#peach lipstick shade

[kampashanate]

#Peachiatric Lip Color #Peach Lipstick Collection #Long Lasting Peach Lipstick #Peach Lipstick Shade #Kampashan Peach Lipstick #Peach Lipstick Online #Bold Peach Lip Color #Matte Peach Lipstick

[bibakartbeautycare]

Brace yourself for a rollercoaster of mediocrity as we present a collection of colors that are so basic, they make plain white bread look like a gourmet delicacy. From the mind- numbingly mundane nude to the mind-bogglingly predictable red, get ready to yawn your way through a journey of unimaginative lip colors that are as exciting as watching paint dry. So, buckle up and prepare for a thrill ride of unremarkable shades that will leave you questioning why you bothered reading this cringeworthy introduction in the first place!

#Best lipstick for daily office use #how to choose right lipstick for you #lip colors #Lipstick #lipstick shades #nude shade #peach lipstick shade #pink lipstick shade #red lipstick #Top 10 everyday lipstick shades for office

[talkbycolor]

jester-shaped fucktoy

A/N; have you ever had sex with a clown? It sounds like honk honk with every thrust

Pairing; "Damon" x AFAB!Reader (im starting to consider to make the reader no tits, no pussy, no dick, just a barbie doll with a hole man)

CW; this is a little gross ngl, just sweaty sex / unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, just like the hentais teached me / rough sex, heavy overstim, fucking like animals just like the song / circus scenario, porn without plot / this is just smut but hey, dont be shy and request something / this counts as an AU?

You were never the main attraction of the show, a jester whose only function was to demonstrate clumsiness in presentations, a cute clown.

So how did you end up spread-eagled in your dressing room?

There was a man in reddish clothes thrusting into your fat pussy, you didn't even know his name, you had barely finished the show that night when he showed up at the door of your trailer proclaiming to be a big fan.

"AH SHIT! FUCK! RIGHT THERE!" You moaned as your trembling hands tried to hold onto his shoulders, you screamed so loudly that your circus buddies could probably hear you from their trailers, the guy was huge compared to you, he grunted and howled every time his thick penis wedged itself between the folds of your abused Damn, it was like having sex with a wolf instead of the adorable fan who had sheepishly introduced himself a couple of minutes ago.

Because you had just had a performance, you were so sweaty and having sex right now only made it worse, you were melting in his arms as he fucked you against the dresser in your dressing room, practically dripping as your clown makeup ran down your cheeks, combined with sweat and pleasurable tears from being fucked so well.

"P-Please, PLEASE! I'M GOING TO PISS!" You whimpered, your body reacting on its own, saliva dripping down your chin as you begged him to slow down, your ass ached from the clash of skin and your peach was as red as your lipstick.

"Hey, is everything okay in there?" Someone knocked on the door of the trailer, which shook a little from the intense movement of the event that was happening inside. The stranger with fangs only growled when he heard a new voice wanting to interrupt the fun.

"Everything's fine! t-everything is perfect, give me a second!" You warned, putting all your effort and self-control into ensuring that your words didn't come out like the desperate screams of a whore who was being fucked at that moment.

The person outside the dressing room had probably understood the situation long before hearing you so no one else asked again.

Making out wildly with a fan inside your trailer while he put his penis in your hole was not something you had in mind due to the hectic life you had.

But hell, it wasn't something you turned down either.

Not long after, you choked a scream in his throat as you reached your orgasm, feeling like you were choking on the stranger's tongue, your breathing was erratic and your body was shaking violently, you had already come but he didn't stop, moving his hips like a dog. wanting to knot and fill you completely.

"You'd look so adorable swollen with my seed, you wouldn't mind me inseminating you, right?" He spoke between grunts, they weren't even coordinated thrusts anymore, his voice sounded so agitated as he panted like a dog in search of his orgasm.

"This fucking pussy is all mine, I'm going to fill you so many times that you won't be able to appear in any performance for a whole week, you'll spend those days getting out all the semen that I'm going to put in you" He said as he gently chewed your ear, his tongue going shamelessly on your sweaty skin, biting your neck until leaving several marks in shades of carmine and violet.

At that point he was just desperately licking every drop of sweat from your body, he was also dripping and not just semen, the splash between skin was a combination of precum and sweat, and the entire trailer smelled of sex.

"But how easy, you offer your ass to every fan who talks to you?" That sounded a little more threatening, like he was genuinely angry and the thought of you being with others was enough to make him furious.

So furious that he grabbed your hips until he left violent marks.

"F-FUCK! P-PLEASE! I HAVE NOT BEEN WITH ANYONE, ONLY WITH YOU!" You moaned between whimpers at the delicious pain, now he moved with more force, you could almost swear that you felt the head of his penis making an effort to enter your cervix.

Overexertion made you a stupid whore, you had urinated yourself even when he was pounding into you, isn't that pathetic? You were drooling shamelessly and your head was ringing as you didn't even recognize what was happening, you just knew that he felt too good despite having your cunt numb from the amount of stimulation he was receiving.

Grinding his hips against your entrance finally brought about his orgasm, cumming in large quantities until your belly looked a little more swollen, proud of that work he spread your legs in a perfect split, you were quite flexible after all.

As for you? A trembling doll that only let out pathetic gasps and his head was too screwed to be able to say coherent words, you even laughed softly.

The guy brought his forehead together with yours and kissed your lips, your lipstick was already a disaster so you returned the kiss more than gladly.

"I'm Damon, and I was serious about being a big fan…can we go on a date?"

He introduced himself even though you probably couldn't even figure out what was going on, you could only whimper with a satisfied smile.

"I… sure" You smiled exhausted.

♡

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere visual novel #damon br0ken colors #br<3ken colors #br0ken colors #jester #clown #smut #damon x reader #afab reader #gn reader

[neverinadream]

Finishing What We Started

Summary: One dress has Y/N leaving later than she had originally planned.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes-ish

Song Inspo: Leaving Me Feeling Confident - The Driver Era

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, nsfw, smut, pre-established relationship, dom!christian (with like the tiniest hint of soft!christian), sub!reader, praise, uses of the she/her pronouns, possessive!christian, mentions of ownership, body appreciation, the reader does get called a whore and a slut, slapping, teasing, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, handjob, mentions of cum,...think that's it

Notes: happy new year whores! this was an idea that the gc discussed like ages and ages ago that i had stashed away, it was that long ago that christian was still at chelsea when we were discussing it 🫣 anyway....did we like it? do we want another part? feedback is really appreciated

A giggle slips past Y/N's lips as Christian wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her back from the mirror and disrupting Y/N as she adds the final touches to her makeup. "Don't you look gorgeous," he compliments, kissing the parts of her shoulders exposed by the straps of her dress. It was old, something he had seen her wear multiple times before, but to him, she looked more beautiful each time she wore it. A goddess wrapped in gold. "And you smell heavenly, too," he chuckles, breathing in the mixed scent of her favourite perfume and the peaches in her shampoo, "you know, I'd smell even better if you let me use your shampoo too."

"Over my dead body, babe," she's quick to reply, trying to decide between two different lipstick shades. She settles on the darker shade, deciding not to go with her usual shade of choice, and applies it to her lips. "We'd have a threesome long before I'd ever let you touch my hair products," she jokingly tells him, holding back a giggle as he lifts his head a little higher, his eyebrows perked as he looks back at her in the reflection of the mirror, "oh, yeah, I'm curious to know what Weston is packing."

His arms loosen from around her waist, dropping both to his sides, and he takes a sudden step back. "Wes?" Y/N nodded her head, remaining as serious as she could. Their eyes catch in the mirror and he searches hers for any sign that she was joking. "You're fucking with me," he scoffs, quickly dismissing her when he spots the corners of her lips twitching, "I know it!"

"Of course, I am.” She slips her lipstick into her purse before spinning around to face him. His arms wrap back around her waist, an instant reaction to her wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'd never want to be shared with anyone."

"Good."

His head tilts slightly to the side, the corners of his mouth turning upwards into a partial smile. The look in his eyes, a hunger and desire made to burn the receiver, has her squeezing her thighs together.

"Are you sure you have to go tonight?" He asks, his breath fanning over lips that were begging to be kissed.

"I've already cancelled plans once this week," Y/N replies, raking her painted nails softly against the nape of his neck, "I don't want my new colleagues to start thinking I don't like them just because I happen to have a boyfriend whose hands seem to have a mind of their own."

"Oh?" He grins, walking his fingers down the small of her back. Each step left her body tingling, the sensation strongest at her core. "You mean these hands, right?" A sharp gasp pushes past her lips, reacting quickly to the way his hands squeeze her bum. He only chuckles when she gives his chest a soft push. "Who would you have more fun with tonight? With some girls in some cocktail bar? Or with me, in our bed, where I can worship this beautiful and always sexy body?" His hands began to roam over other parts of her body, caressing her hips, trailing his fingers up her sides, trying to touch as much of her body as he could. "I bet your answer is with me," he hooks his fingers under her chin, keeping their eyes connected, "Correct?"

"Nope." She shakes her head, holding back a giggle as he rolls his eyes. "But…" His eyebrows perk up once more like a dog excited and ready to obey whatever it was she had to say next. Her hands unwind from around his neck and slide down his chest, his eyes breaking away from hers to follow their path. "...you could always give me a teaser of what I might get later tonight."

He smirks. "How long until you have to leave?"

"I should've left five minutes ago."

"Then I better get to work," he licks his lips, bringing his hands to her sides, already pulling her dress up her thighs, "hike that dress up, baby, let me see what's mine."

The gold satin of her dress slips easily up her body, bunching around her waist, and reveals the tiniest piece of lace Christian had ever laid his eyes on. It covered what it needed to and yet still managed to leave nothing to the imagination. Her giggle snaps his eyes back up to her level.

"What is this?" He asks, hooking his finger under the thin band. He pulls it back, snapping it against her skin. "You were going to go out in this?"

"I thought about going out in nothing at all," she answers, his cock twitching at the thought of her bare pussy hidden underneath all this gold, waiting to be discovered, "but then I remember you wouldn't be there to fuck me in the toilets when the two of us are too tipsy to care, and decided there's no fun in that."

"Do the people you work with know how naughty you are?" Christian sinks to his knees, pulling the piece of lace off her hips and down her thighs, scooping it up into his hand and stuffing it into his pocket. "Do they know you cover your pussy with tiny bits of lace and beg to be fucked in nightclub toilets?" He kisses her left thigh and then the right, running his hands over the backs of her knees. She balances on one foot as he lifts her leg over his shoulder. "Do they know behind all those sweet smiles and little laughs that you're just a whore?"

"Well, I prefer the term slut," Y/N replies, carving a path through his short curls, "but being called a whore is perfectly acceptable too."

"I'm sorry," he chuckles, pausing to suck on the inside of her thigh. She jolts, tugging on his hair, whimpering as his tongue licks over the spot. "Do they know that you're just a slut?" He asks again, correcting himself.

"No, they don't, but they might if you keep trying to leave hickies in places that are hard to hide."

"Just making sure that cocky prick, who works on the front desk, knows you already belong to someone," he pleads his case, words becoming muffled noise as he licks his tongue over her cunt. Her body shudders in his hands as he blows warm air against her clit, soft mewls escaping her lips as he flicks his tongue back and forth over it. "Taste so fucking good!"

She holds the crown of his head in a firm grip, keeping him tucked between her thighs. "Feels so fucking good!" She mirrors his enthusiasm, rolling her head back and moaning.

"And to think you wanted to go out tonight-"

"-I'm still going out tonight," she corrects him, tugging on his hair, making him look up at her.

"You say that now," he fires back, licking the taste of her off his lips, "but once I have you coming in my mouth, there's no way you'll want to leave." He sucks her clit harshly into his mouth, making her whine and pull on his hair. He releases it with a sharp pop. "You'll be cancelling your plans faster than it takes for me to get the rest of that dress off."

Back on two feet, she makes her way over to their bed but softly yelps as Christian leaps to his feet and takes her by the waist. He presses a moan out of her pressing his cock, hard and strained against the front of his jeans, into her ass. "Feel that, baby?" He holds her hips still and grinds against her, panting hot breath past the side of her face. "Really gonna let me eat your pussy and then just leave me like this?"

"God gave you two hands, right?" Her smart mouth replies. "Just use your left," she taps his left hand, "maybe then it might feel like someone else is doing it."

"Don't need it to feel like someone else is doing it." His hand finds the small zipper and yanks it down. She laughs, fresh arousal trickling through her body and down to her cunt as he pushes the dainty straps off her shoulders, pulling the rest of the dress with them. "I need it to feel like it's my girl stroking my cock."

She looks down at the dress, a halo of gold silk at her feet. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm giving us both a head start," he says, mouth pressed to the back of her ear, "now get on that fuckin’ bed."

"On my back or my stomach?"

"Should that even be a question?" He gives her ass a slap for her blatant stupidity. The sting lingers as she crawls onto the bed, feeling his eyes watching her with hunger inside as she gets into position. "Perfection," he hums, kneeling behind her, running his fingers down the path of her spine and over the curve of her ass. He gives it another slap, his cock pulsating at the whine that leaves her. "You're staying in this bed tonight, princess," he tells her, grabbing at the back of his top and pulling it off.

"Then you better-" The words stop coming, her voice silenced by a single finger pushing slowly inside. She whimpers, grabbing at the covers, laying her face down against the mattress as he pumps his finger in and out of her, gradually stretching her tight walls. He withdraws his finger and circles it around her hole, teasing her until she whines for him to stop. "Christian!" She begs his free hand snaps to her hip, holding her in place as she tries to push back onto his finger. "I'm already late, so stop teasing me."

Goosebumps rise on her skin as he covers her back with gentle kisses, starting from the middle of her spine and working up to her shoulders. "Did your ears suddenly stop working?" He asks, propping himself up, his large hand splayed out beside her head. He listens for her whimpers, sliding two fingers inside her cunt and then back out. "Me and you are staying in this bed tonight," he repeats, pushing his fingers back inside, "you can go out with your new friends when I'm not here."

"What are you going to do?" She turns her head, meeting his lust-filled eyes with raised eyebrows and the trace of a grin. "Tie me to the bed?"

"Don't give me any ideas, princess," he replies, flicking his eyes to her lips, "we still have some ribbon leftover from Christmas."

A chaste kiss is placed on the corner of her mouth before he rears back on his knees, his focus shifting to the fingers withdrawing from her. His cock twitches and a soft groan slips past his lips, watching his fingers become coated in her arousal the more he pumps them inside her.

"One day, baby."

Christian pictures her laid on her stomach, her wrists and ankles bound together, wrapped in scarlet red ribbon, finished with a bow. The perfect present. A new toy for him to play with.

"One day," he repeats, withdrawing his fingers, and slapping her right cheek when she whines about the emptiness. He sucks them clean, groaning as her taste bursts on his tongue.

"Taste good?" Y/N asks, wiggling her hips, enticing him to taste some more.

He chuckles, unfastening his jeans and pulling his boxers down with them. His cock springs free, the tip engorged and a deep shade of red, leaking a lot of pre-cum, and he tips his head back, a moan trickling up his throat, as he wraps his hand around the head. With two slow strokes, he jerks his hand, squeezing the crown on the upstroke.

"C'mon," he grunts, digging his knees further into the bed to ground himself, "I think it's time you paid me some attention."

Y/N crawls onto her knees in front of him. "This morning wasn't enough for you?" She teases, poking her nails into his chest and scratching them down his skin. Four red lines directing towards his stomach gradually appear, the soft tingle of pain shooting straight to his cock.

He hooks his fingers under her chin, directing her eyes up at him. Christian wasn't the biggest of men but there was still enough of him to make her feel a little bit intimidated. "If I could, princess, I would have my cock stuffed between those sweet lips all the time," he says, running the calloused tip of his thumb over her lips, purposely smearing her lipstick. She grins, nipping gently at the digit. "But you would like that, wouldn't you?" His words aimed to degrade her, but it just leaves her squeezing her thighs tighter together. "You've always been so hungry for this cock; always desperate to get your smart mouth around it."

"I can't help it," she purrs, wrapping her hand around his wrist, pushing his thumb into her mouth. She bobs her head, sucking his thumb deeper until there's nothing left. His thumb pulls out with a sharp pop. "It's just so tasty."

A soft grunt catches in his throat as she wraps her hand around the centre of his shaft, holding it still as she licks her tongue over the tip. It's salty taste has her eyes rolling, a torturous moan rattling deep in her throat as she draws it into her mouth and sucks gently. He pushes on the back of her head, urging her to take more, and she obliges, swallowing him deeper, and pumping what she cannot fit with her hand.

"You're mine forever, okay?" His breathing grows more and more laboured as she switches her pace between slow and teasing and fast and hungry. "I'm the only one who gets to see you like this," he croaks, rutting his hips to meet each of her movements, "this is my mouth to fuck, no one else's."

"No one can compete with you," Y/N reassures him, licking her lips, breaking a string of spit.

He smirks. "I know."

"Not even Rocco-"

"Who?"

"The cocky prick, who works on the front desk," she giggles, not even surprised that Christian had forgotten his name as quickly as it took him to dislike him.

He shrugs. "Cocky prick suits him better."

Her hand takes over stroking him to release, ascending kisses up his chest as she sits up. Her thighs clamp tighter, a new wave of arousal flooding her core, listening to his groans growing more and more desperate.

"Y/N!" Her name slips off his lips like it was a prayer of sorts. Sacred to him and only him.

"That's it," Y/N nods, feeling him twitch in her hand, squeezing and pumping him faster, "watch me as I make you come."

She watches, mesmerised like always, unable to tear her eyes away from the swirls of gold in his dark eyes, even as his cum wets her fingers. She loved seeing him like this. Limp and spent, struggling to catch his breath, hiding the blush that always crept up his neck and made a home on his cheeks, seeking comfort in the crook of her neck.

"Don't," he mumbles, moulding his arm around her waist, trying to keep her close as she attempts to leave the bed. He kisses up her neck and over her jaw. "I haven't finished with you yet."

"It's gonna have to wait." She strokes her clean hand over his jaw, the stubble pricking her palm. He tilts his head, his head still foggy. She leans in and kisses his lips, catching the faint chuckle that trickles up his throat. "I'll message you when I get there," she says, grabbing some tissues from off the box on the dresser, cleaning up most of his cum.

Too tired to convince her to stay, and too aware he was just being selfish by keeping her away from her new colleagues once again, Christian collapses onto the bed.

"Finish this later?" He asks, watching her pick up her dress and disappear into the ensuite. Several minutes later, she returns with a cleaner hand, fixed hair and makeup and her body covered once more by the dress that had made her late. "That thing you called a thong is in my pocket," he mumbles, pointing to the end of the bed.

She walks back to the bed and kisses him goodbye. "Think I'll go without it," she winks, giggling as he lets out a torturous groan.

———————

Football Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @brasiliangp @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @kathb59 @emcv1427 @gagaslonina @afterpills @pulisicsgirl @ricciardhoe3

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic x reader

[lovebugism]

omg omg omg I can’t wait for tcar part 9 🥹 I miss eddie spaghetti and peach so much 🥹🥹🥹

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | sunshine, sometimes

summary: the gang searches for peace of mind at lake lemon. after an enlightening conversation with steve, eddie unknowingly stirs up a storm. (17k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader, mentions of past steve harrington / f!reader

tags: experienced!reader, idiots in love, domestic bliss (road trip edition), newly established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, the gang's all here! TW probable typos, swearing, mentions of b*lly h*rgrove and toxic relationships, kissing, heavy petting, fingering, eddie coming in his pants (vol. 3), smut 18+

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 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You think it’s entirely possible that you made Eddie up in your head.

Sleeping next to you, painted in satin shades of pale pink and milky white, he looks exactly like a dream.

His curls are wild, spread across his face and cotton pillow in a chestnut-colored halo around his head. Soft snores billow from his rosy mouth in heavy, even breaths — a heavenly sound you think could lull you back to sleep all over again. His long lashes flutter against the flushed apple of his cheek, made a gentle strawberry shade from the ardor of his slumber. The soft color splotches the tip of his nose and the plush of his lips.

Eddie’s made of all the prettiest colors you wish you could paint. Maybe then he’d finally see himself the way you do. He possesses an otherworldly kind of beauty — one bordering on religious — something holy people used to sacrifice themselves for.

And here he is. In your bed and on your mouth, like a vivid ruby lipstick stain you’re not rushing to rub out just yet. Or ever, if you had anything to say about it.

“I can feel you staring, weirdo,” Eddie mumbles, slurred and heavy with sleep. The words come out muffled because his face is shoved into the pillow.

You’re not as embarrassed at getting caught as you probably should be. 

You could deny it if you wanted. His eyes are still shut. You’ve got every ounce of plausible deniability to defend yourself with, but for some strange reason, you don’t feel the urge to. He was far too pretty not to be unabashedly examined, like a piece of art you could stare at for ages and find something new in every time.

“Really?” you hum in return, voice as quiet with leftover fatigue as your sleepy smile. “I didn’t know my boyfriend had superpowers.”

The smile that tugs at Eddie’s mouth is absentminded but no less sincere. It’s lopsided and rosy and full of all the love he has for you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of being called your boyfriend. He figures his chest will swell every time he hears the words — as long as they spill from your mouth, anyway.

“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” he teases quietly — eyes still shut, grin still pressed into the pillow.

“I can keep a secret,” you promise in a whisper. Your hand rises from beneath the fluffy comforter to spread across his cheek. Your palm settles warmly at his jaw as your fingers brush a few rogue curls from his forehead. “As long as you give me a kiss for it.”

Eddie’s smile, weighed down by sleep and adoration, only widens at your words. 

His button eyes are swollen as he blinks the haze of sleep from them. It feels a little like his heart has stopped when he’s able to see you clearly. 

It’s like he’s looking down a high-up cliff or staring into the deep abyss of outer space — a warm, empty, and lurching feeling in his chest that only comes from witnessing something so profound.

The profundity in question is you.

It’s your wild hair and puffy cheeks and crooked smile. It’s the way your swollen eyes twinkle with adoration at an ungodly hour of the morning. The way your honey voice seems to match the golden sunrise. You’re an angel in the flesh — a divinely ethereal being wearing his Hellfire tee to sleep in. 

The beauty you are takes him by surprise for all of half a second. It makes him forget how to breathe and makes his brain go all fuzzy. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time every time he looks at you.

“Well, as long as it’ll keep you quiet,” Eddie huffs, feigning annoyance, as he lifts his head off the pillow to settle onto yours. 

His plush lips press against your subtle smile a second later. Your mouths entwine something heavy, like maple syrup or marshmallow fluff — a kiss so full of sleep and distant longing.

But that’s all it is. A kiss. It’s nothing more than an innocuous peck that Eddie stamps upon your mouth. His nose smushes into the side of yours, and he’s gone as quickly as he came. 

Your shut eyes flutter open again. They widen when Eddie ducks down for another sneaking peck. He lingers a few moments longer this time, like he can’t quite get enough of you the same way you can never seem to get enough of him.

Your grin grows. You feel a bit like you’re glittering all over when Eddie settles back onto the mattress. But maybe that’s just the rising sun peeking in flaxen shades from the window — or maybe it’s love sparkling like orange embers in your chest. Maybe it’s both. 

Maybe loving Eddie feels pink and gold like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

It’s just as easy, anyway.

“Ooh,” you singsong with a smile as you prop yourself on your elbow. “Two for one deal, huh?”

The boy shrugs one shoulder. His leadened lids fall over his chocolate syrup eyes when sleep threatens to pull him under again. He shifts against the mattress to get comfortable, though it’s much harder without you pressed against him.

“I gotta secret identity to protect, sweets. Gotta make sure we keep it under wraps and everything, you know?” The tired boy’s mumbles are followed by a hearty yawn that scrunches his sleep-ridden features.

“Well, you can pry this secret from my cold, dead hands,” you lilt quietly, leaning down to sprinkle a featherlight kiss to his flushed cheek. His skin is warm against your mouth, rosy with a good night’s sleep.

“Well, except for Robin,” you whisper shortly thereafter. “I have to tell Robin.”

Eddie exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh.

“And Steve, too. He’ll be mad if I tell Robin and not him.”

“Right,” Eddie scoffs with a tired nod against his pillow.

You can tell he’s trying hard to stay awake for you. He’d done this the night before, too — kept talking to you even though his body was threatening to shut down after a long day of school and road-tripping. You’d called him out on it then, and he confessed that it hurt too much to stop talking to you. He said he’d rather be exhausted than miss you, even for the faintest fraction of a second.

A smile hints at the corners of your lips as you stare down at the boy. You duck down once more to brush a fleeting kiss to the warm apple of his cheek — there and gone again. 

Eddie sighs at the heavenly feeling, then scrunches his features in annoyance when the mattress shifts beneath him.

“Where are you going?” he grouses over the sound of your padding feet and the door creaking open. He’s got one tired eye squinted when he rises to look at you over his shoulder. His untamed curls are as drenched with sleep as the rest of his softly swollen features.

You stand in the doorway and smile back at him. You don’t look nearly as exhausted as he does. That’s only because you spent the better part of the morning ogling at him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

It wouldn’t change anything, anyway.

Slumber looks too good on you. It’s got you glowing like a pink and orange sunrise, grinning like the morning dew has kissed you. It’s a very distinct part of your beauty that took Eddie several days of unabashed staring to understand. You’ve got a far-off kind of quality about you, dreamlike. 

You’re a nymph made of flower petals with unearthly eyes and angelic lips. You’re a swan princess who’s enchanted his imagination. His mind can’t go anywhere without bumping into thoughts of you — like some romantic spell you’ve cast upon him.

Still a bit grumpy with sleep and overcome with yearning, Eddie makes a mental note to add you to a future campaign. What better way to tell someone you love them than by making them your muse, solidifying them in the history of you forever?

“I’m gonna tell everyone that my boyfriend is basically the metalhead equivalent of Clark Kent,” you joke with a crooked smile that flashes your similarly crooked teeth.

The door creaks when it shuts behind you. Eddie’s chest aches with the empty feeling of missing you. The warmth of adoration lingers, however, as though you’d never left at all.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Thankfully, no one had gotten Jason Voorhees-ed while you were sleeping.

You make your rounds about the cabin, peeking into darkened bedrooms and making sure everyone was where you’d left them. You knew Robin hadn’t truly meant her words from the day before, about Ted Bundy or some equivalent creep stalking the woods of Lake Lemon. She’s sincere but in a blatantly irrational sort of way. Sweet but slightly insane. She’s an illogical genius that unintentionally gets in your head.

You’re grateful to find that you hadn’t woken up in the middle of slasher film, however. You’re able to exhale a trembling sigh of relief as you walk into the kitchen.

Steve The Hair Harrington unknowingly keeps you company as you break out the supplies needed to make a couple of teenagers a sufficient breakfast. His soft snores fill the quiet cabin from where he’s sprawled out in the center of the pull-out couch in the living room. He’s twisted in a thin white sheet and gripping a single pillow like his life depends on it.

He used to hold you like that, too. Like you were a buoy in an ocean and the only thing keeping him afloat. He’d cage you in his arms with a grip that only seemed to intensify with his sleep. It felt like being suffocated almost. But in a good way.

The memory is glittering with reminiscence instead of soaking in heartache. 

You don’t miss being with Steve, nor do you miss the person you were when you were with him. You do miss the closeness of him, though — in the simplest, most human way. Also, you just really like taking the piss out of him and all his little idiosyncrasies.

With his sleeping form so near, everything you do feels so much louder in the quiet. The fridge closes too aggressively, the eggs crack too sharply, the cabinets close too harshly. You grimace with every noise you make, checking over your shoulder to make sure Steve hadn’t heard from across the room.

He hadn’t. ‘Cause he tends to sleep like he’s hibernating.

He doesn’t rouse when a humming car crunches against gravel when it pulls into the driveway outside — or when the bowl of pancake batter in your hands clatters to the countertop accordingly.

The milky white concoction sways in the container, splashing in pearly dots onto the gray granite. You’re too distracted to focus on the mess. Your heart starts to race at the appearance of the sudden visitor with the irrational thought that Ted Bundy was strolling up to your doorstep like some kind of offbeat traveling salesman. 

God, you need to stop hanging out with Robin so much. Or watching so many horror movies. Maybe both.

Because it’s only Nancy. 

It’s sweet, beautiful, lithe Nancy Wheeler and her beat-up Station Wagon. 

Her curly hair is cropped at her shoulders, hastily combed through and pinned out of her face with a butterfly clip. Her pretty pink skirt swishes around her knees as she reaches for a leather satchel in the backseat. Her purple and white Emerson College tee is tucked into it, matching the same-colored Converse on her feet.

“Hey,” she greets with a pretty wave and delicate smile when she catches sight of you in the doorway.

“Hi…” you respond, mixed with a breathy sigh of what should be relief. 

Because she isn’t Ted Bundy — or some local Lake Lemon serial killer. She’s far too pretty and far too kind to be either of those. But your heart still thrums something fierce against your ribcage when you look at her. You’re still drenched with ice-cold fear when you know you should be relieved.

But despite your clammy trembling hands, you hold the door open for her.

She winces at the sight of Steve’s sleeping figure on the couch, ocean eyes widening at his freckled back peeking from beneath the thin sheet. Her footsteps become noticeably lighter as you lead her into the kitchen. 

It’s far too big for just the two of you. The open space is filled only with a distant awkwardness and the potent smell of sweet vanilla you’d dropped into the pancake batter.

“Sorry…” Nancy grimaces as she sets her bag on the dining table, as though her company was something she needed to be excused for. Her bushy brows pinch together, and her doe-eyes swim with apology. “I know I was supposed to be here last night…”

You shift your weight on your feet across from her, arms wrapping around yourself for further comfort. She’s just a few feet away from you, but the distance feels cavernous.

“Yeah, is— is everything, you know… okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just— it’s dumb,” Nancy scoffs out a laugh, shrugging off your worry with ease. Her gaze flits to the ceiling. You can see smudged eyeliner around her eyes, like she’s still wearing yesterday’s makeup. “I got carried away with the school paper after school, and I didn’t get home until late, and I… I figured I should just wait until morning to make the drive, you know?

You nod slowly in response — for a couple seconds too long, maybe — as you think of what else to say. “Well, was, uh— was traffic okay, at least?”

“Yeah. It was fine,” she answers and bites back a yawn. “People around here are amazing drivers, you know, so… It was a perfect, anxiety-free three hours.”

Her plush pink lips curl into a smile. 

Yours follow suit, but the breathy laugh that spills from them feels much more forced.

“You’re probably tired, huh?” you wonder, then ramble before she can answer you. “I could get Steve to move upstairs with Robin— or Robin can come down here, and you can take the bed. Unless you wanna share with her, but fair warning, she does kick in her sleep, so…”

A giggle spills from Nancy’s mouth. It’s a soft, bubbly sound that squints the edges of her eyes. Her pointed chin tucks to her chest like she’s trying to hide the gentle grin from you. 

You can’t tell if she finds your babbling amusing or endearing like Eddie does. 

You quickly realize you don’t care — you’re just proud that you’ve made her smile. And, fuck, you can’t even blame Steve for wanting her more than you because look at her. You should hate her, yet you can’t take your eyes off her.

“No, I’m good. We can… deal with all that when everyone wakes up, I guess,” she dismisses with a shake of her head. 

You vaguely catch her eyes darting past you to the tornado of breakfast behind you — a whirlwind of uncooked food, miscellaneous containers, and crumbled napkins. It’s a mess only a gentle, well-meaning child could make. That’s what you feel like most days, anyway, so you guess it kind of fits.

“Do you want help with breakfast?” Nancy wonders when her gaze flits back to you.

You can’t tell if she’s asking to be kind or if she really wants to. You decline either way. “No. You’ve— You’ve been driving all morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you affirm with a wavering smile.

Her grin is equally sheepish. She falters, a tad bit awkwardly at first, before mumbling something and heading out the back door to explore.

A trembling sigh of relief shakes through your chest when the sliding glass door swishes shut behind her. 

It gets better over time — the preliminary tension that settles like suffocating humidity between the two of you — but it never gets any easier. A forgive but can’t forget sort of rigidity you can’t quite smooth out.

You get only a few more minutes of uninterrupted solitude after Nancy’s gone. The last bit of peace you’re bound to have all day.

A door clicks open and shut again from down the hallway, followed by the subtle scuff of socked feet against carpet. 

Your eyes widen softly when Dustin appears from around the corner, though you figure you really shouldn’t be surprised. Of course he was the kid that woke up before the rest of his friends. You feel a bit like you should fix him a cup of black coffee while he reads the business section of the newspaper. He’s far more mature than you were at fourteen.

“Oh,” you hum quietly, a soft smile twitching at the edges of your lips. “Morning.”

Dustin’s swollen eyes squint at you. His gaze darts around the room, as wild as the chestnut curls on his head. It’s strange not seeing him in his usual Thinking Cap. He looks a little foreign in his baggy blue Scooby Doo pajama pants and baggier yellow Camp Know-Where tee.

“Where’s Eddie?” he wonders aloud when he turns back to you, like he can’t quite fathom seeing one of you without the other somewhere nearby.

Your chest aches. You don’t know why. 

Well, you do, but you figure it shouldn’t hurt as bad as it does. 

Dustin was Eddie’s friend. He had zero obligation to care about you the same way. He didn’t have to like you past his not-so-subtle admiration for your boyfriend, but it still hurts that he doesn’t think you’re as cool.

“Uh… Still sleeping. I think,” you lilt, voice as high and light as the salty breeze slipping past the slightly ajar backdoor.

“Oh. Okay.” Dustin nods and doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t seem as weighed down by the silence as you are. He peeks over his shoulder at Steve’s rousing figure on the couch and then at the pots and pans of food on the counter. His tired blue eyes fill with light when they flit at you again. “Can I help?”

He’s suddenly aglow with a boyish sort of enthusiasm. His bushy brows raise and a smile pulls at his face, and you find it dreadfully hard to tell him no.

“Sure. If you want to, but—” You’re about to prattle on and on about how he shouldn’t feel obligated to. That he’s a kid on vacation and can sleep in if he wants. That he shouldn’t have to worry about helping you if he doesn’t really want to.

But he’s already walking to the sink, flipping on the faucet so he can wash his hands.

Your aching heart swells with warmth.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

The rest of your friends wake up one by one.

Mike and El come out shortly after Dustin, the latter already dressed for the day. She’s a ray of sunshine compared to her grumpy boyfriend. His hair is a wild raven halo, and his cheeks are lined with indentions from the sheets. El hangs on his arm in a pair of jean coveralls, sparkling like the cerulean waters outside. 

“Wanna call Hopper?” you ask the blushing girl from where you scramble eggs at the stove.

She nods with her cheek smushed into Mike’s shoulder, eyes wide and sheepish like she’s embarrassed about wanting to talk to her dad. You don’t blame her for it. You tend to call Hopper after most minor inconveniences. 

Dustin mans the kitchen while you help her with the telephone. He’s very meticulous about the cooking, like he’s got flipping pancakes down to a science. He’s too good of a sous-chef for you to get mad at him for stealing from the stack every now and then.

Robin and Max are sitting at the dining table by the time you get back. They’re practically zombies, silent and grumpy, with their freckled features scrunched like they take offense to the early morning.

Lucas is the last of the kids to come out, though a part of you thinks it might’ve been intentional. 

He’s traded his pajamas for day clothes — Hawkins Tigers track pants and a fitted t-shirt. He idles in the kitchen for several long moments with his trembling hands balled into fists. You can tell he wants to sit next to Max. The thought of rejection keeps him from gravitating towards her, though. Instead, he stands at the counter next to Dustin and tries to hide his grieving.

Steve comes second to last — which is strange, because he was the first one there in a sense. The volume in the kitchen grows too loud for him to ignore. When he comes to the begrudging realization that there’s no falling back to sleep, he decides to join the rest of you.

His feet trudge down the hall when he returns from the bathroom. The only remnants of slumber he wears are the sweatpants and wrinkled t-shirt he’d thrown on sometime after waking up. His structured features are seemingly too sharp to be weighed down by fatigue.

“Where are those little shits going?” he wonders in the place of any actual greeting. He eyes Mike and El as they depart through the sliding glass door. His bushy brows scrunch in confusion and distant worry — neither of which ever seem to leave him.

“Probably to talk to Nancy—”

“What?” Steve sputters, wide-eyed and gaped mouth. “Nancy’s— Nancy’s here?”

Your brows pinch at his shock. You scrape fluffy yellow eggs from the skillet into a large bowl, fit to feed a sizable family — yours of which has squeezed like sardines into this cabin. “Well… You did invite her, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…” he trails off, features twisted in puzzlement. His anxious hands prop against his sweatpant-clad waist. “When did she get in?”

“This morning—”

His eyes fly open once more. His head whips over his shoulder, like he might see her standing there, then turns back to gape at you again. “And you didn’t wake me up?”

You scoff a faint laugh at him. “Why would I wake you up?”

“‘Cause he’s in love with her,” Dustin answers for him, mouth full of the pancake he grips in his right hand. “Obviously.”

“Shut up,” Steve squints at him with all the annoyance of an older sibling despite having been an only child all his life. His irked features relax when his cinnamon gaze flits to you. “Where is she now?”

“Uh… She went for a walk a while ago,” you answer absentmindedly, as though she hadn’t been on your mind the whole time. “I think she’s sitting out by the beach waiting for everyone to get up now, though.”

You and Steve share similarly narrowed eyes when you look out the kitchen window. The brunette girl sits at the square table outside the cabin. You can only see the profile of her pointed features as she smiles up at her younger brother and his girlfriend — a look so full of annoyance it can only be love.

“Maybe take it down a few notches before you try to talk to her, alright, Stevie?” Robin teases from the dining table.

“Yeah,” Lucas lilts with a slow nod, obviously playful in his dogpiling. He leans against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, trying hard not to smile too wide. “You look a little crazy right now, man.”

“It’s only ‘cause you little shits drive me crazy,” Steve defends in a monotone.

“Go tell her breakfast is almost done,” you advise with a sincere smile, though your eyes sparkle with mischief. “You can use that as an excuse to talk to her instead of whatever bullshit you were about to make up.”

Steve nods with a flat face. “Thanks, Peach.”

Dustin and Lucas help you transport the containers of food to the rectangle dining table — pancakes, eggs, sausage, and only halfway stale biscuits. Basically whatever leftover groceries you could find in the cupboards and the fridge.

Steve is too busy idling in one place to bother helping. With his eyes trained on the sliding glass door, it’s too apparent that he’s in his own head. He’s trying hard to work up the courage to talk to a girl he’s known for years now. 

As you sit in your seat at the table — beside Robin, across from Max, with a spare chair open for Eddie on your other side — you watch the fidgeting boy from over your shoulder. His pointed features harden slightly with his newfound bravery, his chest puffing with a wavering breath in. You watch him take a firm step towards the door, but he’s stopped in place by three bodies already walking towards it.

Nancy was already on her way back, with Mike and El at her side. Steve had been too late  — too doubtful of himself, too frightened of the pushed-away problems he’d caused. He’s forced to share awkward, trembling smiles with his first love and not a thing more. 

You feel his heartache as if it were your own.

Eddie’s footsteps stomp, stomp, stomp down the spiral staircase when he finally comes down.

Your heart warms at the very sight of him, as though you were looking at the rest of your life in the flesh — wild hair, swollen eyes, wrinkled t-shirt, and all. It’s too early to smile as wide as you do.

“Morning, Eds,” you greet, because everyone’s too busy stuffing their faces or writhing in unrequited love to do it for you.

His lips curl into a soft smile, weighed down by fatigue but rosy with his love for you. The pink expression grows when he sees the full table and the seat you left open for him. “Morning, sweetheart,” he lilts in response.

“How convenient,” Dustin squints from the head of the table, adjacent to Lucas and Eddie’s vacant seat. He’s got scrambled egg clinging to the side of his mouth as he chastises, “You show up right when breakfast is done.”

“Sorry, Dusty Bun,” Eddie apologizes with a teasing inflection that would imply that he’s not actually sorry. His chair scrapes against the kitchen tile when he pulls it out from under the table. “It’s not my fault I have impeccable timing.”

Your eyes dart to the boy standing beside you. They dance across his sleep-ridden features as your lips quirk in a cheeky half-smile. 

You know better than anyone that he’s only ever late to everything. The only time you can count on him being early is if there’s a Hellfire campaign or when he’s coming in his jeans. 

Eddie grows sheepish with the same understanding. His cheeks flush with a poorly hidden smirk as he sits down next to you. “Don’t say anything, Peach,” he mutters quietly to you.

The table, now sufficiently full, seems to thrum with life. Whether they’re picking at their food like Steve and Lucas, or stuffing their faces like Dustin and Robin, you can’t help but smile softly at each of them. 

They feel like family — like you’ve upped and carried your home with you three hours away. You’d forgotten what not being alone felt like before now. Your chest swells with a newfound life you didn’t even know you were missing.

“Uh, did everyone pack a bathing suit?” you wonder aloud with a bright smile on your face, a measly question to fill the silence and the sound of silverware against porcelain plates.

Everyone nods and hums soft “yeah”’s with their mouths full — except for Eddie. 

The boy beside you stills with his fork in front of his mouth. His dark eyes go wide as he looks over at you. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters in the place of an answer. “I was supposed to pack a bathing suit?”

You find his forgetful disposition rather endearing. You can too easily imagine him standing in the middle of his bedroom, mouthing everything you told him to pack while counting them on his fingers. You can see his brows furrowing with a distant pout while he asks himself “what the hell am I forgetting?”

You’re too in love to be annoyed with him — or ill-prepared.

“I packed trunks for you. It’s okay,” you murmur in response, voice as quiet as the smile you look at him with.

Eddie’s chest aches. It’s too warm to be his heart breaking — too fluffy and sticky and sweet. It’s a burning sort of pain that can only be pure, unadulterated love. 

“God, you are the woman of my dreams, baby,” he confesses lowly, mostly to himself.

You only hear the words leave his mouth because he’s leaning in to kiss you. You don’t meet him halfway, but instead grin softly at his efforts, which you know are bound to be interrupted.  

“Hey!” Dustin scolds through the bite of biscuit in his mouth. “No kissing at the table!”

Robin licks syrup from the corner of her mouth, then concurs through her pancakes, “Yeah. You wanna make everybody here puke or what?”

“Or what,” you answer the rhetorical question, meeting her deadpanned expression with a smile. You tilt your head to your shoulder and scrunch your nose. “Preferably, at least.”

“How about everyone just keep their hands to themselves, yeah?” Steve advises in a monotone. His honey eyes flit around the table with a significant focus on you and Eddie and Mike and El. He waves his fork in his hand, still piercing the cooled piece of scrambled egg he hasn’t eaten yet. “How about that?”

“Okay, Hopper,” you scoff to yourself.

El snorts a quiet laugh from across the table, on Max’s other side.

Steve flashes you an annoyed glance from across Robin sitting between the two of you. Despite his monotoned features, his eyes sparkle with an adoration for you he couldn’t conceal if he wanted to.

He tries to, anyway. 

“Bite me,” he grumbles with narrowed eyes.

Eddie huffs dramatically from beside you. The sound gets your attention — makes you turn your head to look at him again — which is all he really wanted to do, anyway.

“Stop flirting!” the boy grumbles, wide-eyed and chewing through his mouthful. “I’m sitting right here!”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Eddie Munson was never supposed to believe in love at first sight. That stuff was for children, chick flicks, and over-played ballads — not metalheads who’ve never been loved before and have had to improvise all their awkward tenderness accordingly.

But then he met you. And he didn’t love you then, but he knew something was different. Off. Metamorphosing, even. 

It was different from love — whatever strange, foreign thing he was feeling way back when. It didn’t hurt nearly as much, and it didn’t feel like every single one of his atoms had been set ablaze. It was softer, warmer, a gentle familiarity in a stranger who just wanted to get high.

You sat down in front of him on that rotted park bench in the middle of the woods, and it felt like he was staring the rest of his life in the face. There was no falling head over heels like all the songs on the radio said there’d be, but rather an “Oh, hi, it’s you. I hope it’s always gonna be you.”

He feels that foreign, fluffy feeling in his chest even now as he stands on the shore in a pair of trunks you bought because you knew he’d forget his. He watches you wade into the cerulean sea with a lily sort of hesitance. You’re so much smaller than the wide-open, but he loves you so much you seem swallow it all whole anyway. 

You’re a pretty little thing in a canary yellow bikini, sunshine incarnate. Your thighs are round and full. The pudge of your stomach is soft and tender. The scarred marks on your back and shoulders are like so many little kisses, each of which he longs to give you in return.

You possess an intimidating sort of beauty, one that Eddie found easier to admire from afar. You were entirely too captivating — warm and gentle like a summer rain dying to be danced in.

“Stop being such a baby!” Robin calls from further in the water. Her sandy-colored hair is a darker shade from the salty sea and pushed back over her forehead and ears. 

Her chapped lips curl into a pink smile as she looks up at you. Not even she could hide her admiration for your fantastical, demoniacal beauty.

“The water’s not even that bad!” the girl continues in half-hearted taunts. “Just run in!”

“It’s cold!” you insist, shivering when a brutal breeze brushes by. You tense and tighten the grip you have on yourself. Your arms are crossed over your chest in a feeble shield that does little to protect you from the water nipping at your ankles.

Robin cackles at your wincing.

Eddie might’ve defended you if he wasn’t so lost in the eternal blue of you, more infinite than the water you stand in or the sky you idle beneath. 

You look so soft in the golden sunlight, so diabolically angelic. Lithe, unholy, yet pure all the same. Built for sin but looking just like Heaven.

Eddie Munson wasn’t supposed to fall in love. He wasn’t even looking for it until it tripped him, ate him up, and spat him out. The universe does whatever the universe wants sometimes, he figures, and if you can’t laugh at their stupid jokes, then that’s on you.

“Holy shit…” Eddie mumbles as the realization pierces him like a dull needle between his ribcage. That searing, subtle feeling of being in love. 

It’s frightening more than it is anything, really — the understanding that you’re diving into something that could ruin you, something you’re going to let ruin you. There’s nothing but a thin line between love and horror.

“Huh?” Steve hums with a cartoonishly scrunched nose and furrow to his brow.

He was the only one close enough to hear him. Everyone else was separate but still near, using every inch of their reserved space. 

Nancy’s reading a book in one of the lounge chairs with El and Max sunbathing on towels close by. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are roughhousing in the water — no doubt irking Steve and his lifeguard-esque spidey senses. Robin, meanwhile, was still coaxing you inside.

Eddie’s head snaps in Steve’s direction. He squints through the wisps of gray smoke rising from the grill. “Huh?” he repeats like the idiot he is.

“You said something.” The brunette boy responds. Not a question, but a statement of fact.

“No, I wasn’t,” Eddie sasses back despite having been caught red-handed. He shrugs and crosses his pale arms over his chest. “I was just… I was just talking to myself.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause that’s not weird or anything.”

Eddie bites back a too-harsh jeer. He watches Steve flip a steaming burger on the tiny grill in front of him with a floundering sort of finesse. He scoffs out a laugh. “Making fun of me isn’t gonna compensate for you having absolutely no idea what you’re doing over there, you know?”

“How hard can it be?” Steve wonders, bouncing his shoulders and gesturing with the spatula in his hand. “They’re burgers. Just flip ‘em before the burn, and they’re golden— well, not golden, but… you get it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the boy’s blind optimism. Steve’s got all the trappings of a rich kid who never had a fend for yourself night where dinner was just chocolate milk, dry cereal, and pizza rolls. “I thought growing up in the suburbs, you would’ve perfected the art of grilling by now.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly have anyone around that often to teach me, so…”

Steve isn’t exactly playing the woe is me card. He’s just stating a fact that most everyone in Hawkins seems to know by now. It blows the wind out of Eddie’s sails, anyway. 

It’s hard to understand sometimes that Steve’s got his own thing going on — his own secrets with his own trauma he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. Eddie spent his whole life thinking that if he was richer, or if his house was bigger, or if the kids at school liked him more, he might’ve been happier growing up. 

Steve Harrington is living proof that that’s not always true.

Eddie walks a few steps closer to the grill. The smell of smoke and cooked meat pervade him instantaneously. He snatches the spatula from Steve’s hand, who’s too off guard to dodge him. 

His frizzy curls bunch at his shoulders when he tilts his head to the side, flashing the brunette boy a sickly sweet smile. “Let the trailer trash show ya how it’s done, Stevie.”

“First of all, don’t call me that,” he retorts with a flat face, golden biceps crossed tight over the chest of his fitted tee. “And second of all, what the hell do you know about cooking?”

“When you grow up in a trailer park, you know how to make at least two things by the time you’re seven-years-old — pizza rolls in the oven and burgers on the grill.”

Steve’s honey eyes narrow. “I don’t trust you not to poison us, Munson.”

“What? You think I’m gonna poison a bunch of kids and my girlfriend? That’s, like, the lowest of the low,” Eddie defends with bubbly laughter sputtering from his mouth. He flips a smashed burger and lets it sizzle over the low flame before pointing the spatula in Steve’s direction. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eye. “But you, Harrington? You should definitely be worried.”

“…Girlfriend, huh?” 

Eddie, visibly surprised by the lack of a comeback, glances over his shoulder at the boy. His fleetingly puzzled gaze gives way to a teasing pink grin. “Yeah… Jealous?” 

It was a joke, but Steve starts to stutter over himself like he’s guilty of something. “What? No,” he argues between forced laughter. “Why would you— Why would you even say that?”

“‘Cause I actually had the balls to ask out the girl I like, and you’ve been ogling at Nancy for an hour trying to figure out how to talk to her without coming off like a total creep.”

“That’s not… I wasn’t doing that.”

Eddie shrugs. “Okay.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I said okay!”

“Jeez…” Steve concedes with a dramatic huff. “I have no idea what Peach sees in you, ya know?”

“Me neither, honestly,” Eddie confesses with a distant smile, grinning at the grill like he can see you in the wisps of thick smoke. “I always thought it was my strong arms and sparkling personality.” 

“See, that’s what I’m talking about! You can’t be serious about anything!”

“I can be serious about some things.”

“Yeah?” Steve muses with raised brows and a smile that says otherwise. “Like what?”

There’s a million stupid jokes Eddie could make just to piss him off all the more. He swallows them all down in place of something more real. “I don’t know… Peach is pretty cool, I guess… Don’t really wanna fuck that up…”

Steve nods, proud of the answer he wasn’t expecting. “Good. Don’t.”

“And what would you do if I did, tough guy?” Eddie jokes, narrowing his eyes at the boy beside him. “Beat me up?”

He answers without missing a beat. “Yeah.”

“You don’t exactly have the best track record for that. I’m pretty sure you’re on a world-record losing streak, actually.”

“I don’t have to win,” Steve assures with a strange sort of sternness to his words. 

Eddie is visibly shocked by the sudden seriousness, wide-eyed and confused. 

The brunette boy sighs before explaining. “That time I got into that stupid fight with Hargrove, it wasn’t about trying to beat him, you know? I was trying to— I don’t know— I was trying to… keep him from hurting the people I cared about, I guess.”

“Peach?” Eddie presses with furrowed brows.

Steve shoots him a dumbfounded look, confused by the confusion. “She didn’t tell you about that?”

“...No?”

“Then, uh… Never mind.”

Steve closes in on himself all over again — an impenetrable brick wall with abs and a chiseled jawline. Eddie feels so suddenly left out, like there was some secret everyone was in on but him. He abandons the grill entirely. 

“Nope. No way. You have to tell me now.”

“I don’t have to tell you shit, Munson,” Steve scoffs, side-stepping the wild-haired boy and taking his place in front of the grill. The burgers are cooked through now, perfectly seared and smoky. He plates them all like he wasn’t on track to burning them. Eddie lets him do it.

“I swear to god, I will give you food poisoning on purpose, Harrington—”

“It’s not my story to tell, alright?” Steve interjects the half-hearted threat.

“Well, I mean, it sorta is because you were just about to tell it, so…”

The brunette grumbles something under his breath like a rolling storm cloud.

You and Robin watch the encounter from afar, both of you someways from shore. Now submerged to your shoulders in the sapphire water, you’re not nearly as cold as when you first stepped in. It feels as soft as silk now, sparkling around you like diamonds every time you kick your feet to keep yourself afloat.

A smile quirks at your mouth at the sight of the bantering boys — one you used to love and one you think you’ll love forever.

They’re complete and utter opposites of each other. One golden, one pale. One broad, one lean. One with trimmed honey locks that shine golden in the sun, and one with long curls so dark they seem to reject all light entirely. 

They both wear deadpanned looks of utter annoyance on their features, having no idea how close they’re standing to each other.

“The sexual tension is ripe between those two,” you confess to Robin, though it’s mostly for yourself.

“Think they’re gonna kiss?” the brunette girl jokes as she blinks salt water from her eyes.

“I don’t know… They might…” you observe quietly, squinting in the distance in a feeble attempt to read their lips. The conversation seems heated — well, as heated as it gets between two boys who think they’re better off as enemies. 

You long to understand what they’re saying and mourn the fact that you don’t.

“Bet I can get them to kiss by the end of the night, though,” you answer more finally and with a glint to your eye — a result of your looming mischief rather than the glittering sun above you.

“Please, don’t say it…” Robin grimaces.

“Truth or dare,” you singsong with a beaming grin.

The girl makes a pained sound at your words. She bubbles her freckled cheeks and squeezes her eyes shut tight. She ducks herself beneath the water in attempts to hide there, knowing there are some things you just can’t run from.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You hold onto your love for Eddie like so many flowers in your hand. 

It’s a collection of wild things — honeyed daffodils, fluffy white daisies, and pretty pastel forget-me-nots. Their vivid green stems feel like stripes of hardened silk in your palm. 

Maybe you’ll shape them into a crown later, place them on top of your lover’s wild curls the next time you see him. You hope that isn’t too long now.

Max was the one that wanted to go on a hike. Upon the other boys’ insistence of tagging along, she spat like venom in return — “No boys allowed.” And, quite frankly, none of you were in any position to deny Maxine Mayfield of anything.

Robin hadn’t even wanted to go until that moment. She complained she was too tired after a day in the water to spend an evening in the woods. The thought of making fun of Steve seemingly cured her. 

“Yeah,” she lilted with a smile, voice raspy from hours of nonstop laughter. She slid a cap over her drying locks, leaving it backwards and lazy on her head. She bounced her brows and walked backwards behind the group of you. “Go on your own hike, Stevie.”

“We will!” Steve argued in return, like a child not easily left behind.

You can’t be sure of what they’re up to now. Nothing, maybe, or perhaps everything. You just hope Eddie’s missing you as much as you’re missing him — innocently, gently, childishly. 

Maybe he’s seeing your face in the crystalline waves of the sea like you’re seeing his face in the satin petals of the flowers in your hand.

“Having fun?” you ask Max over the subtle crunch, crunch, crunch of grass and leaves and twigs beneath your feet. 

The redhead’s eyes widen at the suddenness of your presence — or rather, how slow she’d been to register it. Noticing her languishing stride, she puts more pep in her step. 

“Tons,” she huffs.

You become a silent observer of Max Mayfield for a moment. You blink at the girl beside you —  with pretty red plaits down her back and pale shoulders peeking from her tank top — and try to make sense of her. It’s an impossible task.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” you confess with a quiet laugh.

“I’m not,” she affirms with her own scoffed-out chuckle. She tucks a rouge wisp of amber hair behind her ear and averts her gaze to her beat-up sneakers. “It’s… actually been kinda fun so far.”

With a blooming feeling of relief and slight accomplishment, you nod in response. “Good.”

“I just wish the boys weren’t here, though,” she admits with a distant girlishness, kicking a rock with the tip of her shoe. It clunk, clunk, clunks down the hill. She screws her freckled face. “They’re making it all… weird.”

“Weird how?” you press gently. 

You don’t want to push her so hard she closes up again, but you don’t want to stay so quiet she thinks you don’t care. It’s tricky work, getting close to Max Mayfield — like digging through a brick wall with a plastic spoon.

“Weird as in… I don’t know— they’re making it something it’s not supposed to be, you know? Like, Dustin is cool, but that’s because his girlfriend just dumped him and everything,” the girl rambles with a shrug. She lifts her arm to duck beneath a low-hanging branch, scraping her calloused palm against the wood as she goes. 

You’ll hear a low thud moments later when Robin smacks her forehead against it. She’d been too busy explaining how to tell the difference between poisonous and nonpoisonous mushrooms to Nancy and El — the former only half as enthused as the latter.

“El and Mike are always sneaking off to suck face, and Steve and Eddie keep ogling at you like they’ve never seen a girl before, and Lucas won’t stop asking me if something’s wrong, and—”

“He’s just trying to check up on you,” you interject gently, letting the wound-up girl take a much-needed breath.

“Yeah, well, it’s annoying,” she grumbles like a thundering rain cloud. “I’m trying to forget my problems, not talk about them.”

And, honestly, you think she might be onto something. Teenage girls are basically tiny pessimistic philosophers — your problems don’t exist if you don’t look at them, she tells you in essence. The logic is cynically sound to an unhealthy degree. It’s a poison apple you’ve plucked from the tree and eaten whole once.

“You gotta talk about them eventually, Max,” you tell her. Not because you have, but rather because you haven’t, and you’ve seen where that’s gotten you.

Max stops in her tracks. She turns ninety degrees to glare at you — arms crossed over her chest, bushy brows quirked like the right side of her lips. She looks bitterly amused at your words. 

You cower beneath her icy blue stare. You know you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Oh, yeah? Like you’re talking about them, too?” she sasses with all her practiced teenaged apathy.

You falter. “Yeah, well… Don’t do what I do, alright? Do what I say.”

Max scoffs. It sounds almost like genuine laughter in its curtness, as though it were truly sincere. She shakes her head with a cynical smile. “Face it— we’re both hopeless…”

Her words leave you stunned, as though she’d pierced you with the poison tip of them. There’s an edge to them that cuts you and leaves you bleeding as she walks on without you. The wind brushes your exposed skin, a reminder that the world is still going even though it feels like it’s frozen still. 

Robin and El walk by you a moment later. The former rubs her aching forehead over the brim of the cap on her head. The latter is elbow-deep in a drawstring bag looking for a bandaid to give her. 

Nancy, either poetically or cruelly, is the one who notices the splintered ache you are.

She smiles with her pretty pink lips and blinks at you with her stone-blue eyes. She’s as pretty as she ever was — with her bare, sun-kissed face and oversized cardigan pushed up to her elbows. It’s hard to admonish someone who looks as sweet as she does. 

Her attention alone is enough to heal you, like a dog licking a weeping wound. You hate her as much as you worship her. The loathing feels religious.

“Who are those for?” she questions innocently, motioning to the flowers in the limp hand hanging at your side.

“Oh, uh, they’re— they’re for Eddie,” you sputter in a mumble, suddenly aflame with embarrassment. You turn your red-hot cheeks away from her and look at everything but the girl in front of you. “It’s… It’s stupid…”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s sweet,” she disagrees, grinning so sincerely it scrunches the sloped bridge of her nose.

“I don’t know, I just… I felt a little bad about leaving him behind, so…”

“He did look a little like a sad puppy when we left,” Nancy confesses in a soft giggle.

You roll your eyes despite the lovesick smile on your face. “He always looks like that when he doesn’t get his way.”

“He really likes you. I can tell.”

Your heart lurches at her words. 

“What the hell do you know about him?” is first fleeting thought that scorches your mind. “He isn’t yours. You don’t get to know him.” 

The misplaced anger is raging crimson, vivid enough to taste. Or perhaps that’s just the metallic tang of your blood as you bite your tongue.

Your rage is engraved into your bones at this point. 

It isn’t fair, not to either of you, so you swallow it down.

“You think so?” you wonder instead.

“Oh. Totally,” she scoffs like she’s never been surer of anything in her life. 

Her sneakers scuff against the rough terrain of Lake Lemon as she starts walking again, towards the sound of trickling water. You follow behind her on instinct and watch her angled profile flit to the blue sky above you. Gray clouds start to gather in the distance, concealed by the green of towering trees. 

“The way he looks at you… It’s really sweet.”

“Bet it makes you miss Jonathan, huh?”

“I always miss him,” she answers without missing a beat, though she seems so suddenly forlorn. “Even though I know I’m not really supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” you press with pinched brows.

She tilts her head and looks at you beneath her lashes. “We, um… We broke up, actually.”

“Oh. Shit,” you stutter, surprising even yourself because you hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. It makes you that much more embarrassed at yourself. “I— I’m sorry. I didn’t— shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” Nancy assures kindly, giggling and bringing you at ease again. She smiles so softly, like she isn’t hurt by it all — by what you’ve said or what she left behind in Jonathan. 

You squint at her with a question on your tongue. How can you seem so happy after having lost a piece of yourself? you want so desperately to ask. How has that not ruined you entirely?

She sighs, still with a reminiscent smile. “I haven’t really… you know, talked about it, so…”

“Are you…” you start, but trail off again. Your head whips from her to the rocky trail you descend down, trying to keep focused without tripping over yourself in front of her. God knows you’ve done that enough for a lifetime. “Are you okay?”

Nancy thinks on your words more than you expected her to. “Uh, yeah. I think so. I mean— I guess that’s what this trip is about, you know? Trying to be okay again.”

You nod in response. You figure that’s why you ultimately asked Max to tag along in the first place, and why her friends had decided to join — those heartbroken and otherwise. 

“Sorry about that, by the way,” Nancy follows quickly with wet eyes and pinched-together brows. She’s waiting for you to condemn her, though you’re not entirely sure why.

“For… what?”

“You know, not telling you I was coming and… everything.” 

You wonder if she truly does mean everything or if it’s just a figure of speech. Nancy has a world of things to say sorry to you for — she knows this, most barbarically so.

“Steve told me it was normally a him, you, and Robin thing. He said you wouldn’t be upset about it or anything, but I feel like… I don’t know… like I’ve intruded or something?”

“No,” you assure almost instantly because you know what non-belonging feels like. You don’t want it to eat away at her like it did you. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” the girl presses with a twinkle in her eye.

“Totally.”

She exhales a sharp chuckle through her nose. It’s almost a sigh of relief — like your words have removed a hulking weight from her bony chest. “I was so scared things were gonna be…”

“Weird?” you finish for her when she trails off.

Her sheepish smile matches your own. She nods. “Yeah.”

“That was forever ago,” you shrug, repeating the words you’ve been telling yourself for ages now. It made everything much easier to stomach. You found it much safer not to feel any of it at all — to keep the hurt from touching you entirely.

Nancy nods. Her words leave her mouth, soft like a song and kissed by sorrow. “I know, but… Things were…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t have to. 

You were there for all of it. Most of the bloodshed was yours in the end.

“Yeah,” you huff so deeply it deflates your tightening chest.

“It was all just bullshit, you know?” Nancy says, shaking her head like she’s detested by the memory. “Steve shouldn’t have done what he did, but… It wasn’t like I was raring to stop him.”

“It wasn’t your job. You didn’t know me— you never had to… defend me or whatever.”

“I know, but… I think maybe I should have.”

The two of you stop in place and share a look of distant longing. Not the kind you often give Eddie — not the kind full of puppy love — but rather one of acute understanding. 

She didn’t know you, and you didn’t know her. You thought it was better off that way. Her presence was so often forced against your will. Like Pavlov’s Dog, you knew she only ever came with your inevitable heartache. Steve drifted to her like she had her own gravitational pull. He only came back to you when she was gone.

Jaded by heartache, you learned to hate her. The wrath ate away at you accordingly. And here she was — all your anger in the flesh — extending an olive branch and trying to make you whole again.

“Whoa…” you hear Robin croon lowly in the distance. 

Your attention leaves the piercing moment and darts over to her. She stands between El and Max in front of a leaning willow. She parts the weeping leaves with the palm of her hand and marvels at something further in the juniper you can’t see. 

You give Nancy a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes — too weighed down by the heavy moment — but it isn’t any less sincere. You walk away from her and towards the three others. It takes her a moment or more to follow you.

Past the swaying willow is a shrouded cove. The clear water is kissed by streams of sunlight poking through the fluttering leaves. It possesses a hearty smell of rain and wet grass, the very breath of spring. 

It’s a corner of the world that feels so pure, so untouched by the rest of the world. You can hear words hidden in the rippling water — “Swim with me,” it calls to you. “Let me cleanse you. Let me save you.” 

“Sweet…” Max hums to herself, apathetic as ever, though utterly unable to tear her eyes from the sight before her.

El nods, similarly mesmerized. “Yeah. Sweet.”

Robin turns to you, smirking all cool in her backwards cap and baggy jeans and thumped forehead. She bounces her brows and beams. “Bet the boys haven’t found anything this cool.”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

“Hey, look!” Dustin shouts to the others, eyes squinted with the intensity of his grin. He holds up a shining red rock, made smooth from the water rolling over his feet. “I’m pretty sure it’s a gemstone! Like, a ruby or something!”

He’s met with several unenthused gazes from the rest of the boys on shore. 

Mike squints at him from where he sits next to Lucas in the sand, both of them equally mopey without their girls to bring them back to life. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s just a rock,” the raven-haired boy monotones.

Dustin’s smile washes away like the ebbing tide at his ankles. He looks back at the weighty thing in his hand and realizes that he doesn’t actually know the difference. “Oh…”

“What do you think the girls are doing right now?” Lucas wonders aloud. He can’t go more than five minutes without bringing them up, which Dustin has bitterly observed a number of times. 

He’s more worried about Max than anything, about her eagerness to get away from the boys — from him. He doesn’t know what he could’ve done so wrong to make her pull away like she has. His chest aches with the uncertainty.

“Talking about us, probably,” Mike answers.

“That’s a little sexist, Mike,” Dustin scolds as he walks back on shore, kicking up white sand behind him as he goes.

“What do you think they’re doing then?”

“Talking about you,” the curly-haired boy retorts with narrowed eyes. “‘Cause you’re a dick.”

Mike squints an eye as he looks up at him, shielding his vision from the white sun. He flips the boy off with a pale, bony finger.

Eddie watches from a distance. He stands beside Steve in front of the bubbling white waves, though it’s not really by choice. He’d much rather be standing next to you. He searches for you in the pearly waves and weeps because nothing compares to the real thing.  

“Well, why don’t we just find out?” he offers with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

“Uh, because they said no boys allowed,” Steve answers like it’s obvious.

Eddie meets the boy’s furrowed brows with jettisoned ones hidden behind curly bangs. “…Okay?”

“And, I don’t know— I kinda don’t wanna get my face ripped off.”

“And what would poor Steve Harrington do without his pretty little face?” the wild-haired boy singsongs in response, face scrunched in feigned sympathy.

Steve squints. “You know what? Please, leave. I encourage it, actually.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his head to his shoulder. He blinks at the boy beside him with glittering chocolate eyes that match the frizzy curls billowing in the breeze. “But then who would I annoy?”

“I don’t know. Your girlfriend, maybe,” Steve responds in a monotone, grunting softly as he bends down to pick up a handful of rocks from shore. He flicks his wrist to skip them across the water. It becomes quickly apparent that he’s never done it before. Each pebble plops hopelessly into the salty sea. “Anyone but me, preferably.”

“But you can’t break up with me, so… that’s an obvious bonus.”

“Jesus Christ…” Steve mumbles within an annoyed exhale. “You are the most insufferable person on the planet, you know that, right?”

“Tell me what happened with Billy, and I’ll leave,” Eddie challenges with narrowed eyes.

It’s too good a proposition not to give any thought to. Steve thinks about it for a beat, then shakes his head and turns away. “Yeah, no,” he concludes, skipping another rock that sinks to the bottom almost immediately.

“Why?”

“’Cause you annoying the shit outta me now is nothing compared to what Peach’ll do if she finds out I told you.”

“And what’s that?”

Steve shrugs. “…Be mad at me?”

Eddie scoffs and crosses his pale arms over his chest. “And that would just be… inconceivable, right?”

“I spent enough time pissing her off.”

“What’d you even do, anyway? Or is that another secret everyone seems to know but me?”

Steve shoots him another bitter side-eye. He tosses out another pebble. It bounces on the water once and then disappears beneath the surface. “I think these are questions for your girlfriend, Munson.”

“No, these are questions for bros, Harrington,” Eddie jokes, shoving the boy on his shoulder. His touch is more aggressive than he realizes and it makes the disgruntled brunette stumble slightly to the side. “Isn’t this the sort of things bros talk about?”

“Oh, my god…” Steve mutters to himself, shaking his head and wondering how he got here. What was supposed to be a trip with you and Robin has turned into him babysitting with Eddie fucking Munson.

“Am I not bro enough for you, Harrington?”

“That word has lost all meaning now—”

“C’mon, just tell me, man,” Eddie pleads with a newfound seriousness. “Every time I almost get something outta her, she just— she clams up, you know? I love her and everything, but fuck— it feels like she only lets me know her so much. It’s agony sometimes, dude.”

Steve doesn’t mean to, but he melts.

Maybe it’s the foreign emotion he’s getting from the local freak, or maybe it’s the confession that’s unknowingly slipped from his lips. 

He sighs. Then shrugs. “It was a long time ago. And I was a douchebag.”

Eddie snorts. “Figures.”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” Steve bites. 

Eddie curls his lips around his teeth, puts his mouth in a tight line, and stays silent. 

The brunette boy continues. “I liked her and everything, but I also liked Nancy, you know? I really liked Nancy. I mean, Peach was a lotta fun, but Nance— she was the kinda girl you wanted to settle down with.”

Eddie feels his chest tighten, and the confession’s only just started. 

You were fun. The most fun he’s had in his life. He’d kill to settle down with you, to have an entire future of fun. There was never any but with you — I love you, but it’d be a bad look to settle down with the town slut. Eddie wants all of you, the good and what everyone else has collectively decided is “bad.” 

He loves the sound of your laughter as much as he loves the sound of your moans. 

He wants a lifetime full of both.

“—So every time Nancy broke up with me, I’d go back to Peach. And I wouldn’t tell her about… about any of it. You know, that I still wanted to be with Nancy and everything. And that’s… I think that’s the worst part about it. ‘Cause she thought there was a chance we would get together, you know? And I wanted her to think that, ‘cause I wanted her to always be there when I was— when I needed her…”

Steve squints off into the blue — where the darker-colored water meets a lighter-colored sky. The white sun casts harsh shadows on his already chiseled features. His face scrunches into something sharper, whetted edges of held-back emotion.

“A part of me knew the only reason Peach stuck around was because she thought I’d finally come to my senses and ask her out, you know? But I was… so far gone for Nancy back then it’s not even funny,” the boy confesses. He exhales a curt, cynical chuckle from his nose and shakes his head at himself. 

“I knew I was gonna keep chasing after Nance, but I couldn’t let Peach know that because I didn’t wanna be... I don’t know… alone, I guess? I needed someone to go to when my heart got broken., you know? But when I went back to Nancy— over and over and over again— it’s like… where’d Peach go? Who did— Who did she have to turn to, you know?”

Silence rolls in like the whispering breeze. It settles heavy like the gray rain clouds on the horizon.

Steve sighs like a strangling hand has finally let go of his throat. Like he can finally breathe again after saying all that out loud for the first time. Beside Eddie, the boy stands golden, grieving, and utterly changed. Steve towers over his old self in the memories he wishes he could get rid of and mourns the people he can’t un-hurt.

And it fucking sucks. 

What he did to you sucks. The person he used to be sucks. And it sucks that he’s changed too much to hate now. Where is Eddie supposed to put all the anger simmering in his chest and scratching at the back of his throat?

“And, yeah,” Steve suddenly concludes, flicking his wrist to toss another rock out to sea that’ll never see the light of day again. “That went on for a while until she got with Hargrove, which was… a total fucking train wreck.”

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond, so he just laughs — a short, sharp, and scoffing breath. 

“Wow,” he muses with his brows raised and hidden beneath his bangs. He shakes his head in complete and utter bemusement as he looks over at Steve, eyelids as heavy as the forced smile on his face. “You guys are fucking assholes, you know that?”

Steve exhales sharply from his nose in place of a laugh. He shakes his head in agreement anyway. “Believe it or not— people can change, Munson.”

The wild-haired boy squints. “Really?”

“I did. Peach did,” he answers with a shrug, then averts his gaze entirely to mumble, “You did, too, I guess…”

The half-heartedly grumbled phrase feels almost like a compliment — more so when it’s spilling from the mouth of someone he used to hate but has grown to sort of tolerate on handpicked occasions. 

It’s great beauty, to grow and shift and become the person you were also meant to be. And what praise it is to be seen in your becoming.

From a brief distance, they hear a soft and relieved “Fucking finally,” spill from Dustin’s mouth.

Eddie turns and finds you coming down from the trail. Well, you and the rest of the girls you ditched him for, but all he can really see is you. 

He’d missed you in a way he knows he shouldn’t have. Not just because you were only gone for one measly hour, but because that one measly hour ate away at him as though it were eons. 

He knows he shouldn’t miss you so hard, but sometimes the absence feels strangely fulfilling. It’s a reminder that you’re real and not some dream he made up in his head. A reminder that he’ll meet you again because you’ll always come back to him.

“Have fun?” you ask when he’s close enough to hear you. You’ve got one eye squinted to shield from the sun and also to conceal the beam threatening to take over your features.

“Oh. Tons,” Eddie scoffs in a deadpan. “Didn’t even miss you.”

“No?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Well, I didn’t miss you either,” you confess in a similar lilt and with a similar grin that drips with honeyed adoration. “’S why I spent the whole time picking these flowers for you.”

You shrug and hold out your left hand, where a bushel of tiny flowers rests softly against the edge of your palm. It’s a mixture of vivid colors — of greens, blues, purples, and yellows. They’re wild and beautiful and drenched in sun. A whole lot like the love he has for you.

The dull ache of his broken heart sears with warmth when you put it back together again.

Eddie’s toes dig into the sand as he fills the short distance between you. He curls his fingers around your elbows, takes you in his arms, and feels whole again. With a rosy smile and sparkling chocolate eyes, he groans, “Oh, god, I hate you so much…”

Your cheeks hurt with how large your grin has grown, with how hard you try to hide it. It’s not nearly as painful as the adoration burning wildfires behind your ribcage. “I hate you more, Eddie Spaghetti.”

There’s no need to admit you’re only joking.

The words are so obviously playful. 

And both of you know what they really mean, anyway.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

The heavenly cadence of spring rain sings a wild song on the old tin roof.

It began first as a few gentle taps, a sparse sprinkle that tricks your brain into thinking it’s not really there at all. Then the greying clouds gave way to darker, more ponderous ones. The soft drizzle became a roaring rain that fell all together, all at once.

A foggy grey covers the cabin and lulls its inhabitants to sleep. Swim-tired, sunkissed, and energy-spent — you all return to a sweeter sort of peace. The sudden exhaustion feels like rose petals. It’s gentle, pure, and liquid smooth. 

Robin clocks out first, and in record time. She stomps in from outside, terribly sunburnt and complaining relentlessly — before and after a cold shower. She shoves a burger in her face and passes out on the couch soon after.

Steve makes fun of her for it, but he goes right after her. He lays opposite her on the small couch, both of them fighting for room, even in their sleep.

Nancy went a lot more quietly, and only after the millionth time you assured her that she was more than welcome to take the bed. “It’s not like Robin has any plans of sleeping upstairs right now,” you joked, nodding your head over to the brunette girl who had her chin tilted backward and her mouth wide open.

You can’t be entirely sure what the kids are up to now, but they’ve all returned to the bunk room. It’s quiet, but not suspiciously so. You figure they’re all either sleeping or fighting it, so you decide to give them privacy while you sit alone in the kitchen — waiting for Eddie’s shower to end and for Hopper to get off the phone with you.

“Having fun?” the man wonders politely.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum in response, cheek propped lazily against your fist as you lean over the granite countertop. You’re too heavy with fatigue to do anything else. Your legs are sore and your skin is sun-drenched. Slumber all but sings your name like a siren out at sea.

“What about El? She doing okay?”

“Yep.”

“You’re watching her and Mike, right? You’re not letting them go off alone?”

“Yes, Hopper,” you singsong in an impatient-sounding sigh.

The man huffs out a laugh that crackles from the other line. “You sound like you don’t wanna talk to me, teacup.”

“I’m sorry. ‘M just tired. Running after kids all day is exhausting,” you confess in a series of barely intelligible mumbles.

“Exactly. That’s why you wear protection—”

“Hopper!”

“I’m just saying!” Jim defends between a bout of gruff laughter. “I don’t want you  coming back from this trip and having a mini-Munson nine months later, alright? That’s all I’m saying.”

You have a hard time placing his intention — if he’s truly being protective or if he’s just making fun of you. He’s more than aware of Eddie’s secret, after all, so you coming home with a mini-Munson is virtually impossible. But, then again, no-parents-empty-cabin surely has its own lewd history.

You figure it’s a healthy mixture of both, and decide to take the piss out of him, too.

“Oh, trust me, lurch. There’s gonna be a million mini-Munsons when I get back. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time, huh?” you argue with squinted eyes and a sudden fire behind your sunkissed lassitude. “Please ignore the sounds of moaning and squeaking, by the way.”

A beat of utter silence passes. 

The other line is perfectly mute. You can’t even hear his breathing.

“…That’s not funny,” Hopper grouses in a monotone.

“I’m not laughing,” you retort, giggling anyway. You couldn’t hide them if you tried. Fuck, you miss annoying this man in person. 

You collect yourself with a sigh and continue. “Believe it or not, I’m perfectly abstinent, okay? I’m not some kinda fiend that… You know what— I don’t want to talk about this with you, actually.”

Hopper exhales a sigh of relief when you cut yourself off. “Good. I checked out of this conversation about a minute ago.”

“I’m good. El’s good. Everyone’s currently sleeping, so… Thanks for checking in, lurch.”

“Remind me to ask for Harrington next time I call.”

“Will do.”

You hang up the phone with a smile and a plan to trek upstairs and tell Eddie all about it. You’ll sit on the bathroom counter and laugh about it with him while he finishes up his shower. You’ll leave out the million Munsons part, of course, because you don’t want him to think you’re a total weirdo.

Eddie finds you first.

“Mini Munsons, huh?” you hear the boy chuckle behind you.

Your heart lurches against your ribcage at his sudden arrival. You spin around to face him, features wide and gaping as you figure out how to worm your way out of this one. “I was— I was just kidding. Hopper was being annoying, you know? So I was… I was just fucking around with him…”

Eddie meets your wild-eyed shock with a much cooler, pink smile. It’s lopsided and wide and beautiful. Leaning against the wall, he bounces his shoulder and juts out his lip. “Well, I know that’s your favorite pastime, so… I guess I won’t hold it against you.”

You know he’s joking, but you exhale the breath you were holding in relief anyway. “Thank you…”

He walks the short distance to meet you. His bare feet pad against the kitchen tile until he’s close enough to wrap you in his arms. He carries the smell of your body wash with him — a warm, floral, and sweet scent. His hair is damp and pulled back out of his face, dripping onto the neck of his t-shirt.

His palms are wide and lotion-soft as they smooth up your forearms. “Uh… Everyone’s asleep now, I think, so… You wanna go talk?”

He looks at you so sweet, you’re almost certain it’s code for something. Not sex, maybe, but something almost as gratifying. It’s Eddie — he kisses you stupid like he was made to do it. You’re more than happy to make out like teenagers until the rest of the cabin starts to stir again.

“Sure, I do,” you answer with a shrug, trying to keep an air of nonchalance about you even though you’re beaming up at him like schoolgirl — some innocent being that’s never been hurt before.

You let him lead you up the spiral staircase with that same giddy grin. You barely let him shut the door behind you before you’re pushing him against it. 

You hear him gasp quietly when your arms wrap suddenly around his neck. He’s tense when your body presses against his, like hugging a mountain’s edge. It takes him a moment or more to respond when you start kissing the breath from his lungs.

He finally relaxes with a soft exhale that fans against your cupid’s bow. His idling hands settle over your hips, fingers threatening to crawl beneath your cropped shirt when it rises to reveal a sliver of your skin. You’d kill for him to touch you further, but his touch stays perfectly still. You’re just glad he’s holding you at all.

He tastes like nicotine, soda, and summertime — clean, boyish, and nostalgic. Your tongue swipes gently over his plush bottom lip for more. You expect him to open up further for you, to let you explore the mouth you already know like the back of your hand. You’re heartbroken when he pulls away from you entirely, missing him the second he’s gone.

Eddie’s grieving in a similar way. It’s hard for him to part from you when you kiss him like no person on earth has ever been kissed.

He breathes out a soft laugh as he peers down at you. He grins crookedly with his freshly swollen lips. “Not that I’m not enjoying this or anything, sweetheart, but when I said talk, I really did mean talk…”

Your blood runs red-hot. “Oh…” you sigh like an idiot because you can’t think of anything else to say. You feel like a total fool — spent ages denying the slut stereotype just to jump someone’s bones the second you got them alone. Maybe they were right about you.

Eddie sees you second-guessing everything, watches you form a long-winded apology inside your head. He follows up quickly to quell your worry. “No, it’s okay— it’s kinda my bad, actually. I guess I should’ve clarified.”

You muster a trembling smile when you step back from him. You’re cold the second he’s gone. You have to fight back the shiver that crawls up your spine. “Well, you did say talk, so…”

“Yeah, but how often do I say things I actually mean?”

“Sometimes,” you answer sheepishly, gazing at him from beneath your lashes in a sincere response to his half-joke. “I hope…”

I hope you meant it when you said you liked me, is what you’re really trying to say. I hope you meant all the nice things you’ve said about me, ‘cause I don’t think I could handle them never being real.

He seems to hear everything you don’t say. 

His rosy lips tug into a slow smile as he tilts his head to his shoulder. “Well… maybe when it comes to you, sweetheart.”

Your girlish smile returns to you — wide, innocent, unhurt. You like feeling this special. You like Eddie belonging to you in a way he doesn’t to anybody else. It’s a primal sort of possession, a borderline unhealthy one for someone who loves like it’s breathing.

“What did you wanna talk about then?” you wonder, then scrunch your nose with a distant wariness. “It kinda seems serious now.”

“No,” Eddie scoffs, walking away from you and towards the bed. “Not serious.”

The mattress squeaks under his weight when he flops down onto it. You want to scold him for being so rough with an obviously aged thing that doesn’t belong to him. You’re already gravitating towards him with an unrealized smile on your face. 

You sit down beside him, far more gently than he had. You settle on top of the fluffy comforter and curl your legs behind you. Eddie lays on his side, propping his head up with one hand and using the other to trace the faded scars and beauty marks on your thigh. 

His finger trails absentmindedly over your skin in a featherlight touch. Chills erupt over your skin, and he smiles to himself. You’re still learning how to be touched so delicately.

“Spit it out, Eds. The tension’s killing me,” you laugh with words you’ll regret a second later.

“I don’t know… I just— I wanted to ask why you never told me about Steve,” the boy says with a nonchalant shrug, like the words don’t suck all the breath from your lungs. He’s too busy watching his finger dance across your skin to see the shock flood your features. “Like, I knew you guys had— a thing or whatever. But I didn’t know… you know, the rest of it.”

Despite being unable to breathe, you try to muster a laugh. “This sounds like a pretty serious topic, Eds.”

His wide-eyed gaze matches your own. His stare darts upward to meet yours. The chocolate of his irises are full with brooding. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. Actually, he spent his entire showering thinking of ways to bring this up that would be the least painful for the both of you. But in true Eddie Munson fashion, he can’t ever say the right thing.

“No! No, it— it doesn’t have to be. I was just… It was just a question, you know?” he sputters hopelessly. He glances away and mumbles to himself, “A really dumb, stupid question…”

Despite the overwhelming urge to find the deepest, darkest hole and hide there, you can’t tear your eyes away from the boy in front of you. You’re not really looking at him, though, much too deep in your own head about the whole thing. 

You can’t stop thinking about what he must’ve heard — how he felt when he heard it. Did he think of you differently? Even for a fraction of a second, was he embarrassed at the very thought of you?

“Are you saying that… Steve told you about… all of it?” you ask slowly, terrified of the answer.

“Uh, yeah…” Eddie hesitates, equally as apprehensive. “Honestly, I think we were going a little insane with the girls around…”

He exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh and flashes a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It ebbs away a moment later.

“Why would he do that?” you wonder with wide, wet eyes. The question is more for yourself than anything. You can’t begin to understand why Steve would’ve opened up about such a thing — to Eddie, of all people. Your Eddie.

“I asked him about Billy—”

“What do you know about Billy?”

“Well, he brought it up, but—”

“So you spent the entire time talking about me?” The laugh that spills from your mouth is bitter, cruel. 

Eddie, who’s never known you to be either, chuckles emotionlessly back. “Well… No. It just— It just came up, I guess.”

You smile despite the emotion swimming in your glassy eyes. It makes the boy cower inside himself, unsure which contrasting reaction to pay the most attention to. “My relationship with Steve and Billy just… came up?”

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal, babe—”

“It’s not a big deal because they weren’t your exes,” you bite like a snarling dog. “If I spent the entire time talking about you, you wouldn’t be too happy about it either, would you?”  

Eddie’s eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “I didn’t come up? Not one time?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. The volume of your answer and its blurted sincerity take him by surprise. You wave your hands wildly as you ramble. “I told Nancy that I missed you and that I couldn’t wait to see you and give you a bunch of stupid flowers—”

You motion to the makeshift bouquet sitting on the nightstand. They idle in a clear shot glass Eddie found in one of the cabinets. He couldn’t stand not giving them a home.

“—While you were off with Steve, talking about everyone that’s fucked me over!”

Your rage is as wild as it is brutal. You’re painted red from the slaughter you’ve been forced through. It’s given you claws and teeth accordingly. 

Like a stray dog that bites the gentle hand trying to feed it, you’ve been so obviously mistreated. Eddie knew that before he knew you — ‘cause he’s got eyes, as well as a bleeding heart. Someone didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved, and now the memory turns you cruel.

“It wasn’t like that, okay?” Eddie presses with an urgency you can feel on his hand curling intently around your calf. His fingers tremble with sincerity. His dark eyes swim with it, too. “I just— I wanted to learn more about you because you never tell me anything!”

“Yes, I do!” you scoff.

“Then why do you never talk about Billy?”

“Why do you care so much about Billy?” you cry with a broad, disbelieving smile. “Why do I need to talk about him? He doesn’t even matter— he doesn’t even exist anymore!”

“Because something obviously happened! And if that thing is bothering you, I wanna be able to make it better!”

“That’s what therapists are for, Eddie. Not boyfriends.”

“Yeah, not any that you ever had,” he scoffs to himself before he can stop it. 

You tense beneath his hand. He deflates with a sigh — squeezing his eyes shut and asking himself how the hell he manages to make the bad shit that much worse. 

“Sorry. I’m— I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t bring any of this up to hurt your feelings, alright? I just wanted to— I don’t know— I just wanted to talk about it, okay? That’s all.”

You can tell he’s being sincere. That he really did just want to talk about it, and that he really is worried about you, and that he really does want to make it all better. He wears it all over his face. His features are soft and blurred and utterly genuine.

You haven’t yet softened your sharp, whetted edges. “You said we didn’t have to. That this trip was supposed to be fun.”

He flinches at the way you spit the words at him. They’re coated in vinegar, venom. It sinks into his skin and maims him accordingly. His bushy brows furrow, the corners of his mouth turn downward, and his eyes go glassy — a sad puppy indeed.

“You’re not having fun?” he wonders in a wounded whisper.

His hurt becomes your own. It only makes your anger tower mountains over you. “Not anymore,” you answer lowly and through a tense jaw.

Eddie’s spent a lifetime screwing things up. He’s spent a lifetime apologizing for them, too. This one aches worse than all the others combined. “I’m sorry…” he mutters quietly.

You’ve never seen him this somber. This sad.

The broken look of your lover’s heartache cracks the hardened porcelain you’re made of. You let out the breath you were holding in a trembling, heavy sigh. “No, don’t— Don’t apologize.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t have brought it up…” he confesses with his gaze cast downward.

You bring a hand to the one idling on your leg. You rest your soft palm over his bony knuckles. Your touch is much warmer than the iceberg you were just minutes ago. 

“It’s okay. You were just curious. I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did,” you concede. The softness he’s more familiar with finally returns to you. The corner of your lip quirks into a wavering half-smile as you joke, “But if you want the entire list of guys that have fucked me over, it’s a really— it’s really fucking long one.”

You laugh quietly at your joke. 

But Eddie knows it’s not really a joke, so he stays unsmiling.

His touch is still soft, though. He takes to rubbing your calf again — a slow and measured up and down — a reminder that he’s still in your corner. “Well, you can tell me about it when you’re ready.”

“What if I’m not?” you wonder, hesitant and testing the waters. “Like… What if I don’t want you to know all that stuff?”

Eddie’s gaze flits away from yours as he ponders the question. He purses his lips to the side and nods to himself, visibly deep in thought. “Then I’m good with not knowing,” he answers after a few, long moments.

“Are you?”

Again, he thinks.

“Not really. No,” he responds, still as honest as he’s always been with you. He grins lopsidedly and bounces his shoulder. “But if it means I get to keep you, then… Yeah.”

You exhale a breathy laugh at his words.

Eddie’s wavering smile breaks out in a sheepish beam at the sight of your more genuine grin. 

“Can I have a kiss?” he whispers to you, as innocent and mousy as a child.

Your hand gives his a reassuring squeeze. “You never have to ask, Eds…” you remind him.

You lean down to press your mouth against his. He tilts his chin to meet you halfway. It’s chaste and lingering — a delicate peck that expresses all the swirling emotions neither of you could name if you tried. 

“There isn’t anything about you that I wouldn’t want to know,” Eddie confesses after he’s pulled away from you. The breath of his words fan across your cheek, he’s still so close to you. His deep galaxy eyes dance between both of yours. “You know that, right?”

A smile tugs slow at your mouth. “Now, I do,” you nod in return, even though you’re not sure if you believe him. 

He only says that because he doesn’t know you — the deep, dark you that you try to keep hidden from yourself and the rest of the world. He’d learn everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve done, and he’d hate you. He wouldn’t be able to look at you the same.

You can’t stand the thought of Eddie looking at you the way the rest of Hawkins does — with eyes squinted and twinkling with an admiral sort of disgust. So you’d rather him not know any of it at all.

Silence dances into the room as effortlessly as a spring breeze. The rain’s offbeat cadence taps hard against the sliding glass door across the room. You have the sudden urge to walk outside and stand it. You think it’d be easier to drown in the warm deluge than in your own thoughts.

Eddie’s rosy mouth turns slightly upward. Yours does, too, in anticipation of what he’s about to tell you.

“Wanna fool around?” he wonders, if only to brighten the heavy grey mood.

The sound of your laughter is sunshine — a metaphor he’s been trying to write for years. “You can’t just say that every time we’re alone, Eds!”

“Why not?” he challenges just to tease you.

“Because you know we can’t,” you answer with a soft sort of sternness about you. Your eyes are firm with sincerity, though they sparkle with mischief.

“We’ve been here almost two days, and I haven’t got one whiff of Jason Voorhees, babe.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you mutter, then whisper more quietly. “There’s people downstairs.”

“Well, you can be quiet…” Eddie lilts, grin lopsided and pink as he rises off the mattress to lean closer to you. His breath fans across your chin, coated with nicotine and something sugary. He tilts his wild head to the side and raises his brows in question. “Can’t you?”

“I’m not sure that you can, Eds.”

“Don’t worry about me,” the boy assures, voice low and suddenly serious.

His warm palm travels up your calf, smoothing over your knee and curling around the side of your thigh. His touch is almost as all-consuming as his stare — deep chocolate brown, as infinite as a galaxy. You fall into them accordingly. You couldn’t deny him if you wanted to.

You try, anyway.

“Eddie…” you start, a warning that trails off when he squeezes the buzzing skin of your outer thigh.

“Lay down,” he urges. It’s too soft to be a genuine command. It gives him ample opportunity to turn it all into a joke on the off chance you reject him completely.

You don’t. You couldn’t.

You find yourself slithering past him and closer to the headboard before you realize you’re doing it. It’s like you’re made of magic, totally under whatever spell he’s unknowingly cast upon you. Your head’s swimming with his sorcery as you lie back on the pillows. 

Eddie follows you, resting his body above yours. It’s a comfortable sort of weight, heavenly even. He props himself up on his forearms so he isn’t crushing you completely, though you wouldn’t complain if he did. 

You want him to ruin you, and then you want to thank him for it.

The untrimmed edges of his curls hang down over his face. They tickle your jaw when he kisses you with the ardency of someone who wants to swallow you whole. His tongue swipes against yours, slow and more aggressive than either of you expect. He sucks on your swelling bottom lip right after.

The gray world around you explodes with a burst of a thousand colors. You can’t see any of them because the inner workings of your mind have been stripped away and replaced totally with Eddie. His nose nudging against yours. The taste of his mouth. The texture of his tongue. The warmth of his breath. His hand traveling down down down your body.

His palm starts at your cheek, cupping sweetly at your jaw so he can open your mouth wider for him. Then his touch trails down to your neck, taking a brief pitstop to feel the rapid thrum of your racing pulse, before falling to your chest.

You think he must be able to feel your pounding heart through your t-shirt when he cups your breast. His thumb swipes over your hardened nipple in time with his tongue diving deep into your mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smile when the combined efforts make you shiver.

His fingers smooth over your ribcage, then your stomach, and then your hips. 

It’s a touch featherlight, yet steady and earnest at the same time. His hand creeps slowly over the thin fabric of your shorts and settles between the warmth radiating between your thighs. He cups you gently through your clothes and kisses the breath from your lungs. It’s like he’s trying to kill you.

You buck your hips slightly upward in a silent plea for more. 

The boy above you has the nerve to pull away from you to ask, “This okay?” 

His hair is mussed from where your fingers had entwined so intensely in his chestnut strands. His lips are rosy and swollen and wild. You get lost looking at him. 

With dazed eyes trained on the pink mouth you so desperately want to kiss again, you nod like an enthusiastic child.

“Can I do more?” Eddie wonders through heavy breaths.

“Please,” you hear yourself say, right before your hips cant against the subtle weight of his palm.

You watch with wide, unblinking eyes as Eddie brings his hand to his mouth. His pink tongue darts out to lick the pads of his middle and forefinger, leaving them glistening as he slithers them into your shorts. 

His efforts to be easy with you are appreciated but virtually unnecessary. You’re as slippery as satin for him, drooling in anticipation for him to make you feel good. 

He slides two fingers into your trembling pussy with little effort. The fatty edge of his palm settles over your swelling clit. Your head tilts back against the pillow while you exhale a pretty moan.

With your eyes fluttered shut, you don’t see the crooked grin tugging slow at Eddie’s mouth. “Shh…” he shushes, only half playful, before engulfing your mouth again and swallowing each of your gentle cries. 

He’s moaning with you, though, at the soft squelch your pussy makes when his fingers sink to the knuckle inside you. You feel the smooth metal of his rings on the outside of your cunt and the inside of your thighs.

And fuck, you’re so pretty for him — always so pretty for him — that it makes him forget about the ache of his stiffening cock. His yearning for you throbs like a heartbeat. He wants so desperately to fuck you, to really fuck you until he’s got you gushing all over his lap. But he figures he can settle for this for now. 

But the way you’re moaning for him just now? It doesn’t really feel like settling.

“You’re so pretty,” he hums lowly, almost to himself. “Have I told you that?”

He has. Plenty of times within the few months he’s been able to do that without it being too weird. It feels like the first time he’s ever said it to you, anyway.

A breathy moan spills lightly from your lips, like a spring breeze coated in sunshine. It’s the total opposite of the storm swirling outside the bedroom. 

Your cunt involuntarily squeezes his fingers at the compliment — walls sticky, hot, and pulsing. You all but melt around the two digits he presses inside you.

He figures you must like the praise, which is great ‘cause praising you is the easiest thing on the planet. 

“You have such a pretty pussy, too,” he confesses in a gritty whisper.

You moan for him again, a muffled cry stuck in your throat.

“Feels so warm around my fingers… And you’re so tight, baby— I don’t know how I’m gonna fit my cock in you—”

His words are as sinful as they are vivid. 

Behind your shut eyes, you can see the vision of him on top of you. You can feel his sweaty body sticking to yours like glue — similar to the honey you leak for him while he fucks you. 

If you try hard enough, you can almost replace his fingers for his cock. You know it’s nowhere near as pleasurable as the real thing, though.

The thought of him fucking you — making love to you — has you whining and writhing beneath him. Your hips jut upward, looking for pleasure and running away from it all at once. His fingers squelch as they push in and in and in. You drool impossibly more for him, drenching his fingers and his rings and the cotton sheets below you.

“You could take it though, right?” the boy above you wonders, swollen lips quirked in a heavy half-smile. “You’d take whatever I give you, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

You hardly recognize him now. Not because he’s teasing you — because you’ve gotten more than used to that — but because he’s so damn confident. 

He talks to you with the finesse of a guy who’s done this a thousand times, to a thousand different girls. You’re the first, and you know this, but he’s ruining you like he created you.

You nod with a satin sigh.

The silent admission makes Eddie’s head spin. 

He shouldn’t have you in the first place, the metalhead freak he is, yet he’s got two fingers inside you and your permission to go further. And he wants to — god, he wants to — but he’s scared it’ll drive him crazy. 

Crazier than he already is for you, if that’s possible.

“Get on your side for me, yeah?” he whispers to you, surprising himself with his newfound dominance.

You’re too far gone to do anything but obey him. 

You maneuver onto your side like he asked, feeling like your bones are made of melted honey. Eddie follows you. He keeps his fingers nestled deep inside your thrumming heat as he curls in behind you. 

His stiff, aching cock is hard and heavy against your clothed ass. Despite the layers of clothes separating you, his warmth presses so intently against you. You clench around him at the feeling — tighter when his fingers begin to crook inside you. You tilt your head back and moan, rutting further back against him.

Eddie smushes his nose into your hair and hums a moan in his throat. His heavy exhale fans against the shell of your ear. He keeps working you open with his fingers, a slow and measured rhythm he maintains with the thrusts of his hips.

He’s terribly sensitive, almost embarrassingly so. You drive him too wild for anything else. Even like this, without being inside you and with his clothes still on, he feels like he might explode.

You’re much of the same. The pad of his thumb rubs mercilessly at your swollen clit as his fingers coax you towards a head-spinning orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure crawls up your throat, strikes you like lightning, and swirls in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t run from it if you tried.

It doesn’t stop you from canting your hips back and forth — a feeble attempt to cope with the overwhelming pleasure Eddie gives you with nothing but his hand. With his pale arm caging your side and his lean body behind you, curling and melting with yours, you can only get so far. 

All you can do is take it.

Eddie whimpers delicately in your ear as he humps your ass. He babbles in faint whines — things you don’t think he realizes he’s saying. 

“You’re so hot, baby,” he slurs heavily, swollen mouth tracing the shell of your ear. “So soft, too... Fuck... Keep grinding back on me like that— shit, yeah, just like that. ’S gonna make me come in my fucking pants, baby.”

If you weren’t drowning in the void of your own pleasure, you might’ve asked him to come. No, begged him to. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” you would’ve assured him, only slightly teasing. But you don’t do any of that because his fingers are shoved so far into you that you can feel them in your throat. 

Or maybe that’s just your impending climax choking you. 

You couldn’t form an intelligible sentence if you wanted to, either way. 

Instead, you roll your hips back against his cock and act like he’s fucking you for real. The idea of it alone sends you catapulting into an orgasm. You’re so far gone for him — for the freak of Hawkins — you let him ruin you while you fall for him like the rain pounding at your window. 

Effortlessly, unapologetically, and over and over and over again.

Eddie dampens his boxers in the same way you drench his fingers. His twitching cock drools for you, more and more as he nears his peak. He hasn’t felt anything as gratifying as grinding against you like this. He’s bound to be a fucking goner the second he’s caught inside your snug pussy. 

“Can feel you trembling for me, you know?” he continues to ramble, only half-aware of the sin spilling from his rosy lips. His thumb presses against the fleshy hood of your clit. He’s barely moving it, but the pressure alone has you buzzing.  “You’re gonna cum so hard for me, aren’t you? Gonna make a mess all over my hand?”

You bite back a cry — quite literally, with your teeth caging your bottom teeth — and lean your head back to bear your throat. You throw a hand back in search of Eddie. Your fingers twist in the mussed curls at the crown of his head.

“Mm, Eddie—” you call in a muffled cry, overwhelmed and half-frightened by how good he’s making you feel. By how hard you’re about to cum for him.

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos sympathetically to you, crooking his fingers in time with his grinds against the plush of your ass. His cock starts to ache all over again, this time with hunger. 

Through a breaking voice, he begs. “Go on and cum for me, yeah? Let me make you feel good, baby. Cum all over my fingers, baby— I need it… I fucking need it. I’m so fucking close—”

You bury your face in the pillow when you cum, crying his name into the cushion for only the two of you to hear. You tense, thighs shaking and toes curling, as you gush around his fingers — like the pouring rain outside. 

You drip mercilessly for him, a slippery mess between your thighs you know you should be ashamed of. You might’ve been, if it were anybody else.

Eddie stills behind you, though his fingers remain relentless. He coaxes you completely through your orgasm just as he’s reaching his own. His moans come out in gasps — choppy, sharp breaths through a swollen mouth. His aching cock spits in the confines of his boxers, several warm loads that cool too quickly. 

He trembles through his high, trying to trek through its entirety but growing so suddenly sensitive. 

You let him work you through yours. His fingers, now wrinkled at the pads, are frozen inside you while his thumb circles softly at your delicate clit. You twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Your hand leaves his hair to grab his wrist, a silent plea that you can’t take anything more.

And the two of you just lie there, for several long moments — sticky, blissed-out, and so intently pressed together. You let the heavy moment of your ebbing orgasms linger. You decompose together in the heavy honey of pleasure.

It’s all so messy, but then again, everything seems to be. 

His hair, his fingers, his boxers. 

Your thighs, your bed, your heart. 

Words. Life. Love.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie

[my-own-walker]

requesting kit with younger reader, where he picks her up from college and takes her for a milkshake but then they have sex in his car and after he has to drop her down the street because her parents don’t approve of him

Oh! You Pretty Things

note: this is cuteeeeee. thanks for the spicy kit request. i was getting bored of writing inside-the-asylum kit hehe

warnings: sm*t, p in v, oral m receiving, teasing, cursing, kinda overstim, not really tho

+++

The second hand moved so slowly on the clock, I thought it might be broken. Class always went slower when I knew I’d be seeing Kit afterward. Thursdays were our day.

My parents didn’t know. They hated the idea of me being distracted from my studies by some silly boy. I was, in fact, sticking my neck out by going to college as a woman, so I had to succeed. But, the new decade called for liberation for us women. I was proving a point by being able to date and do well in school.

I digress. I met Kit after my father's car got a flat. He showed up in his tow truck to save the day.

'Scummy, those mechanics,' my father quipped as we drove away.

I walked to the gas station Kit said he worked at the next day, set on getting him to ask me on a date.

We'd been secretly meeting up for dates ever since. He'd come to pick me up after my last class of the day every Thursday and take me out somewhere. I could, at times, sneak away to see Kit on other days of the week, but Thursdays were a set date. My mother and father had no idea. They thought I would stay late to study.

In my daydreaming daze, I almost didn't notice my classmates getting up to leave. I gathered my things hastily and rushed out of the room and into the bright daylight of the afternoon. The sun's light on the pavement was nearly blinding. I shaded my eyes with my hand as I walked to the curb, looking desperately for Kit's car.

Within seconds, his shiny black car came slowly up to the side of the street.

'Hey, pretty thing! You goin' my way, doll?' he called out of his window, acting as if he were a creepy stranger. I giggled and got into the passenger's side.

'You have no idea how nice it feels to do this,' I sighed, kicking my shoes off as Kit drove off.

'Rough day, beautiful?' He wore his work uniform. Some jeans, a white undershirt, and his button-up with his name on it. His hair was perfectly tousled, and the shirt was unbuttoned so that part of the white undergarment was showing. He looked soft and warm, and his smile lit up his eyes.

'Just a very long one, and I'm starving.'' I said, drawing out the word 'very.' I flipped down the visor and slid open the mirror, smoothing my hair and fixing the line of my lipstick while regarding my reflection. I pulled the tube of peach lipstick out of my bag and touched up my pout, making faces at myself all the while.

'Havin' fun over there?' Kit laughed.

'I'm beginning to think this shade is old hat,' I sighed. 'Maybe I should try red like Marilyn.'

'I don't care what color they are so long as I get to kiss 'em,' he smirked, taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on my upper thigh. I didn't even notice how far my dress had ridden up my leg since getting in the car.

I blushed and giggled, tucking the front pieces of my hair behind my ears. I will admit, I was still in the lavender haze with him.

He pulled into the parking lot of the small roadside diner in our town. It was quaint, tucked away in some trees, filled with truckers from out-of-state and old ladies meeting for lunch. It was a stone's throw from Kit's job, and the perfect place to hide away. Somewhere neither of my parents would dare go.

We sat at the tall counter in the center of the place. This was part of our little Thursday routine. I would always come out of class absolutely ravenous. We'd pick far-away or unknown places to eat before truly spending time together.

'You want somethin', my pretty thing?' Kit asked as the waitress stood in front of us.

'Honestly, a milkshake would be a gas,' I smiled up at the waitress. 'Strawberry.'

'That's all you want?' Kit asked as she walked away. 'Are you sure?'

'Yeah, Kit, I'm alright,' I replied, feeling around in my bag for a light for my cigarette. 'Shit, I must have dropped my lighter somewhere. It's not here.'

'Don’t worry doll, I got you,' he drawled, flicking his own open and holding it under the cigarette clenched in my teeth. I took a long drag and exhaled. The waitress returned and placed my drink in front of me, and Kit's meal in front of him.

I looked over at Kit and caught him taking me in. He looked me up and down and chuckled softly.

'My, you are a dream,' he cooed, placing a hand on my chin to bring me in for a kiss. I went in for a peck and was alarmed to find that Kit wanted more.

'Baby, not here,' I said through gritted teeth, pulling away quickly. I looked around to make sure no one saw. 'You're an animal.' I laughed and he returned the smile.

'I just can't control myself around you, pretty.'

'Well then hurry up and finish your food so we can peel out,' I giggled, pushing his shoulder playfully.

+

There was an old abandoned schoolhouse in town 5 minutes away from my house. Kit and I would find ourselves in the back parking lot frequently. Tucked away from the public eye in his car.

As soon as Kit parked the car, he dragged me into the back seat with him. We made out furiously, like two caged animals that were finally set free. It was a small space, but we sure made it work.

I took over, immediately pushing Kit's back up against the door, placing my hands on his chest to hold him down. His white undershirt was soft against my palms. I could feel his heart pounding furiously beneath my fingertips. A pace that signaled to me just how much he wanted this.

We kissed for only a short time before clothes started getting removed. First, I aided him in removing his work shirt. Then, I worked to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. He slid them off quickly. I took that time to remove my panties, throwing them hastily to the front seat.

His erection was noticeable through his white briefs. My hand immediately reached to touch it, only for it to be held back.

'Not yet, sweetheart,' he smiled. He pushed me back into the door on my side and continued making out with me. His hands groped all over my body, paying particular attention to my breasts. 'Oh this dress just won't do,' he muttered.

My high-necked smock dress was fit for school, yes, but not for this. He reached behind me and unzipped the fabric smoothly. He tugged the material and it slid down to expose my bra. Kit smiled as he looked into my eyes, then turned his attention back to my chest. He peppered kisses all over my sensitive skin, making goosebumps raise all over my body.

First, he slid my left bra strap off my shoulder, creating a bit more slack and revealing more of my skin. He took his time to kiss all of the areas of skin he hadn't before, going agonizingly slow so that I would get hot and bothered. He loved when I was hot and bothered.

Next was the right bra strap. The ceremony continued. His ritualistic dance of adorning love to every inch of my body made every horrible minute spent without him worth it. His mouth inched closer and closer to the very edge of my bra. Eventually, I gave in to the teasing and reached back to unhook the damn thing myself.

Deciding I'd had enough, though, I pushed Kit back again. This time, all the way down so that he was laying across the back seat. My hand reached for his bulge and stroked it. He whimpered in pleasure. I took the waistband of his briefs in my fingers and tugged, making his dick spring loose.

I lined myself up with him and slid his throbbing erection into my slick middle, feeling every inch of it go deeper and deeper into me. I cried out involuntarily and began bouncing on it, feeling our two bodies connect naturally. My walls tightened around it. He moaned softly.

'Oh baby, yeah,' he spat through gritted teeth as I continued to ride him. I stooped down and kissed him passionately, still keeping a rhythm. His shaking hands reached up to grope my breasts again, this time more firmly. He slid his hands down to my waist and held it, almost as if he were trying to feel some sort of control over me.

I continued moving my hips atop his dick. His length went so deep within me, I thought I'd scream. I put both of my palms on either side of his chest to steady myself. His breathing got more ragged, and I could feel his heart racing still.

'Fuck,' Kit grunted, trying not to come so easily. He gathered what strength he had a lifted me off of his erection by my waist. I sat back and slid down to a laying position as he rose to position himself above me, both of us maintaining eye contact as we went. He wanted a turn on top.

I didn't even get a chance to settle before his large cock was inside me again. I yelped and screwed my eyes closed, existing at that moment at his very will. He held my wrists, which were resting just next to my head, down so that I couldn't move. I whined in protest but was silenced by his lips on mine.

Sweat formed on his brow. I could feel myself succumbing to the waves of orgasm. But, neither of us wanted to be the first to give in. I breathed heavily to steel myself, but it was to no avail. I came first, crying out and moaning loudly. He slid out of me and stroked my hair as the fits of pleasure overtook me.

Kit sat back against the door on his side of the car once again, breathing heavily. I regained my composure and sat up, sitting back on my heels. I stooped down and took his pre-cum covered dick in my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip and reveled in the whimpers and cries Kit was letting out. He grabbed and pulled my hair gently as I continued to suck him off.

'I-I'm gonna come,' he mustered, trying to warn me in case I wanted to stop. Instead, I let him blow his load directly into my mouth. I ignored the warmth and bitter taste as I swallowed. He moaned and threw his head back, eventually relaxing into his position. I wiped my mouth and sat back as well.

Recovered from his orgasm, Kit leaned forward and laid half-beside and half-on me, resting his head on my chest. I sighed in contentment.

'God, you're good at that,' Kit whispered, laughing softly. I laughed too. He grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. He kissed the back of each finger as well to emphasize his gratefulness. He nestled closer into me. I nearly fell asleep listening to his breathing even out.

I gasped suddenly when I looked out the window and saw the sun setting. 'Shit, Kit, we have to get me home!'

We both worked quickly to redress. He helped me with the tough job of zipping up the back of my dress. I scrambled out of the back door and into the passenger door, slamming it shut and bringing the visor down to once again look at myself in the mirror. Kit clambered up to the front from the back seat and settled himself in.

He turned the key in the ignition and started the car up. He paused, though, before going. I looked away from fixing my lipstick for a moment to see what was the matter. Kit shifted in his seat and reached for something that was under him. In his hand was my panties.

'I uh, think you're gonna need these,' he chuckled, blushing. I smacked his arm and snatched them from his grip.

'Oh, hush! Stop! It's not funny,' I protested, half-laughing as well. I shoved them into my handbag demonstratively. 'Now hurry up and drive!'

+

The ride home was quick enough. The sun was still setting as Kit got to the end of my street. He had to drop me there to avoid my parents seeing anything.

'Are you sure you're gonna be okay walking over there this late? I don't need anyone snatching my girl,' Kit spoke.

'I'll be fine, Kit. No one really walks my street. Plus, it's not even that dark,' I assured him.

'Well okay, but I'll be parked here watching ya, okay?'

'Just don't be too obvious,' I warned.

He leaned over and grabbed my face, pulling me in for one last, passionate kiss. When I pulled away, my lipstick was all over his face. I just chuckled to myself and opened the door.

'I love you, you pretty thing,' he called after me.

'I love you too, Kit,' I smiled.

+++

Literally cannot lie I got a bit, uh, bothered myself writing this one LOL. Let me know if you liked this one!

#evan peters #evan peters fic #ahs #evan peters x female reader #evan peters x reader #kit walker #evan peters oneshot #kit walker imagine #kit walker x female reader #kit walker x reader #ahs asylum #kit walker smut #ahs smut

[blackopals-world]

I Found Home

Part 8

(part 1)(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Vil

"The Ally"

Yuu pressed the peach-colored gloss to her lips with practiced ease. You'd think that something so simple could be done without thought at all but she knew that perfection wasn't easy.

Grimm slept soundly curled up on the bed. He was taking a nap before their appointment.

Yuu was expecting the photographer in a few hours which gave her time to finish getting ready.

No, this shade wouldn't work.

Yuu wiped away the lipstick. It wasn't the right color and this shoot was too important. It would be the promotional shoot for her new release and everyone would see it.

Her gaze drifted to another tube with a beautiful shade of plum she had saved when she last toured. It was her favorite but never had the heart to use it, because when it was gone then it was gone for good. The brand didn't make it anymore and she didn't want it from another.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't about the lipstick. Maybe it was deeper. It didn't matter.

"Rook this isn't funny. Can't you take her for the day?" Vil growled over the phone as he adjusted the baby in his arms. He kept her grabby hands away from his tied up hair.

"Non, you know how busy I am right now. The exhibition opens in a week and the installation pieces need to be overseen and tested. We are behind schedule as is. As the artist, I need to make sure everything is perfect. Bella can't be here with all the construction." Rook sighed "Can't Monsieur Poison Apple watch her?"

"No, Epel is presenting a few of his show horses for an upcoming competition. I don't want her around a bunch of animals while Epel is working." Vil couldn't even imagine what could happen in such a situation.

"It won't be so bad our Trickster will love her. She has always had a soft spot for little ones. She looked after our dear Epel after we graduated and made sure he was a great dorm leader."

" Yes, it is a bit much to show up at random with a baby." Vil sighed. "What would she think? After everything we..."

"...have faith. At least you can say you have become more nurturing. If I recall she liked it when you showed you cared for Epel." Rook tried to joke.

Vil remembered it, she would reward him for being nice to her friends. Not with presents or vocal praise, her reward was something she didn't know she was giving. When she was happy with him her eyes had this warmth. Vil had once believed that smiling with your eyes was hust an idiotic line from scripts from romance movies. But when she did it he understood. The unabashed joy showed on every inch of her face was captivating. It was an expression he could never replicate.

A little hand tapped his cheek as he reflected. Bella's big round eyes blinked owlishly.

"Thank you for trying to help. I'll call once I get back." Vil said ending the call.

They were almost ready for the shoot. Yuu had on a floral lilac tea-length dress perfect for a garden party. Grimm had on a matching lilac dress shirt with white pants and suspenders.

"Grimm, remember you can't play in this outfit and get it dirty." Yuu knew the foolishness in asking a toddler not to get their clothes dirty but he had hoped Grimm would listen. The photoshoot wouldn't be more than a few hours.

There was a knock on the door. Yuu cursed under her breath, the photographer was early and she still wasn't ready. She couldn't let them wait.

She quickly answered and the figure behind the door wasn't who she expected at all.

Long white gold hair, lavender eyes, and picture-perfect face. She'd be a fool not to recognize him or blind. Vil looked almost exactly the same, It was almost like time stopped for him.

All the while she had changed alot. She filled out here and there, especially after becoming a mother. She didn't complain since it was easier to balance a toddler on your hips with a curve. The downside is becoming a human pillow whenever you sit down as Grimm needed to be glued next to her. Time didn't stop for her.

A small gurgling hiccup made Yuu's eyes shift downwards to the stroller that was just off to the side. Inside was a baby about 7-8 months old. She was beautiful. Soft fair skin with pink cheeks, curly blonde locks with streaks of black, and brilliant purple eyes like Vil. She had a stuffed apple toy in her mouth that she was determined to bite.

"Oh, my...congratulations Vil." She was excited of course. She loved babies and this own was so cute and so much like Vil. But despite having no reason to be upset she felt a pang in her heart. Vil had gotten married. Probably, no defiantly to someone beautiful beyond reproach. She had to be the fairest of them all and smarter too. She probably loved Vil with all her heart.

That thought comforted Yuu. This amazing woman would take care of her friend and brought him a beautiful healthy child. There is nothing more perfect.

"Thnak you, her name is Belladonna."Vil said watching for any change in Yuu's expression.

He noticed the wistful look she got when she saw Bella. Something he felt a little bad about. He knew how much she had wanted a baby in the past.

"Wasn't he adorable?!" She could bearly contain her joy as she practically skipped around the studio.

One of the supporting actors had brought their baby in after their nanny canceled. It was holding up the entire shoot much to Vil's annoyance.

He had plans to take Yuu to that play she had been harping about. Though he wanted to see it too.

"Babies are only perceived as cute because otherwise, they'd be so ugly we'd abandon them," Vil said plainly. "Why else would you want a screaming creature that defects itself?"

While what he said wasn't technically a lie Yuu still swatted his arm lightly.

"I get it you're jealous of babies who get all the attention. You don't get it. Babies a pure, they are experiencing things for the first time and are exploring the world around them. When you're around them you just know you will become the person they rely on to teach them and keep them safe." Yuu said with stars in her eyes.

"I get it you want to push out a screaming pinkish monkey one day." Vil taunted.

"I will remind you that you were once a screaming monkey. And I bet you were the cutest little chubby baby." She gushed in a baby talk voice. "I can't wait for you to walk down the aisle so you can have one of your own."

"As if, I'm not the one to settle down nor have a child. I have my career to focus on and if you want to write those books you harp on you'd do the same." Vil wouldn't even entertain the thought.

It's not that he actually disliked kids, he knew better than anyone that parenthood takes away opportunities. You can't be present and working all the time.

"More good women have been lost to marriage than to war, famine, disease and disaster. You have talent, darling. Don't squander it." Vil had heard Professor Crewel tell Yuu this once.

It was the blatant reminder that whatever 'this' was between them would not last.

"She's beautiful Vil...I bet she looks just her mother." Yuu smiled as she taped the Bella on the cheek making the baby squeek in joy as she grabbed Yuu's finger.

"Yes, she does." Vil sighed. He didn't want to bring her up.

Yuu bit her lip. She did want to talk about this anymore but there was a part of herself that wanted to punish her for her feelings.

"I can't imagine you getting married. Unless it's one of those celebrity marriages that don't last but you'd never do something crude like that." Yuu laughed.

"No, I never got married. I prefer the single life. My mother however thought it was wise to start another family and Bella was left to me." Vil picked up his little sister and let Yuu coo over her.

"So she's not yours? Wait? I thought you and your mother were estranged." Yuu asked.

"We were but after she said she wanted to make up after getting pregnant we began talking. I still resented her for abandoning us but I was willing to be a brother. She however just wanted to leave another child behind." Vil didn't blame Belladonna, she was another victim.

"I see, I understand how you probably feel. Parenthood takes you by surprise." Yuu smiled, she guessed anyone can change.

Suddenly Vil looked pass Yuu shoulder.

"Dear, what is that?" Vil asked with a puzzled expression.

Yuu turned her head and saw her three-year-old sprint by with only his pull-up on.

"Grimm, where are your clothes?" Yuu asked calmly.

"You said I couldn't get them dirty. Now they won't."Grimm said as though he was a genius for finding the loophole.

Yuu sighed.

Vil and Yuu sat and talk while Grimm slumped against his mother's side. He had been redressed with the help of his mother's friend. Grimm was a bit star-struck as the very pretty man straightened his shirt.

Grimm had never met anyone this pretty except for his Mama. Yep, not even Vil could win this battle. One day Grimm will love another but no one beats his wonderful mommy. He will forever be a mommy's boy. Vil had captivated Grimm especially when he helped comb out Grimm's hair. He called Grimm "A little potato " and Grimm didn't know what that meant but he liked it.

"So you just found him?" Vil asked his eyes drifting to the boy who shyly buried his face him Yuu's side.

He was relieved but felt embarrassed to think that. The prideful part of him couldn't take second place but that shouldn't mean that Grimm didn't deserve a mother. He'd feel no different if it was Bella. She had become his world.

"Yes, I feel lucky every day. If not for Grimm I doubt I would have ever had a child." Yuu said sadly.

"You've always wanted a baby though."

"I wanted to get married and do the traditional family. But I've known for a long time that's not something every man wants. I want that person to be the one for me but I'm greedy. I wanted him or no one." Yuu shifted her gaze away.

Vil almost apologized. He may not have known who broke her heart but that didn't mean he didn't understand.

Bella began getting fussy as she made a loud babbling yell for attention. You could practically hear her saying "What are you doing over there and not looking at me?!"

Vil knew Belladonna only wanted attention from new people. She wanted Yuu to go back to cooing over her. He picked up the little girl and placed her in his lap. Bella however didn't want daddy she wanted the nice pretty lady. She reached out her tiny arms and made grabby hands to be picked up.

Yuu squealed in excitmemt as she scooped Bella up in her arms.

"Oh my goodness! You're so widdle!" Yuu gushed.

Bella actually had a reason she wanted Yuu as she turned her head to her chest and nuzzled her breast. She was hungry.

Vil and Yuu turned red.

"I don't know where she learned that. She's a bottle baby. She's never even breastfed." Vil said trying to take Bella back only to get kicked with her little sausage legs.

Yuu laughed at the father and daughter duo. Seeing Vil frazzled for once was hilarious and adorable.

"Why don't you get her bottle and I'll feed her." Yuu said.

Vil thanked her and went to warm up a bottle.

Grimm watched the baby with curiosity. He had never seen one this close before. She was so little, even littler than him, and Mama said he was really little.

Grimm touched the baby's little foot with tiny tiny toes and the baby laughed.

"Baybe." He said in awe.

"Yes, she's a baby. You used to be this small too." Yuu ruffled Grimm's hair.

Bella reached out patted Grimm's hair as she copied Grimm. Grimm had hearts in his eyes as played with Bella's hand. Her hand wrapped around Grimm's finger as she gurgled and chirped.

Vil returned with a bottle and passed it to Yuu. With a bit of help Yuu fed Bella.

"You need to try to remain clean and tidy Grimm." He said sternly as he brushed the boy's hair back in place.

"But Mama did it." He pouted wrapping his arms around Vil's forearm.

"Then make sure she knows not to do that. You're Mama can be a very affectionate so she doesn't know when to stop." Vil warned as Grimm laughed.

After Bella was fed and burped Vil sat her down in her stroller. She would get sleepy soon but he didn't like laying her down after eating, too risky while digesting.

The photographer arrived right after and Yuu and Vil discussed boring stuff with them whole Grimm stayed with the baby.

Grimm got an idea and ran up the stairs and stumbled back down with a picture book in one hand.

"Look Bella this is my book." He said showing the baby. He was going to read her to sleep like his Mama did. " It's about a queen and the prince of fruit."

The book was actually called "The Noble Queen and the Prince of Apples". The book starts with a boy who lived in an apple orchard. One day a queen passed by in her carriage and wanted an apple. He asked the boy to pick an apple and when the boy handed it to the queen the apple turned silver. The boy was amazed and asked the queen how he did it. The queen said that he would teach the boy if the boy came to the castle with him. Everyday the boy had to work for queen. He did every task the queen asked which required patience and thoughtfulness. He learned to be graceful by drawing water without making a ripple, he learned to lead by organizing the queen's schedule and giving orders, and he learned to speak by watching the queen stand before the crowd. Every time the boy learned a new skill the queen taught him a spell but everytime the queen showed him a better spell. He turned a peacock feather gold, turned water into wine, roses into silk, and a mirror into diamonds. The boy would stay to learn more and more and before he knew it years had passed. Until one day the boy made a spell that grew a silver tree with apples of gold and leaves of diamonds. It was a gift for the queen and only he could pick an apple or break a branch off of it. The queen was happy with the boy and told him to return to his orchard. In that orchard the boy found a new kingdom had been made and the queen had given the boy the land to rule since was now ready. From that day on the boy was the Prince of Apples.

"That's a beautiful story." Vil said feeling that it sounds vaguely familiar. Still, he liked the sound of this queen.

Yuu pressed her lips together praying Vil didn't realize.

"Vil we should focus on the photoshoot. I need to get the kids outside." Yuu placed a hand on Vil's shoulder.

A quick outfit change later the families gathered in thr garden. Grimm stood at his mother's side as she sat down next to Vil who was holding Bella.

"You are a beautiful family! After this can I have the mother hold the baby and the little guy sit with his dad." The photographer said.

Yuu blushed, the photographer might have gotten the wrong idea when she asked to include extra guests.

Vil had no problems as they shifted to the next pose. Grimm gleefully sat on Vil's lap as he leaned over to hold Bella's hand.

Vil laughed, he knew Grimm was a natural model. The boy loved the camera or the attention at least. The photographer managed to get a candid picture of Vil kissing the boy's cheek as he smiled brightly. It came out so perfectly you'd think they were an ad in a magazine.

Vil couldn't wait to share these with everyone. They did look like a perfect family and he found that he really liked the way that sounded. He can admit he was wrong about family life.

(I'm done! I'm finally done! Pray to God it's good)

TagList:@kamisatoaiko@professionalreblogs@kai200x@lianreine@loivre @code-roevember @growingupnrealizing @ryxmix @blazestar0525 @botswanasvetlana @shrimpyfishyy @imasimpsowhat06 @nooneknows8976

@utaubara @springdrop-701 @ayachansan @otomyoli @savanaclaw1996 @who-mst @cloudy51 @siren-serenity @bontensbabygirl @queen-shiba @night-shadowblood-writes2 @colombia-chan @canubringmeacokepls @mikk-o @twistedcece @dreamlessnight @spritofthesea @angelicupiid@naroshinozaki @sugarrush-blush @morokumi @lumi-cent @elvyshiarieko @emo-skullboy

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #twst vil #vil twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst mc

[sserasin]

oh lord that made me feel things 😵‍💫

i really think the whole university’s gonna know that there’s something between y/n and professor!sunghoon, they just can’t prove if.

he will try covering up the lipstick mark on his button up, his black necktie kinda loose, that recognisable shade of peach at the collar — but sunghoon’s lips are also tainted peach — maybe he smudged it? is there even a peach lip balm?

but there y/n is.. underneath a podium or desk, reapplying their peach vinyl lipstick, letting it dry before they get to suck professor!sunghoon’s c-ck underneath that. 😊

- 🎐

i never got the notif and i never check my actual asks inbox sorrydndjnd

context

oh yes like they’re literally soo obvious but they still try and hide it. suspiciously leaving the same area 5 mins after the other? gone at the same time? come on now…

but also sneaking around is most of the fun !! the adrenaline rush and the quickies.. knowing you could get caught and possibly in trouble is the most terrifying feeling, but it’s also soo hot like idk how to explain it. not to mention the technically forbidden relationship !

#writing.txt #enha.txt #sunghoon.txt #asks #🎐 anon #sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen imagines #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #kpop smut

[crystallinestars]

A Kiss Marks the Spot

A short drabble about Kaveh being a bit too busy to give you the attention you want, so in an act of jealousy, you mark up his skin with kisses to remind him to give his girlfriend more love.

Kaveh x fem!Reader

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

Kaveh tends to spread himself thin sometimes. He exerts himself by staying up late at night, hunched over a desk and perfecting his designs so his clients would get the best product possible, and gets wrapped up in helping his peers or even strangers deal with their problems. He’s a perfectionist with a kind heart, and while you love that about him, sometimes these traits of his cause both you and Kaveh unhappiness.  

Kaveh can take on more work than he can comfortably handle, which sometimes leads to him having little time to spend with you, much to your displeasure. Not having as much of Kaveh’s attention as you’d like causes you to feel jealous because you must compete for his time, but it doesn’t always end in your win. Though the little green monster eats away at you when you watch Kaveh gets saddled with one issue after another that occupies his full attention, you don’t tell him about your jealousy. You understand that Kaveh has other important things to deal with in his life other than entertaining you, plus the news would only make him feel guilty for neglecting you.

To curb the jealousy, you opt for a temporary solution. Your plan is to leave your mark on Kaveh to claim him as your own so that even when you’re not around, a part of you will be with him.

Late one evening, you convince Kaveh to finally take a break from work. Seating yourself on his lap, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, prompting the architect to widen his eyes in surprise. Kaveh wasn’t expecting you to be so bold out of the blue, but his carmine eyes were immediately drawn towards your lips which were painted a pretty shade of glossy red, similar to Zaytun peaches.

At first, Kaveh is flustered and confused by your actions and asks you what you’re trying to do. While carefully brushing his blond hair away from his face, you say that since he’s been too busy to give you some love, you will mark him up to remind him and other people that he has a loving girlfriend waiting for him to return to her side. With that, you cup Kaveh’s face and gently pull his head towards you.

The architect doesn’t immediately connect the dots until he feels your warm lips press against his cheek and leave behind a sticky smudge of lipstick in the shape of your lips. Realization hits him, causing his heart to skip a beat, and you delight in how Kaveh’s cheeks flush a warm pink. Though Kaveh is flustered, he doesn’t object to receiving your kisses and leans back in his chair to allow you to mark up his skin even more.

You take advantage of his quiet compliance to place careful and precise kisses all over his face. Kaveh feels your soft lips on his nose, brows, and cheeks, leaving behind sticky imprints on his skin from the red lipstick.

Your kisses travel along his jaw and down the column of his neck, marking him as yours and causing his breath to hitch as a shiver goes down his spine at the intimate contact. Kaveh can’t help but pull you closer by the waist and close his eyes as he enjoys your possessive act of love.

To close this intimate session, you decide to place the final kiss on Kaveh’s lips. The architect eagerly returns it, wanting to hold onto the moment for as long as possible before you break away to stabilize your shallow breaths. You admire how your lipstick stains glimmer in the lamplight, drawing the eye to the red lip imprints that contrast so perfectly against his pale skin.

As Kaveh slowly opens his eyes, a delighted thrill goes through you upon seeing the love-struck gaze he directs at you. Despite your lips being a little swollen and smeared with remnants of lipstick, Kaveh is absolutely enamored by your beauty.

Before you could tease him for enjoying the feeling of you marking up his skin, Kaveh cups your cheek and pulls your face closer to press his lips to yours. The kiss tastes like Zaytun peaches— sweet, just like your love for each other.

After the fact, though it embarrasses Kaveh a bit, he continues to wear the lipstick marks while finishing his work for the day. Just as you wanted, the sticky feeling on his skin reminds him that he has a beloved that’s waiting for him to join her, which prompts him to complete his work quicker than usual to return to your side.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x fem reader #kaveh x female reader #kaveh x fem!reader #I went with red lipstick here because it would look good on Kaveh though I actually hate wearing red lipstick

[ahollowgrave]

Odette Hollows - Character Associations

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS

Love (first, last, everlasting, lost, returned)

Grief (a cost, an eventual friend)

Giddiness (butterflies in the stomach)

Missing a stair (a sudden fall)

Contentment (warmth and safety)

COLORS

Delicate shades of purple (falling petals, a dawn sky)

Soft blues (a river under ice, the blue of forget-me-nots)

Pearl White (glimmering, shiny, pure)

Lush greens (living things growing, rich fabrics)

A splash of red (for a loyal hound)

SCENTS

Sweet, warm vanilla. (up front, a little overwhelming, a little juvenile.) 

Rich, damp soil. (freshly turned)

Cedar. (freshly hewed)

Sun-ripened peaches. (ripe and sweet, nearly overripe)

Old books with their spines cracked. (asking to be read again, again, again)

OBJECTS

Moonstones of varying sizes, well polished. (to give away, for luck and love and luck in love)

Prayer beads. (worn from use, made by her own hand, wrapped around a wrist)

Love letters with lipstick marks. (‘found’ items, coveted and wished over)

Moon daises. (fresh & dried, hung from hooks in garlands, pressed between the pages of a book)

Clean and dry bones. (friends awaiting a welcoming word)

BODY LANGUAGE

Muffled laughter, hidden smiles. (too loud, too goofy, too much)

Dimpled, crooked grins. (a ray of light piercing clouds)

Hands raised, palms up. (please, please, please, please, please)

Lingering glances. (timid and adoring)

Rocking on her feet, heel to toe. (to some unheard music)

AESTHETICS

Flowers and trinkets left at a grave. (love and loss forever linked)

Moonlight, dripping through canopies. (Her Lady, reaching to caress her)

Snow, gently falling. (a blanket over living things, a muffling of a too-loud world)

Moths in flight, flittering and fluttering. (summoned by Her light)

A garden in controlled chaos. (not overgrown, carefully maintained.)

][ Tagged by: ][ @oneiroy & @mythandral ]Thank you both! ][ Tagging: ][ @gatheredfates @the-sycophant @snakemoltsiren @dragonsongmakhali @dragons-ire @cindernet-explorer and You (: ]

#About #Character Sheet #Odette Hollows #this was so hard??? #but also very very fun #now i get to do it for pru too woof #Pigeon Screens

[anystalker707]

Cherry lips

Pairing: [trans, mtf] Vinsmoke Sanji x [amab] Reader Kinktober prompt: Mirror + Clothes on Tags: she's so cute, ok / she's a good girl / penetration / she's pre-transition / cotaggecore sanji ! (shout out to @josukeslefttitty )

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          “Which do you prefer?” Sanji asked as she showed you three different tubes of lipstick, some of her favorite scented ones. One was red—cherry—, the other was cantaloupe-orange—peach—, and the last one was pink—bubblegum. While you sat on the bed, she sat at the vanity with her makeup case open, getting ready for the day. You always had the impression you’d ruin the frilly duvets or their lace details whenever you sat on them.

You had clear memories of Sanji wearing each shade of lipstick, but it was still a hard choice. Her eyeshadow was baby pink, so any shade would match it, making things a little harder. A sigh escaped your lips, making her pout a little.

“Choose a dress first,” you said, “so I’ll help you choose according to it.”

Sanji raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, placing the tubes on the vanity. “Okay, not bad.” She was just wearing some satin pink underwear and thigh-highs that were held up by lace garters. It was impossible not to stare as she stood up and walked to the wardrobe, picking one of the summer dresses—it was white and layered, with a few butterfly prints on it.

The dress suited her so well. A smile tugged on your lips while you watched her stand in front of the body mirror, adjusting the dress until she grabbed her corset and glanced back at you. “Could you help?”

“Sure.” You moved to stand behind Sanji and adjusted the ribbon on the back of the dress first, then started tugging at the laces of her corset. She adjusted her posture, taking in a deep breath as she felt it getting tighter, though she mostly used it for fashion reasons—her waist was slim enough already. Out of pure curiosity, you tugged the laces a little tighter than usual; she whimpered, stumbling back a little until her torso pressed to yours. Your eyes met hers through the mirror, observing her flushed features.

“So pretty.” Your breath fanned over the side of Sanji’s neck; she swallowed audibly, fumbling with her thumbs as she watched you.

Sanji slowly exhaled as you loosened the laces of her corset, making sure she was comfortable enough so that you could tie the laces.

You pressed your lips to Sanji’s shoulder, then up her neck. “Looking like a princess, as always. I think the red lipstick will match you better today. It’ll stand out, compared to your dress, and match your hair ribbon, too.”

“Okay, thanks…”

“Can I put it on you?” You looked at her directly instead of through the mirror.

Sanji’s eyes lightened up a little, which made your heart flutter even more as she nodded and quickly grabbed the lipstick tube from the vanity. Her eyebrows raised a little when she saw you sit on the bed, patting your lap invitingly. Blood rushed to her cheeks, but she wouldn’t deny it, smiling happily as she straddled your lap.

“That’s a sweet girl!” You smiled, uncapping the lipstick and screwing the base until the red wax appeared. “Open…” You whispered, holding the lipstick up—she did as told, so you carefully started applying it. Her makeup needed to be perfect, so you did your best to line her lips perfectly and fill in perfectly.

Once you were done, you smacked your lips together, and she immediately copied the motion. No smudges or mistakes spotted, you nodded, capping the lipstick and putting it away.

“So?” Sanji brushed a strand of hair away from her face, turning her head from side to side.

“Flawless, as always.” You nodded, kissing her face, away from the blush.

Sanji smiled and nuzzled your nose lovingly, placing her hands on your shoulders. “Do you think this lipstick shade also suits you?” Half-lidded eyes observed you intently as she pressed a hand to the side of your neck, letting her thumb run along your jawline. The look she gave you seemed so endearing, but something in it alarmed you slightly.

You were about to question Sanji when the words died on your tongue. Her lips pressed to yours first in a soft kiss, but the following ones were shorter, just pecks that teased both of your lips with occasional nipping. A dragged groan escaped your throat as you observed her hazily, lazily kissing back.

The taste of Sanji’s lipstick remained in your mouth even after she started kissing down your neck, leaving behind kiss marks that stained even the collar of your shirt, but who were you to argue? Tilting your head back, you exposed your neck more to her, welcoming the nibbles and kisses that snatched a gasp or two from you, already making your cock twitch in your pants.

You took a deep breath and gently placed your hands on Sanji’s thighs, running down to the edge of her dress. Her breath hitched, and she shifted a little on your lap once your hands touched the slice of bare skin between her panties and the thigh garters. Circles were pressed into her thighs, gently, by your fingertips, continuing as they trailed into her panties for your hands to cup her ass and give it a squeeze. Her skin was so smooth, so soft, and she was all yours.

Despite the silence, Sanji’s breath hitched, falling out of pace according to how you kneaded on her ass, and her kisses faltered a little. Button by button, your shirt got opened by Sanji, exposing your chest for the lipstick marks she was so eager to give you. Her lips lingered on your pec, making sure to leave behind a perfect lipstick mark, even if it wasn’t as tinted as the others. Just the fact she was doing that made your cock throb. She pulled back with a smile, admiring her work, but you also smiled once you were able to see her again. Even with her lipstick all smudged, she managed to keep looking so gorgeous.

“Can’t handle you,” you groaned, into the side of her face, making her giggle as you started kissing down her neck at the same time you brought her closer, squeezing her ass.

Sanji sighed, head tilted to the side as her hands ran up and down your upper back, though they started actually tugging on your shirt once you pulled her hips against yours, grinding. She gasped and eventually rocked her hips into yours in return, breathing sharply at how your hands squeezed her ass, and you nibbled on her neck.

“Lube,” you whispered to Sanji, and it was just a matter of seconds until she messily stood up and stumbled to retrieve it from the bedside table—you hadn’t even bothered to put it back into the drawer last night. You put your pants and underwear down just enough, taking the bottle from her hand to lube yourself up while she took her panties off. She was about to reach for the corset’s laces when she got pulled to your lap with an arm around her waist instead. “Keep it on,” you mumbled, only lifting the skirt of her dress up.

Whether it was planned or not, Sanji couldn’t define it, but a red tone took over her cheeks the moment she noticed the mirror right in front of her as her back pressed to your chest. She gulped, pulling her legs up to the bed in a sort of w position. Her eyes met yours through the mirror, and you smiled, kissing her shoulder.

The warmth between Sanji’s legs intensified, just growing at the way your hands ran up her thighs, pulling the skirt of her dress up enough to expose the thigh garters. She bit her lip, tasting her own lipstick as she felt you tug on one of the garters enough and suddenly let it go, making it slap against her skin. It didn’t slap harshly or anything, but just the action itself made Sanji’s head become fuzzier, so she knew she was already lost when she felt kisses against the back of her neck.

“Oh,” Sanji, whispered, “please—” Her breath hitched in her throat as you lifted her hips and your cock pressed to her entrance. She gasped, not knowing what to do with her hands, but she eventually reached behind her to hold on to your arms, not minding how awkward the position was.

A moan escaped your lips at how Sanji squeezed around you, her warm walls slowly accommodating your cock inside her according to how it sank in. You looked at her face through the mirror—her lips were parted open and eyebrows furrowed as if she were focused on something, but she eventually pressed her lips together when it was all inside, and she could let her weight down on your lap.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, massaging the top of her thighs.

“Can I…”

“Yes, princess.” You nodded and kissed her shoulder.

Sanji took a deep breath, clenching around you before she finally started moving her hips. It was slow, at first, sometimes making both of you gasp because she dropped her weight with a little more intensity than planned, but she soon found a nice pace. It wasn’t steady, though it wasn’t bad either. Honestly, you didn’t think Sanji could ever not please you.

“Look at yourself in the mirror,” you mumbled over Sanji’s shoulder, groaning a little. “You look so, so pretty.” Your eyes met hers through the mirror, then her gaze changed to herself, and she clenched tighter around you with it. Hell, it was so hot. You moaned softly, kissing the back of her shoulder while your hands ventured under the skirt of her dress again, over her thighs, her hips, and to her cock as well.

Sanji whimpered, voice going a pitch higher with the way your hand wrapped firmly around her cock and gave it slow, tight pumps that didn’t match the pace of her hips. Not only did she clench around you, becoming so fucking tight—which made you hiss—, but she also tried to push her hips into your hand in an attempt to make you touch her more, just for you to let go.

“Nnnnngh, my love,” Sanji gasped, rolling her hips against yours, trying to seek something that made up for the pleasure you’d just taken away from her.

A chuckle escaped your lips. “Come on, is that all you’re made of? I thought you had strong legs, princess.” Your hand slapped her thigh gently, and it seemed to give her a little motivation.

Sanji took a deep breath, biting her lip as her hips started moving faster on you, saving for the times she’d slowly move up to drop on you faster—it’d draw louder moans from you, which she deeply enjoyed. What you’d told her really got into her brain. Her eyes kept focused on herself through the mirror, eyebrows knitted together just like she’d do whenever focused on a task. So adorable.

You allowed yourself to lean back on your elbows, feeling her grasp slowly transferring from your arms to her own dress, and she didn’t stop moving. She felt so good around you like that, in a way you couldn’t help but lift the back of the dress, watching your cock disappear inside her each time she lowered her hips while the mix of your own pre-cum and lube accumulated by the base of your cock.

The sight itself made your cock throb more inside Sanji, holding you in some kind of trance that made you need to take some deep breaths so that you’d not cum so quickly—something that wasn’t so successful since your moans kept interrupting your breathing, and Sanji tightened more around you. She must’ve found that angle that made her feel full, letting your cock press to all the nice spots inside her; it compelled her pace to falter slightly, only recovering some steadiness when you held her hips firmly while sitting up properly again. Her support was recovered, back pressing to your chest once more.

“Ohhh, (y/n),” Sanji whined, rolling her hips on yours. Her dress was crumpled under her hands, knuckles white. “Please, please, please…”

“Of course,” you whispered with a soft moan, pressing kisses to her shoulder again. “You’re such a good girl. Anything for my good girl.” Your hands trailed under her dress again, but without wandering much this time; one of them held her thigh firmly, while the other wrapped around her cock tightly.

Sanji was already leaking so much, so sensitive, throbbing. “Nnnngh, s’good,” she whined, her moans becoming more breathy as her pace faltered, but in a different way. She didn’t know whether to push her hips back on your cock or into your hand, just doing what she deemed fit—her eyes pressed shut, and you felt her start clenching more around you at the same time she throbbed in your hand.

Of course, you were also close, feeling the drops of sweat running down the back of your neck as she clenched around you so tightly, and she was cumming. She was loud, thighs quivering, and she came in hot spurts into your hand—it covered her tip, trying not to stain her dress—, and it was enough for it to be over for you as well. Your balls tightened at the same time your fingers sank into her hip, Sanji’s shoulder muffling the moans that escaped your lips with your orgasm. Shit. Too good.

You needed a moment to recover from it, slowly coming back to reality while inhaling her sweet perfume. You nuzzled the back of her neck, making her whine a little bit, but the little kiss you gave her seemed to be comforting.

“Well,” you whispered breathlessly. Your fingers massaged the skin that you’d previously squeezed, and she leaned back against you, head back on your shoulder. You pulled your other hand away, observing the small puddle of cum, before you brought it closer to lick it clean. “I think you need to redo your makeup, princess, I’m sorry,” you whispered.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

#one piece #opla #one piece live action #vinsmoke sanji #x male reader #x reader #amab reader #kinktober 23 #sanji x male reader #sanji x reader #oneshot #imagine #scenario #fan fic #fan fiction

[lucerocosplay]

I've used a lot of makeup over my last 9 years of cosplaying, but this is whats in current rotation. My criteria for products is affordability, what performs well irl and in photos, and products that for the most part have a lower rating on the ewg scale (with few exceptions). I also don't really buy makeup outside of sale events like Black Friday, after Christmas, or during some promotion just so ya'll have context about the price ranges listed per item.

That said, this is more to share products and tools I use to create a base for other looks! So things that are more personal like eyeshadow, lipstick, blush etc were left out as that's really more of preference for each person.

I've included product links under the cut, if anyone has a cosmetic gem they've found over the years I'd love to hear recs!

Elf Porless Putty Primer

Elf Sponge Cleaner

Etude House Double Lasting Foundation

Milani Conceal + Perfect Foundation

Elf Camo Concealer

LA Girl Pro Concealer

Canmake Marshmallow Finishing Powder

Skinfood Peach Cotton Multi Finish Powder (loose)

Skinfood Peach Cotton Multi Finish Powder (pressed)

Rodin Contour & Bronzer | newest shade

Clio Prism Air Highlighter

Aliexpress Eyebrow stencils

House of Lashes Eyelash Glue | mini duo set

Duo Eyelash Glue

Ioni Lashes

Acrylic Makeup Palette

MAC Fix+

Essence Cosmetics Lip Liner

#cosplay makeup #makeup kit

[bwabys-scenarios]

i just love your kurapika headcanons!!!! Can you please give us some more? 🥹

More Kurapika SFW/NSFW HCs

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: if you want to send me requests while my ask box is down, please join my discord, it’s in my pinned!!

warnings: Kurapika in lingerie, marking, hickeys, jerking off, breeding, creampie

taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha @ashdownunderscorebeloved @stygianoir

if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

SFW

-he has a bit of a sweet tooth! his favorite treat is homemade peach cobbler!

-you convince him to get screened/tested for autism and surprise surprise, he’s autistic. puts a lot things into perspective for him.

-when I say he’s clingy, I mean it. any time he’s around you, he is touching you in some way, preferably in a way that brings your bodies as close together as possible

-Kurapika is autistic! his special interests are DnD, Minecraft, Animal Crossing, literature… he loves reading those Ripley’s Believe it or Not books LMAO

-he’s not a big fan of seafood. he’ll eat it for survival but it’s not his favorite

-enjoys buying you clothes and jewelry. every year he wants to wear matching Christmas pajamas with you(he desperately wants that soft, domestic life with you)

-there’s a specific shade of scarlet his eyes turn when he’s feeling intense love for you. you’ve learned to tell how he’s feeling just by the shade his eyes turn

-he gets really flustered when you wear things he’s bought/made you. it shows him you liked it, and he can’t help but follow you around like a lost puppy after he spots it

NSFW

-speaking of wearing things he got you�� lift up your skirt to show him you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you and he’ll go FERAL, pinning you to the nearest surface and pounding into you…

-loves looking at completely innocent pictures of you while he jerks off when he’s away on missions… a picture of you smiling while making a birthday cake has him cumming within minutes

-kissing gets him so flustered, he can’t go for more than five minutes making out without cumming in his pants. and if you were to kiss him and jerk him off… god he’d be cumming within seconds.

-he is OBSESSED with your tongue. sucking on it, kissing it, watching you lick his cock… honestly he could come to pictures of your pretty pink tongue ALONE

-he’s very shy about it, but he’ll wear lingerie for you if you ask very nicely. he doesn’t enjoy it, but he knows you do so he puts up with it. he looks so fucking pretty when you rub his leaking cock through a pair of silk panties UGHH

-likes to wear lipstick so he can cover your thighs in lipstick kisses when he eats you out. ofc he gives you hickeys and love bites, but the way the lipstick gets all smudged and runs down your thighs when he fucks you gets him GOING

-he’s just so ready to be a dad, he’ll cum inside you then give you such an adoring smile, cooing about how good of a mama you’ll be <3

#x reader #anime x reader #headcanon #requests open #reader insert #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #smut requests #hunter x hunter x reader #anime x chubby reader #chubby!reader #chubby reader #female reader #fem reader #hunter x hunter headcanons #hunter x hunter #fem!reader #hxh #hxh smut #hunter x hunter smut #x reader smut #smut headcanons #smut #kurapika headcanons #kurapika smut #kurapika x reader #kurapika hxh #hxh kurapika #kurapika hunter x hunter

[itsvaleriesucka]

the day of your luck - prelude

pairing: criminal!joel miller x fem!reader

prelude summary: being locked up behind bars isn’t easy. luckily for you, you have been given a chance to start new. 

prelude warning: brief language 

word count: 1.4k

a/n: no worries! joel will make his appearance in ch.1. i'm just warming things up.

chapter one ⋆ series masterlist

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“I hope you like it sweetie.” 

A warm smile paints across your mother’s face as she hands you a small box with retro floral pattern wrapping that’s adorned all around. Your curiosity kicks in with anticipation of knowing what can possibly lie inside the small box. 

You carefully rip the wrapping apart which reveals a plainly boring yet dull box on the outside. You tilt your head, eyes glancing up at your mother. She softly chuckled. 

“Go on, open it.” Her chin rests upon her hands that folded just underneath. She contained her own excitement by biting her bottom lip that’s painted with a coral peach tone. It was her usual lipstick color. 

Listening to your own mother’s words, you cautiously removed the lid. Your eyes widen at the sudden item revealed. You were too ecstatically happy that you didn’t even notice the lid slipping from your hands and onto the ground. You couldn’t help to draw yourself in to give your mother the biggest hug possible. 

“I love it! Thank you mom!” Your cheek rested against her shoulder with closed eyes. Your hands wrapped tight around her neck, still holding the box. Your mother laughed and embraced your hug in return. 

“I’ll show you how to use it.” Your mother mentioned softly. 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Do you know why you’re here?” 

The question from your correctional social worker snaps you back into reality from your flashback. She stared down at your case files that were neatly organized inside a manila folder. She pushes her reading glasses towards the bridge of her nose, concentrating on your information and statements that are provided. 

Deep down inside, you knew exactly why you were here. You didn’t want to admit it, no. You rather let your new social worker figure it all by herself like puzzle pieces. After all, it is her job. 

“Because orange looks great on me.” An impudent tone slips past your lips that filled the walls surrounding the office. A tone that ought to earn yourself a rough slap across your face. 

The brief silence between you two remained. You often try to tell yourself you wanted to work on your attitude, but in all reality, you fail miserably to do so. Guess you’re stuck with it for the rest of your life.

Staring out into the window, your eyes danced and followed each movement of your fellow inmates exercising and socializing out in the courtyard. Holy hell, how are your inmates not passed out on the ground in this notorious Miami heat?

Those poor German Shepherds outside, sitting besides their companionships with tongues sticking out to remain cool under the heat. They deserved ice in their water bowls after their guard duty shift. 

Every day is an opportunity to step outside and get some fresh air and good ol’ vitamin D. On the hottest days of getting enough sunlight striking your skin, you like to stand in the shade against the wall and talk away with other inmates you’ve known during these past months. You would’ve been outside if it weren't for you getting pulled inside.   

Your hands fold neatly in which they are pressed against your lower abdomen. It’s perhaps the only position that is absolutely comfortable due to the lovely set of silver handcuffs adorned tightly against your wrists.

Robberies were mainly your strong forte. Why did you accomplish this path? For obvious reasons, it was easy money. A pretty dame like yourself can get away with almost anything your heart desires. Nobody would ever suspect a thing from someone who deemed innocence.

Breaking into the fanciest of homes to see what the rich have in store for you was always an exhilarating escapade. You learned the rich tend to carry priceless jewels stored in safes you knew how to crack the code to. You just take them and pawn each item at different jewelry shops. Nothing but Benjamin Franklin’s was all you’ve ever seen and boy, did he make you smile cheek to cheek. 

“Orange looks great on everyone.”

You rolled your eyes at her words, providing a narrow squint as you turned your head to take a look at her. You’re not going to lie to yourself, she’s perhaps the third correctional social worker you’ve gone through. The last two have given up because you’ve never given in to their bullshit responses. You’re done believing. 

“Sure.” The only word you’re able to mutter as a response. You know you’re going to be locked up here for lord knows how long due to every crime. There can be a possibility of parole because technically, you never murdered anybody. Just punches and bruises if a bitch got in your way. 

“I’m here because I am giving you a chance.” 

Whoa. 

This is new.

The silver chains on your handcuffs were the only sound to linger across the room with just the flick of your wrists. The expression fixated upon your face loosens its tension. You can feel your body coming into a relaxed stance. You also want to remind yourself that the amount of expression caused on your face can cause crease marks and wrinkles in the future.

From the corner of your eye, you watched as your social worker stood up from her seat and slowly made her way towards you. You turned around to give her your full attention. Where exactly was she going with this? You thought.

“A chance?” 

Curiosity pools inside of you, a slight tilt of your head was the only gesture she was going to receive since you absolutely couldn’t deter what just came out of her mouth. Was she messing with you? Is she going to tell you this and then leave? Oh boy. Here comes your trust issues radiating across your mind. Your anxious thoughts sort of pounds against your skull. 

Relax.

You felt her hand rest upon your shoulder, gently forcing you to turn and face back towards the window. You can hear herself gently breathe into contentment.

“I see potential in you. You’re not like the others I’ve met.” She tilts her head to look at you, “You’re young, smart, and have so much to live for. A lot can happen in a year, you know.”

She’s right. 

A lot can happen within the span of one fucking solid year it’s insane. Spending your time enclosed behind bars, three course meals provided daily, exercise, limitless showers, it’s a lot. It’s not the grandest paradise but at least it’s better than nothing. 

To your surprise, your social worker gently grabbed your wrists. A small key held in her other hand. You feel the bones and muscles from your wrists alleviate some tension from the metal hooks she removed from you. You pressed pressure with your fingertips to massage the stiffness away. 

“Consider this the day of your luck.”

There was another paradise pictured deep inside your mind. Your eyes stare out into the open behind those wired fences and out into the vast horizon. From a distance you’re able to see structured buildings, nothing but the heart and soul of Miami; downtown. You know just right beyond that, awaits South Beach.

Oh. South Beach.

A place where you forget time exists. A place for long drives along Ocean Drive. A place for fun underneath the sun wherever you go. But once the sun is down and those neon fluorescent lights illuminate the night to play, there’s nothing but trouble seeping along those infamous streets. Drug dealers lurking at every corner you’d meet, offering their best stuff yet. Prostitutes hitching a ride for a good time, the younger crowds dancing the night away at popular disco bars. Anything that you can think about exists in that eminent neighborhood. 

You were too drowned into your thoughts to even notice your social worker calling out as she pulled a chair right in front of her desk for you to come and sit down. 

“We’ve got some work to do.”

Blinking a couple of times, your tunnel vision disappeared. She’s right. There is work to do and in order for you to get out of this place is to get on her good side and follow the rules. You inhaled deeply to then exhale the tension that rushed against your body. Almost pulling a sigh.

A gentle whisper, a huge reminder, breaks apart from your lips. Words you absolutely want to commit to this time. You considered it a promise.

“Don’t screw this up…”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal x reader

[oceanlipgloss]

LIPSTICK

SATAN.

+ warnings: strong language, suggestive themes.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

It’s said to be an art, choosing the right shade of lipstick. Perhaps it is so!

Think about it this way, now; paint—the palette painters create, to be precise—it does not matter much once it is smeared across a canvas, for a canvas is normally white (like ghosts and lightning, leeched sugar and whipping cream), and there is not one colour, be it shade or hue, that such a white fails to suit, though it will not always look good. With lipstick, however, the matter differs.

Of course, a painter does very much choose the most proper canvas for their creation, but that is only in terms of material and dimension. Similarly, it’s probably important for a woman to not merely choose the prettiest colours for her lips, but also the greatest matches for the smooth skin of her interest, who in this case is not quite her lover yet, and may never really be.

Who could possibly know how destiny is painted? Whoever can guess which swatches shall make the future up?

Back to the subject: it is pivotal to decide on a lipstick’s colour for the...aesthetic, if you will. Sometimes, you must understand, the lovelier a sight is, the more sensual it becomes. Beauty, when the time is right and the person is, too, can be an exciting thing. A dangerously exciting thing.

That was not strange advice, she thought. There were times when those erotic magazines and adult films of hers made as equal sense as science. This was one of them.

Her lips had stamped each soft muscle. His body was a hued mess. It was as though one had given a curious child dissimilar paints and a chalk-white paper to print their imagination on with no regard for the basics of art. A child would not know about those rules. At the same time, she was not an artist in the traditional meaning of that shimmering word, so she did not know anything about art’s foundations, either. Yet, she did know how to make the colourful garble on this man’s figure look like art, if only by rubbing her wine-red lips against the peach stain of a kiss to blend the two colours together. What would the result look like?

She could be impatient and quick-paced, in the hot moments often forgetting the artistic aspects and details, vivid with flowing rage, but she was still that sort of artist.

How surprising that she could even manage to know what to do next, at the minute!

The Devil was dreamily handsome. Lipstick gemmed the corner of his lips. His eyes were the colour of strawberries or hearts. His pale skin and purple veins were smudged with a range of popping colours. Some were matte, others glittered. Red Delicious. Tangy Tangerine. Raspberry Dream. Glam Brown. Burgundy Velvet. Electric Violet. Black Decay.

Her favourite? It had to be the last one. Black Decay. Pale skin, dark lipstick. The contrast! The impact! It looked stunning. And goodness, it made it seem like his wet horns had somehow melted at the red tips, mixed into the Red Delicious kisses, and dripped blackly onto his tense muscles. It was so cool.

Standing in front of mirrors again. Playing with fire is fun. Fun is never-ending. Beauty doesn’t last forever. Souls don’t necessarily go to Hell or Heaven. Humans are bound to die. Some people never find a haven. But this man, this man was the Devil. That changed everything; looks are forever, youth is eternal, the heart beats for ever and ever. So, what the fuck is death? What does time mean, then?

Immortality gives time a different flavour, kind of like how certain lipsticks taste nothing alike: one is ‘cherry,’ the second is ‘candy,’ and the third is something else entirely. Maybe ‘chocolate’? Who knows.

Anyways, it’s all very addictive. Being young. The electric sparks of attraction. Admiring a beautiful face. Worshipping a sculpted body. Burning in the fires of desire. Bloody rage.

It can be very pretty, put together in one painterly picture: a horned devil, a beautiful young king, dotted all over with the kisses of a human on her knees before him. The throb of bruises, the pulse of scratches, they aroused him. Because her anger tasted like it spread out from the purest depths of Hell. It was what a dream would taste like, feel like, be. It was what a dream would be.

His eyes were glowing a frantic red, a red redder than those hell flames from fiction’s silly little tales. The petrine crosses, they were like ink on a heart. That rage inside her, it was heroin and honey in his veins. He could not have enough of it. He wanted more. Double the dose. It boiled his blood and made his heartbeats insane!

Fuck, oh, fuck. The kisses weren’t cutting it. The pretty marks on his skin wasn’t cutting it. The colours weren’t cutting it. He wanted her breakable fingers to push his flesh in, turn him purple and blue, make him bruise. He wanted those dainty nails to dig into his skin, carve into it tiny bloody crescent moons. He wanted that delicate palm to scar his face, let it sting like a crimson wound.

It will, it will, it will, it will.

He could be a freak like that, but so what? He was sweet, too. She wasn’t sweet, but she could be his match. She was. So often their hearts and bodies played on the same frequencies. Down for a helping hand. Down for murder. Down for anger. Down for roughness. Down for Hell. Down for sex.

So, you see, ladies and gentlemen, the right colour of lipstick may very well do wonders.  

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

#Whb #what in “hell” is bad #what in hell is bad #whb satan #what in hell is bad satan #the story factory

[oh-hell-help-me]

July 29: National Lipstick Day

Luigi hadn’t dabbled much in makeup, but Wendy was adamant that he finds his ‘colors’.

Starting from his foray into dresses, his only experience with lipstick is the clear gloss he puts on with his more put-together outfits.

Upon learning this, however, Wendy put her foot down:

“You mean to tell me you don’t have any lipstick?!”

“Um-“ Luigi remembers tugging at his gloves nervously, unsure where exactly it became an interrogation. “I, never really brought any? And… it didn’t seem like a big deal…”

Junior, who was doodling nearby, joined Wendy on staring at him in shock. “But Mama! You would look even prettier!”

“Um…”

“Junior’s right!” His daughter is quick to grab his hand, tugging him to and out the door and -presumably- to her room. “A dress without makeup is like a suit with no tie! It’s required by fashion law!”

From there, it was a series of events that had led to Luigi putting on his favorite dress, getting the rest of the kids as a makeshift judge panel, and ‘posing’ for each color and shade imaginable.

His personal favorites where ‘Nude Beach’ and ‘Pretty in Pink’, colors that went well with his skin tone and apparently gave him a ‘naturalistic look’.

But, overall, Luigi didn’t think there would be any shades he would really like-

And then he tried ‘Written in Blood’ (what are these names).

It was a dark red, a few shades lighter than dried blood (which he knew because of kitchen related accidents), and had let his blue eyes ‘pop’.

Mostly, he liked how it made him look almost elegant- maybe even a bit alluring, for a lack of a better word.

Of course, the kids just thought of it as ‘pretty’, but he’ll take their unanimous agreement on the color being ‘his’.

And Luigi ended up with a new, if not small, collection of lipstick.

From then, he dipped into wearing lipstick every now and then, usually sticking to the natural colors for everyday use and wearing the dark red for special occasions.

(It also led to growing his collection through recommendations from Peach, Daisy, and Wendy, but it’s a story for another time.)

The first time he wore it in front of Bowser was during their fifth anniversary, eliciting a sputtering, wide-eyed reaction that had Luigi feeling particularly fluttery.

And when Bowser nervously asked if he could wear it more often?

Well, Luigi may have acquiesced for more than one reason, but the smoldering brimstone look from his husband was his biggest.

#bowuigi #NATIONAL HOLIDAY #some research has been done #but literally color swatching for two hours to test and name