STUDY BUDDY.

Imagine Vampire!Barbatos tho....

Who else would be his perfect doll master but you? He will cook for you, brush and stylish your lovely hair, dress you up. Treat you like a princess 80% of the time, the other 20% he's feeding from you and letting his dark side take over.

Vampire!BARBATOS x gn!Reader, 1.2k words, nsfw. Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour, possessiveness/jealousy, pet names, spicy towards the end—it's not really dubcon but it might come off that way. ♫ [ Song Rec ] | m.list

You feel his eyes on you as soon as you step into the ballroom of Diavolo’s castle. These fancy events always make you feel nervous and out of place. You usually spend the night together before these events so he can help you prepare, but last night you stayed at the House of Lamentation instead as his duties to Diavolo kept him busy.

His bedroom (and yours) are filled with the exquisite clothing he’s bought you, and he sent you instructions earlier with which clothing he wanted you to wear for him tonight. You bathed with the products he gave you too—he claims that the custom recipe he has made for you enhances your natural scent.

(He enjoys bathing you personally so he can massage you with his firm hands while he teases you with gentle touches, a playful reminder of how he'll reward you later if you behave.)

Every accessory you own—the collection of chokers, necklaces, bracelets, and chains he's bought for you—are made with the finest metals and jewels. Your outfits usually compliment your complexion and your eyes; your accessories are a reflection of him instead. The choker around your neck tonight is black and silver and adorned with tiny gemstones the same colour as the tips of his hair.

As you walk around the perimeter of the ballroom, you feel his warm, affectionate gaze linger on you from wherever he's hiding just out of sight. He weaves through the crowd seamlessly at these events, as the demon prince's silent shadow should, but you’ve yet to catch a glimpse of him.

One of the brothers tugs on your wrist and leads you towards the center of the room. Diavolo approaches you suddenly, and Barbatos follows silently behind him.

“You look radiant this evening,” Diavolo says, his voice laced with fondness for you. He respects his friend and your relationship and doesn’t dare touch you. “Don't you agree, Barbatos?”

You’re not sure anyone else notices the flicker of annoyance that hardens your lover’s expression before it's gone. Even you're not sure if you truly saw it when he nods and smiles at you.

“Quite lovely indeed,” he murmurs, but something about his sickeningly sweet tone sets you on edge. The tingling sensation of being watched follows you as you're dragged by your friends onto the dancefloor.

It's barely twenty minutes later that you finally break away from the party and mingle on the outskirts of the room with a cool drink in your hand. There's a sudden feeling of another body radiating heat against your back, and gloved fingers reach around you and gently pull your drink away. He sets it on a table nearby and touches your waist.

"Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I have a small task to complete and would like the privilege of your company.” He’s always so formal to keep up appearances, but you suspect there’s some hidden meaning in his words you haven’t deciphered yet.

(There always is).

He offers you his arm and you leave the party together. His shoulders are stiff with tension as he leads you away from the ballroom, but despite his odd demeanor you're still grateful to spend time alone with him.

The rest of the castle is empty except for the servants carrying out various chores. When you arrive at the kitchen doors, he gestures for you to enter first. There’s a flurry of activity inside as the Little Ds pick up their trays of Demonus and make a quick escape through the servant’s entrance on the opposite side of the room.

You smile and wave at them as they leave, but the door shuts behind you and the lock clicking into place makes you freeze.

“You look exceptional this evening,” Barbatos breathes next to your ear. His gloved fingers caress your cheek and slowly run up and down the curve of your neck. “It's enough to drive me mad,” he confesses, lips brushing your skin just above the choker. He unfastens the clasp and slides the delicate item into his pocket for later.

He kisses the lingering puncture marks he made two nights ago—the skin is bruised and the puncture wounds are still not fully healed. He prefers that you don't use magic or potions to speed up the healing process, so you don't.

(He'd never deny you if you were in true pain or discomfort, but he would prefer to care for you himself than ask you to drink whatever flimsy potion one of your friends might try to feed you.)

“I get the sense that something’s bothering you,” you admit quietly, and he hums. "Do you want to talk about it?" you ask nervously, but when you try to look at him, he holds your chin to keep you still.

"A simple problem requires a simple solution," he mutters to himself. "All I could smell was them on you,” he clarifies for your benefit, and it’s the only warning you have before you’re pushed forward against one of the stainless steel counters. Deft fingers tug at your waist and unbutton the burdensome clothing that gets in his way of touching you. You gasp when cool air hits your bare skin.

No matter what bath products he buys you, it’s not enough to completely wash away the scent of the others you live with. The clothes that hang in your closet don’t smell like him, not like the ones in his castle bedroom do.

The possessive beast inside him seethes with rage others that see you and crave you like he does might think you’re not claimed. You taunted the beast inside him when you walked into that ballroom smelling like so many others but not him.

Even if you weren't wearing the choker around your neck, those healing bites alone aren’t enough to deter those that might try to take you for themselves. You’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure everyone knows that—including you.

“What—what about the party?” you whimpered, overwhelmed by his body smothering yours and the pleasure of his hand exploring between your legs.

He's barely started and you can already smell the musky scent from between your thighs. The evidence he'll leave inside you when he's finished will drip down your legs and paint your skin; you have no doubt the stains will soak through the thin fabric of your pants for the others to see.

His fangs tease the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering higher than his other marks, too high for your choker to hide from view. Slick fingers tease at your entrance and you gasp as one slips inside.

“Everyone will know—“ you stammer, one final plea to remind him that perhaps this isn't a good idea, but his quiet, condescending chuckle interrupts you.

“Precisely, my dear,” he purrs, biting into your neck and groaning as the first pulse of blood coats his tongue. A hand encased in soft leather covers your mouth and muffles your cry as he buries himself inside you with a sharp snap of his hips.

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11. “sit on my face immediately”

and

19. “i’m sorry i keep staring, but you’re really the hottest thing i’ve ever seen in my entire life and i don’t know what to do about it”

with raph and female reader. thx<3

Listen I feel like it’s been a hot minute since I gave Raph some love so why not! (I’ve got a bunch of prompts and I’m getting to them slowly but surely friends do not fret!)

So yes, let’s get it.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

He could look at you all day.

Quite literally so, if Raph had 24hrs to spare and was giving the go away to do as he pleased, he’d spend them looking at you.

Because he’s absolutely addicted to your movements, not just in bed, in general. The way you carry yourself, the way you switch your weight from foot to foot. So much so he’s got it down to precision. He’s been hanging out at your place for a few hours, snuck out and shot a text to Fearless that he’d be busy.

He’d get the riot card read to him, might even get sent to the Hashi for it but right now your doing that thing with your legs he loves so much. Switching from one to another, jutting out your hip and giving him a perfect view of your rear watch time you stood more on one foot. It was a work related call which meant he had to be a good noodle, couldn’t speak, couldn’t complain.

Fine, he could do that. I mean, so long as he can continue to stare at you, run his green eyes over beautiful supple skin that is just way too free of marks.

Preferably so, his teeth.

He lounged against the bed, resting against his arms and not missing how your eyes raked over his biceps. At some point you had turned to look right at him as you continued the business phone call. You watched his eyes rest at your chest, adjusting the straps of your bra out of habit, you enjoyed the way he licked his lips. You raised your eyebrows at how obvious he was, trying not to chuckle while speaking to your boss on the phone proved difficult. Last minute pleasantries exchanged you hung up and placed the phone on the nearest dresser.

“Well?” You crossed your arms (a little on purpose naturally) and delighted in the way Raph’s stupor broke through just enough for him to give you those innocent eyes of his. “What?” He asked sheepishly with a small grin.

“You’ve been staring at me for the past hour I’ve been on the phone, what’s so intriguing?” You knew the answer though, you were in your undergarments (had just been freshly showered when work called).

“I’m sorry I keep staring, but yer really the hottest thing I’ve seen in my entire life and I don’t know what to do about it” He smirked when your cheeks flushed at his words. How he managed to make you feel self conscious and gorgeous all in one was truly a talent of his.

Raph was already hard just imagining ways he could show you just how hot he knew you were. “Take ‘em off” He motioned to your undergarments.

“And who says you’ve earned that?” You chided.

“Cant eat ya out if those are in the way” He spoke matter of fact. You felt your pulse quicken as the thought. With only some mild defiance you slowly stripped for him, only to drive him a little more crazy with want. When that large hand of his palmed the front of his shorts, it took a lot of your resolves to not jump him. “God fucking dam yer the hottest thing in this entire planet, c’mere baby” He beckoned you over as he slipped a little further down the bed to rest on his shell.

You bit your tongue, clearly knowing what he was gonna demand.

“Sit on my face immediately” He nearly purred out with a growl. Climbing on top of him you did just that, your core coming to rest on his face as Raph palmed your rear and gave that first slow and deliberate lick. How easily you could become drenched thanks to his mouth, his tongue licked your folds, swirling around your clit enough times to make you question your reality. Ever moment your body betrayed you and felt like falling he’d be there to grip your rear or thighs harder and keep you afloat.

He churred, deeply and gravely and it was felt right against your clit. Your hands shot up towards the headboard and gripped the metal. By the hundredth circle on your clit, Raph opted to dip his tongue inside of you making you bucks against his face the way he loved so much. That was the thing with the red banded brute, you could rub yourself raw against his face and he’d thank you afterwards. On one to many occasions had you taken his capabilities to hold his breath for your own gain.

Raph did not fucking mind.

The first time he had forced you onto his face in the heat of the moment, it had been heaven. He’d never tasted anything better, never smelled anything more delicious. With just a few licks he had embarrassingly came in his own underwear (and boy had that been an orgasm for the books).

A large three fingered hand landed on your rear, several smacks urging you onto your released sooner than later. You rode him harder, faster, each groan and churr pushing you forwards to rest against the wall of your headboard. How he loved that increasing pitch of desperation coupled with his name, that ‘Raph Raph Rapha-!’ that ended with your body tightening and compressing in on itself with the intensity of your release. He dug his hand onto your hips, steadying you as that gush of wet released fell into his mouth, so tart and delicious he could cum right then if he humped up enough for the friction of his shorts.

Foggy green looked up at you, mostly seeing your tits (and not complaining) the flush of your skin as your high settled and your limbs weren’t stone. On shaking legs you got off, he inhaled and exhaled satisfied with smelling and tasting you. He looked over towards your body, long breaths and that tremble in your thighs he loved so much.

But this wouldn’t do, he wanted more, wanted to see your writhe more, but he also wanted to cum.

“Take a breather, get back on here and maybe use that pretty mouth of yers too” He raised his hips, sliding off his shorts along his underwear.

Your mouth watered at the sight.

𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭

𖦹 summary: continuation of we leavin.

𖦹 content warning: connie x fem!reader. reader is black-coded. mentions of dumbification. connie has a papi kink.

𖦹 translations: buena chica/good girl

𖦹 word count: 480.

authors note: i feel horrible ab this chi😭 but y’all asked, so i delivered. its quite a quick read so enjoy. and also thank yall for all the love. so so so grateful. te amo!

—

“you gon’ listen next time, baby? huh?”

you only nodded in response, the words being taken out of your mouth due to the ecstasy sizzling through your nerves. right after leaving the party, connie didn’t say a word. not on the way to the car, not in the car, and not during the drive home. it pushed a sense of slight fear into you, given he’d never been this silent before. however, when you both got into the house, he said a singular sentence that made you regret pushing your luck at the party.

“im’a show you how to watch ya’ mouth.”

and that’s exactly how you ended up at the edge of the bed, knees beside your head, in nothing but in your black, lace panties that were pulled to the side as connie drove his dick through you like moses when he parted the red sea. he was bowed over you, your sweaty foreheads touching while he gave you your life. your hands were going numb from how tight they gripped onto the sheets below you, having a fistful of some in each hand.

“tell me, ma.” connie repeated, not falling clueless to the way your lips were parted, and eyes almost crossing from how good he was making you feel. you couldn’t even moan properly. just grunts, groans, and heavy pants to express your pleasure.

you wanted to hear him. you wanted to respond. but anytime you tried, he’d hit that one spot inside of your walls that would send you into a state of inexplicable bliss again. connie’s hands were currently interlocked behind your head to keep it from falling back into the mattress, but he moved one in favor of grabbing your jaw with it. his thrusts slowed down from the once fast pace they were at, but became more harsh.

“say it, baby. use ya’ words.” connie coo’ed, the sound of his balls slapping against the fat of your ass in even intervals as he fed you each thrust.

“uh-huhh.“ you nodded, still not being able to put words together. the pace he was going dumbed you up even more, and he could tell too, by the slight squelch of every time he stuffed you, along with your pussy squeezing around him. though, your response still didn’t satisfy him.

“words, i said. i don’t speak in noises.” connie sped back up, in an attempt to snatch an answer from you. with this, he did.

“fuckyess- im’a listen, con-“ you said, but quite incoherently.

“who?” connie stopped completely. you immediately realized your mistake. “fix that.” he said, to which you obliged.

“im’a listen, papi..” you looked up at him with watery eyes. your vision blurred from said water as he started up again, somehow hitting an angle that you didn’t even know existed, snatching your soul from you completely.

“buena chica. now, cum fa’ papi.”

—

~♡ Gifts He Likes To Spoil You With. ♡~

(( Day #1 )) Barbatos, Lucifer, Mammon x Reader

A/N: I must write fluff for my fav demons to start off this ‘valentines day post dump’- I’ll try to post every other day but,,, I’ll def be more active on weekends!!!! I’m thinking of doing fluff and smut on alternating days leading up to Valentine’s day… so fun so cute I’ll also be visiting old series again just for you all (spoiler alert : hq and mha lmaoooo)

WC - 1,842

~~~

Keep reading

Izuku punishes you for talking poorly about yourself,,

as someone who’s dealt with insecurity and low self esteem for most of his life, he’d definitely take your words personally, regardless of how you meant it. His love feeling like that? On his watch??? His hero complex wouldn’t allow him to not try and handle it himself.

‘N the lesson doesn’t entail spankings or hitting, no....just orgasms

PLURAL

That man would overstim tf out of you no matter how much you apologize because “don’t apologize to me, say sorry to her” as he points to a mirror overlooking the two of you 🥺

he won’t fuck you cause only good girls get all of him, all you’ll get is tongue and fingers 🚶🏽‍♀️

Make you perch right off the edge of the bed so when your punishment comes, you can’t get away from it,, and spread ‘er open so he can get a nice look at his beautiful girl....and the poor, sweet little brat she’s attached to. Can’t get away or look away either and if you try you’ll just get put RIGHT back in place with a quick “ah-ah” and swift movement of his hands.

His doe-like green eyes look so,, dark and somber while he punishes you, like he feels your pain right along with you 😩 as he makes you look at him, you swear you can see little tears in his eyes as well; but it could just be the copious amount tears in YOUR eyes playing tricks on you as well 🚶🏽‍♀️

Tear tracks, both dry and wet rolling down your fat cheeks, curly hair a-mess, big ol’ tummy just moving from your quick little breaths, thighs trying to clench n close so bad but he’s so big between your legs it’s literally pointless—

belligerent babble mixed with sodden apologies and pleas,, you look like a masterpiece to him!

but it’s ok cause he’s gonna make you appreciate what HE sees, whether you want to or not 🚶🏽‍♀️

no amount of “Zu-Zu, please—!” or “g’nna cream” “crEAMING—!!” “p-please, can’t take it—!” will change his mind; just your swollen, fat little cunt creaming and creaming in his mouth n’ frothing around his big, calloused fingers...

“ ‘o mean to my pretty girl” he whispers tenderly, almost pouting at you as he whines about how cruel you are; “‘s the matter, huh? ’m not treating my baby enough?” how could you be so callous to this body that he worships on an altar? Has he not shown you enough love? What else can he do to get you to see what he sees?

cause of course he thinks it’s his fault,, his responsibility 😩

He’s tried words of affirmation for the longest yet here he is, still trying to teach you to love yourself... guess he’s just gonna have to fuck you stupid 🤷🏽‍♀️ can’t insult yourself if you can’t think at all, right?

Todo and Itadori too 🥺 cept he’s a bit meaner and will edge you from time to time, Yuji may even let Sukuna teach you a lesson or 2...cause you dare to insult the king’s taste?? You say he can “do better”??? You think you know better than the King of Curses???

well you’re right...his second/true form can make you cream and cry harder than Itadori ever could 🤷🏽‍♀️

and he knows it

i stumbled into another dimension while reading this

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one. 

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty. 

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door. 

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does. 

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.” 

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard. 

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.” 

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too. 

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive. 

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks. 

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.” 

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows. 

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats. 

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved? 

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites. 

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again. 

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all. 

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches. 

Summer has never felt so long. 

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares? 

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful. 

You’re completely devastating. 

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?” 

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to. 

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes. 

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration. 

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him. 

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?” 

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter. 

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest. 

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation. 

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it. 

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin. 

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.” 

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it. 

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven. 

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it. 

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks. 

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’  before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex. 

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers. 

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him. 

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin. 

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath. 

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.” 

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls. 

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you. 

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.  

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more. 

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know. 

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away. 

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive. 

He’s milked. Spent. 

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick. 

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke. 

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces. 

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with. 

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs. 

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning. 

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door. 

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night. 

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood. 

God forbid they have coyotes, right? 

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

Yandere fruity four have a whole thing where they cannot see you bleed, not after what happened in the upside down. So when you fall over playing tag with Robin and Eddie outside and get a smallish cut on your leg, all four of them go crazy. They baby you to death and back

* rubs my little rat hands together *

cws: yandere fruity four, blood, minor/major injuries, scars, !!PTSD!!, angelface has aquaphobia, mental illness, trauma flashbacks, panic attacks, choking, drowning, near-death experiences, very mild emetophobia, mild self-deprecation, post-s4, gn!reader.

One of the first days that you wake up and feel that things are back to normal is in June of 1987. The sun is coming out properly now and brightens the yard with soft, summer rays, the grass is growing in enough to start being trimmed, and it's far too warm to stay in bed for longer than an hour past your usual alarm. Indiana isn't too hot yet, so when you crack open the windows to get a breath of fresh air, you're greeted by a comfortably cool breeze that cuts the warmth radiating off the ground.

Much better than the cold and the snow that kept you inside, although that wasn't the only reason. The world beyond the Harrington's front yard is still a little too scary to breach--but you've got a good amount of space to work with, so long as you stay away from the pool and the woods around the back. It's been drained for a while now though, and Steve reassured you he has no plans to fill it back up.

That first day is a good day, it's refreshing. The next week skirts by with a stream of good things piling in; you all built up the firepit to roast marshmallows, Eddie bought a sprinkler at a garage sale, Nancy and Robin have started buying seasonal fruits and cutting them up to make little salads. There's not much you have to worry about with your new life, but there are obstacles--and you're happy to say you've overcome one when you're especially full of confidence one afternoon, and peek into the garage to ask if Eddie can bring the sprinkler out. Obviously he says yes, a smile on his face as he tugs his gloves off and rolls out from beneath the van, excitedly grabbing the hose and hooking it in so he can take it out and set it up on the front lawn.

You were planning just to run it and watch, maybe stick your hands or toes in to cool off, but Robin comes running down the stairs with a giddy grin and jumps right through it--and at her shriek of it being so cold, you and Eddie both join in to try it and end up running around on the wet grass, laughing and flicking water at each other like children. It's not terrifying like you thought it would be, and you don't immediately break down like you did the first few months of taking showers after the watergate incident. It's the first time in a long time you've been so carefree. It's been even longer since you've thought of a moment as a memory you want to keep forever, of Eddie grabbing you from behind and kissing your cheek under the cool spray, and of you and Robin holding hands and shrieking as he picks the sprinkler up and chases you with it. That feeling ends, though, when you slip on the grass and tumble to the ground with her in tow, a sharp twang of pain running up the side of your calf from nowhere.

"You guys okay?" Eddie calls out, dropping the sprinkler and walking over to where you're laid out on your back, Robin scrambling to sit up at your side like she hadn't also fallen victim to the slippery ground.

"Yeah, I'm good--just fell!" You manage a lighthearted giggle, because that pain you felt is already dull, and you're sure it was just a twig or something that scratched you.

"You're bleeding," But Robin's voice tremors, her dulled and painted nails hovering over your calf as you bend your knee to pull it up. Disbelief runs through you at first--but with a glance and a double take, you realize she's right. You've got a long, thin cut up the side of your leg, and although it's clearly too shallow to do much damage, it's deep enough for blood to pool at the surface of your skin and start trailing downwards in little rivulets. She's stiff right now, and her eyes say too much--they spell out danger, and your first instinct is to cup her cheek in your hand and try to talk her down.

"It's okay, Robbie--calm down, okay? Just breathe."

"You're bleeding...." It pains you even worse because you know exactly what she's thinking, you know the place she's at right now, and it's not gonna be pretty if she doesn't come back to earth and starts reliving all those horrible days you left behind.

"Robin, it's fine, sweetheart. It doesn't even hurt. It's not deep, you don't need to worry, I'm totally fine." She shakes her head--she can't tear her eyes away from the sight of your blood. "Remember what the doctor said? Worst thing you can do is panic? So don't panic, my love."

By the time she's struggling to keep her breaths even, Eddie's knelt down at your side to assess what he just heard. A warm, wet hand grazes your calf to take a look, and you can tell by the shuddered breath he inhales that he's trying really hard not to join Robin in freaking out.

"Let's...let's get you inside. Robin, go-"

"I-I'll get Nancy!" Her assumption is thankfully correct, and she tears off across the lawn to run up into the house, probably taking the stairs two at a time just to get to your girlfriend and boyfriend faster. Eddie sighs, and pulls your arm around his shoulders to help you up, barely letting you put any pressure on your injury as he leads you into the house. Past the front door, towards the kitchen, and helps you up to sit on the nearest chair that he pulls out for you.

"Eddie, I'm fine. Really," You gesture towards the cut--which really is more like a scrape--but you know better than to move your leg or try to get up. Sometimes, as much as you love them, your partners just won't see reason.

"I know. I know you're fine, but...but if you're not-"

"This isn't the same thing. This isn't Vecna." He shudders at the mere mention of the name, but it's the truth and you're not going to just let them flip out. To keep him from pacing, and because you hope it might help, you grab hold of his hand. Upstairs, you can hear animated chattering and then the scraping of chairs, like whoever it was that got up did so in an enormous hurry. "No clocks, no ticking, no visions. Just a cut."

Eddie nods in agreement, but you're not so easily persuaded. "Just a cut." He repeats, his other hand coming up to rub your head and carefully, sweetly stroke your hair.

"Baby!" The two of you both jump when Steve comes skidding into the room, having leapt nearly over the entire banister just to land with a thud and dash in. Nancy and Robin aren't far behind, equally as hurried as they come to crowd around you with panic-stricken looks on their faces. Steve drops to his knees at once to take a look at the cut, while Nancy peers over his head and thankfully breathes a deep sigh of relief when she sees how calm you are.

"Why are you soaked?" Are the first words that come out of her mouth, and only then does it click. Your chest tightens a little, and you feel a cloud hanging over your head, but it makes sense. It wasn't just the cut, or the blood--it's the fact that you're also drenched, your clothes clinging to your skin and your body wracked with a chill that pierces you through the bone.

That night on Lover's Lake was much the same. You'd never been much afraid of boating or swimming, but those circumstances were different--that was when you thought your alternating crushes on your friends were the most painful thing to deal with, back when you kept switching from one to another. From Eddie to Nancy to Steve to Robin and back again, wondering what the hell was wrong with you and why you were so whipped you'd join them on a dinghy in the middle of the night, just to check something out that they swore was something they could never fully explain. You just had to see it, and you'd been so determined to help them that you wouldn't be left behind.

But you did a lot more than seeing when you leaned over the side to look down at whatever 'gate' Steve had found as he clung to the edge of the boat, drenched and handsome as ever. Even though you struggled to piece your memories back together after the ordeal was over, you remember squinting your eyes at a shadow flitting under the water and praying it was just a fish. Nancy's voice had cut through the chatter to ask you what was wrong--and then your arm went under as a tendril burst out to hook around it, and Eddie's hand shot out to grab your hoodie, but you were gone before you could even scream. The boat had rocked from side to side and you heard muffled yelling, screaming of your name that you couldn't call back to. Steve's fingers had grazed your ankle in a flash to catch you as you were yanked through the murk, but even he could do nothing as you were thrust through watergate and thrown into another world, one you never would have believed in if you hadn't been forced to.

After that, you still have only bits and pieces you can recall of the ordeal. Flashes of blood and veiny wings spread out against a crimson sky are the worst, they're the visions you try to forget, especially since you associate them with some of the most biting, stinging agony you've ever felt in your life--at your hips, your legs, and your neck, all of which still bear prominent scars. Choking, you remember choking for so long, until you blinked and Steve was above you--his palms thrusting painfully into your chest, and your throat flooding with water and bile that you spat all over the ground. You remember stumbling through some overgrown forest, the flash of a bike light, cloth being pulled tight around your stomach, and being slumped over someone's back as you rode down semi-familiar streets, but that's the most you can bring to your memory. They've always told you it would be better not to try--that you don't want to remember all the horrors they encountered there. That you don't want to wake up. Wake up.

"Wake up!"

You manage to mumble out a single, incoherent word, before a chord splits through the muffled quiet of your mind and you clap your hands over your ears, bass thrumming so loud you feel like your brain's bouncing around inside your skull. It's not totally inaccurate though, because there's an ache in your neck and fingers painfully dug into your shoulders as whoever it is stops shaking you, yells for the music to be shut off, and then worriedly encourages you to open your eyes.

"Huh?" Still completely dazed, you hone in on two warm, sweet-looking brown eyes when your own blink open, before zoning back out and letting yours wander towards every angle of the room. Your head is almost lolling back, trying to get a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary--anything that would reveal that you're still in that other world, and only when you're reassured that everything's real do you look down at Steve's terrified expression. "What's...wrong? Steve?"

Even your voice feels discombobulated, you raise your hand to your neck to touch it, as if you could feel if something was wrong just by feeling it. But it drifts to his throat instead, and you run your thumb over the long scar that's still there--the one that matches yours. Steve doesn't utter a word, just stares up at you from his knees before finally managing to breathe again.

Robin and Nancy are standing over him, and you can see they're just as scared--but Eddie's gone, and before you can ask where he is, his sneakers squeal against the linoleum as he rushes back into the kitchen. In his hands, he's got a tape. The bright sticker on the side of it warns you that it's the one he carries with him everywhere, with nothing but your name written on the tracklist along with Steve's, Robin's, Nancy's, and his own.

"F..False alarm. False alarm." Nancy finally turns back and nods at him, just barely making it to one of the chairs at the table before she collapses into it in a fit of hiccups, like she's trying not to cry and just holding it all in. Robin hits the ground behind Steve and she buries her face in his back, hands clutching at his shirt while his trail down to grab each of yours. It's only in those moments that your senses really come back to you, and you feel an immense wave of guilt settle on your shoulders at what must have looked like a dire situation. You've had those flashbacks before where you've dissociated completely out of the realm of reality--but this must have been a long one, you can feel it, because your body's sore from being jostled so much and your leg is all wrapped up. You've got a towel draped around your neck. You've missed a decent chunk of time, but you're sure it felt like a lifetime for them.

"I'm sorry..." You whimper, hating their body language and their expressions and wishing you could just go back to when you were having fun--and wishing that you would just stop having these episodes already, for God's sakes.

"Don't!" Steve shakes his head, strands of perfect chestnut hair flicking to and fro as he does so. He tightens his grip and pulls your arms closer, a kiss placed on your knuckles in the hope of offering some reassurance. "Don't be sorry--you didn't do anything wrong. This was out of your control."

If Robin wasn't clinging to him, you can sense by his shoulders hunching towards you that he would be moving in for a hug--one of those warm, tight ones that crush you against his hard chest, but couldn't be a better place for you to cry into. You don't really feel the urge to, but surely once some time has passed the reality of what just happened will really hit you. The relative silence in the room is biting into you, and the shakiness of your own voice betrays that. "Are you okay?"

He nods at once, one hand finally moving away to pat Robin's thigh. "Yeah. Little shaky, but I'm okay. You okay, Rob?"

"I'm fine. Just...almost passed out." Robin's voice is muffled in Steve's shirt, but by the comparably calmer sigh that escapes her, you believe it. You turn your head to Nancy, sitting just across the table from you, and reach your newly-freed hand out to clasp over hers. The tight squeeze is enough to say more than she can get out at the moment.

"I'll be fine, soon. I need a minute." She rubs her temples, focusing on breathing in and out and nothing else. Eddie's who you're really afraid for, though, and he's just staring in cold silence from across the room. He only takes one step when you look his way and shoves the tape in his pocket, but after a pause, he takes plenty more to come right up to your side.

"God, I'm glad you're alive," He grabs both sides of your face, and tilts your head up to plant the sweetest, deepest kiss on your lips. He tastes of smoke and sweat, bitterly warm on your tongue as he shows you his affection--something you thought you'd never get when you were sure you had died. "Never letting you go again."

It sits there in the air. Never letting you go. You've heard it in movies and read it in books, although you thought that if you ever heard someone say that to you, it would be.....well, it wouldn't be like this. But it quirks a smile up on your lips at the thought that this is what you've got, this is the reward you've been given for following your heart straight into death. At least you can say you're nothing if not loyal, even though you sometimes feel like you're just....crazy. Like you belong in the nuthouse. They've tried to reassure you you're not, but there's always that inkling in the back of your head. The looks people in the town give you when you go out don't help, either--especially the ones that boldly declared you as one of Eddie's failed victims. That one was especially hard to overcome.

"I...okay. I'm gonna go bring the sprinkler in." Eddie's hands linger on your face, and he seems to evaluate something for a moment before giving in, and pressing another delightfully wet kiss to your mouth. Only after that can he break away, and get himself walking towards the front door--mumbling quietly all the while that he's gonna find whatever hurt his baby and make it pay. To think, this is the man people thought had tried to sacrifice you....how ludicrous.

"Yeah, um...S-Steve, c'mon." Nancy, finally managing to pull herself together, gestures towards him in a way they both seem to understand--and you let out a squeak when he gets to his feet, and slides his arms around your waist to haul you up in a bridal carry, while Robin uses him to pull herself up and messily dry the tears she was hiding.

"H-Hey, it's okay! I can walk-"

"Nope." Steve interjects, waiting for Nancy to take Robin gingerly by the arm and lead her towards the stairs, whispering low enough into her ear that you can't make out what she's saying. Your girlfriend seems to start perking up when she hears it though, so whatever reassurances she's offering, they must be pretty good. "While Sir Eddie is securing the yard, you're gonna be spending some time with us." He raises his brows, that smoldering wink shooting sparks of youthful giddiness into your belly. It's hard not to smile and give in when he's being coy--the flirt in him just always manages to capture your heart, even when he's carrying you up the stairs despite you being certain you can do these things on your own. "Nance still has to finish her article, so we'll just hang out with her til it's done, kay?"

As he reaches the top step, you hear the distinct clanging of something being thrown around in the area of the garage, Eddie's distant swearing filtering through the open windows all over the house before he slams the door shut. Knowing him, he probably got all caught up in the hose and tripped himself, the visual of which evoking a laugh from you that nearly startles Steve as he walks with you into the master bedroom. Nancy's got her desk in there with all of her papers, photos, and notebooks scattered all over the top, a lamp on a bendable frame aimed from above so she can arrange things as precisely as she likes. She's already eased Robin into the bed, a kiss pressed to her forehead that she leans right into--and when Steve comes around the other side and slowly sets you down beside her, she's quick to pull an arm around you and nuzzle herself right into your side to get nice and comfortable.

"It's not gonna take too long, okay?" Nancy glances over her shoulder to look at you after she takes her seat, the second chair by her side soon giving a squeak as Steve drops himself into it. "I just have to organize the spread so I can send it in. Then we'll do something fun, okay?"

Her content smile feels more hollow than usual--you can kinda tell when she's masking her feelings to make everyone else comfortable, versus when she's really showing her emotions. But that's to be expected after what she just went through, so you're not about to pry. Usually it's a lot harder for them to vent to you than it is to each other, because they've admitted themselves they're sensitive to putting too much stress on you, and the doctor himself had warned you to avoid straining yourself lest your heart give out on you. That's a big worry for them too....worrying about you.

Soon enough, though, Eddie comes hustling up the stairs and bursts into the bedroom, narrowly avoiding a frustrated jab when he almost sweeps a pile of scribbled notes off the table--but he looks happy, sweaty and happy, and kicks off his sneakers to climb into bed next to you with a bowl full of cut fruit in his hands. He sets it delicately in your lap, having haphazardly tossed handfuls of the little cubes into it out of the tupperware containers Nancy was keeping them in, and pops a chunk of pineapple in his mouth with an uncanny grin.

"Showed that branch who's boss," He declares proudly through a half-chewed mouthful of fruit, before nuzzling your cheek with his nose and stuffing some more into his gob. It's a convenient way to distract you from Robin's fidgeting, as well as Nancy and Steve's hushed conversation that he glosses over by blabbing on about his newest potential escapades that he's got ideas for regarding the next Hellfire campaign. The best thing to do for you after an episode is give you something positive to focus on, they've found, and Eddie's pretty good at finding things to talk about that just hook you right in and keep you attentive to him, and little else.

You're not delicate, after all, you're strong. But the world has proven to be quite unkind to you, and clearly you've had too much exposure to those things that remind you of that awful, awful day. So does it not make sense to keep you safe, and take all those potential dangers away? It's not like you'll be lonely, after all. You'll have them! And that's all you need--just them.

see what had happened was..mama cloud was gonna go to bed,,,but can we please talk about skinny emo boys for a minute-

he sits in the corner in a mall, head down, headphones covering his ears, hood up with a glare n a scowl on his face?? yeah him.

he's so distant and looks like he doesn't want to be bothered until he sees you n all your soft, plump glory. his pale face starts to go red and he could swear that his pupils are forming heart as he watches you walk through to the various shops. boy is infatuated <3

he doesn't even say hello. he's just rushing home, trying his best to hide his painfully obvious hard-on from any eyes that aren't yours. his pants flying off as soon as he gets through the front door n locking it behind him.

he's tugging down his boxers n pulling out his leaking cock with the vivid memory of your supple body n cute ass to guide him, jacking himself off right where he stood, all red-faced n needy for more.

soon, his hand isn't enough and he's rushing to his room rummaging through his toys to find his onahole, but it's still not enough!! he needs you, he needs your weight pressed against his thinner body, holding him in place while you use him like a living dildo.

he needs your thick thighs wrapped around his head, on his shoulders, twitching n shuddering for him while he fingers n sucks on your most sensitive areas. please please crush his head with your thighs.

if he dies, he dies <3

soon even the onahole isn't enough, and he resorts to folding the heaviest pillow he owns over his cock to fuck into with the now dripping onahole still being impaled.

the softness doesn't even begin to compare to how he thinks you'd feel around him. it's not warm like you. it's not telling him what a good boy he is for filling you up so well. it's not tugging at his hair n scratching up his back out of pleasure. it's not you.

he's a red mess now, mouth wide open n releasing his loud n whiny moans while he fucks the makeshift doll in doggystyle, leaning over it and gripping when he imagines would be your wider hips under him.

he's completely lost in ecstasy when he finally cums into the onahole, tears of pleasure rolling down his flushed cheeks and howling out his release. pulling out of the onahole a thick trail of his cum spills out with it, and his face flushes all over again.

ohh if only you were really here to tell him to mount n breed you again~

was absolutely thinking of sebastian from stardew valley btw. on almost all my playthroughs ive married him n i love it??? that emo boy can cum in me anytime <3 -☁️

kylar from degrees of lewdity as well- horny loner types are just my shit rn hah☁️

Gally: And of course, Y/N was there, looking at everyone with her ridiculously big eyes.

Minho: Why is he talking about Y/N?

Newt: I don’t know. I asked him about the new shack and somehow we ended up here.