.

“Come over.” Steve blurts out. Needs to say something before a parade of ass-centric images start back up in his mind. “I ordered way too much takeout and there's a stack of movie rentals that I need to binge to minimize those late fees, so yeah… come over.”

No response, even the background hissing from the speaker cuts out. Maybe the phone line went dead. Or maybe Eddie hung up. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s abruptly ended a conversation, perpetually flouncing to whatever is new and shiny. Always distracted.

“What kind of takeout?” He finally responds.

“The Greek place with the kickass tzatziki sauce.” Steve smirks, already knows the answer before Eddie can utter another word.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Eddie arrives in less than an hour, actually. Knocks on Steve’s door exactly 51 minutes after Steve gets off the phone with him. It’s slightly disturbing that Steve suddenly turns into a math whiz when he’s fawning over someone.

Someone that fawns over his clothes more than him, but who gives a shit about logistics?

“Fucking starving.” Eddie says, slamming the door behind him.

Steve smiles, motions his head toward the kitchen. “Help yourself, dude.”

The plan is so stupid. Half-baked at best: get Eddie out of his shirt (and jacket), and into Steve’s shirt instead. That’s it. That’s all Steve’s got so far.

But it’s better than nothing. So what the hell? It’s worth a shot.

He waits until Eddie has stuffed his face with a decent amount of spanakopita, fully reclining on Steve’s couch. Looks incredibly comfy, too comfy to move.

Good.

Steve grabs the strawberry sorbet from his freezer, the one Robin forced him to buy after going vegan last spring. He scoops a bowl for himself and a bowl for Eddie. Exhales the last bit of his self-respect before returning to the living room with the most boring dessert option ever.

“Here you go.” Steve says.

Eddie scrunches his nose at it. “The fuck is this?”

“Sorbet.”

“Why am I not surprised that the former rich kid prefers sorbet over ice cream?”

Steve sputters, takes the bowl back before it further offends Eddie somehow. “That’s not… I didn’t… it’s actually-”

“Deep breath, Stevie. I’m just teasing you.” Eddie yanks the bowl back, shovels a brain-freezing amount into his mouth. “Far too easy, by the way. Give me a bit of a challenge next time. Makes it more fun… for one of us, at least.”

“Fun. Sure.”

“The one of us being me.”

“Got that.”

Steve decides to take Eddie’s ‘challenge’ remark as the perfect cue to set his stupid plan into action.

Steve pretends to shift around on the couch cushion, getting situated. Does this until he ‘accidentally’ fumbles the sorbet. Spills it all over Eddie’s clothes, his distressed black shirt, his dark gray sweatpants. All of it. Makes a much bigger mess than he intended to.

Eddie jumps up. “Goddamnit, Harrington!”

“I am so sorry!” No he’s not. If anything, his apology is more smug than sincere.

“This shit is sticky as hell.”

“Really sorry, man.” Steve hands Eddie a few stray napkins, like that’s going to make a difference.

“Don’t be. It was an accident.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one of the most juvenile tactic that Steve has ever pulled. Truly, it tops the overused movie theater-yawn tactic.

“Here - let me get you a change of clothes.” Steve offers, already heading to his bedroom. He’s walking and talking and fucking fidgeting. Suddenly paranoid that Eddie can see right through him, see all his desperation on display. Splattered everywhere like strawberry sorbet.

He turns back around for a split second. “I’ll throw those in the wash. Have them dry and ready to wear again by the time you head out.”

“Oh…” Eddie keeps patting down his clothes with a sopping napkin, barely listening. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

His acting performance is fucking dismal. Over the top. Porno-level obvious. Must be karma for all of those times he gave Robin and Eddie shit about being in an improv club. Makes a mental note to never mock their nerdy hobbies for the rest of his life.

“Well, it must be my lucky night.” Eddie calls out from the bathroom door, causing Steve to wince at the sheer volume.

“What makes you say that?”

“Bestowing the holy grail of shirts upon me? Allowing me even one hour in downy-soft paradise?” Eddie is using that tone, the one that’s boozy and savory. Borderline mean. Equally hot and annoying. “Possibly the greatest of olive branches you could’ve offered up.”

“Christ, you’re dramatic.” Which is so hypocritical after the stunt he just pulled.

The bathroom door swings open and nothing could’ve prepared Steve for how good Eddie looks in his clothes. The shirt is snug through the sleeves, loose through his chest. Makes Steve realize how differently built they are. The waistband on the athletic shorts is sitting low on his hips, maybe a size too big. If they were any bigger, they’d slip right off. Landing all tousled around his bare feet…

Okay, Steve has got to snap the fuck out of it. He rubs aggressively at his eyes. Needs soap or military-strength detergent to fucking cleanse whatever is going on with him lately.

“We could watch something.” Steve says, even though that’s exactly what he’s already doing.

Watching.

Eddie shrugs. Leans against the wall. “We could.”

“Or… I don’t know.” Steve can’t rip his gaze away from Eddie’s arms. His pale skin looks even lighter against the reddish tones. The waves and curls of black ink look even darker. Just a splash of color has turned him into a landscape of extremes.

“You don’t?”

“Um…” Steve flops, flounders. Scrambling for an idea. A coherent thought. Anything. “Cards. We could play cards.”

Eddie’s forehead wrinkles, then quickly straightens back out. Nodding politely. “Sure, we can do that. If that’s what you want to do.”

Steve mumbles something about grabbing a card deck from the storage closet, although he’s pretty sure it’s unintelligible. Makes a quick escape, jogs at the weirdest tempo known to mankind.

Flirting with a longtime friend is throwing him for a loop. Many loops actually. Theme park amount of loops. All of his usual ease and charm are being denied access. Not tall enough to ride this ride.

The closet is packed with junk, so finding a deck of cards is obnoxiously difficult. He’s tossing coats into piles and shoving shoes into corners. Between his nerves and his determination, Steve is working up a goddamn sweat.

“Need a hand in here?” Eddie’s voice startles him. Steve jolts backwards, straight into a shelf of puzzles. Tons of pieces go flying, some landing in Steve’s hair. Redecorating the fucking closet with tiny bits of colored cardboard.

Fantastic.

Eddie backs away, arms crossing into his chest. “Jesus, man. You’re freaking me out.”

“Sorry.” Steve says. Shakes the puzzle pieces out of his hair.

“Is it the shirt?” The question sounds genuine. No jokes, no sarcasm. “Does it look that bad on me?”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t know how to respond. The shirt looks amazing, that’s not the problem at all. It’s just… “Um, actually-”

“Look, I know I’m not a pastel heartthrob.” Eddie gestures directly to Steve before waving his arms around. He starts pacing in the tiny closet, just ranting away. “And let’s fucking face it. I’m not getting any younger, so I doubt I can pull off this slim-cut style the way I used to… but come on. It can’t be that repulsive, right?”

“Eddie.” Steve frowns.

“Shit, that bad?” Eddie smacks a hand to the top of his hand. Grabs a fistful of his hair and looks down at the shirt, still rambling. “We’re using first names now? What’s next? Gonna bust out my full legal name? My birth certificate? Then we’ll really mean business.”

Okay, yikes. And Steve thought he was the stressed one. This is going south very, very fast. He needs to curb the self-destruction that’s happening in front of him. Just… reach out.

“Hey.” And Steve does. Literally. He places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, sucks in some courage. He waits until Eddie makes eye contact, breathes at a less neurotic speed. Then he exhales all the courage. Turns it into honesty instead. “You look… you look good.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“No, I mean it. It’s different. But in a good way.” Steve skims his nails against the fabric, drawing shapes into Eddie’s shoulder. “I like it.”

“You do?”

Steve nods. Bites down on his lip, flicks his eyes to Eddie’s mouth. “Like it on you.”

The energy between them is thick, clinging to Steve’s skin. It’s new except it’s not. Steve has felt it before. At the bar, the party, that random Thursday in 1993. He recognizes the flex and curl in his stomach as Eddie takes one step forward, then two. The feeling is familiar and strange combined. Knotted tight.

Eddie raises an eyebrow before taking another step. Like the day behind the couch. Quiet permission, one he doesn’t ask for often. Only when it means something.

Steve lets the hand on Eddie’s shoulder fall slowly. Catching the material at the bottom, tugging it forward. Prays to fucking god that’s all the permission Eddie needs.

“You were right.” Steve lets his hand drift back up, landing in the center of Eddie’s chest. Wrinkling and smoothing the fabric underneath. “It really is soft.”

Eddie’s breath hitches up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice drops lower, richer. “Could touch this all day.”

Eddie thumbs over Steve’s bottom lip, drifting into the small space between them. He places both hands on Steve's cheeks and kisses him firmly. Steve presses in deeper, breathes out through his nose so that he doesn’t have to break away.

It’s so good, kissing like they’re teenagers behind the bleachers. So swept away in the heat and hunger that they’d be late for class. Showing up to study hall with blotchy skin and achy lips. They keep kissing just like that. Feeling, exploring. Lingering in all the areas that seem to make the other person hum or gasp.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers. His hands push up into Steve’s hair, combing it back, pulling in down with an edge. Hard enough to make Steve tilt his head, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah?” Steve replies. Barely a question, too lost in the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his neck.

Eddie rubs his mouth over the edge of Steve’s jaw. “You’re so…”

The sentence stops right there, never gets finished either. He nuzzles over the wet spots of skin covering Steve’s neck. Marks them all up with a gentle nip, not enough to leave bruises. Just enough to make Steve shiver.

Steve is making so many breathy noises, which should be humiliating. Pathetic for someone who’s had fucking loads of first kisses, even more makeout sessions.

But none of that really matters, his age or experience or slutty track record. Nothing counts when being kissed like this. Nothing can stop Steve from taking this moment, eating up all of the sounds and sensations.

Fuck, he wants all of it. Wants Eddie closer somehow, on top of him, beneath him, surrounding him.

He can’t stop tugging at Eddie’s shirt, well… his shirt. No doubt that it’s stretching out, close to ripping it. Keeps pulling it anyways - dragging Eddie into him till Steve’s back is pressed up against the wall.

“Come here.” Steve curls a finger under Eddie’s chin, brings his face back up to him. Not nearly done kissing him stupid, square on the lips. His mouth is warmer now, a few degrees hotter from sucking Steve’s neck. Licks into Steve’s mouth, gets him to whine at how good it feels.

The washing machine timer goes off, buzzing throughout the whole apartment. But Steve can’t let this end, he can’t.

Except for the buzzing won’t let up. Continuously interrupting all the delicious noises that Eddie makes whenever Steve bites over his bottom lip, gets it nice and puffy between his teeth.

“Should we...?” Eddie smushes his nose into Steve’s before motioning to the door.

“Yeah probably,” Steve unclaws his hand from Eddie’s waist. Kisses him once more before sliding out of reach.

As he walks down the hallway, heading into he laundry room, he hears it. Eddie’s voice, still inside the closet. Chanting the same phrase over and over again:

‘Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Holy fucking shit!’

Steve cracks a smile. Kind of hard to believe his heart is chanting the same damn phrase. So full of adrenaline, fucking crumbling under this wave of raw emotion.

Really, he never thought he’d find himself in this situation. Holding Eddie’s clean clothes in one hand, thumbing over his kiss-bitten lips with his other hand. Impatiently craving to get back to where they left off, hopefully on the couch or bed or floor this time.

“Hurry it up, will ya?” Eddie whistles behind him.

“What’s the rush?” Steve tosses the clothes into the dryer, doesn’t turn around because his self-restraint will be fucked if he does.

“My lips are getting cold.”

“That’s the best line you got?”

“For now, yeah.” Eddie says. “You sucked out all of my brain cells with your mouth. Can’t expect me to be Swayze-level smooth after something like that.”

No way he’s allowed to be so damn cute comparing himself to Patrick Swayze. As if they're even in the same league. Endearing, really.

“You can head back to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve pushes a few buttons on the dryer. The timer starts, another reset on the clock.

Feelings that flip the hourglass once again.

He really fucking hopes it never runs out this time.

Eddie is perched on the floor, flipping through the channels on the tv. He's squinting at the harsh light because for some insane reason, he always insists on watching the tv in total darkness.

Even that’s cute now. Annoyingly cute.

Steve joins him on the floor, instantly slouching into Eddie’s arms because he can do that now. Completely allowed to be sweet and gross and smitten.

“Guess my theory was wrong after all.”

“Hm?” Eddie replies, still mindlessly channel-surfing.

Steve gives Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek (because he can do that now too), and looks at the shirt. Muted red, almost pink. Soft and touchable. “Apparently, you do get cool birthday gifts as an adult.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

This thing between him and Eddie. It feels longer than running sand or ticking timers. Longer than their years of friendship. Maybe not timeless…

“I’ll tell you later, Eddie.”

But pretty damn close.

#steddie #steddie fic #Steve has a really soft shirt and Eddie can't stop touching it #that's it. that's the plot lol.

633 notes · View notes

writerscall · 4 months

Note

Enemies to lovers with spider hazel

author's note/s: 3.6k words. spider!hazel and fellow superhero/vigilante!reader, more of a one-sided annoyances to lovers, really. think kind of supergirl-esque for reader's powers (at least in the flying and strength aspect) and to help visualize reader's mask, click here for reference.

“So that’s, what, five bad guys down for me this week now and three for you? Maybe I’ll sit back and relax tomorrow so you can catch up.”

You can’t see the face behind that mask but you’re sure there’s a shit-eating grin on it. You roll your eyes at the quip. “Oh, fuck off. It’s not a competition.”

Not that that ever changed how annoyed you got whenever the tally was higher in her favor, though. But the webslinger’s count wasn’t what really got you riled up; wasn’t even how smug she could get about it. It was the way she executed the crime fighting skills that you assumed she was learning and making up as she went. Spiderwoman was messy and, ironically, uncoordinated half the time, but the worst part was that she drew too much attention.

You knew attracting the attention of the police and the papers was inevitable, but at least you had the good sense to not make a whole show of being a vigilante. Spiderwoman, on the other hand, just loved to stay and chat.

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that. You know I’m just messing around.” There’s a drop in her tone, clearly making an attempt to ease the tension. “You’re a lot faster than I am with rounding up criminals, so you get extra points for that.”

At that, you allow yourself to smile the tiniest bit. She can’t see it behind your own mask but if she was as observant as she claimed to be, she might see however little of it reached your eyes.

She clears her throat, bringing a hand to scratch at the back of her neck as she says, “So uh, I know it’s getting late and all, but I’ve got my backpack stashed somewhere not far from here and my lunch sandwich is still intact. It’s a pretty big one so you know, if you wanted a post-crime fighting snack…”

It’s a harmless, friendly gesture so you hold back a scoff and snide comment. You get it — the business you were in was best done alone but it could get lonely after doing it for some time. Besides, masked heroes like the two of you wore masks for a reason: nobody could know who they were, and even fellow vigilantes weren’t an exception to the rule. But you supposed it would be nice to have a friend with the shared experiences.

Just… maybe not her. Or just maybe not yet. This wasn’t like making friends in school, after all.

“Not hungry,” you tell her shortly before lifting yourself off the ground, signaling that your conversation was over and you were leaving.

You hear her say something as you take off, but you can’t be bothered to look back.

Despite it being the last day of the week, you found Fridays particularly hard to get through. Mostly because you were itching for the weekend to come but because the bad guys in the city always seemed to act up during that day. The feeling in your stomach about what your evening patrol might turn out like was a mixture of both fear and excitement, but you tried your best to push it down for the time being. It was only the second period.

“You and Miss Callahan, partners,” your teacher says with a tap to your table as she strides by, listing off other pairs. You look over to Hazel who apparently is already looking at you, her eyes wide with… shock? A hint of nervousness in them too.

Weird. You were sort-of friends through the cheerleaders she was surprisingly close with, Isabel and Brittany, but you’ve never really spoken much to each other. Maybe she was worried you guys wouldn’t click without the other girls around.

You cast her a smile as she gets nearer, sliding the worksheet to the midpoint of the table. “The total number of questions is an even number, 12, so we can each get a half. But we can help each other too, of course.”

Hazel mutters something that sounds like an ‘okay,’ but she mumbles something else under her breath that you can’t quite make out.

Overall, the class goes fine. The osmosis experiment wasn’t too hard to do and the questions were manageable. It was just how Hazel acted throughout the whole hour that threw you off a little. You knew she could be as awkward as she could get excited, and sometimes she talked too much and didn’t pick up on social cues easily, but the whole time she just seemed… uncomfortable, if that was the right word. Like she really wanted to say something or do something but she couldn’t for whatever reason.

Once you’re both done cleaning up, she wastes no time in removing her laboratory coat and shoving it into her bag, but you don’t want to let her get away that easily. Gently, you place a hand on her forearm to stop her. “Hey, Hazel?”

She pauses, eyeing your hand for a second too long before looking at you. Properly looking at you. She could barely do it throughout the experiment.

“I just wanted to ask if everything’s okay?” You bring your hand back and begin to slip off your own coat. “It could be none of my business, so feel free to tell me off if you want, but you just seem a bit out of it.”

Hazel opens her mouth to speak, but her gaze quickly moves from your face to something beside you. Rather, on you; your shirt was pulled to the side while taking off the coat and it exposed the bruise at the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone. Shit.

“Oh, that’s— don’t worry about that. I just tripped and fell hard in P.E. the other day,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand, pulling your shirt back in place. God, you hoped nothing in your voice or face was giving you away. You doubt her first assumption would be that you were one of the masked vigilantes featured on the news, but she couldn’t be thinking of anything good either if she didn’t buy your excuse.

And she didn’t. “That doesn’t look too good,” Hazel says with a frown.

“It’s fine—”

“Come with me to the locker room? I’ve got something that can probably help with that. I mean, it’s not in the locker room, it’s in my actual locker and I’ll have to go get it from there first before going to the benches, but uh… um, yeah. I-I’ve got something.”

Her ramble ends with a sigh and you can’t help but smile at how she stumbled out all those words. Funny how you were the one all concerned about her just a minute ago and now the tables were turned. You didn’t want anybody seeing your cuts and bruises, or at least didn’t want anybody asking about them, but you didn’t get to ice the one she saw just yet. You’d take whatever ointment or cream she might have stashed away in her locker if it would help.

So you nod your head and walk with her towards the door. “Alright, yeah. I’m sure you know a thing or two about treating bruises, what with all that fighting you do.”

You almost bump into her when she stops and whips her head at you sharply, that wide-eyed look back on her face. What was with her today?

“Your fight club? With Isabel and Brittany and all those other girls?”

Hazel visibly deflates and lets out a half nervous, half relieved-sounding noise at that. “Yeah, yeah! Always gotta be prepared.”

You say nothing in return and follow along to her locker, deciding not to overthink it. Hazel could just be a little odd and there was nothing wrong with that.

“Ah—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, being even more careful than earlier with moving your shirt and bra strap to the side to expose the bruise more.

“It’s okay, just… I think it would be easier if I took my top off for this?”

Hazel actually makes a sound when she gulps. You’re quick to add, “Only if you’re comfortable with that, no pressure at all. It’s just that the bruise kinda trails off to the back too, so…”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. Whatever you’re more comfortable with. I’ll just…” she trails off, turning away so you can take your shirt off.

“Haze, you don’t have to do that,” you say with a chuckle. But it was instinct as it was for everyone when somebody was changing in their presence, and you knew there was an extra kick to it now for her.

Brittany and Isabel were always just poking fun, but you knew they teased Hazel about you sometimes. Both girls even asked you about your possible interest in her more than once. Hazel was cute and you did want to get to know her more, especially see how she was in that fight club because they always said she was different in that element. But considering your own after-school activities, dating was just out of the question.

Silently, Hazel turns back, cap off the tub of gel in her waiting hands. It was obvious that she was trying very hard to look nowhere else but your face and the area of the bruise, so you reach out and smile at her reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about. I know you’ve seen boobs before.”

“Well, not your boobs.”

She says it so casually that you’re both taken aback, but you just laugh. Thankfully, Hazel laughs along with you too.

You lean against the sink and she comes closer, stopping once her knees knock against yours. “Tell me if I’m pressing hard, okay?”

You smile at her again, softer this time. “Okay.”

It’s comfortably silent as she applies the gel on your bruise. High in vitamin C, she tells you at some point, cause it apparently helps bruises heal faster. Hopefully you didn’t get hit there again tonight so you could actually see if the science behind the gel worked or not.

When you turn around so she can work on the bruise’s extension on your back, you say, “That gel looks like it’s barely used. Do you have a stock of those at your fight club or do you guys just tough it out when someone gets a hit in?”

“This is my personal one, but most of us prefer to use the traditional ice packs. And unlike the rest of them, I heal pretty quickly.” Hazel smiles at your reflection in the mirror and you immediately smile back. You didn’t think it was possible for her to ever have a hint of cockiness in her tone. You kind of liked it.

“Like a regular superhero then, huh?”

She looks away, her smile dropping slightly. “Nothing like that. Um, you’re all good now.”

Hazel reaches for your shirt before you can even ask her to. You thank her with another smile and she moves away so you can put it back on.

As you walk alongside her to the exit, you stop her for a moment before pushing the doors open. “Thank you again. I’m pretty sure the gel is working already.”

Her gaze falls to the ground and once again she’s all fidgety and bashful. You hesitate for a second, but before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean forward to kiss her on the cheek. Just a light, friendly peck, even though ‘friendly’ might’ve been teetering over the edge at that point. Something shifted and you weren’t so sure you’d just laugh it off the next time Brittany or Isabel asked you about Hazel again.

You walk out of the locker room together, shyly glancing and smiling at one another until you have to part ways for your next classes.

Christ on a cross, you were really fucking tired. The city had been quiet since you started surveying it at around five o’clock and you were highly considering calling it a day at around half past seven, leave whatever happened in the later hours to the other crime fighters your city had one too many of. Hell, even to whatever cops who might be able to do their job properly for a change.

But a trio of snatchers caught your eye as soon as the thought occurred to you. So much for an earlier end to the week.

And you had them subdued with ease. Two of them were clearly new to the life of crime or just greatly inexperienced, and the other one was yelling at them half the time. Despite your skill and inhuman qualities, however, they were all relatively bigger than you so knocking them all out still took some time. You were two down with one to go when you heard a thwipping sound by your ear, and in the next split second, the snatcher was webbed to the wall.

Then you heard that voice. “Looked like you needed a hand.”

You look over your shoulder, groaning. “I didn’t, actually.”

“Well, I wanted to help you anyway. You’re welcome!”

“I’m not thanking you!”

The blare of police sirens comes not long after and you and Spiderwoman flee the scene before any of the cars come to a stop. Flying got you ahead of her since she relied on buildings to swing off from, but she caught up to you in no time. In just a few minutes, you were both back on the rooftop you left her at earlier in the week.

“You know, you’re right for making sure to never have to talk to the cops after putting the bad guys down. I should do that more. Those people really don’t like us.”

“I think you just talk a little too much for their liking.”

It’s not meant to be funny, but she laughs at you anyway. You might’ve put your guard down and decided to not be so irritated if it weren’t for the throbbing pain near your shoulder. You were sure the bruise there got bigger and worse after one of the snatchers got a good punch in that area.

“Yeah, well, I’m calling it a night. The city’s been quiet enough except for that one incident today, so I’m going home.” You sigh, moving to walk past her. “You should, too.”

“Hold on, I…”

You stop, waiting like she asked. If she was gonna ask you to hang out and share a sandwich again, she still wasn’t getting the answer she wanted.

She’s in a silent debate with herself for too long and you really, really wanted to go, so you say goodbye and start walking again. But just as you come shoulder to shoulder with her, she reaches out to touch yours and you wince back in pain. It just had to be the bruised one.

“Oh god, sorry.” She says as she takes her hand away. “Are you okay?”

“Obviously not, but I’ll be fine the next time we unfortunately cross paths again.”

“Wait, I just—”

“Look, Spidey, I really don’t have time—”

“Just take the tub of gel home then, if you don’t want me to take a look at it.”

What the hell was she talking about?

Then it hits you, and you freeze in place even before she says your name. Your actual name, written on your birth certificate and school records, written on that worksheet you shared just a couple of hours before.

Slowly, she begins to take off her mask. You almost want to tell her to stop but that wouldn’t change anything. Even if she didn’t show you her face now, you’d see it in two days time on Monday. Maybe even earlier if you happened to bump into her on the weekend.

Your greatest annoyance was the same person you thought you might’ve been developing a bit of a crush on earlier. You could not deal with any of that right now.

So you don’t.

“I know you’re probably freaked out by now, but I promise I haven’t—”

“I need to go.”

A crease forms between her brows. She starts to say something again but you’re quick to cut her off. “I need to go, okay? Just leave me alone.”

Hazel lets out a resigned sigh, looking to the floor as she nods. You fly faster than you ever have to get back home.

Your luck doesn’t get any better over the weekend when you get a fever on Sunday evening, making you miss class for the next three days. A paracetamol usually did the trick after a day, but the fatigue and exhaustion of your secret life was probably getting to you, too. But even with the ugly feeling of a fever, it was actually really nice to just stay in bed and drink soup for a change. It feels like you haven’t properly rested in weeks.

Your mind, however, was still restless. You tried not to look at the news too much in case there was some criminal that got away and it would just make you feel awful for not being able to catch them. But you tried even harder not to message Hazel to talk.

“Hey kiddo, your friend from school is here. Says she has the notes and homework you’ve missed since Monday.” Your dad pops his head in as he speaks. You can’t see who’s behind him, but it was probably Isabel. She’s been checking in on you constantly.

“Yeah, just let Isabel in, dad.”

“Not Isabel,” says a different voice as the door shuts behind her. Speak of the devil. “But I do have Isabel’s notes because they’re way neater than mine,” Hazel adds, a sheepish look on her face.

You don’t say anything as you watch her cross the room, shrugging off her backpack and gently placing it on the seat by your study table. Then she turns to you, and you’re surprised to see the tears welling up in her eyes. “Hazel, what—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just…” She shakes her head, angrily rubbing at her eyes. “I thought something really bad happened to you.”

“It was just a fever,” you tell her as you sit up straighter against your headboard.

“You know what I mean.”

You did. You reach out and pat the space beside you on the bed. “Come on, come here.”

Hazel does as she’s asked. Her gaze was focused on your carpet but you could see that her eyes weren’t glistening with unshed tears anymore, although they were rimmed red. “I’m fine, I promise. The fever’s gone now and I’ve been cleared to go back to school tomorrow.”

She nods but she’s still not looking at you, so you take one of her hands in between both of yours in an attempt to make her. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted on Friday night. I just didn’t know what to say and it was… it was a lot to take in at the moment. I was so sure that nobody knew who I was. I panicked.”

“I haven’t told anyone, I swear.” Hazel looks at you then, holding your gaze like her life depended on it. “I know I talk too much but I would never do that to you. Never.”

You can’t tell if she’s quoting you from your last conversation or not on that last part, but you believe her. “I know. I’d never tell anyone about you either, Hazel.”

She looks down at your hands when you rub your thumb across the side of hers and, after a moment, she laces her fingers with yours. There was a burst of warmth in your chest and you could tell there was one in Hazel’s too. So much for your one rule of not dating anyone because of the dangerous part of your life.

Not that you thought the two of you were dating, though.

“So… now what?”

“Well, life goes on as it did before, I guess.” You scoot closer to her, smiling as you add, “But I guess we can hold hands every now and then, if you like.”

“Oh, I like. I very much like,” Hazel replies enthusiastically, a matching smile on her face. She holds on to your hand tighter. “Can I kiss you every now and then too?”

“You haven’t kissed me yet.”

But that’s changed in a heartbeat, both of you leaning forward at the same time. You tug her closer, unlacing your hands so you can bury one in her hair as the other holds on to the side of her face. Hazel kisses you slowly, but there was an urgency to it as well; like something could happen the next day that would ensure she would never be able to do it again — but all things considered, that was an unfortunate thing that very well could happen. You kiss her back just the same, savoring the moment and praying to every god out there that your mom or dad wouldn’t come barging in any time soon.

She pushes you down onto the bed and pulls away with a grin, planting kisses across your cheek and down to your neck. You hold back from verbally reacting to that and the feeling of her hands on your hips, her thumbs gently caressing the skin there. It takes too much energy for you to manage to say, “Hazel, Haze… my parents are home.”

Hazel brings her face back up to yours. Instead of looking disappointed, she just looks pleased. “I know, sorry. Got carried away — I have been fantasizing about this for a while now, though, so cut me a little slack.”

You giggle out an ‘okay’, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Also, if there’s any of that fever bacteria still in me, I apologize in advance if you get sick in a day or two.”

“Don’t even worry about me,” Hazel says with a shake of her head, leaning down to kiss you soundly once more. “I heal fast.”

#i'm so proud of this one i hope y'all enjoy #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fanfic #requests

168 notes · View notes

lolokouhm · 7 months

Text

You got Gojo Satoru wondering - and he might not be built for that.

Satoru is a person who doesn't really think twice before acting. He's used to being the strongest, the most powerful and hence, always right. But for the first time in a very long time, Satoru starts to wonder.

The beginnings are innocent, as they tend to be. Why are you so easy to talk to? He's had plenty of girls before, and none of them seemed to be able to hold conversation as well as you. Why are you so pretty? Your parents must have some crazy genes, both sides, to create a creature so insanely breathtaking. Why are you so bold? You were the one who made the first step and suggested this whole friends-with-benefits type of situation and that's why Satoru blames you. He's not used to thinking like that. That's too much for his pretty head to take.

Oh, and by the way, as we're on the subject of head - why are you so good at giving it? The way your sneaky little tongue plays with his tip almost gets him crying every fucking time. You should be illegal - and it gets even worse. Your gaze somehow always finds his and it doesn't even feel like you're looking at him. It's black magic. Maybe you are a curse user after all - your eyes do something to weaken him, being especially effective when poor Satoru is really trying his best not to come too soon. And so, he wonders. Do you want to kill him? Do you want him to drop dead, just like that?

In terms of dropping, Gojo is dropping to his knees, that's for sure. He'd drop everything actually, just to be able to open your legs and worship both you and the ground you're walking on, no matter where, no matter when. Your warmth gets him thinking. Why are your thighs so soft? He could sleep on them. he could live there - right there, in a sacred place, which no other men should ever have access to. A mere thought of that makes him angry, and that again, makes him wonder.

Is he jealous? But there were no rules, no talk of exclusivity. He thought he couldn't be jealous like that, especially when you didn't have anyone except him. At least that's how it was at first, but now he's not sure. He’s never asked. Satoru is thinking. Again. It feels uncomfortable, and the feeling intensifies as he reaches for his car keys. Maybe he shouldn’t be driving in this state? Normally he’d ask Geto, but the way his best friend stared at you during that party last weekend makes him grind his teeth. He didn't worry about it back then. So what changed? The way your body feels under his fingers? The way you smile, so sincerely that it feels unfair to have you in this universe? The way you moan his name and shake, when he...

’toru?’

Your voice brings him back. He looks at you, eyes wide open, confusion yet again written all over his face. Because even though he might be the honoured one, he's just a man. A man, who doesn't notice how his fingers unconsciously get tangled with yours every time he brings you on edge. A man, who doesn't understand why you make him feel not only like a horny teenager, but also a sad, lonely puppy every single time you leave his apartment, all happy and giddy for some inexplicable reason. A man, who simply doesn't get why his heart beats as if it's completely lost its rhythm in front of you, especially now, his six eyes scanning your surprised expression when you finally open the door.

Satoru wanted to say something, but doesn't know what now. Your lips are so distracting after all.

Guess he'll wonder for a little longer.

masterlist ❤️

269 notes · View notes

justfandomwritings · 2 years

Text

Fearless, Guiltless (Eddie Munson)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: 18+, Smut, p in v, oral, fingering

Summary: No one knew or saw what changed (Y/n) Harrington her freshmen year, but when she showed up to school with a leather jacket, an I-don't-give-a-fuck expression, and a take-no-prisoners attitude everyone was way too scared to question it. She was the Undisputed Queen of Hawkins High, and she ruled everyone with an iron fist... with one exception.

Author's Note: Reposted because I fucked up, totally my fault with the tags y'all my bad. There will be a part two to this, but you can treat this as a standalone if you like, or you can treat part two as a standalone. Or read together.

“Please (Y/n), we’ve asked everyone. Even Steve said no.”

“You do realize tonight is the championship, right? Why would I ditch?”

(Y/n) lounged back, her elbows propping her up on the bleacher behind her. Her eyes were a mixture of doubtful and exasperated. The two freshmen standing in front of her could not have looked more scared and desperate if they tried, which was saying something. She had literally faced down monsters from another dimension with these two nerds, and now they were standing in front of her, on the verge of panic, looking for someone to play a boardgame with them.

Mike seemed to stop and think for a second. He really didn’t have a good excuse. She was literally the last person he and Dustin had thought to ask, and for good reason.

“B-Because you owe me one for saving your life in Starcourt,” Dustin blurted out from behind Mike.

“Y-Yeah!” Mike pointed at his friend. “You owe Dustin.”

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow in what had to be the most condescending expression Mike or Dustin had ever been on the receiving end of. For a moment, they both considered cowering. She could be so much scarier than the Mindflayer when she wanted to be.

(Y/n) Harrington was the undisputed Queen of Hawkins High all four years of high school. She had the intimidating, awe-inspiring air of someone who was better than everyone else at everything all of the time, and she knew it too.

On the first day of high school, Mike and Dustin had seen her tell the meanest bullies in school to fuck off and that the two of them and Max were off limits. Crawling through air vents in Starcourt, Dustin watched her spit in the face of a Russian spy literally planning to torture her to death. The whole party had witnessed her one-handed pump a shotgun and point it into a hoard full of interdimensional demodogs. All without batting an eye.

Being badass, Dustin hypothesized to Mike one day after watching (Y/n) chill the entire basketball team with a single glare, must be a Harrington thing. She was fearless.

“I owe you?” She questioned.

The boys looked back and forth, nerves kicking in as they began to seriously doubt their answer.

“So let me get this straight,” She pushed herself to her feet, hands going straight to her hips. Mike and Dustin both took two steps back. “You want to cash in literally saving my life for me playing D&D with you tonight?” She waited expectantly for the answer and was met with a nod from both boys. “That seems like a fair trade to you?”

Before either of the two could answer the very obvious question that no, in fact, this was the dumbest thing they could cash in saving her life on and that they could easily get so much more for that, there was a long whistle.

Coach Sandhurst was calling the girls in for practice. “Fine,” (Y/n) turned around and started stuffing Steve’s jacket and her snacks back in her gym bag. “If your stupid game’s that important to you, I’ll be there, but get off the field. I have to get back to practice.”

(Y/n) grabbed her pompoms and shoved past the two boys.

Mike and Dustin didn’t immediately process what (Y/n) had just agreed to. They stood there for several seconds watching her back as she jogged off to join the rest of the squad on the practice field.

“Did she just… Did we just…” Dustin spluttered.

The Captain of the Cheer Squad, Undisputed Queen of Hawkins High, Hawkins Royal Legacy, (Y/n) Harrington was ditching the district championship basketball game to join their D&D campaign. This was, without a doubt, the coolest thing that could ever happen to them at this school. Only they couldn’t brag about it to anyone because no one would ever believe it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re ditching the game to play Dungeons and Dragons with the Hellfire Club?” Chrissy repeated in a whisper under her breath, like it was a conspiracy.

“Yeah, yeah,” (Y/n) leaned over to check and make sure she couldn’t see any feet poking out under any of the stall doors. Assured they were alone, she locked the bathroom door. “Look, I owe that freshman, Dustin, a favor, and it’s a pretty big one. And he’s chosen to cash it in today.”

Chrissy hopped up on the sink counter, swinging her legs back and forth off the floor. “What kind of favor could you possibly owe him that would be big enough to miss the championship game?”

(Y/n) was almost tempted to tell her. Chrissy and (Y/n) were almost friends.

In truth, (Y/n) wasn’t really friends with anyone at Hawkins High. She used to be, back in freshmen year, but that was a long time ago. She still hung around the popular kids out of habit, and because none of them asked questions, but she wouldn’t call any of them friends. They put up with her because she was quite simply too popular and powerful not to be in good with. They would all call her their friend, but none of them were dumb enough to believe it.

Chrissy was the exception. She played the popular, pretentious, preppy cheerleader well, but underneath it all she was surprisingly caring. Almost caring enough that (Y/n) wanted to be her friend, almost caring enough that she wanted to be honest with her.

Almost.

“Some shit he did for my brother that I got roped into,” (Y/n) dismissed, “Look, will you cover for me?”

Chrissy smiled, “Of course, but Patrick won’t be happy.” Chrissy winked, “He was looking forward to seeing you on the sidelines.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, and Chrissy laughed. Patrick was a nice enough guy by basketball team standards, but really? She didn’t want anything to do with Hawkins High’s basketball team, or any of the guys at Hawkins High for that matter.

“Come on, you have to give someone a chance. You at least need to get laid.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Steve, I wish you would keep your damn kids in line.” (Y/n) huffed as she jumped up on the counter of the video store.

She had walked straight to the store after school, huffing most of the way. A couple of the girls had offered her a ride there, but she refused claiming the air would help her feel better. Chrissy had helped her set up faking sick for the game that night. Chrissy vouched for her with the coach that her head was hurting again and that she looked like she was about to pass out, which wasn’t entirely untrue.

“What did the brats do now?” Steve asked without looking up as he continued opening returned VHS boxes to ensure their contents matched the covers.

(Y/n) laid herself back across the counter and closed her eyes with a huff. “They’re making me play D&D tonight.”

That made Steve pause. “Y-you’re playing… D&D?” He was fighting the urge to start laughing. (Y/n) didn’t need to open her eyes to know it. The amusement was oozing out of his voice.

“Don’t laugh at me. That twerp you adopted cashed in saving my life for his stupid game.”

Steve did stop laughing. Immediately.

Steve felt a lot of responsibility for what happened that night; (Y/n) knew it. She’d told him a thousand times, a thousand different ways, that there was nothing else he could’ve done differently. But it never seemed to ease his big brother instinct. He always felt like he was the one that owed Dustin not her, for doing what he couldn’t.

“Ok,” Steve slammed the top VHS box closed. “I’ll do it. Where is this game of theirs?”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and sat up, “Don’t be ridiculous I already told them I would.”

“Yeah, but you are actually cheering in the game, and I owe them just as much as you for what happened. So,” he stubbornly crossed his arms, “Where are they playing?”

(Y/n)’s lip turned up in a slight smile, and she patted Steve on the arm. Always the big brother. “Thanks Steve, but it’s too late. I’ve already played hookie with Chrissy for the game. You can’t get out of your date.”

“Hey! I don’t need to get out of my date; she’s great. It’s gonna be…” He trailed off at the doubtful expression on his sister’s face. She was the reigning Queen of Hawkins High. The rumor mill for all of Hawkins ran straight through her ears. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing, Nothing,” (Y/n) sat up and raised her hands with an innocent expression that didn’t match the wicked gleam in her eye. “Just a funny rumor I heard about her and an ex she wants to make jealous.”

Steve huffed and turned back around to start sorting tapes again.

If she thought Steve actually liked his date, (Y/n) would’ve broken the news more gently, but she knew he didn’t and watching her brother whine about a girl using him the same way he always used them was going to be deeply amusing, at least for the next hour before he got over it and moved onto the next beautiful woman that walked through the door.

“So,” Steve cleared his throat. “Do you need a ride then? You can’t carpool with the squad if they think you’re sick.”

“No, it’s ok. I’ll walk there. You have that date to worry about. Besides, I think they’re starting a bit before the game.”

“You can’t walk back. It’ll be way too late.” Steve dismissed.

“I’ll hitch a ride with someone. Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you even know anything about D&D?” Steve asked, turning back to her and crossing her arms. He looked as doubtful of her now as she had of him seconds ago talking about dates. “They play with Eddie the Freak; he’s pretty unforgiving from what Dustin says.”

Now that was a problem (Y/n) could not easily dismiss, and she really didn’t like the idea of losing.

(Y/n) huffed. “Not really, I’m probably gonna make a fool of myself, which is gonna suck. Those nerds will be…” (Y/n) was about to respond when a chime went off at the front of the store, and she turned. A chime that sounded a lot like salvation to her.

“Erica!” (Y/n) jumped off the counter. Erica Sinclair was walking into the video store with her mother in tow. “Hi Mrs. Sinclair,” (Y/n) beamed at the adult, “Do you mind if I talk to Erica for a moment?”

“Oh sure, sweetie, good to see you again, (Y/n),” Mrs. Sinclair smiled, “I’ll be over in the family section Erica.”

Erica waved goodbye to her mother with a smile and a perfectly innocent expression before she turned on (Y/n), “What do you want?”

“I need you to tell me everything you know about D&D, and I’ll get Steve to swap out whatever movie you pick for one of the new Rated R releases.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You brought me… the Princess?”

(Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest. She felt like she was on trial here. Eddie Munson and his goonies were watching her with an almost predatory expression. They, the freaks and geeks of the school, were acting like she was the unworthy one in the room.

“This is a room for heroes and warriors not… girls playing dress up,” Eddie made a motion to the cheer outfit she was still wearing from practice earlier that day. His goonies laughed in agreement.

Heroes? Warriors? These guys thought they were the heroes. (Y/n) wanted to laugh. Her eyes caught Mike’s standing on her right, and he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. His expression was clearly begging her not to say anything.

Eddie was fully squatting on his heels in the chair at the head of the table behind a screen Erica had told her marked him as the ‘Dungeon Master’ of the game. Erica told her this meant that Eddie controlled everything: the story, the world, the bad guys, the fights. For the most part, he decided what the players could and couldn’t do. He was basically God, and she was currently asking for permission to enter his kingdom.

Maybe this really was a worthy trade for saving her life.

“If you understand how to play then I’m sure it can’t be too complicated for me.” (Y/n) pursed her lips in a smile, squaring her shoulders up across from him.

Eddie raised an eyebrow and literally hopped off of his perch, swaggering over to stand an inch in front of her. His breath blew out across her face as he took up the challenge, “You think you, Hawkin’s prettiest little princess, can take on the Cult of Vecna?”

She may not really understand D&D, but this she understood. He was challenging her, trying to sniff her out for any signs of weakness. (Y/n) smirked. It had been a while since someone tried that. But she didn’t become Queen of Hawkins by riding Steve’s coattails. She became Queen of Hawkins by taking no shit, and never backing down.

(Y/n) dropped her arms and closed the last inch between herself and Eddie, going literally toe to toe, chest to chest, with the DM. Eddie didn’t seem to let it phase him any more than it phased her as her body pressed up against his, but there was a murmur from the other guys in the room; shocked that someone would challenge Eddie or intrigued by the current developments, she couldn’t tell. “I don’t think I can take it on; I know I can.” She made sure to breath the words out over his lips.

One of the goonies off to the side let out a quiet ‘oo’, that Eddie immediately shot him a glare over.

“And for the record,” Eddie’s eyes whipped back to her, as she touched a hand to his chest, “I’m not the Princess.” She gave him a hard shove, and Eddie stumbled back a step, catching himself on the edge of the game table. “I’m the fucking Queen.”

The other boys in the room didn’t hold back their sounds of surprise now. Behind her back, Dustin and Mike shared a look that said they knew they’d made the right call.

Eddie’s eyes trailed over her one last time. Pristine cheer uniform, expensive sneakers and a diamond bracelet, her brother’s old varsity jacket slung over her shoulder. She was a Harrington through and through. Everything she stood for was everything he hated.

And yet, for the first time, when Eddie looked at her, he didn’t see it. Maybe it was the fact that she was without her posse or her annoying older brother for once. Maybe it was that she had stepped up to his challenge without hesitation. Or maybe it was the fact that she was here at all, at Hellfire Club, that she had willingly stepped into his realm.

Something about (Y/n) Harrington just seemed different, better, more interesting, today than it had yesterday, and Eddie found himself seeing nothing more or less than the hottest girl in school confidently asking him if she could play D&D at his table.

Eddie pushed himself to his feet and smiled, “Well then, my Queen,” he gave a mocking bow, “let’s play.”

(Y/n) didn’t miss the little fire that seemed to light in his eyes.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything she had with her she’d borrowed from Erica.

Steve had dropped her off at the Sinclair’s house when he got off work, and Erica had spent the better part of an hour helping her. The Rated R movie had sweetened the pot, but it was clear that Erica shared (Y/n)’s love of putting men in their place especially when it came to Lucas and his friends.

“When they ask, you’re going to be a bard,” Erica had shoved a character sheet in her hand the second she walked in the younger girl’s room.

“Okay, Am I supposed to know what that means?” (Y/n) asked, staring down at the piece of paper with a blank expression.

“It’s a kind of musician. Sit down. I’ll explain.” Erica climbed onto her bed and motioned for (Y/n) to do the same.

“First you need to know how to play. D&D has two main phases. Roleplaying and fighting.” Erica began a long, detailed explanation of the game. It was quite apparent in the first few minutes (Y/n) was there that Erica knew more about this than what she’d gleaned from her brother, like she always claimed. Erica liked D&D, played D&D.

Unfortunately, even with Erica’s help, fighting mechanics seemed to go straight over her head.

“Don’t worry. You won’t be doing as much fighting as a bard. You’ll mostly be backing up the party on whatever they need extra help with.” Erica explained when she saw (Y/n)’s confused expression as she got into different dice rolls. “Your play will be more roleplay based.”

“Okay,” (Y/n) hesitated for a second, “And how do I roleplay a bard?”

That brought a huge, shit-eating grin to Erica’s face that (Y/n) couldn’t decide if she found disconcerting or exciting. “How do you feel about flirting with a bunch of nerds till they’re eating out of the palm of your hand?”

Definitely exciting. (Y/n) grinned back. That she could do.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The rest of the party is unaware of where you’re being taken, and you can’t talk your way out of this one, I’m afraid,” Eddie remarked offhandedly as he moved pieces around on the board.

Eddie had led Mike, followed by (Y/n), right into a trap, an NPC guard the party had been trusting for weeks had betrayed them and was now carting them off to their certain death with the rest of the party none-the-wiser in a nearby tavern.

Eddie was clearly not pulling any punches. Erica had told her he probably wouldn’t, that he would probably be the type of DM who went balls to the walls to beat his players, that she would have to go all out to prove herself too.

(Y/n) raised her eyebrow, “Can’t I?” The boys’ eyes all flitted directly to her, Eddie’s head raising up from the board far more slowly. (Y/n) leaned her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands. “I proposition the guard.”

Eddie paused, contemplating the situation for a moment before he seemingly consents to see where this goes, “How?”

“Come on Eddie;” she batted her eyelashes, “surely, you’ve had a girl flirt with you before. You know how it works.” Jeff and Gareth snickered at her retort, but it did nothing to shake Eddie. He stared her down, unblinkingly, waiting to see what she would do.

Really, something about being behind that screen must’ve filled him with an unbridled sense of confidence. ‘God-complex’, (Y/n) could practically hear Erica whispering to her. (Y/n) would’ve thought it was kind of hot, if only it didn’t come from playing D&D.

(Y/n) quickly gave in to roleplaying this scenario out with Eddie, “I pull my legs through my chains so the chains are in front of me, and I unlace my corset and the top of my tunic. I make sure to make a raucous with the chains; lots of noise like something’s going horribly wrong back here.”

Eddie, again, ponders for a moment before acceding to this storyline. “The guard stops the cart and circles around to the doors to check on the noise.”

“I feign a heat stroke and lay down in the back of the cart, pulling my shirt open and fanning myself as much as I can with the chains on.” (Y/n) reaches forward and knocks her character piece over in the square designated for the cart so that it’s laying down. “And I say, ‘Please sir, some water, I think I’m in heat.’” (Y/n) mimes the fanning herself and pulls down on the collar of her cheerleading uniform, “‘I beg you.’”

The mechanics of the game were still far beyond her remit, but (Y/n) took to the roleplaying like a fish to water. She had spent her entire life living behind a mask of popularity and flirting with wholly uninteresting men just for brownie points. This was as easy as breathing.

Besides, flirting with Eddie in a game was at least a bit more interesting than flirting with the copy-and-paste guys on the basketball team. He was at least giving her a challenge, and he was certainly easy on the eyes.

“‘Please sir, I’ll do anything.’” Her voice got thick, sultry even, as she continued to beg the guard, beg Eddie, for assistance. She made pointed eye contact with Eddie as she exposed more of her chest beneath her uniform and pushed her hair back away from her neck feigning heat.

All of the boys’ eyes were darting back and forth between the DM and (Y/n). They were about an hour into this week’s session, and this was a new development indeed. They hadn’t expected this when they added a girl to the party.

None of them had ever flirted their way into or out of anything in D&D before. Sure, they’d talked their way out of things; they’d rolled plenty of persuasion checks. Sure, Eddie had presented them with hot girls they could take back to their bedchambers after a brawl and even the occasional fan of the adventuring party’s tales who was enraptured by them. But these were mostly things that made for amusing flavor text. They’d never actually flirted in game before. They were a group of awkward teenage boys, and even when Eddie proclaimed an NPC was a hot girl, it was still Eddie they would’ve had to flirt with and that just felt too odd to them.

Eddie’s head tilted down and he looked up at her through curtains of hair. “Roll persuasion,” Eddie watched her darkly, “with advantage.”

“Yes!” Mike fist pumped. “Way to go (Y/n)!”

(Y/n) dropped her hand from her chest, and her mouth slowly pulled back in a smile, still watching Eddie at the other end of the table.

Neither of them watched the dice as they left her hand, maintaining eye contact as they flew the length of the table. A cheer from the boys told them one of the numbers was high, and only that managed to break their stare down.

Sure, this was Eddie’s game, but she was going to win.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The eruption of cheers outside wasn’t for the D&D game, but as she walked down the hall surrounded by Mike and Dustin and their friends gushing over how awesome she did for her first time playing, she couldn’t help feeling like it was.

“Do you need a ride, (Y/n)?” Mike asked, “Nancy is dropping Dustin off too since the game is over.”

The basketball game.

(Y/n)’s steps faltered for a second, and Mike and Dustin both paused and turned back to look at her. “Fuck, I can’t.” (Y/n) sighed and waved them on. “You guys go on. I ditched Chrissy and the squad; they can’t see that I wasn’t actually sick.”

“You sure?” Dustin asked, “Do you have a ride? Is Steve still here?”

“Yeah, course he is! I’m gonna head out the back and find him.” (Y/n) thumbed over her shoulder to the backdoors of the school. “No offense, but being seen…”

“We get it…” Dustin smiled and waved her off. “Thanks for coming, (Y/n); you were awesome.”

“Yeah! Thanks (Y/n)!” Mike shouted back.

(Y/n) waved and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She stood there watching the boys exit out the front door for a second longer than was strictly necessary before turning back.

“Nerds,” she mumbled under her breath as she made her way through the hall to the back door.

“Yeah, they kinda are.”

(Y/n) didn’t jump, even though it surprised her. She whirled to face the voice, wrenching her hands out of their pockets and bracing her feet.

“Woah!” Eddie held up his hands with a laugh. “Just me. Don’t shoot.”

“Sorry,” (Y/n) relaxed. “Bit on edge I guess.”

Eddie snorted, “Who isn’t in this town?”

“True.”

“You, uh,” Eddie glanced towards the door, “heading back to the preps now? I’m assuming they won the game from all the screaming outside.”

(Y/n) shook her head, “Nah, just headed home.”

“Your, uh,” He kept darting back and forth between her and the door, “Your brother coming?”

(Y/n) shook her head, “He’s got a hot date, and I doubt he’s going straight home after the game, if you know what I mean?”

“Oh, need a ride?”

(Y/n) mulled it over. She’d been planning to walk; it would take about an hour but she could. Of course, if Steve’s date didn’t pan out, he would beat her home and be pissed she didn’t ask him for a ride. And she couldn’t ask anyone who went to the game because they were parked in the lot by the gym, and the squad would see her.

“I parked out by the baseball field,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “No one will see you getting in a car with the Freak.”

He hadn’t exactly hit the nail on the head about what was bothering her, but it didn’t hurt. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”

Eddie bowed theatrically and motioned for her to lead the way. “M’lady.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and stuffed her hands back in her pockets, walking ahead of him down the hall.

Eddie jogged to catch up and fall in step beside her. “So how did Henderson talk you into this? I wouldn’t have bet on a Harrington gracing us with their presence, but if I had it would’ve been Steve.” His tone was surprisingly teasing, not mocking for once.

“Steve had a date, and I owed Henderson one.”

“For what?” Eddie asked.

(Y/n) stayed silent for a moment. There was a story in place here, for this exact moment. Organized by the former directors of Hawkins Lab. But it was a little too close to the truth. Saying it felt like confiding in someone, in Eddie Munson of all people.

“Come on,” Eddie snorted, “It’s Henderson. It’s not like he helped you bury a body.”

(Y/n) sighed. “He was with me and Steve when the fire started at Starcourt.”

“Yeah, I saw the news the next day.” Eddie cut in, “That picture of Steve carrying you out of the mall was everywhere.”

The words on the police report fell out of her mouth in a well-rehearsed fashion. “Yeah, well, what you didn’t see was us getting separated in the chaos inside. I got trapped. Henderson’s the one who found me. He dragged me out of the wreckage. Steve only carried me to a medic.”

Eddie whistled, low and long. “So Henderson saved your life, so now you play D&D,” he gestured vaguely back down the hall in the direction the other players had gone.

The pair took a right, headed towards the back entrance near the fields.

Eddie didn’t immediately respond, and the silence felt rather deafening. She could practically feel him judging her. (Y/n) kicked her feet out a bit, scuffing at the linoleum floor. “Believe me I also know it’s not a fair trade. But D&D means a lot to him; he asked for my help. I delivered. That’s that.”

“You certainly did deliver.” Eddie chuckled, seemingly trying to lighten the mood, “Can’t say I’ve ever had a player pull their top down during a game, but I’m certainly not complaining that you’re the first.”

“You’re exaggerating,” (Y/n) quipped back with a smirk, “but next time I’ll be sure to tell Gareth to wear something with buttons. We’ll see who can do the better job seducing the DM with a strip tease.”

Eddie barked out a laugh. The back door was a few feet in front of them, and Eddie jogged ahead to grab it for her. Standing in the narrow doorway holding it open as (Y/n) turned sideways to pass through, Eddie leaned down, smirking again, and said, “You don’t need the game as an excuse to seduce me.”

(Y/n) paused in the doorway, looking up at Eddie. That cocky attitude again; it wasn’t just ruling the roost around his friends. “UGH,” it was getting to her.

“What?” Eddie’s brow furrowed at the sound, “I was just- ”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/n) grabbed a fist full of Eddie’s shirt and dragged him after her through the doorway, shoving him up against the brick wall outside the school.

“What are you…” Eddie’s question died in the air as (Y/n) smashed her lips into his.

This was, without a doubt, one of the dumbest decisions she’d ever made, but it had been so long, too long. And really, he didn’t seem like a freak, not that she would’ve mind a freak for her particular purposes.

Eddie seemed stunned for a moment, but the second his mind caught up, his hands went around her waist and dragged her against his chest. Flipping them around, he pinned her to the wall and returned her kiss.

There was nothing gentle or caring about the kiss. It was a kiss of pure, unadulterated desperation on both sides. (Y/n) wasn’t sure where his tongue ended and hers began. It was sloppy, messy, the kind of kiss you’d expect from two desperately horny high schoolers who had spent the entire night eyeballing each other across a six-foot-long table.

One of her hands stayed fisted in Eddie’s shirt, and (Y/n) ran the other hand up his chest and knotted it into his hair, tugging at the roots.

Eddie groaned as she pulled his hair, and he let her fingers pull his mouth from hers. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Eddie stared down at her with open, honest eyes, ready to stop the moment she gave the word.

“I’m the one that dragged you out here. Are you?” (Y/n) retorted hotly.

Eddie’s lips pulled back in a grin, “Fuck yes.” He dove back in, attacking her mouth with renewed fervor. Their tongues lashed at each other, a battle for dominance that (Y/n) was bound to lose at this angle. She felt like he was trying to devour her.

A knee pushed itself between her own, and she spread her legs to make room for Eddie’s thigh pressing up against her. One of Eddie’s hands left her waist, trailing slowly over her ass and down her thigh before hitching it up against his hip.

(Y/n) groaned into the kiss, and Eddie sunk his teeth into her lip in response, tugging at it playfully.

“Eddie, if I wanted to play games, I would’ve stayed in the D&D room.” (Y/n) ground herself down against the thigh between her legs.

Eddie chuckled and nuzzled his nose into her cheek, pressing his knee higher up to meet the movement of her hips. “Well, if I was going to fuck you against a wall I would’ve done it already.”

“Then where…”

“My van, now.” Eddie smacked her ass and pulled sharply away from her. Stuffing his hands in his pockets and meandering a couple steps back from the girl he’d left hot and bothered against the brick wall. “Can’t risk one of those pretty boy basketball players seeing you out here with me, now can we?”

(Y/n) wanted to growl, or maybe pounce on him; she wasn’t sure. But she collected herself as best she could and stood tall, marching past him towards his van at the back of the lot. “Why not? Maybe we could teach ‘em a thing or two.” (Y/n) snipped as she passed him.

Looping a finger in the chain attached to his belt, (Y/n) tugged Eddie along behind her.

There wasn’t enough force behind it to make him go, but Eddie chuckled and followed the pull at his waist until they reached his van.

Waiting expectantly at the back door for Eddie to open it, (Y/n) felt two arms over her shoulders, caging her in against the van as Eddie pressed his whole body against her from behind, “Maybe next time gorgeous,” he leaned in, whispering against her ear, “but for now you’re all mine.”

The van door on her right swung open and Eddie gave her another smack on the ass to climb up in, which she obediently followed.

(Y/n) was hit immediately with the thick stench of weed, but before she had time to process anything else, she was being pinned down on a pile of blankets in the back.

Eddie crawled up the floor of the van, pinning her down by straddling her hips. “The Queen and The Freak,” Eddie lazily trailed his fingers along the hem of her cheerleading top, toying with flicking it to reveal an inch of skin and then back down to cover her again. “Who would’ve thought?”

Before she could respond, Eddie chuckled to himself and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. Eddie’s kiss was slower, far less urgent than hers had been against the school wall. It was still biting, still a battle of wills, fueled by their mutual lust and frustration, but the edge had been taken out of the whole situation. There was no question of where this was going, no point to get across, no doubts. They both wanted this.

God did she want this.

(Y/n) turned her head, craning her neck away from Eddie’s greedy lips to catch a breath of air. He traveled down to her neck, sucking and nipping as he went.

“Not much of a queen if you’re going to leave me hanging so long.”

Eddie bit particularly harshly at a spot where her throat met her collar bone, and (Y/n) fought to hold in a moan. “Oh don’t worry,” Eddie sat up and pushed himself down her legs. Flipping up the front of her cheer skirt, he slipped a finger under the band of her underwear, tugging them off her as he went, “I’ll treat you like a queen.”

Hooking his arms under her thighs, he draped her legs over his shoulder as he laid down between them.

The back of the van was pitch black, and even when she looked down, (Y/n) could only just make out the mane of long bushy hair. The van was off, and none of the lights by the basketball gym could reach the back corner lot where Eddie parked. In a way she knew what was coming, but she couldn’t see to know when or how.

Tilting her head back, (Y/n) closed her eyes and just felt. Eddie’s fingers brushed up the sides of her thighs, stroking back and forth over the soft skin slowly as he blew out a breath over her folds.

“Eddie,” (Y/n) was about to complain again, but his tongue cut her off, flattening and licking the length of her folds.

After so long, it felt so good to have someone taking care of her like this, to have Eddie licking her, touching her where she needed him most. She didn’t know him, never had a crush on him, hadn’t even really noticed him before that night, but goddamn she would’ve begged for his tongue to be on her if he’d wanted. She was absolutely desperate for him, not even in the fun teasing way, but in the manic unenjoyable way where she just needed someone absolutely immediately.

Eddie did not disappoint. His tongue stopped at the top of her folds and slowly circled her clit, sending her hips jolting up towards his mouth. One of Eddie’s hands stretched across her hips, holding them down against the floor of the van as he lapped rhythmically at her clit.

(Y/n) moaned loudly into the air and threw one arm over her face. The other hand went straight into Eddie’s hair, trying and failing to tug his mouth closer. He was touching her, touching her exactly where she wanted to be touched and it still wasn’t enough.

“Please Eddie, don’t tease me.”

“Hmmm,” Eddie hummed, continuing stroking her clit with his tongue in the process.

“Eddie, please,” she begged.

Eddie pulled his mouth off of her, which made her whine in protest. She wanted more, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to stop. “The queen, begging me, what have I done to deserve such a show of favor.” He was taunting her now. The fingers on his free hand were fluttering up the inside of her thigh, getting dangerously close to the place his mouth had just abandoned but not actually taking its place.

“Eddie,” she bucked her hips, but his arm held her back, “you can tease me next time. Please, just make me cum.”

“Next time?” She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear it in his voice, surprise.

“Next time,” She repeated.

She wasn’t sure if there would be a next time, but if he was as good as he seemed to be so far she certainly wouldn’t mind. The promise seemed to change something in his demeaner.

One of Eddie’s fingers brushed lightly over her clit making her jolt, but it kept moving down to her hole. She was wet, very wet, a mixture of Eddie’s mouth and her own arousal, and just thinking about how wet she was made her moan thinking about how it must be all over Eddie’s chin if only it wasn’t too damn dark in this van to see.

His finger probed at her entrance, slicking itself in her arousal and circling a few times before it slid in.

Even for only having one finger in, she was tight. It had been so long since she’d gotten laid, and she clenched around Eddie like vice. He left the first finger there as a second probed and then slowly joined the first.

Even before they began to move, she couldn’t help but moan quietly. “You really are desperate for me, my queen.” He whispered between her moans. “Don’t worry; I promised I’d take care of you.”

He started off slowly, dragging his fingers out and pushing them back in at an agonizing pace, but as (Y/n) began to whimper and squirm he picked up the pace.

She couldn’t form words for how good it felt, for how relieved she felt. Eddie’s fingers curled inside her, and she tugged hard on his hair as she let out another moan. Eddie was trying, trying very hard, to make her come undone.

His arm, holding her down, disappeared from across her hips, and Eddie wet his free fingers in the juice flowing out of her, dragging them up to circle her clit.

“Fuck,” (Y/n)’s hips bucked freely up into Eddie’s hand and his fingers slowed to a stop. He kept stroking her clit, but his other hand stayed firmly in place, angled into her, as he let her fuck herself on his fingers.

“Gorgeous,” He murmured, pressing a kiss into her thigh as she used him to pleasure herself, “Cum for me, my queen; I want to taste you.”

(Y/n) rolled her hips up with a loud moan, her rhythm stuttering as she felt the first wave crash over her.

Eddie picked up the slack, his fingers resuming their unforgiving pace fucking into her and his other thumb rapidly flicking her clit to extend the high. She was gushing out over his fingers, her entrance clenching and unclenching around his fingers without control.

She couldn’t describe the feeling. Like cold rain on a hot afternoon maybe, or a hot shower on a cold night. She wasn’t sure which. She had the sensation of momentary, utter ecstasy running down her body followed by a joyful peace.

Eddie’s fingers slowed as she came down, and he pulled them out of her with a wet noise. “Good work, gorgeous,” the hand that had been on her clit stroked her thighs as they trembled slightly from the aftershock of her first orgasm in a long time. His other hand, covered in her slick, went to his mouth, and he sucked at the fingers that had been inside her. “Mmm,” he groaned.

His hands went to either side of her as he lowered himself over her, “You taste amazing gorgeous. Next time we’ll draw this out a little longer, and I’ll get it from the source.”

Her hand was still in his hair as he’d moved above her, and she used it to drag him down into a kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, but she could taste herself even more on his tongue as it slipped into her mouth. She let him win this one. She was still coming down from the high, and she didn’t have the energy to fight him through this kiss. But she also felt like he’d earned it.

His tongue languidly stroked hers, and she felt, for a moment, like he was being almost caring. He was gentler, softer, and not just because he didn’t have to fight her. The teasing nips and bites were gone. He seemed to just enjoy the feeling of kissing her.

The thought occurred to her that she should return the favor.

(Y/n) reached down, fumbling at his belt and flinging it towards the back of the van when it finally came off. Her thumbs fumbled over the button at the top of his jeans a couple times before it came undone and she could finally yank his zipper down.

Her hand quickly dipped below waistband, reaching to take him in her hand, but Eddie caught her wrist before she could. “Next time, gorgeous,” he whispered against her lips, “Next time, when we can actually make it to a bed, I’ll show you how good my mouth can be when you aren’t so impatient, and you’ll show me what it feels like to have those pretty lips around my cock. But right now I want you as much as you wanted me.”

Eddie pulled away from her long enough to shove his jeans and his boxers down around his knees. His lips were back on hers as quickly as they’d left, and he kissed her while guiding his cock to her entrance.

Her thighs, a bit weak from her previous orgasm, clumsily wrapped themselves around his waist, angling herself up towards the head of his cock that was bumping against her folds, and with a single, strong stroke of his hips he plunged into her.

He was so much bigger than she’d imagined he’d be, and she felt like she was being filled with, consumed by Eddie. Her eyes took on a far away look as her head lulled back in the pleasure of finally getting exactly what she needed.

“Stick with me there, gorgeous,” Eddie whispered as he pulled out and made his first thrust into her.

Her eyes focused in on his, piercing into hers with such intensity, such want and need. She couldn’t keep staring at them. This was already going to be over far too soon, and it would only be so much faster if he kept looking at her like that. Eddie set a strong, steady rhythm of his hips into hers, and (Y/n) buried her face in his neck behind his hair, kissing at his skin in between her moans.

His cock filled her to the brim, but she was so wet from her first orgasm that it was sliding in and out of her with ease. The sounds their bodies made as he slammed into her were sinful. His grunts, her moans, the smack of skin on skin as his cock bottomed out inside of her. She wanted to record it for posterity, for her own pleasure later when she was alone in her room without Eddie there to make her feel this way again.

She was sure she would imagine this feeling, his cock pounding into her, filling her, the groan of satisfaction that slipped out of him every time her walls clenched around him.

Their clothes were mostly still on, and (Y/n) could feel the denim of Eddie’s vest rubbing at the inside of her thighs wrapped around him. There would be patches of raw skin there tomorrow. Redness and chafing that her uniform wouldn’t cover up, hickeys on her neck and chest from his bites that would tell everyone exactly how ‘sick’ she had been tonight. Thinking about it, about everyone know how good Eddie fucked her, made it hotter.

“Harder, Eddie,” (Y/n) whimpered, using her back to leverage her hips up to meet his.

Eddie grunted in response and let himself press more of his weight into her, freeing up his legs to power his hips faster. He was pounding into her now, chasing the relief they both desperately sought in each other.

There would be a next time. Next time, she’d have him in her bed, naked under her as she bent him to her will, but this was exactly what she needed right now. Reckless, mindless, spontaneous, unrestrained. He could’ve fucked her against the wall of the school where anyone could’ve stumbled upon them, and she still would’ve felt exactly like this, like she was chasing her high and he was the only one who could deliver it.

The van was filled with hot, humid air from their breathy moans and the heat of their bodies moving against each other; it felt like a sauna. The frame had begun to shake around them with Eddie’s more forceful thrusts. Anyone outside would know exactly what was going on in there.

They would know exactly who was doing it to, as Eddie hit a particularly sensitive angle, and (Y/n) threw her head back and moaned his name at the top of her lungs.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Eddie grunted, snapping his hips into her, “Are you gonna cum with me?”

She was so close, “Yes, Eddie, God, right there.”

Eddie listened to her, readjusting his knees further under her to keep hitting the same angle that left her absolutely panting, whimpering, chasing her high.

“Cum for me. Cum for me,” He pulled his head back from her and stared down at her, greedy to watch as she fell apart. (Y/n) made eye contact with him, and the intense look in his eye that had scared her gaze away before, the wanton, lust ravaged look that spoke to just how close he was to finishing, powered her forward. It was almost too much; she tried to turn her head to the side, but one of Eddie’s hands grabbed her chin and kept her eyes on his as she fell apart around him.

The muscles in her thighs began to quake, and her legs fell from where they had been wrapped around him; her hand in his hair mindlessly jerked at his curls as she cried out. Her walls latched onto his cock like a lifeline, and her release gushed forth uncontrollably around him.

He followed seconds behind, his hips stuttering their blistering pace before completely faltering as he shot his full load into her with a groan of relief. His arm, holding him up beside her head, gave out, and Eddie laid his entire weight on top of her.

(Y/n) was gasping for breath. Her whole body seemed to be quaking from the aftershock, and she realized just how hot and sweaty she felt under her clothes.

Eddie wasn’t much better. Instinctively, her hand in his hair began stroking through it, calming him down from his high, “Not bad, Eddie,” she teased breathlessly.

Eddie grumbled, and in response his hips jerked up into hers, cock still nested inside her. She couldn’t help the whimper as the friction made her quiver from how oversensitive she was.

“I’ll be good in a minute,” Eddie chuckled blissfully, “Then I’ll take you home… We can figure out when next time will be on the way.”

2K notes · View notes

olreid · 1 year

Text

what rules about claudia being a child vampire is like. the whole 'family' dynamic is based on denying claudia because she's 'the baby' except that the being a vampire of it all completely voids all the usual excuses that are trotted out to justify the typical (mis)treatment of children by their families... for example, children are expected to physically restrain themselves, ostensibly so they don't get hurt. yet the fragility associated with youth doesn't apply to claudia, and both louis and lestat tell her not to run in the house anyway; the rule is revealed as being grounded not in child safety but in the comfort and preferences of adults.

everything that might be said about claudia's physical weakness or vulnerability is annulled by her vampirism; everything that might be said about her being lesser because she is a fledgling is pretty much equally true of louis, who for the decade of experience he has on her seems to have very little vampire knowledge to show for it. and she owes louis and lestat no kin-based loyalty or deference because for all they say they are her parents, they did not birth or raise her and she did not ask to be turned! she is a "child" but without any of the associated conditions which usually conspire to fix children in their traditional roles; and once the excuse provided by those traits is gone, all that remains is the desire for control and the willingness to enforce that control with violence.

all the perfect hypocrisy of parenthood is on display; lestat admonishing claudia for unsubtle killings when he famously loves to do like. murder-based performance art, both louis and lestat refusing claudia a mate of her own despite neither of them being able to come up with a good reason for denying her other than 'because i said so.' and for all that claudia's behavior is framed by both louis and lestat as her 'acting out' for one reason or another, they never manage to come up with even one convincing explanation as to why she should not be allowed to do exactly as she pleases. who are they, after all, to tell her what to do?

#the only thing claudia gets out of being made to be the baby is the gift of being underestimated. but thats a different post #and of course claudia recognizes & gives voice to the arbitrary nature of her subjugation in calling lestat the master to her slave #also its own post. anyway #iwtv #a long wish to be elsewhere

556 notes · View notes

hard-core-super-star · 8 months

Note

Hello! How are you doing?

Is it okay if I request Hailee Steinfeld x female reader with cold heated(reader) x sunshine(Hailee). Like, where the reader has the soft spot for the actress?

with friends like you, who needs friends? [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: you had always said relationships weren't for you but a certain brunette seems hellbent on proving you wrong.

warnings: party + alcohol = drunk hailee; R doesn't drink, they just get to watch the chaos unfold; one (1) makeout session; hailee's puppy-dog eyes [yes, they need a warning]

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this is basically just black cat gf x golden retriever gf so do with that information what you will. hailee's a little bit kate bishop coded in this one but shhh.

* * * * * * *

Was there anything worse than being forced to come to a party you didn’t want to be at? Turns out the answer is yes. Somehow, your friends had all decided to team up against you to turn tonight into an absolute mess.

Okay, maybe you were being dramatic but with good reason.

Your friends had found out about the significant Hailee-shaped soft spot in your usually impenetrable heart and they had chosen tonight to force the evidence out of you. The worst part of the whole ordeal is the fact that the party was technically your idea.

You had jokingly told Hailee she ought to hold more parties considering how gorgeous her house is and she wasted no time in planning one. There was quite literally no reason for the shindig you had been forced to come to but no one seemed to mind. No one except you.

Although you slowly stopped being such a grump about it the more you saw a certain brunette smile.

Unfortunately, your shift from annoyance to heart-eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends who keep sending you knowing looks every time you slip away from them to talk to an increasingly unsober Hailee. You had never been the type to feel protective over the people in your life but clearly, she’s the exception to most of your rules.

Including your rule against relationships.

“y/n!” Hailee’s voice greets you the second you step into her kitchen. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you!”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from teasing her for the noticeable slur to her words. “I’ve been in the same spot all night, Haiz.”

She makes a face at the nickname. Her disdain for you calling her had been made obvious a few weeks ago but you still didn't understand it. She seems to love it when people call her Haiz, why are you the exception?

“You've been moping on my couch since the party started,” she half-complains, half-informs.

“I'm not the party type,” you reply with a shrug. “And I'm not moping.”

“Then why do you have that look on your face?”

You raise an eyebrow in response which prompts the brunette to attempt to recreate your ‘moping’ look. You’re not sure if she’s trying to make you smile or if she’s making fun of you but you quickly realize you don’t really mind either way. Especially considering how cute she looks with that exaggerated pout on her face.

“I look nothing like that,” you say, the smallest of smiles grazing your face.

She shrugs. “True but I made you smile.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re the one with the crush.”

Your face heats up a noticeable amount, at least, that’s what the smirk Hailee wears tells you. You’re not one to be outmatched though so you do your best to recover. “I think you’ve got that backward, darling.”

Your hands grip her waist and you gently guide her backward until she’s trapped between you and a counter. You stare at her, waiting for the clever comeback that never comes. You worry you’ve crossed some invisible boundary when she practically lunges forward to press her lips to yours.

The action catches you off guard but you quickly recover, stepping closer and pulling her flush against you. It’s not the first time you’ve both gotten lost in each other but it leaves you breathless and trembling all the same. You never thought a kiss could make you question so many things about who you are and what you want yet here you are.

You had always swore off love and relationships and all the stuff that makes most people’s stomach flutter in ridiculous ways. You didn’t want any of that. At least, not until Hailee kissed you for the first time which turned into a second time which turned into many, many, more times. Times that left you wondering why the hell you’re so hellbent on not asking her out.

Right now is another one of those times.

You hold back a groan as Hailee bites down on your lower lip, a silent signal to get out of your head and back into the real world. You’re happy to oblige with her wish.

You part from her wine-stained lips long enough to help hoist her onto the counter you were so happily pinning her against. Her arms go around you in an instant, pulling you between her legs and holding you there as you lean in for another kiss.

You’re well aware of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be making out in her kitchen but they fade to nothing the longer she holds you close.

You’re forced to pull away when your lungs start burning from the lack of air. The tiniest, and most adorable, of pouts crosses Hailee’s face and you find yourself peppering kisses across her face to make her laugh. Your strategy works a little too well and soon the only sound you can hear is her.

You almost forget where you are until the sound of playful whistles and hollers fills your ears. You roll your eyes at the intrusion and reluctantly step away from the brunette, turning around to find Eiza, Billie, and Ella as the culprits. You can’t say you’re surprised.

“Oh no, don’t let us ruin the moment,” Ella says with a laugh. “You looked quite cozy, love.”

“This is why I never visit you when I’m in New York,” you reply, falling back into your usual, more aloof, personality.

“Guys, guys, she’s blushing!” Billie joins in. “I’ve never seen our resident heartbreaker blush before.”

You decide not to reply, knowing whatever you say will just be fuel for the fire of their teasing remarks. While you understand their jokes are coming from a good place, they get annoying quickly so you shoot Hailee a brief look before stepping out of the kitchen and finding your way back to your ‘moping’ spot.

Your peace doesn’t last long, however, and soon you’re joined on the couch by the four people you left behind. You can’t really complain considering the way Hailee curls up against your side.

You wrap a protective arm around her, ready to spring to action the moment she feels sick due to all the drinks in her system. She swears she’s ‘just tipsy’ but she very clearly chugged a few drinks in the moments before she joined you on the couch. It’s especially noticeable in the way she literally clings to you…not that you mind.

You sort of follow the conversation that flows easily between the friend group but you quickly realize Hailee’s been staring at you for the past few minutes. You turn your head slightly to face before you speak. “You okay, Haiz?”

There’s that look again. “I hate it when you call me that.”

“Why?” You find yourself asking, the rest of the party falling to the background.

“Because everyone calls me that.” The slur in her words becomes a bit more obvious this time. “And you’re…special. I want to be special to you.”

A part of you is aware that she’s just drunk and she probably doesn’t even know what she’s saying right now but the vulnerable glint in her eyes melts you all the same. “Hey, you are special to me. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

“But you don’t want me,” she argues.

“Who told you that?”

“You. You don’t date anyone. Not even me.”

Her words tug at your heart, mainly because she’s not wrong. You had told her that during your first night out together and pretended you didn’t notice the way her smile fell when you made it clear you weren’t looking for anything serious. A lot has changed since then, though, and suddenly the thought of being in a relationship doesn’t seem so bad.

“What if I told you I changed my mind?”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, y/n.”

“I’m not lying.”

A few moments pass while her eyes scan your face almost as if she’s searching for signs of trickery in your features. The most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen lights up her face once she realizes you’re serious.

In an instant, she leans in toward you and you force yourself to pull back. Her eyes open when she realizes you moved away, her adorable pout making a comeback. There’s a silent question in her features you do your best to answer.

“Babe, trust me, I would love to kiss you but there’s no way you’re going to remember most of this tomorrow.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“I know, you’re ‘just tipsy’ but still.” You reach up and run a hand through her hair. “My mind is made up.”

“You do know we’ve kissed before, right?”

“Are you going to spend the rest of the night complaining?” You ask, your tone more playful than annoyed. “I can just go home if you want.”

You don’t make any move to stand up but Hailee reacts as if you had pushed her off of you. She wraps her arms around your waist and practically buries her face in your neck. All you can do is chuckle and pull her closer to silently reassure her you’re not leaving.

You might be forced to endure more of your friends teasing you about how soft you are with the brunette but you don't care. You don't need anything else as long as you've got Hailee. And you know the same can be said for her.

#hailee steinfield x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

285 notes · View notes

flowerbxuquet · 7 months

Text

Enemies with benefits

Lottie matthews x fem!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, 16+, degrading, Lottie is out of character, she’s a bitchy mean girl in this (actually just a scared pookie)

A/N: got a little carried away w this one guys i can’t lie..it’s 18.6k words….

Your heart is pounding.

It’s just a scrimmage, you shouldn’t be so serious about this but there’s only one reason you’re taking it so serious.

Lottie fucking Matthews is on your tail.

Lottie and you have been rivals for years and I mean YEARS. Ever since elementary school, Lottie was social and popular, while you were quite the opposite, shy and unknown. Lottie was also one of the richest families in town, you couldn’t say the same.

That always caused a certain distaste between you two. You two competed in everything, math, science, art, sports. That’s the whole reason you joined soccer, to beat and be better than Lottie.

You guys had been enemies for quite some time, until one night. Jackie was hosting a party and Lottie got super drunk, the both of you were shit faced and ended up drunkenly hooking up.

After it happened twice and then a third time..and then a fifth time. You both agreed to be enemies with benefits, you guys would act normal in public. Shitty to each other like usual, but in private if you needed to relieve stress, it was fair game.

Lottie elbows you in your side, knocking the wind out of you. Completely against the rules to touch another player as her leg swipes the ball away from you with a laugh.

“Good luck on the bench when coach sees how you’ve been playing lately!” Lottie calls out, not loud enough for Ben or Jackie to hear, otherwise they certainly wouldn’t have allowed the negative talk.

You growl in anger, huffing and puffing. Not even bothering to run after Lottie as your legs burn, Lottie’s running towards the goal and eventually makes it in.

Lottie plays aggressively during the practice, forty five damn minutes of her snarky remarks, teasing glances, and taking the ball from you at opportunity.

After a tiring practice, it’s finally over. Coach Ben hands out waters to everyone and dismisses the girls to the locker room.

You walk to the changing room. Your two closest friends on the team, Taissa and Van, bid goodbye to you. The door closes and everyone seems to be gone except for you as you start stripping yourself of your shirt.

You pull back on your regular clothes, gasping when you turn your head and have a heart attack at the sight of Lottie Matthews. You thought everyone was gone but she was leaning against the wall, a coy smirk on her face.

You hated how that damn smirk made you feel.

She doesn’t take her uniform off, just leans forwards and rests her chin on her hand with an arrogant smirk on her face as she watches you change.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you? You’re not all that.” She remarks, trying to piss you off for no reason. That was Lottie’s favorite hobby, i mean, seriously, where did that comment even come from?

She knows, deep down, just how cute you actually are, that’s why Lottie even thought of it. But part of being ‘Lottie’ is not letting people know what you actually think.

Lottie couldn’t deny she had been feeling..different towards you lately. She got a bit too drunk during one of your hook ups and you immediately stopped, holding her close while she threw up and cuddling her when she asked.

It was the first time she had remembered when you cuddled her to sleep, Lottie was always a bit drunk that she had no idea you would just hold her instead of having sex when she was too drunk which happened a lot more frequently then she expected.

Lottie had no idea of all the things she’s told and said to you.

But when she did remember, Lottie just excused it as being drunk and acted like she didn’t even remember it. As if she didn’t remember how safe and warm she felt in your arms. When she realized she wanted more than just sex.

“You say the exact opposite whenever you’re drunk and trying to fuck me.” You hiss at her. The other girls had no idea about our little secret so you made sure no one was in the locker room before saying that.

You slam your locker door shut, ready to leave since it’s clear Lottie’s in a pissy mood today and you’re sure she doesn’t want to hook up right now, just be a bitch.

Truly, you felt sorry for the girl. You knew she was only a bitch because she was so rich and alone, her parents never home and leaving her by herself.

You liked the girl she was when she was vulnerable and shy, the few nights where she would be so drunk that you two wouldn’t even have sex.

Lottie would just cuddle you and talk, she never remembered it the next day. You did though.

Lottie told you about her parents and home life, she sounds like she lives a lonely life. Still doesn’t make her any less of a bitch though.

Your words sting to Lottie. They cut deep because they are true.

Lottie is the one who always initiates the hookups. She is the one who always makes the first move.

They’re good and they’re fun, but there’s not a lot of romance involved. Most of the time, no one is sober.

“You’re too needy. Desperate, even.” Lottie snaps. You can tell she wants you, she just doesn’t want you to know that you have the upper hand.

“Then stop trying to fuck me.” You say with a roll of your eyes and huff, not in the mood to entertain Lottie’s delusional tantrums right now.

You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, you had to walk home because no one could pick you up from practice and it sure as hell was a long ass walk.

And Lottie was just pissing you off.

“I only do it because I feel bad for you.” Lottie speaks with a dismissive smirk.

She’s not going to let you get away that easily. She pushes herself off from the locker and grabs your arm, trying to turn you around to face her.

You huff and turn around, grasping at both of her arms and slamming her against the lockers, pinning her up with a snarl even though you were shorter then her. (Lottie’s tall as fuck so that’s the only reason i added this but if ur taller then her ignore this💀)

“You know what I think, Lottie? I think you like pissing me off because you love how hard it makes me fuck you.”

You whisper seductively, a coy smirk on your face now.

“Don’t think i’ve forgotten. How everytime I have you, you’re begging me to touch you and you whimper and moan like a little slut.”

You watch as she turns as red as a tomato. You know that deep down there’s something more to your on-again-off-again hook-up. But she isn’t ready to talk about it yet and, until she is, you’re going to enjoy antagonizing her.

She squirms around in your grasp, her face a deep red.

You smirk.

“Stop fucking with me, Matthews. Or i’m going to make you forget your own name.”

You whisper seductively in her ear.

“But you’re such a slut, you’d probably like that.” You whisper once more before pulling away, satisfied that you have this power over Lottie as you move to walk away from her again, wanting to tease her and leave her desperate.

She snatches your wrist as you turn around, her eyes now filled with a look of desire as she slowly pulls you back towards her. She wraps her arms around your back, pushing you up against the lockers.

She speaks softly and seductively. “I can make you beg too.”

“Yeah, right.” You smirk and grab her, trying to flip your positions. You cant deny that you blush a bit and your stomach flutters when Lottie pins you to the wall.

You grab her and smash your lips onto hers, it’s not gentle in the slightest, it’s primal and messy as you two make out against the lockers, both of you grasping each other tightly.

It all feels so different now.

The tension between you is almost tangible.

She grabs at you, gripping the fabric of your shirt as she tries to push you back against the locker, her body pressed tightly against yours.

You taste her lip gloss, and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever experienced.

You push her against the locker wall and press your body against hers, the friction driving you wild as you feel the heat simmering between the two of you.

You grab her and lead her over to the bench, sitting her down while you kneel to her height and kiss her, not wanting to lose the taste of her sweet lip gloss.

You start to kiss down her neck, no one should walk in the locker room since it’s so late in the afternoon but you decided it would be safe to be quick about pleasuring Lottie.

You can feel your heart beating in your chest, your breath coming in steady pants as you slowly drag your lips down her neck.

She closes her eyes and bites her lower lip, giving away just how good you’re making her feel.

Her fingernails gently dig into your shoulders as she starts to squirm underneath you. Her breaths become slightly erratic and you can hear her breathing quicken as you move your lips lower.

“You’re so beautiful.” You whisper softly, not even realizing what you just said until the words slip out of your lips. You’ve complimented her before during sex, calling her “hot” or “sexy.”

But never beautiful..it felt much more intimate and you can tell it surprises Lottie too because she lets out a soft whimper.

You’re completely caught up in the moment, focused solely on making your ‘worst enemy’ feel good. Her body is perfect, it’s hard not to just look at her.

You kiss her inner thigh and Lottie moans softly, pushing her hips forward and moving her body to give you better access. She closes her eyes, her breathing becoming more shallow and excited.

She grabs onto your shoulders for support, pushing herself into your touch.

You grab her inner thighs and pull her onto your awaiting mouth. Worshipping her, the way you touch her is almost like you never hated her, it’s in such a loving and gentle way, focused on her pleasure.

The way Lottie moans and gasps fuels the movements and your body is screaming at you never to stop even if your jaw locks up.

Because how could you ever stop when there’s a literal angel up above, begging you not to?

These were the moments you didn’t hate Lottie Matthews, the times where she didn’t try to act all cold and strong.

But you knew the second it was over, she’d hate you again, and the cycle would continue.

Your lips feel like heaven against her skin, your tongue exploring and loving every inch of her.

It was easy to hate her, but now, seeing her like this, hearing her moans, feeling her body shake - it’s impossible.

Your lips move across her wet skin, her reactions spurring you on. The cycle always repeated itself but this time, you don’t want it to. There’s more to what you feel for Lottie. More than just hate or sexual tension - but love too. But will she ever admit it?

Your tongue is as gentle as you can make it on her skin. The kisses along her thighs, the gentle licking; You’re enjoying every second of this and Lottie’s pleasure only fuels your desire for more.

Your hand is resting on the side of her leg, squeezing softly from time to time.

You can smell her body, the aroma of her sweat and soap blending together in a pleasant symphony.

Your heart beats faster and faster as you continue. Eager to give her everything she needs.

You hear her deep breaths, her lips parted slightly. Her skin is soft and delicate as your tongue caresses and teases.

She’s not used to this kindness from you, not used to you being so gentle - yet so passionate.

Her leg trembles under your hand as you squeeze, as if her legs are weak and her soul is weak too.

She’ll never admit it but this is what she really wants. To feel safe. To feel loved.

You rub her thigh in a comforting manner, you don’t know why you were being so gentle. After Lottie was so damn rude to you earlier, you just couldn’t help it.

But in the moment, you just let yourself pleasure her, make her feel safe and good even though she’ll never actually admit it was good to you or herself.

When Lottie has a breakdown, when her fear and abandonment issues take control, she goes to you. Begging for sex. Begging to take the thoughts away because for some reason, it makes all her fears disappear.

She can never admit it to you though, she’s terrified. Terrified of rejection and being in a committed relationship. Scared that you’ll leave her.

It’s the only thing that helps her and the one thing she always needs, even if she hates admitting it.

Your tongue presses against her sensitive spot and she lets out a loud moan. Her legs squirm and move quickly against your face, her inner thighs pressing against your lips as her body trembles.

Her breaths become rapid, almost like a whimper.

She’s close.

Your tongue becomes faster and more forceful. eager to make her feel as good as possible, to show her how much she means to you right now.

Determined to give her something that nobody else ever could. The kind of pleasure she could only get from you.

You can’t tell where all this love and passion is coming from but it feels so real in this moment.

You know when this is over, she’ll go back to being cruel. But in this moment, it’s worth the pain.

She moans out your name, her grip on your back tightening to the point where your skin hurts, but you can take it. She squirms underneath you, her body pressing as hard as it can into yours.

Her legs shake and squirm, holding you as tight as possible. She moans your name again, her throat trembling as tears flow down her cheeks.

You see her look at you again and it’s like it opens your eyes for the first time.

You don’t just love her. You’re in love with her.

The thought makes you almost cry, because you know you can’t be in love with Lottie. She was everything you weren’t, pretty and rich and popular.

It pisses you off and your movements get deeper and rougher. Your fingers gripping her thighs and pulling her deeper onto your tongue.

You knew Lottie would never have you, not in any way other then this pleasurable feeling that she craves and then will move on and go flirt with one of the soccer boys as if she wasn’t just screaming your name.

As you continue, she lets out broken breaths between her cries.

“Y/n, oh Y/n,” she murmurs between her tears. “Y/n, Y/n...”

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” she continues, her body shaking as every thrust of your tongue drives her deeper into the pleasure and bliss.

Her fingers dig into your wrist and her legs wrap tightly around you.

Her words, her pleas, they’re all the proof you need. She hates you but needs you in this moment.

You growl, the way she’s crying from pleasure and saying she hates you. It hurts, you know you can’t have her and you’re stupid for falling in love with her.

Everyone knows Lottie Matthews is a heartbreaker.

You add your fingers to the mix, not giving her time to adjust. Starting to ram them into her soaking pussy along with your tongue.

You want to make her never forget this, want her to know that although she may hate you, you’re the only one who can make her scream in this way.

“Y/N!” She screams between breaths as tears flow down her face.

You feel yourself becoming more rough, more brutal. You want her to know how much this means to you, you wish she would admit she loves you.

She tries to speak, but words of praise and emotion are too hard for her to speak.

“Y/n.. Y/n,” she whispers gently. She grabs your hand, pulling it into the depths of her and moaning softly.

You crash your lips onto hers, your fingers pounding her. You want to cry, want to scream, you’re in love with her but she won’t ever see you as anything more than the nerd who makes her feel good sometimes.

You end up letting a few tears fall down your face but if Lottie notices, she doesn’t mention it because you’re kissing her so hard and your fingers are just a blur of movement between her legs because they’re going so fast.

“I hate you so fucking much.” You whisper, your voice shaking as your fingers pound between her legs.

It’s not true. you don’t hate her. She was beautiful but she was such a bitch, but the moments where she was drunk and snuggled into you after hooking up was the only time you ever saw her truly.

And you wanted it.

You didn’t want anyone else to see her the way you did.

But you hate her for making you feel like this, it pisses you off. You want to hate her, you want to, you thought you truly did but you can’t and you never will.

She whines through her tears, pulling you closer as her fingers wrap around your wrist, her back arching up slightly as she moans out your name again.

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n..”

“I-I hate you..!” She whimpers once more, but between the words, there’s only love, love for you and what you’re making her feel.

She tries to speak again, but just like before, the words get stuck. All that comes out are soft and quiet, almost incomprehensible “I hate you’s” and more soft moans of pleasure.

Whenever she says she hates you, it makes your movements even tougher. Your body is rocking with hers and going so fast that the noises are smacking throughout the room.

“Shut up.”

You plead when she cries out your name, it sounds beautiful on her lips and it makes you love her even more and you hate it.

You just want her to come, so you’re done with this, but you also never want it to stop.

“Y/N, Y-Y/N, Y/N!” Lottie gasps loudly, her tears slowly running down her face as she shakes and moans out your name over and over again.

That’s all you can hear in the room, her voice, your name, your actions. And how much she hates you.

Then, suddenly, you feel her muscles flex around your fingers as her body tenses. You feel her shake and groan and moan as her body erupts into pleasure.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Her noises fills you up and you feel her squeeze you tight.

You hold her and slow down your fingers to help her ride out her orgasm. Lottie’s body is twitching and riding your fingers as she lets out soft cries, her cum gushing on your fingers.

After she calms down, you pull your fingers out and wipe them on your jeans (gross).

You just fell in love with Lottie.

Your enemy..

While you were literally fucking her..

You’re a bit overwhelmed, and you feel like Lottie can almost tell that that sex was a bit more..intense then you guys agreed for it to be.

You want to hold her, to kiss her, to ask her if she’s okay. But you guys both agreed not do that. After care will get you attached.

“So..um..do you, uh..need anything?” You ask with a nervous voice as you watch Lottie shakily stand up and pull her skirt back up.

Lottie scoffs, back to her bitchy self.

“We agreed not to do that shit.” Lottie bites back at you, grabbing her backpack. Not even saying goodbye to you as she storms out of the locker room on shaky legs like you didn’t just give her the most intense orgasm.

You sigh and grab your backpack, usually she was cold after sex but not that cold..

Little did you know.

Lottie was panicking as she walked to her car.

She had fallen in love with you, too.

#i’m so scared #never posted smut before #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews smut #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader

295 notes · View notes