#but these tags are gonna get out of control too in a second so THANK YOU
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We're Just Friends // M.S. pt2
by 💋Natalie💋
summary: Matt is so 'sweet best friend that secretly jerks off to your pictures' coded (idea credit to @heartstreet )
tags: @oversturn @soursturniolo @flowerxbunnie @mattslolita @mattsbratt @simplysturn @megamett44-lover @sturnybabes @bernardenjoyer @jjmaybankswifes-blog @plasticferal @cupidsword @liz-stxrn @sturniolosreads @angelic-sturniolos111 @angelic-sturniolos111
warnings: SMUT!!! / masturbation / voyeurism / post nut clarity / self-deprecation
disclaimer: these stories are fictional :)
text - reader
text - matt sturniolo
Word Count: 3030
It slowly became a habit. It started small, one time a day if even that. But what started as a habit grew into an addiction. Every little thing set him off, and the only thing to satisfy the desire in him was her. He needed her in ways that he couldn’t even describe. He hungered for her.
It began with pictures, just her regular little posts on Instagram and Snapchat that had no hidden undertone to them, but every single one would have Matt beating his dick until his arm was sore. She had Pavloved him. The second he got the notification that his best friend posted, his cock stiffened and his ears got red and hot just thinking about what could be waiting for him. It didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he’d drop everything, all of his attention would be on her in an instant. Today was no different; he had already beat off three times in the few hours he had been awake.
As the day moved forward, and he found the inner strength to keep his dick in his pants, Matt remembered telling her that he’d look for the charger she had left when she stayed over a few nights ago. He spent a solid hour that afternoon searching the house up and down for her phone charger; his room, the living room, the kitchen, Nick’s room, hell, he even checked Chris’s room (despite Chris’s many protests followed by a shoe being launched at Matt’s shin), though he still came up empty handed.
Matt went back to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He took a seat in his desk chair, rolling himself close enough to his desk to click his monitor on, grabbing the controller that had been set aside on his desk to charge. He turned his gaming console on, the sound of it whirring to life filling the silence in the room. He reached into his pocket, taking his phone out to send her a quick text.
‘i may have lost it’
‘your mind?’
‘no’
‘your keys?’
‘no’
‘OMG’
‘?’
‘YOUR V CARD?????’
‘WHAT NO’
‘omg matty who is she 🤭🤭🤭🤭’
‘I DID NOT’
‘then i fear i do not know what you could be talking about, for i am not a mind reader’
‘your weird’
‘you’re*’
‘i actually hate you.’
‘stfu you love me. now what are u talking abt’
‘you’re charger’
‘your*’
‘you know what 😀’
‘LMAOOOO don’t blow a fuse, it’s a $10 charger i’ll just get another one. thank u for letting me know tho’
‘ofc’
He stared at the screen, his heart beating faster when he saw the read receipt pop up under his message. He waited, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as she began to type. A smile tugged at his lips as the typing message bubble disappeared, waiting for the message to pop up on his screen.
A minute passed. Then two. Still nothing. Matt’s smile faltered a little.
‘?’
‘oh shit i didn’t know you were still here’
‘what we’re you typing?’
‘were*’
‘😀 nevermind i don’t care’
‘noooo matty come back 😂’
‘i’ll get it right one day’
‘i have full faith in you, matthew. until then, im gonna be up your ass about it’
‘so…?’
‘so what?’
‘what were you typing?’
Matt could hardly sit still. His leg bounced anxiously, he bit his nails impatiently. She had been typing for a while, was it something bad? Shit, have i fucked up recently and just didn’t notice?
‘nothing 😇’
‘you’re a dirty liar’
‘😜’
‘cmon, i’m youre best friend tell meeeee’
‘your*’
‘GET A NEW BEST FRIEND’
‘okay okay i’m done 😂 you’re so easy to tease’
‘Ayo 🤨’
‘not like that 🙄
‘well, you probably are pretty easy to tease like that too”
Matt choked on his own saliva. Did I read that right? He read it again, the blood rushing from his cheeks to his cock. His brain short circuited. Any possible responses that he could’ve came up with dissolved into nothingness. He spent two minutes trying to type a witty comeback or some sort of smooth flirtatious reply, but when push came to shove, all he could build the courage to send was-
‘what?’
She started typing, and as the speech bubble floated in the corner of his screen, Matt palmed at the bulge in his sweats. His mind raced with thoughts, all wondering what she could have possibly been thinking about. Fuck, does she think about doing things with me? Does she want to tease me? How would she even-
The speech bubble disappeared. Matt slipped his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants and his boxers, taking his hard cock in his fist. He stroked his shaft slowly, his eyes fluttering shut while he pursed his lips to hold back a moan. He waited for her response to pop up. One minute…then two…then five. He furrowed his eyebrows, his strokes slowly coming to a stop as he eyed their text messages. Why isn’t she responding? Did I make her uncomfortable? Is she weirded out?
His heart nearly dropped out of his ass when the facetime notification illuminated his screen. Without thinking to take his hand out of his pants, Matt quickly answered the call.
It took a moment for the call to connect, but when it finally did, Matt felt almost frozen in place. His heart skipped a beat, his face grew flushed with a warm rosy heat. She smiled at him and his breath caught in his throat.
“Hey!”
Matt smiled. “Hey, what’s up.”
“What, I can’t call my best friend out of the blue just to hang out?” She laughed softly. “What are you up to?” She asked.
“Just, yknow…” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Was playing fortnite for a bit-“
She tilted her head to the side a little, furrowing her eyebrows. “I didn’t see you online. I would’ve joined you if I knew,” she grinned. “Can’t believe you played without me,” she playfully rolled her eyes.
Matt swallowed. Her eyes looked so pretty rolled back into her head like that, I could watch her do that for hours. Matt slowly stroked his cock, pursing his lips tightly to keep himself quiet. ‘Can’t believe you played without me’ replayed in his head like a broken record. His mind wandered off, thinking about the beautiful girl on his screen sitting on his bed. Her clothes discarded onto the floor mindlessly, seated on his bare thighs. Matt bit the inside of his cheek, pre-cum drooling from the tip of his cock as he imagined her pretty manicured fingers circling her clit, her eyes hooded and full of lust as lewd sounds spilled from her parted lips. His dick ached at the thought of her running her fingers through her wet folds, playing with herself in front of him, on full display just for him. ‘Can’t believe you played without me,’ her voice repeated in his head again, his mouth going dry as he thought of her looking at him with a pout while saying this, her pretty doe eyes staring at him with nothing but desire hidden behind their gaze.
He kept his strokes slow and controlled. This is so fucking wrong, he thought. If she knew…he couldn’t even think of the possibilities. She’d be disgusted, she’d be so upset. Matt would never be able to show his face in a public setting again.
“How was your day?” Matt asked in a soft voice, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his own voice would betray him. He watched as the smile on her face grew and he felt his heart twinge. This is so wrong. What the fuck is wrong with me.
“Aww Matty, you do care!” She teased. Matt let out a breathy chuckle, hoping she couldn’t hear the rasp in his voice. She began to list off the many side quests she endured on her day off from work, and Matt listened to every single thing she had to say. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke to him. Her lips are so pretty. Fuck, I wanna kiss her so bad. I wanna feel her lips on mine. She’d look so fucking pretty with my dick in her mouth. I wonder how much she’d be able to take. Would I have to fuck her throat to make it all fit? Would she drool on my cock while I fuck her pretty mouth?
“Matt?”
He tugged at his cock, letting out a soft exhale when he heard her voice. Please say my name again. Say my name again. It sounds so pretty coming from you, I’ve never liked my name more than when it’s being said by you. His mind wandered off once more. What positions does she like? Would she prefer missionary? She’d look so pretty under me while I fuck her, her tits would bounce so nicely with every thrust I make. Or would she want something more intense? Would she want me to take her from behind? Would she want to be in charge? What turns her on? Does she wear lingerie?
“Matt…?”
Matt grunted softly under his breath, the speed of his strokes increasing just barely enough to tell. He focused his attention back on the call. “H-Huh?”
“I asked what you did today,” she repeated. “Did you have a good day?”
It took a moment for her words to register in his brain, his mind foggy with lust and desire, his cock dripping with arousal. He gave his shaft a gentle squeeze, a low growl forming at the back of his throat. “It’s much better now,” he admitted, earning a giggle from her in return. He smiled. He loved being able to make her laugh. It was something that most people couldn’t do, but Matt did it so effortlessly. He took pride in it; even his brothers couldn’t make her laugh nearly as easily as Matt could. “Didn’t do much, just-“ he stopped, trying to think of something to say other than ‘i sat around beating off to your pictures all day’. He cleared his throat, a moan threatening to escape as the warmth in the pit of his tummy grew. “Just stayed in bed all day.”
She rolled her eyes again, and Matt felt his balls grow heavy with arousal, his thumb rubbing at his tip with each slow stroke he made. Matt’s lips parted; he wanted to moan so bad. He wanted her to see what she does to him. He wanted her to know just how badly he wanted her. His eyes became glossy as he lost himself in a daze, staring at her through the screen.
“Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”
Matt nodded, still not taking his hand out of his pants. This is so fucking wrong. Why am I doing this? I’m risking our entire friendship. “Hey, I uh- I gotta go,” Matt stated abruptly. He didn’t want to go. He never wanted to go a minute without her, but if he didn’t leave the call soon, he’d end up in a world of trouble for sure.
“Oh…okay, well call me ba-“
Click.
Matt dropped his phone down onto his desk and leaned back in his desk chair, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead as a thin layer of sweat began to form at his brow. He pushed his sweats and boxers down just enough to free his cock, a moan escaping him. He tugged the bottom of his sweatshirt and t-shirt up so as to not ruin it, a ritual that had become engraved into his brain from the regular reoccurrence of it. He grunted softly, tugging at his shaft desperately, his eyes screwing shut.
I need her. I need to have her, all of her. I need to feel her and taste her. I want to be between her legs, I want to taste how sweet she is, I want to watch her fall apart from just my tongue. I want to feel her squirm and run her fingers through my hair. I want to hear her whine and beg for more. Matt fisted at his cock, his strokes much faster than before. His breathing was uneven and heavy, almost panting like an animal. He needed her, he hungered for her, he craved her. Something about it was so primal. Every time he saw her or heard her, he had a full body reaction, one that he couldn’t control even if he wanted to.
Although, he really didn’t want to.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. As if on cue, his phone vibrated on his desk. His eyes fluttered open, a lustful dazed look glazing over his irises. He picked up his phone, a notification from snapchat flashing on his screen. Never ceasing his strokes, Matt opened the app and clicked on the new snap from her. His jaw went slack, pumping his cock in his fist even faster than before. He stared at her photo for much longer than he should have, but how could he not? She had her head tilted a bit, a confused look on her face with the words ‘not even a goodbye? so mean, matty’ printed across the photo.
“Fuck me,” he whimpered. She looks so cute when she’s confused. Fuck, the things I would do to paint her face with my cum while she looks at me like that…I’d probably get put on the FBI watchlist. He knew he needed to reply back soon, not wanting her to assume he was ignoring her. He just couldn’t bring himself to tap out of the photo. His cock ached, the desire building up inside of him. “Fuck, p-please,” he breathed out. Matt threw his head back, his strokes getting impossibly faster with each passing moment. Pre-cum oozed from his tip, his fist slick with his arousal.
Another snapchat notification from her came through and Matt inhaled sharply, tapping out of the photo and clicking on the new one. Matt choked out a whine, the muscles in his bicep tightening as he began to reach his high. “Fuck-“ he grunted. His breath caught in his throat as his mind went blank, pleasure coursing through his veins. It was like a drug to him. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling; It didn’t take long for him to get addicted to it, and soon enough once a day turned into twice a day, which turned into three times a day, which turned into too many fucking times to count.
He groaned, a string of vowels passing his lips, his jaw hanging low as he watched his cum spurt from his tip. He breathed in short heavy pants, slowing his strokes to ride out his orgasm. Five ribbons of white hot cum painted his lower stomach. His dick throbbed from the intensity of his orgasm and his body shivered as he slowly came down from his high.
It took a handful of minutes for Matt to realign his senses. His chest rose and fell with even breaths, his dick rested in the puddle of cum on his abdomen. He looked at his hand, his mess coating his fingers and his palm. I wonder if she’d lick my hand clean. Would she suck on my fingers? Would she look up at me with her infamous puppy dog eyes while she does it?
His eyes darted back to his phone, his heart racing as he quickly remembered that he still hadn’t replied to her. He groaned softly upon seeing her pretty face on his screen, her previous snap still on full display for him. He took another moment to admire her before tapping out of the photo. Matt quickly fixed his hair with his clean hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm. He picked his phone back up and quickly snapped a photo of himself. He typed a response before sending it to her.
Matt waited for a response, not caring about the mess that still hadn’t been attended to. The nerves in his brain lit up like a Christmas tree as she opened his snap, the endorphins filling him with dopamine as she sent back another photo. He was quick to open it, not caring if she caught on to his eagerness.
He tucked his cock back into his boxers, pulling them back up along with his sweats. He stood up, holding the bottom seam of his shirt up, quickly making his way to the bathroom to clean himself up. He peeked out into the hallway, making sure Nick and Chris weren’t anywhere near before slipping into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Matt cringed at the sticky feeling on his hand, quickly turning on the faucet at the sink, running his hand under the water to rinse most of his mess down the drain. He dried his hand, then grabbed a handful of tissues, cleaning up the rest of his cum before discarding the used tissues into the waste bin. He let his shirt fall down to cover his torso, his eyes landing on his reflection in the mirror. His gaze darted away, disgusted with what he saw.
You’re a terrible friend. If she ever found out, you’d be lucky to not have a restraining order against you. What the fuck is wrong with you. How can you even call yourself her best friend. You don’t deserve her.
He left the bathroom in a hurry, slipping back into his room, gently kicking the door shut behind him. He sat back down at his desk, picking up his phone once again.
Without a second thought, he opened his facetime app, clicking on her contact. The phone only rang twice before she answered, her pretty face illuminating the screen after the call connected. Matt offered her a warm smile, propping his phone up on his desk. “Sorry I hung up on you before,” he mumbled softly, scratching the back of his neck as his gaze landed on her. He picked his headset up off of his desk, holding it for her to see. “Wanna run duos with me?”
__________________
a/n: omg guys, what do we think is gonna happen?
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#matthew sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut#smut#bark bark bark#foaming at the mouth
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I came back from the movie theaters (Fnaf Movie) My lord I FREAKING LOVED IT THE WHOLE THING IDC AHHH
Ahem-
I saw that requests are open, SO a Platonic Headcanon Request if you don't mind, Fnaf (Movie) Animatronics with Gender-Neutral (17-soon to be 18) Reader as the new security guard? or maybe tags with Mike and possibly Abby? (Reader ain't tall just-idk 5'2 maybe I am projecting-)
(I know this request doesn't make sense because of the tiredness due to staying up late because of excitement. Feel free to delete this ask if its too complicated)
bonus: If you want to, You can also Include Chica's Cupcake
Have a nice day/night, From 📞 ☕ (PhoneCoffee) Anon
Oh I can definitely work with this ^^
......
When you started working at Freddy's overnight, you hoped this would be your last summer job ever before you turned 18.
"Steve" said it was all pretty straightforward: watch the cameras and make sure nobody broke in.
Easy as pizza pie, right?
Well, when you realized one of the animatronics very subtly moved from their usual spot, you wanted to check them out for yourself.
Plus, sitting in the office for six hours every night would def get boring as hell.
So you head to the main stage area, finding the whole gang mysteriously gone--Foxy included.
Then you get surprised by them emerging from different places in the pizzeria, eyes glowing a sinister yellow as they surround you, wary of your intentions.
"O-Oh hey..um..Fazgang?" You try your best not to look so terrified.
Surely someone was controlling them, right? They couldn't possibly hurt you.
Yet they stop and collectively realize "wait, isn't this a teenager? And why are they working this job??"
But since you're not wrecking anything in the pizzeria (or screaming bloody murder unlike the last guard), they spare you and are just very chill overall.
You now start to believe all the rumors of them being haunted by little children.....although not even that scares you.
On the second night, you learn that they can understand simple drawings--and that's how you pretty much communicate with them and build up trust.
While Bonnie is regarded as the "most aggressive", he was a real sweetheart who let you shine his guitar and hugged you tightly to express his thanks.
Alas you haven't found a way to stop it from constantly short-circuiting when he strums it...but you vow to figure something out.
Chica was equally as sweet, although for some reason Carl the Cupcake made you feel nervous.
The way he can be on the plate one moment and then disappear the next makes you worried that he'll sneak up on you and bite your ankles off.
But as long as Chica's around, that won't ever happen.
Although Foxy looks quite dangerous, you try your best to patch up the hole in his chest using some spare parts from backstage while being oblivious to the deadly Freddy mask saw trap in the corner, something he's grateful for.
He even sang you a little sea shanty as thanks!
Freddy was the first to be suspicious of you, but after seeing a drawing you made of him, he grows to like your presence, too. Especially after how nice you've been to his bandmates.
So you definitely survived more than five nights at this place--longer than anyone so far.
When Mike gets hired and comes in for his first shift with you, he's surprised that a teen is training him.
He suspects this was some lousy summer job you were forced to get and thinks you're gonna act miserable the entire time you work together and not actually teach him shit.
But as it turns out, you love your job!
You show him the Fazgang during their "showtime" performance and assure him that while they may look creepy, they're not bad at all.
And while you're not getting paid extra to do simple maintenance on them, you still enjoy trying to keep them in tip-top shape (especially Foxy, who needs repairs the most).
Mike seriously thinks you shouldn't be doing that as it's not in the job description AND it could be dangerous.
Even if you have expertise in robotics, he still thinks it's not worth losing a limb or finger to those complex contraptions.
Like he almost did after getting near a springlock suit.
But you just teasingly remind him who the trainer is..and he goes quiet.
Foxy overhears this, and you see him snickering from behind the Pirate's Cove curtain, amused by you basically schooling this 25-27 year old man.
Unfortunately he startled poor Mike, who looks over quickly.....only to find the fox standing in his usual position, acting completely normal.
"Was he just laughing at us...?"
"Nope." You play dumb, shrugging. "Must be his voice box malfunctioning....c'mon. Let's see if we can fix that."
Least to say, you're not gonna let him sleep on the job anytime soon.
#clanask#phone coffee anon#fnaf x reader#five nights at freddy's x reader#fnaf movie x reader#fnaf movie spoilers#platonic#teen reader#mike schmidt#freddy fazbear#bonnie the bunny#chica the chicken#foxy the pirate#headcanons
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Lost and Found - Eddie Munson x Reader (Part 2) | Part 1
WC: 7.0K / navi / preview / request
Summary: Eddie is happy to teach you everything he knows about DnD, he just wishes you weren't so goddamn distracting
Contents/Warnings: eddie n wayne, besties forever <3 very very fluffy lots of yearning and ridiculously cheesy moments, lovesick!eddie, reader wears a skirt and eddie's hellfire shirt from part 1, suggestive material, but still minor-friendly (part three will not be)
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
“Christ on a cracker, son,” Wayne swears, nearly pushed to the ground as Eddie slams the trailer door open, “Calm down.”
“Sorry Wayne!” Eddie barely takes a second to breathe before he flies through the space, feet pounding on the matted carpet of the trailer as he races to his bedroom.
“What’s the rush?” Wayne is well aware of his nephew’s recreational habits, as well as his business endeavors, and shudders to think that there might be some drug-crazed lunatic after the boy.
But Eddie pops his wide-eyed face out from his bedroom only seconds later, shirt and pants torn off to leave him in his boxers as he darts for the shower, “There’s a girl coming over.”
That’s a new one. Wayne has heard a few feminine voices outside the trailer before, when they’re out of stock and need replenishing, but Eddie never showers for them. He probably should, Wayne always tells the boy that if he stinks any worse he’ll have to move out, but he’s never shown an interest until now.
“And,” Wayne peers into the bathroom, seeing Eddie frantically combing out his hair, the plastic nearly snapping under the pressure he’s putting on it, “This is a special girl?”
“I- I don’t know,” Eddie huffs, his crazed panic still alive as he whirls around the bathroom for a clean towel, “Sort of. I don’t really know her yet.”
“Y’know ‘er enough to care.” Wayne prompts him, and Eddie deflates slightly. He’s looking in the mirror, trying to part his hair neatly so that he can wash it easier. He stops, his hands falling from his head to his sides as he stares hard at his reflection.
“I want to impress her.” Eddie admits, his usual self-assuredness now gone, “Or- impress isn’t right,” He puzzles for a moment, his eyes drifting over his features, “Just- I don’t want to scare her away.”
“Well I think it’s good you’re showering then,” Wayne lightens the mood, “‘Not sure she could handle your B.O.”
“Shut up,” Eddie takes the out, shoving at his uncle’s shoulder with no real force, “I’m gonna order pizza for us. She wants to learn how to play DnD.”
Wayne’s eyebrows skyrocket, “She wants to learn? Or have you kidnapped and brainwashed her like those basketball players tell me you do?”
“She’s under my control,” Eddie rasps, his voice thick in his throat.
Wayne snorts, standing up straight from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe, “Alright, boy. I’ll leave you to it, but if you need help getting ready for tonight, I’m here.”
“Thanks,” Eddie breathes, flashing his signature grin at his uncle before he shuts the door.
Wayne watches the closed door with something light and airy filling his chest, maybe laughing gas at the way he chortles hearing Eddie drop the comb into the sink for the tenth time since he started. Then he turns, and the reality of their home hits him.
It’s messy.
Far too messy to accept company, which is why the pair hasn’t for years. Aside from Eddie’s trusted friends, all of whom are far too sloppy themselves to bat an eye at the general clutter around the trailer, no one has set foot in their space for five long years.
Now, he’s all for encouraging Eddie to be himself, that if someone doesn’t like who he is, then they’re not fit for a friend. But he’s sure that you’re far too important to Eddie for that test just yet, and he’s not sure he wants you to get to know his nephew as messy when there’s so many other qualities he possesses. That’s something you can discover later, when you’re hooked on his charm and wit and won’t mind stepping on a pair of boxers or two to get down the hallway. He gets to work clearing away mindless clutter, collecting shirts strewn over the furniture and paper plates tucked under the couch.
By the time Eddie finishes showering (and falling, twice), Wayne has the entire living room de-cluttered, although most of the loose papers and items have made their way onto the kitchen table instead of being put in their places. Eddie steps out of the bathroom, towel tucked around his waist and a hand in his curls, dragging his fingers through the wet tangles, and he stops dead in the doorway, eyes wide.
“Shit,” He breathes, watching his uncle crouch to tug an empty beer can out from behind the door and stuff it into the trash bag he’s got going, “Wayne, what are you doing?”
“Cleaning up,” Wayne states the obvious, raising an eyebrow unimpressed at his nephew’s cognitive skills, “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Are-” Eddie stops combing through his hair, standing limply in front of his uncle, “Are you doing this ‘cause Y/N’s coming over?”
“That’s her name?” Wayne smiles, “‘S a pretty one.”
“You are,” Eddie marvels, “Uh, thanks, Wayne.”
Wayne’s hands and knees burn against the scratchy carpet, the beer can in his hands sharp from being crushed. He stands, the worn fabric of his flannel falling limp against his distressed jeans. He stands there, tattered and messy, looking at the way Eddie’s cleaned himself up.
He’s wearing a tank top, a KISS shirt that he was gifted on his tenth birthday. It’s got tour dates on the back, one of which Wayne took Eddie to as a present. Apparently it didn’t look good enough as a t-shirt though, because the boy had taken scissors to it a few years back, carving out holes the size of craters that expose part of his side.
His hair is bundled up in a bun atop his head, scrunched up and crimping itself while it dries. He always tells Eddie not to do that, to leave it down so that each strand can dry individually, but Eddie hates the feeling of wet hair on his skin, so he pulls it up and leaves it sitting until he can blow-dry it.
The same ripped jeans he’d worn to school are back on his waist, belt cinched tight around him with his handcuffs pinned there. Wayne always tells him he’ll confuse someone, make them think he’s an undercover cop, but Eddie only laughs at him. There’s a chain hooked through his belt that rests on his hip, dipping close to his knee and gleaming in the artificial light above them.
There’s two necklaces bouncing against his chest as he walks over to help Wayne with the overflowing trash bag, his typical guitar pick and a dog tag he’d found in the street one day. It says Sprinkles on one side, but Eddie swears that it looks metal if he turns it the other way, the owner’s number stamped across it.
He has an earring in. Eddie almost never puts an earring in, because his at-home ear piercing hadn’t produced the most sanitary results. He says it burns when he wears earrings, but here he is, a heavy silver hoop through one ear and a black cuff pinched tight at the helix of the other.
Wayne looks at his nephew, his boy, and pride surges through his chest. Pride, a little bit of awe, and happiness. He cares. This is something Eddie really cares about, you are something Eddie really cares about, and it’s obvious by the things he’s done for you before you’ve even come over. Eddie has always cared, perhaps a bit too much, and it’s easy to tell when he does from the little things he pieces together to show it.
“You look good, boy.” Wayne breaks the careful silence the two had slipped into, watching Eddie tug the straps to the garbage bag. He reddens slightly, his cheeks flaring in color, something akin to the shade of the tomato soup he’d managed to botch for last thursday’s dinner. How the boy had undercooked a can of soup, he’d never know.
“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie mumbles, forearms flexing as he ties a knot into the strings of the garbage bag, “I’ll take this out.”
“We should start on your room,” Wayne points out as Eddie tries making his frantic exit, spooked by praise. Eddie nods once, and Wayne lets him escape to the dumpster to process the emotions he’s got swirling inside of him.
He knows the boy gets shy around praise, which is why he tries not to overwhelm him. But today is different, today is a bigger step than he’s seen Eddie take in a long time, and it’s hard not to burst with pride.
When Eddie comes back inside Wayne is already tiptoeing around his room, dodging suspicious socks and cassette tapes strewn about. Eddie gets to work stacking those, a comfortable silence falling over the pair as they set to work.
“Wayne?” Eddie’s voice is timid, meek.
“Yeah?” Wayne reaches under his bed, pulling out a magazine that he shouldn’t have and a sock, something Wayne doesn’t want to think about as a pair.
“Do you.. Do you really think I look nice?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth he’s stammering, shaking his head so that his bun wobbles dangerously, “I- I mean, like- not like nice, but do you… you think she’ll like it?”
“Son, if she asked you to teach her about your game, I’m sure she’s not scared of you.”
“But is that enough? Shouldn’t she,” Eddie abandons the cassettes in his hand, scratching bashfully at the back of his neck and combing through the stray hairs there, “I dunno, like me? Not just not hate me?”
“Well I’d give her some time if I were you,” Wayne chuckles, reminded of the restlessness of youth, “You’ve only known her a day.”
“Right.” Eddie nods frantically, eyes glued to the tapes he busies himself with again, “Yeah, I will.”
“Hey,” Wayne reaches out, bracing a hand on Eddie’s knee that’s bouncing frantically, “You’ve got this, boy. You can do this. She’ll love you.”
The word love has Eddie’s cheeks flaring the color of it, a deep red that Wayne sees most often on valentine’s day cards. He chuckles once more at his nephew’s crush, shaking his head and getting back to sorting through clutter.
--
By the time Eddie’s watch beeps, a tinny, mechanical sound that has him leaping onto his feet to rush for the door, they’ve gotten his room mostly under control. There’s a pile of dirty laundry stull bulging out of the closet, but that can’t be avoided, as the hamper is broken from a rather unfortunate sledding endeavor a few months back. You’ll just have to live with the sight of yesterday’s t-shirt in the corner, they decide.
“Okay, uh- thanks, Wayne.” Eddie brushes his hands on his pants, already sweaty from nerves, “I’m gonna go pick her up now.”
“Right,” Wayne stands, trash bag in hand with all of Eddie’s discarded food wrappers and beer cans, “Good luck, son.”
The term flares up Eddie’s blush again, but Wayne doesn’t comment on it, offering him a quick hug, a simple pat to the back. It’s all Eddie can handle right now, already a bundle of nerves that he doesn’t want spilling out.
“There’s a $10 on the fridge,” Wayne calls out after Eddie bounds down the steps of the trailer,tugging the rubber band out of his hair and letting it spill over his shoulders, “Use it for pizza!”
“No, no,” Eddie waves his uncle off, plunging his hand into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, “I got it!”
“Eddie,” Wayne glares at the stubborn boy, “Use the money on the fridge.”
Eddie balks at the aggressively kind gesture, but a wry smile curves over his lips, “Whatever. I’ll just sneak cash into your jacket while you’re asleep.”
“You will not,” Wayne huffs, but Eddie’s already taken off for his van, slamming the door behind him with a hearty laugh at his uncle’s grouchiness.
When Eddie pulls up to your house, having checked the little slip of paper buried in his pocket, oh, around a thousand times, one of the upstairs lights is on. It’s the only one on, the rest of the windows pitch black, and Eddie worries that maybe something is wrong. Your house looks near abandoned, but at the rough chugchugchugging of his engine, a downstairs light flicks on. He catches your silhouette thumping down the stairs and sees the outline of a skirt over your hips. His stomach flips and he shuts off the van, hurrying out so that he can beat you to the door. It seems gentlemanly, something he’s never been too concerned about, but it feels right in the moment.
He’s inches from the door as you wrench it open, a fist raised to knock while you step out of it, not expecting him there on the other side. Your eyes widen but you can’t stop your momentum, stumbling clumsily into his chest despite your efforts to slow down.
“Oh!”
“Eddie!” You speak in unison, your voices mingling just as your limbs do. His arms wind around your waist, laying over his hellfire shirt that you’ve tucked into the waistband of your skirt. The material is soft under his touch, but not as soft as your face, which hits his shoulder in your scuffle. Eddie feels a burst of warmth flood through him at the skin-on-skin contact, and holds you steady as you right yourself against his chest. Your hands brace themselves frantically on his stomach, your chest heaving as you gape at him, “I’m so sorry! I- I wasn’t paying attention, I just heard you coming, and- and,”
“If you were that excited to see me,” Eddie doesn’t know how he’s being as suave as he is, because his heart is practically hammering through his ribcage to affix itself to you like a lovesick leech, “You could have asked me to come earlier.”
You feel your cheeks flare with heat as you slump forwards, the crown of your head hitting Eddie’s clothed chest, “Stoooop.”
Eddie chuckles, adjusting the pitch of his voice to your own, “Stoooop.”
“You’re mocking me!” You shove at him lightly, making him stumble a step backwards, “You’re the worst.”
“Hey,” Eddie finally lets you go, his skin instantly cold where it had once touched yours, “You gotta be nice to me. I’m teaching you DnD, remember?”
“Fine,” You huff dramatically, “You get a pass, but only for tonight!”
“Deal.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with mischief, “Ready?”
“Ready.” You confirm, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet.
“Van’s there,” Eddie gestures to his van, nearly tripping over his own feet when you grab his hand, eagerly tugging him along, “Woah!”
“I told you I was ready.” You gush, the words coming out in a soft giggle that makes his heart burst.
You look out of place in his van, too heavenly to be wriggling comfortably into his worn seats. There’s a half-drunk water bottle by your feet that crunches beneath your shoe, and you apologize hurriedly for crushing it.
“‘S okay sweetheart,” Eddie snickers, reaching down to pluck it out from under your feet, “It’s, like, months old.”
“Eddie,” You chide, “It’s probably growing something!”
“It’s fine,” He urges, snickering at your horror, “It’ll put some hair on your chest.”
He leaves you with that, shutting the door to your side of the car and jogging around to the driver’s side door. He wrenches it open, his hair bouncing against his chest as he sits down with a flounce. The radio that he has is already preloaded with the cassette tape he uses whenever he drives Wayne anywhere, his favorite metal artists and their less-overwhelming songs. Wayne always says heavy metal ‘makes his ears bleed’, he’s more into classic rock, but Eddie will be damned if he isn't listening to Mötley Crüe on any drive longer than two minutes. He figures that he’ll be courteous to you at first, just in case metal isn’t your thing either.
To his surprise, a minute into Merry Go Round, your brow dips in concentration.
“Mötley Crüe, right?”
Eddie swears he nearly passes out. His usual response to surprising information, a dramatic flailing of his limbs, doesn’t seem very safe just now, and you’re lucky he doesn’t jerk the wheel to the side.
“Yeah,” He grins dazedly, “You listen?”
“Sometimes!” You pick at a loose thread on your skirt, “I’m into a bit of everything. Really jus’ whatever comes on the radio.”
Eddie suddenly likes you more, if possible. Everything new that he learns about you only adds to the little list of Reasons he Cares, the first and most important being that you’re kind to him. He would never admit it, but he’s like a little lost puppy, trailing after the first person to scratch behind his ears.
“I like your van.” You muse, and it’s so genuinely sweet it nearly makes Eddie scream. You brush your fingers over a Black Sabbath sticker that’s peeling off of the dash, reaffixing the dusty backing to the smooth plastic. It doesn’t stay, it pops right back up again, but you’re onto the next detail now, a pair of old sneakers in the door, autographed by the patrons that watch him perform with his band.
“These are cool,” You marvel at the sloppy, mostly-drunken signatures scrawled over the canvas, “Who are they?”
“Our fans,” Eddie boasts proudly, even though he’s sure seven hammered 40 year olds aren’t the most impressive thing in the world when it comes to an audience, “They watch us perform, remember my band I told you about?”
Eddie watches your eyes light up from the rear-view mirror, but you’re lucky he doesn’t take his eyes off the road completely to see them unfiltered.
“That’s right!” You remember your earlier conversation, “That’s so cool, Eddie, you’ve got fans!”
“We do,” He chuckles, fingers sweating against the steering wheel as you near his trailer, “You should come to one of our shows sometime.”
“If I do, do I get to sign the sneakers?” You’re far too excited to put your name on a pair of ratty old shoes, repurposed as a trophy, but Eddie would be willing to buy a new pair just so that your name can be the only one on the fabric. He thinks about that, about having your name displayed over him, and blushes. He hopes you don’t catch it.
“Of course you can,” Eddie promises, turning much more carefully than he normally does into his typical parking spot, the van sputtering to a stop when he removes the key. He turns to you before you open the door, “How about this saturday?”
“Next,” You compromise, “My parents get back Saturday night and I can’t be out without them knowing.”
“Your parents are gone?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, crimped hair bouncing as he does.
“They’re getting the last of our stuff from our old house,” You nod solemnly, “We don’t even have mattresses here yet.”
“No shit? What have you been sleeping on?”
“The couch,” You recount sadly, “It’s not very comfortable, but it’s better than the floor.”
“Damn,” Eddie sympathizes, yanking on the latch of his door and hopping down, “Well, babe, I’ve got a mattress inside, if you’re interested in staying the night.”
It’s bold, brazen, uncouth, but he tops it off with a teasing grin, so it’s okay. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, happy that it mostly filled the empty van as he slams his door, rounding the front to open your own for you.
“Very gentlemanly,” You praise him, slipping your hand into his to step down from the lifted van, “I’m impressed.”
“Well don’t get used to it,” He teases, squeezing you against his side with a hand that drifts suspiciously low, “I’m not usually this nice.”
“I must be special.” You concur, giddiness in your grin that sends Eddie’s stomach into a cartwheel.
You are, Eddie nods once at you, afraid to voice his thoughts in case they somehow ruin the unspoken adoration between you, More than you know.
Eddie’s pleased to find nothing but a slight oil stain in Wayne’s usual parking spot, his uncle having predicted that Eddie would want alone time with you. He’s half expecting to find a box of condoms on the kitchen counter when he walks in with you, but flicking on the light of the trailer reveals only a spotless living space, junk shoved in drawers to be dealt with later.
“I like it.” You decide with a curt nod, eyes landing on the array of DnD paraphernalia stacked on the couch, “Oh, I almost forgot! I brought you this.”
You reach into the waistband of your skirt, the slim paperback book you were reading earlier neatly molded to your side. It doesn’t retain the curve of your side, flattening back out into its shape as you hold it out to Eddie.
You swear you catch his eyes wandering towards the spot that you’d just pulled the book from, but they snap up to meet your own before you can verify it. He takes the book from you with an eager grin, “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Y’wanna swap?” You stride over to the couch, plucking a book titled Players Handbook: Compiled Information for Players and Dungeon Masters out of the pile.
Eddie falters slightly, surprised that you’re so eager to get into what might be the least exciting part of learning DnD: the rules.
“Sure,” He nods carefully, taken aback, “Lemme just clear the couch.”
He bends over to do so, and you can’t help that your eyes trace the newly-exposed skin of his chest. The shirt he’s wearing already reveals his side, but as his arms stretch to grab boxes and papers off of the cushions in front of you, it shifts to show his stomach.
You don’t realize you’re staring until he stops in front of you, an eyebrow raised that you don’t catch because you’re ogling him.
“Everything okay?” To your horror, there’s a twinge of amusement in his voice, and you’re certain he’s caught you.
“Yes!” You scramble to act casual, thumbing past the cover of the book to appear busy, “Yes, let’s get started.”
Eddie sits before you do, surveying you with that same cocky gaze. It makes you nervous, your stomach churning slightly, and you perch on the end of the couch that he’s not spread out over.
He lets out a scoff, reaching out, “You can get comfortable, Y/N, I don’t bite.”
He does, however, grab, which you find out when he yanks your legs out from under you, tugging them outwards so that they rest over his lap. He’s reclined against both the arm of the couch and the back cushion of it, looking far too composed for the rampage of butterflies against his stomach.
You melt into your new position so naturally that it scares you. It feels right, cracking the spine of the handbook while your legs are draped casually over Eddie’s lap. Stretching out and getting comfortable on Eddie’s couch seems just as casual as it does on your couch, and you can’t help the dizzy grin that spreads over your face as you realize this.
“Somethin’ funny?” Eddie’s brow quirks at your expression, and you bury it behind the book, shaking your head.
“Right,” He sets a hand over your ankles, locking your legs into their position on his lap, “Lemme know if you’re confused, babe, I’m here to help.”
--
Though the DnD handbook is informative, and slightly exhilarating to peruse, you hope that the actual gameplay is less complicated than it sounds. You’re barely twenty pages in, a good 40 minutes gone by, and you’re not sure you can keep all of the information straight in your head. Hopefully Eddie cuts you some slack, or else you might seriously slow down their game.
"Page?" Eddie glances up from the pages of your novel, peering over at the handbook in your grip.
You look to the corner of the page from where you'd been reading up on character classes, "23."
"The Fighter." He speaks in a low voice, raspy and dramatic. You giggle, half amused by his theatrics and half impressed that he's managed to memorize the 130-page handbook in front of you.
"What about you?" You glance pointedly at the book in his hands, shifting your feet in his lap slightly. You don't realize it, but they press against a rather sensitive spot, and Eddie hunches slightly, his stomach caving in as he tries remaining composed.
"Uh," His eyes frantically skim the page, wide and panicked until they lock on a familiar name, "Weylin- Weylin is just, uh, crossing over the Bridge of Lost Souls."
"Ooh," You wriggle slightly in your place on the couch, consequently burrowing your feet further into Eddie's lap, "I love that part! You meet Ionia soon, you'll love her!"
He can’t take it anymore.
“Uh,” He shoots off of the couch, lowering your feet carefully back down to the cushions where he was sitting, “I’m getting kinda hungry. Pizza time?”
“Pizza time.” You nod jovially, flipping a page in the handbook, seemingly unconscious of Eddie’s predicament, “Pepperoni?”
“And sausage.” Eddie nods, “Be right back.”
When he comes back, tugging a crumpled bill out of his pocket to use for the food and pointedly avoiding his uncle’s money, you tuck your legs up under you to set him sit down. He peers over the top of the handbook, eyes drifting to the words appearing upside-down in front of his face.
His nose hooks over the tops of the pages, and you can’t help it: you giggle. He glances up amusedly at you, his own sweet laugh filling the air as he crumples into your lap. You raise the book over your head so that he doesn’t have to slip under it, and his eyes meet yours from where he lays on your legs.
You stare down at him, entranced by his features. His soft cheeks, his sloped nose, the tinge of red that spreads over his skin. His eyes, shiny and smooth, like melted chocolate that you can taste on your tongue. You brush a hand over his forehead, gathering up loose flyaway hairs that have gathered there. They’re malleable and wiry in your grip, and you twirl them around your finger once, twice, thrice, until they form a spiraled curl.
His eyes follow your finger, doe-like as they cross to track your movement. When you let the hair go it springs off of your finger, bouncing down to rest over his nose, and his eyes dart inwards to follow it.
Apparently it tickles his nose, because he scrunches it up, miniscule wrinkles etched like waterways on a map into his skin. You smooth the terrain, running the soft pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose and marveling how his face relaxes as your touch waves over it.
He shivers slightly under your finger, and you notice a bridge of freckles, the lightest you’ve ever seen, dotting his nose. They stand strong over all of the rivers you have yet to flatten, stretching down towards his mouth in beautiful smile lines.
“You’re pretty.” You muse, your voice barely more than a whisper as you trace his features. He lets his eyes flutter shut when your fingers brush under them, his lashes tickling your skin.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” He coos, the softness of his voice gaping that growing sinkhole of adoration that’s been tugging at your chest ever since you met him. His pretty face, his sweet words, his kind actions, all of them mark him as safe, as good, as loveable.
With his eyes closed, you’re allowed to be as obvious as you want when ogling him, not that you were very subtle before. Your eyes latch onto his lips in a similar fashion as you want your own to do, roving over every crease, mark, and indent in the soft, pillowy muscles.
Before you can think about it, you touch them. Your fingers, their pads soft and hesitant, prod gently at his lips. That has his eyes shooting open, carmeled brown irises meeting yours in shock.
Though you feel his gaze on you, you don’t stop. You let your hands linger on his face, soaking up every second of dazzlingly intimate contact you can get with the man. He studies your face while you study his, the both of you barely breathing while watching the other sit pretty. You swear you feel Eddie’s lips shift under your fingers, puckering ever-so-slightly to kiss the tips of your fingers, but then-
The hollow, sharp knock on the door of Eddie’s trailer shatters the intimacy of the moment, plunging you back into reality from the serene haze you’d been trapped in. You both fall from the clouds you’d lounged atop, plummeting back to earth with the thump of your hearts in your chests.
“I’ll get it,” Eddie scrambles up from where he’s draped over your lap, rushing to the door and snatching the cash off of the counter. You straighten yourself out while he grabs the pizza, cheeks aflame as you look around the room to avoid looking at him. You see a stack of vhs movies in the corner by the television set, and your eyes catch a familiar title.
Labyrinth.
“Okay,” Eddie sets the pizza on the counter, grateful for the paper plates the place provided you, “One slice or two?”
“Two,” You grin eagerly, reaching for the tape, “Are you the reason this was missing from the video store yesterday?”
He laughs at the sight of the VHS in your hands, “Yep, ‘had it since it came out.”
“Rude,” You scoff, “I wanted to watch it last night!”
“Bummer,” Eddie scrunches his brows, faux-sympathy written on his face, “‘Guess you’ll just have to come over whenever you wanna watch it.”
“Well I’m here now…” You push, clutching the case hopefully.
“Pop it in,” Eddie laughs, gesturing towards the machine, “‘Should be rewound already.”
You kneel by the VHS player while Eddie brings your plates over, and your back faces him. It gives him the perfect opportunity to ogle you, only feeling slightly guilty when his eyes trace the curve of your ass.
You turn before he can admire how the Hellfire shirt exposes the angles of your shoulders, abandoning its post and leaving your neck bare. He watches the skin there shift, muscles beneath the surface tensing as you crane it downwards to slide the tape into the receiver.
“We’ll work more on DnD later,” Eddie promises as the main titles roll, music filling the otherwise silent trailer, “We’ve still gotta get a character figured out for you.”
“‘M excited,” You speak through a mouthful of greasy pizza, pepperoni sticking to your lip, “Thanks for the pizza, Eddie.”
“‘Course sweetheart,” He grins at you, then hides his blush in the red tomato sauce on his bread.
Eddie truly believes that you’ll go over more later for the game. But when you finish both slices of your pizza, hands covering your stomach tenderly as he’s sure it’s stuffed, and curl up against the arm of the couch, he knows nothing else is getting done tonight. Your eyes are glued to the screen, Sarah’s dress glittering as her hair flounces with every movement of the couple. He’s never been a Bowie fan, but he reckons you are by the way your eyes shine whenever he’s on screen.
He’s jealous of David Bowie.
Oh, fuck, he never thought he’d sink this low. But he feels something unfamiliar and sharp prod at his chest whenever you pay just a little too much attention to the man on screen, and he prods at your feet with his own.
“Hoggin’ the couch,” He chides you, with no real scorn as he tangles his legs with yours, “Stretched out like you own the place.”
“Sor-ry,” You huff dramatically, clocking his teasing grin and knowing he’s just messing around, “It’s not my fault your couch is comfier than mine.”
Eddie remembers your admission, that you’ve been sleeping on your couch for god-knows-how-long, and his stomach sours. He studies your face, the way that your eyelids droop even though you’re clearly enjoying the movie, the wrinkling of your chin as you yawn. You’re clearly exhausted, and his space is the comfort you need.
He feels something akin to pride at that. You not only feel comfortable enough around him to curl up on his couch, but you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep. He might be new at this, the whole relationship thing, but he knows that’s big.
Suddenly he doesn’t feel such a large blade of jealousy stabbing at his heart anymore, because you’re not cuddled up to David Bowie on David Bowie’s couch, are you? No. You’re curled up with him, on his couch.
Take that, Bowie.
--
It’s around the one-and-a-half hour mark, only ten minutes before the movie ends, that he realizes he’s the only one watching. He’s been glancing back and forth between the screen and you for ages now, but when he checks up on you this time, you’re asleep. He can see your chest rising and falling, his shirt still worn proudly over your frame, and a sleepy smile curves over his face. Your lashes kiss your cheeks, casting shadows down your face that look like spiderwebs. It looks cool, and he makes a mental note to ask you if you’d let him put eyeliner on you to see if he can turn it into a spiderweb. It’s a design he’s been meaning to do on himself, but if he needs a model, why would you turn him down?
The end of the movie isn’t so entrancing to him anymore now that you’re snoozing, and once more he lets his eyes drift over your frame. Your skirt is tucked neatly under your bum, but your thighs peek out of it, soft and plumped by the way you’re laying. Then his eyes rove over your shirt, the familiar, hand-crafted design looking better on you than it ever has on him or his friends. It’s odd, seeing the shirt on anyone but the boys in his friend group, but he quickly decides that it’s his favorite outfit of yours, and that nothing in the world could top it.
The end credits announce themselves in an encore of the film’s soundtrack, and Eddie reluctantly parts from the cozy embrace you’ve found yourself in. He ejects the tape, stuffing it back into its case and tucking it carefully back onto the stack. Now that he knows it’s his ticket to time spent with you, he’s much more reluctant to take it back to Family Video tomorrow like he’d planned. Maybe he’ll keep it, late fee be damned.
“Y/N,” He hates the thought of waking you, but he hates the thought of inconveniencing his uncle even more, and you’re curled up on what will become Wayne’s pull-out.
“Y/N,” He tries again, soft and soothing as he taps your shoulder gently, “Wake up, we’ve gotta get you home.”
The clock only reads 10:23, but he’d feel guilty getting you home at an indecent hour. Typically, Eddie’s philosophy is etiquette be damned, but he has a feeling you wouldn’t be too happy about being dumped on your front porch after two in the morning.
“Y/N,” He slips a hand under your torso, his other sliding under your legs, “C’mon, wake up.”
You don’t. You must have really had trouble sleeping on your couch, because now that you’re dozing off, you don’t seem to wake up easily. Worry gnaws at Eddie’s chest as he hoists you into his arms and you don’t wake, only sighing contentedly and curling closer to him.
His eyes widen and his cheeks burn as you snuggle up to him unconsciously, your cheek pressed against his KISS-clad chest. Your nose nudges into his neck and he swears he sees stars, his knees weakening at the intimate contact like you hadn’t just been touching his lips hours beforehand.
“‘Gonna be the death of me,” He mutters, voice devoid of any real anger as he trudges down the hall to his room. His bed is neatly made, pillows stacked at the head that he reaches up and kicks down with one of his socked feet. It flops flat onto the mattress with a thump, and Eddie lowers you as carefully as humanly possible onto the bed. You aren’t too keen to let go, though, because your arms stay tightly wound around his neck. He tries straightening but you come right back up with him, brows scrunching in displeasure at being jostled around.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie laughs, lovestruck, “‘Gotta let go.”
“Eddie,” You mumble hazily, sound far too much like a lover he’s just accidentally jostled by getting out of bed to get ready for work in the morning, “Don’ go.”
“I can’t leave you here,” He reasons, returning your favor and smoothing out the wrinkle in your brows with his thumb, “I’ve gotta grab my keys and shoes, then we’ll take you home.”
“Nooo,” You whine, sleep tugging at your voice, “‘S too cozy here. I don’t wanna leave.”
“But no one knows you’re staying here,” Eddie’s afraid that your parents might come home early, discover their child missing, and storm his trailer with pitchforks, “Don’t you wanna head back home to your own bed?”
"Couch.” You mumble grouchily, “My parents aren't home," Your voice is groggy and weak, but Eddie swears it's more angelic than any hymn he's ever heard, "'S okay."
"Are you sure?" He reaches up, smooths a hand over your forehead then down your cheek without thinking, but before he can panic over the intimate gesture you're leaning into it, letting out a contented hum that quite reminds him of a kitten's purr.
"'M sure," You promise, already curling up cozily beneath his blanket, looking far too natural and perfect in a space you'd never occupied before, and Eddie feared, never would again.
"Okay." He's breathless and weak as your eyes drift shut, his hand lingering against the curve of your face, "G'night sweetheart."
He isn’t sure what to do from there. He could move his hand, he probably should move his hand, so that he doesn’t stand there for hours holding you, but that seems all the more tempting with every passing second. He marvels at his luck, how he’s managed to get to heaven without dying. Unless he is dead. But he’s almost certain he’ll be sent to hell for the sheer amount of drugs he’s sold to high school students, so he’s sure it isn’t that.
You must be an angel, he decides, one that isn’t afraid of the devil everyone says he is. He gets a brief vision of matching halloween costumes to that effect, a wiry halo perched on your head while devil ears adorn his. The scene’s unfiltered domesticity stuns him, along with how perfect it feels. It doesn’t feel awkward or forced, instead like something you’d come up with on the phone at ungodly hours and commit to months before the holiday.
He’ll bring the idea up to you tomorrow.
For now, he has to figure out where he’s sleeping. He’s not taking Wayne’s bed, but you’re in his, and that would be wrong.
Right?
Eddie studies the way your body is laid out on his mattress, knees tucked towards your chest and arms bundled up below your face, clutching the blanket he’d thrown over you. You take up a fraction of the mattress, the side that he normally sleeps on still unobscured.
Would it really be that bad if he laid opposite you? He wouldn’t touch you, he wouldn’t throw an arm over your waist, he wouldn’t tangle his legs with yours, he wouldn’t press a soft kiss to your forehead before drifting off. He wouldn’t.
He wants to, though.
He gives into another temptation, hopefully his last for the night, and lets himself indulge in your presence. He slides onto the end of the mattress, careful not to disrupt you as you slumber.
It feels weird, having someone in his bed beside him. Weird, but good. He decides, in fact, that there’s no better feeling aside from your fingers on his lips, than you in bed beside him. He stares up at the ceiling, willing the urge to kiss your nose away before he can screw up the best thing that’s happened to him in years.
One single, cautious glance thrown your way, and it’s all over.
Your hand is bared towards him, the smooth skin on the back of it in perfect kissing-range. He would be an idiot not to, right? That’s what gentlemen do, after all, they kiss the back of their lady’s hand. Typically not without her knowledge, or while she’s in bed with him, but it’s the principle of it, not the specific scenario.
He reaches for your hand hesitantly, and once his skin brushes yours he sees fireworks that light up the dark room. They nearly short out his vision, and when he sees clearly again, your hand is poised directly in front of his lips, his own hand still clutching it securely.
“Sleep good, sweetheart.” He whispers, near-inaudible in the darkness, then his lips press delicately against your hand.
Such unimaginable warmth and giddiness fill his chest, that he’s sure he’ll explode. There’s going to be Eddie Guts on the walls and ceiling, rotted sickly sweet from how infatuated with you he’s become in such a short time. Kissing you, albeit only your hand, feels like something he wants to do for the rest of his life, and he can only hope you’re gracious enough to grant him that privilege.
That’s a discussion for the morning, though, or never, Eddie reminds himself. He’s just kissed your hand in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping like a creep, he might not be too eager to admit that to you in the morning in a desperate plea to do it again. He refrains from peppering the rest of your skin in adoring kisses, but keeps your hand clutched in his own, marveling at the way that you can warm him up completely from a single touch.
It must be an angel thing, he decides, as he drifts off into a happy slumber, tomorrow he’ll ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven.
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#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson one-shot#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson headcanon#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson hc#eddie munson hcs#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson dialogue#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader fanfiction#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things
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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.
Go With This
Prompt Day 30: New Year's Eve | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Underage Drinking, Weed, Off-Screen Sex While Under the Influence | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, New Year's Eve Party, All the Teens, Kissing at Midnight, Getting Together, Morning After, Eddie POV
"Gareth, no!" Eddie screams, as he steps through the doorway, but it's too late. The bottle of champagne pops open, exploding all over Steve's kitchen.
"Oh, fuck!" Gareth says, trying to control the spray, but it's useless. He's making it worse instead of better. Gareth didn't shake it up on purpose, but Eddie watched him poking at the cork with his pocket knife and knew something bad was gonna happen.
Gareth is flailing around, shouting, "I'm sorry!"
Steve's already waving him off, grabbing a towel off the counter, then some paper towels, and finally the mop for good measure. It's going to be a goddamn sticky mess when it dries, that's for damn sure.
"It's okay," Steve says, but Eddie can see that his jaw is tense, clenched.
They didn't even ask if they could have New Year's Eve here at his house, they all just decided that's what they were doing, and made Steve go with it.
Eddie gets down and tries to help wipe it up, but he's pretty faded. Argyle brought the good shit, and Eddie's been going out back with him and Jonathan all night long.
But, Steve smiles at him, so maybe Eddie isn't on Steve's shit-list.
The ball drops, and it's 1987. He made it through 1986, thank fucking Christ. Eddie watches everyone take turns kissing each other. Weird. He thinks he could have lived without seeing Nancy kiss Jonathan, and then Steve, back-to-back. But then she kisses Argyle, and Argyle kisses Jonathan as Nancy kisses Robin.
Is this an orgy?
Was Eddie invited to an orgy and didn't know it?
Or, do preppy kids have a version of key parties? Eddie looks for a fishbowl.
Gareth gawks at him, like, what the fuck and Eddie stares. He doesn't know either. Clearly not wanting to be left out, Gareth kisses Goodie, much to Goodie's chagrin. Jeff just laughs, and then kisses Eddie, and it's weird, but okay, he guesses.
Then, Nancy presses her lips to his.
He's kissed Nancy Wheeler now. In what world?
But, okay. That's okay, too, he supposes.
It wasn't sexual. He's sure of that, and if he had any concerns, they'd have evaporated a second later, once he sees Robin kiss Steve. It's the weirdest thing he's seen yet, even if it's only a hard pucker of a kiss that nobody would ever mistake for being romantic. It looked more like a hostage situation, and Robin immediately wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, hard.
"Rude," Steve says, and Robin laughs.
Then, Steve looks at him, and Eddie falters.
Steve's gonna kiss him.
Eddie watches Steve lean in, and Eddie doesn't know if he needs to go with this, or flee the country. It's too late to choose, because Steve presses his lips to Eddie's, and Eddie's hand isn't connected to his brain anymore, because he lifts it, cupping Steve's neck.
Steve startles, but only for a second, then opens his mouth over Eddie's, and now they're kissing kissing. Not just the friendly peck Steve offered everyone else.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
Eddie tries to extract himself from this, but Steve's fingers are digging into his back, and Eddie can feel everyone's eyes on them. They're never gonna live this down.
Steve finally lets him go, and Eddie makes a move to step away, but Steve grabs his hand.
"Happy New Year," Steve says to the room, and heads for the staircase, dragging Eddie along behind him.
Oh shit.
But Eddie follows, willingly. Letting Steve pull him to his bedroom. Letting Steve yank his shirt over his head, letting Steve press kisses to his chest, his scars. Hands roaming, both of them pulling off clothes, grabbing at each other.
This is really happening.
Eddie tries to toe off his Reeboks, but realizes he's wearing his boots, and almost falls over. Steve doesn't let him, and just squats down, and starts unlacing them. Pulling the long laces loose, in swift movements.
It's hot. It's so hot.
And Steve is eye level with his dick, and this is what dreams are made of, for sure.
Happy Fucking New Year.
In the morning, Eddie clomps across the kitchen floor in his unlaced boots, and the soles stick with every step. He gets a vaguely clean-looking glass from the countertop, and fills it with water.
And drinks, and drinks, and drinks.
He looks out over the living room, and can see Gareth on the couch, with one eye barely open. Clearly hungover. Maybe Eddie fucked up letting Gareth join them. Gareth's not that old, not yet. He's still in that weird middle-ground. Eddie was drinking and smoking at his age. Steve, too. But maybe they shouldn't encourage it. Maybe Gareth should have been sent to Dustin's kiddie party, instead. But Gareth would've fought that.
Gareth whistles low, a mocking catcall.
Eddie looks down. He's wearing his boxers, and his boots. And that's it. Fuck. Yeah, he's hungover, too.
Eddie doesn't give Gareth the satisfaction, so he twirls, showing off. Acting like he meant to look exactly like this.
Then, Steve stumbles into the kitchen, taking the glass from Eddie's hand, gulping down the rest of the water, and he's in his briefs, and that's it. With a big-ass hickey on his neck, that Eddie is certain he's responsible for, even if he doesn't quite remember doing it.
"Steve's hairy," Gareth mumbles, and Eddie laughs, even if it kills his head.
They are all so hungover, it's ridiculous. Maybe he shouldn't have mixed champagne, beer and liquor with Argyle's weed.
But then Steve leans down, and puts his chin on Eddie's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Eddie's waist, hugging him from behind. No, Eddie thinks this is the best thing he's ever done, maybe.
Eddie leans back into him, and Steve kisses him on the bare shoulder.
"Happy New Year," Eddie says, quietly.
Steve chuckles, hugging him tighter, "Well, it sure has been so far."
Yeah, 1987 is definitely going to be Eddie's year.
Notes: Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented on and reblogged all my entries for this month-long challenge. I really enjoyed participating in this event so damn much. Thank you for reading! ❤️
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!
If you want to see the rest of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!
#steddieholidaydrabbles#new year's eve#partying#kissing at midnight#steddie#steddie ficlet#eddie munson#steve harrington#gareth (stranger things)#platonic stobin#stranger things#thisapplepielife: short fic#thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles
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more stobin nonsense from your resident trash goblin. feat. shitty harrington parents, lavender marriage, full party found family shenanigans, steddie flirting, steve&will bonding, and a severe lack of dialogue tags
rating: t
wc: 5k
ao3
“I knew it!”
Steve sighs. Listen, he knew the minute he opened his mouth that this was coming. There was always a zero percent chance Dustin was ever gonna let him get out the whole thing before bursting in with this exact interruption, but that doesn’t make it less annoying. If the little shithead would just let him finish--
"I knew you were perfect together, I can't believe you didn't tell us you were dating! How long have you been a thing? I have money to collect! Can I be your best man? Never mind, obviously I'm gonna be your best man. You so owe me for not telling me sooner! I cannot believe-"
"Henderson!"
"What?"
"We're not together like that."
In fairness, Dustin is not the only one to give them an incredulous look for that one.
"Steve. You literally just announced you and Robin are getting married. What is even the point of pretending you're not in love anymore? What are you still trying to prove? Just admit I was right the whole time!"
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and forces himself to take a deep breath, instead of wringing Dustin's weird little boneless neck. It's not his fault, he reminds himself. They haven't gotten to the second part of the announcement, so his assumptions are natural.
Now, it is Henderson's fault that they haven't managed to say the rest of what they came here to say, so maybe he can keep blaming him after all.
"Do you remember when we sat down and we asked you guys to let us say everything we were gonna say without interrupting?"
"Uh, yeah dude, it was like ten minutes ago. We're not stupid."
"Has it occurred to you that maybe we weren't done saying everything we were gonna say, considering I was halfway through a sentence when you jumped in?"
"I mean, I guess, but like, it's pretty obvious where you're going with this, Steve. You're not a complicated guy, no offense. Now, where did we land on the best man issue?"
Nancy must see the offense very much taken on his face, because before he can open his mouth and say something probably horrifically rude that would feel amazing in the moment and which he would immediately regret, she jumps to his rescue.
"Dustin, you're being very rude. Steve and Robin came here to talk to us, and we promised to listen. Let them finish."
It's nice of her to back Steve up, considering how weird this conversation must be for her. Hopefully it gets less awkward soon.
Henderson grumbles mutinously, but years of dealing with first Mike and then the rest of the little dickheads have left Nancy's control ironclad, and he waves sarcastically for Steve to continue.
This kid is spending too much time with Eddie, the attitude is getting out of hand.
"Right. Thanks, Nance. As I was saying, Robin and I are getting married, yes. But not because we're in love. I mean, I love her, obviously, but as a friend. Only a friend. Or, well, I guess a friend and soon a...friend...wife? Frife? Wend? You guys get it."
"We very much don't." Alright, well, fine, add Max to the shitlist.
He looks over at Robin, hoping for help, but she's stiff as a board and trembling all over.
He doesn't want to be the one to say the words for her. They agreed together to tell everyone the truth, it was her idea even, but the last thing he wants to do is steal that moment from her.
Maybe he can just…talk around it, until she feels up to it. And if not, he’ll just tell them his part of it and call it good.
“We’re getting lavender married.”
Okay, so that’s probably not like. A normal way to say that or whatever. Robin just used that term like fifty times last night, alright? She was really excited about the article she just read about it, something about how it was a thing in, like, olden times or whatever, and now it’s coming back because Reagan is a fucking tool, Steve’s not sure, he was only kind of listening. Regardless, now it’s stuck in his head. Sue him or whatever, geez.
Anyway, he isn’t sure how many people in this room will actually understand what that means, but Nancy’s mouth drops open in a perfect little O the way it only does when she’s genuinely surprised by something, and there’s a tiny gasp from over by the table that he thinks might have come from Will, and Max mutters to herself “Oh shit, that explains so much,” so it’s not none of them, which helps. No pitchforks yet, at least.
Jonathan is eyeing him speculatively, and Argyle is offering him an enthusiastic thumbs up, which is nice.
Unfortunately, the other boys and El are giving him blank, expectant stares, and Erica is eyeing him with both confusion and annoyance, so it looks like he still has some explaining to do.
“What the hell does your color scheme have to do with this? I’m not helping plan the wedding, dude, I don’t care that much.”
Steve mumbles a “Language,” on reflex, but his heart isn’t in it. This is somehow more nerve-wracking than evil Russians.
“Mike, that’s not what it means. Now shut up and listen, or I’ll tell Mom how that red sock ended up in her load of white delicates.”
“Oh come on, she’ll kill me!” When all he gets in return is a single raised eyebrow, he groans and slumps further into his seat, glaring at Steve.
“Right. Okay. So basically, last night, my parents--”
“I’m a lesbian!”
There’s a beat of dead silence, which in this group is more unsettling than just about anything else.
Steve keeps his eyes on Robin, who looks just about as shocked at her own outburst as everyone else in the room. He takes her hand, squeezing gently until she unfreezes a little and looks back over at him. She looks terrified, and it breaks his heart a little.
“You okay, babe?” He keeps his voice low, murmuring just loud enough for her to hear. He knows this moment is the opposite of private, but she needs him to pretend for a second, so that’s what he’s gonna do.
She nods, a little jerkily, but she grips his hand back and intentionally evens out her breathing. She’s so fucking brave. He would burn the world down for Robin Buckley, and he doesn’t care who knows it.
He can’t believe she’s willing to do this for him, but he’s so grateful he feels like he’s choking on it.
“Henderdork will literally never shut up and let you live it down if we do this and he doesn’t know the truth. Not even for a single second for the rest of forever, and I, for one, am not putting up with that shit until death or legal marriage reforms do us part, Dingus.”
It was a solid point last night when they came up with the plan, curled on her bed while she stroked his hair and generously pretended he hadn’t soaked the shoulder of her shirt with his sobs, all his worldly possessions packed into a duffel on her bedroom floor, but he knows her insistence was more about knowing how much he hates lying to the kids than it was about protecting herself from irritating teenagers.
He doesn’t think there’s enough room on the whole planet to hold all the love he feels for her, even if you count the Upside Down and any other weirdo dimensions floating around out there waiting to ruin his day.
“I’m okay, bubba. Don’t let go?” Her hand is shaking in his, but he just squeezes harder.
“Never.” He turns back to the room, eyes hard as he scans the faces of their family for any hostility. He wouldn’t have agreed to this part of the plan if he thought any of them would be a problem, but he’s not taking anything for granted with Robbie’s safety. Not now, not ever. "Everyone's gonna be cool about that, right?"
"Of course we are, right, guys?" From the pained grunt that follows her words, Steve assumes Max has dug her elbow into Mike's ribs.
"Yeah, sure, whatever."
"I suppose this makes you slightly less lame, Buckley. It's definitely better than when I thought you liked this loser." Wow, okay, thank you Erica.
"Yeah totally! Thanks for trusting us, Robin." Lucas is a sweetheart, he really is. He's also glancing surreptitiously at Will while he nods enthusiastically, who is still staring open-mouthed at Robin with wide, shiny eyes.
"Yes, thank you for trusting us, Robin." Nancy is smiling kindly, but she's got that glint in her eye that Steve knows means she just came up with more questions and is waiting for the right moment to strike. Fair enough, at least she's letting Robs have her moment first.
He finally drags his eyes back to Dustin, who he doesn't really want to admit, even to himself, he's a little worried about. Not that he'll be shitty about it, necessarily, but there's nothing that brings out Henderson's bitchy side like being wrong, and he's been so fucking wrong this entire time. It's bound to upset him.
And maybe Steve will never say this out loud where the other kids might hear, but the truth is that Dustin's opinion matters to him more than just about everyone else's. Dustin was the first person in the whole world who saw Steve, the real Steve, and decided he was worth keeping around. If Henderson can't accept this part of Robin, it means he can't accept this part of Steve, and if that happens...if that happens Steve isn't sure he'll be able to come back from it.
So he's...not worried, okay? Worried is not the right word. Anxious, maybe. Concerned.
Okay fine fuck off he's worried.
Dustin...looks like he's about to cry. Shit.
"Did you think you couldn't trust me?" His voice is so small. Steve doesn't think he's ever heard it so small. It feels wrong. Henderson's voice should fill every room he's in, always. "You didn't have to lie. You could have told me the truth."
Aw, fuck.
"Buddy,--"
"It's not that simple, little man."
Steve whips back around to look at Robin. Are you sure you’re up for this? She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. Yeah, Dingus, this is my mess. Let me clean it up. Put the lance down, White Knight. Well, alright then. He waves for her to continue, ignoring the looks the others always shoot them when they do their silent conversation thing. Not his fault they can’t read each other as well, it’s not like it’s hard.
"Before today, Steve was the only person in the world who knew about me. And honestly, I don't know if I would have told him if we weren't both coming off torture and truth serum. I've worked hard to hide it my whole life, baby Dingus, that's not an easy thing to stop doing. It's scary."
"But we're your friends. We're your family! We saved the world together! You should trust your family, right?"
Aw, jeez. Steve forgets, sometimes, how young they are. They've been through horrific supernatural trauma, but they're still the kind of kids who think life is a story with a happy ending, like their little dragon game.
"Yeah, bud, you should, but it's not always that easy. There can be really serious consequences for telling the wrong person. Like, last night my parents found out I'm bisexual by accident and now I...well. Now I don't have parents anymore." Oof, okay, little blunter than he meant to be, but Robbie's getting anxious again so he has to take the focus back.
There's an eruption of sound, as every voice in the Party starts shouting all at once, turning the Wheeler's basement into Steve's own personal migraine generator.
"Did they kick you out?"
"You're bisexual?!"
"What's bisexual?"
"They can't just do that!"
"Does this mean we have to find somewhere else for Hellfire nights?"
That last one earns Erica several Looks, but she doesn't flinch. "What? I'm just being practical."
He wishes Eddie was here. The gremlins actually listen to him, unlike Steve, on account of as their Hellfire DM, he has leverage they care about to threaten them with. Well, most of them, but it's definitely a help when he's around.
Sadly he and Wayne are at some kind of Munson family reunion down in West Virginia this week, so Steve is gonna have to do this whole spiel over again when he gets back. He and Robin thought about waiting until he got back and the whole Party could be together, but the kids would definitely notice him not living in Loch Nora anymore pretty much immediately. And Steve hates the idea of telling him over the phone, so double coming out/engagement announcement it is.
"Alright, Jesus Christ, enough! One at a goddamn time, you animals."
He looks back at Dustin, who's definitely crying now. "Yeah, buddy, they kicked me out, but I'm okay. I'm staying with the Buckleys for now, and Rob and I have been saving up to move in together soon anyway, so all this did is move up our timeline. I'm safe and I'm fine, okay? I promise."
Dustin plasters himself to Steve's front, squeezing like he's worried Steve is going to shatter into pieces and he can hold him together by sheer force of will. It's very sweet, even if it's crushing his lungs a little.
"I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me." The words are muffled in Steve's chest, he's not sure anyone else heard him.
"Aw, kid, it's okay. I trust you, alright? Always. You die, I die, remember? I was just...figuring my shit out, that's all."
"Your parents are mouthbreathers." Steve chuckles a little at the mutinous glare on El's face, not pausing his hand where he's stroking Dustin's hair.
"You're not wrong, Supergirl. But it's fine, honestly. They've always been dicks, I've been planning to move out for a long time. They just...gave me the final push, is all." He's definitely leaving out the part where he broke down sobbing in Robbie's bed last night, asking her over and over why he was so broken that his own parents couldn't love him, but the kids don't need to hear that part of the story.
"Does this have something to do with your whirlwind engagement?" There she is, ace reporter Nancy Wheeler. Observant as always.
"Yeah, pretty much. They disinherited me, but they're still legally my next of kin."
"And Dingus has had far too much head trauma for me to trust he's not gonna end up back in the hospital for something at some point, and the last thing we need is Mr. and Mrs. von Child Neglect getting that call. And I was just reading about gay men and women who are marrying each other so they can have someone allowed in to see in them in the hospital, because of the virus, you know? And I thought, hey that's not a half bad idea! We're gonna be living together anyway, and it's not like I'm marrying anyone else, and it'll be good for both of us to have someone who knows about, y'know, monsters and all that jazz, to do our power of attorney stuff, so, voila! Mr. and Mrs. Bucklington!"
"We are not changing our name to Bucklington."
"Well Harringley is worse, so suck it up, buttercup."
"I'm not interested in keeping the Harrington name, Bobs, I'd rather just be a Buckley."
"Aw, bubba, you're gonna make me cry!"
"You should both become Hendersons! Then we'd really be brothers!"
Steve erupts into laughter, the tension effectively broken by Dustin's wide, toothy grin. "What d'ya say, Bobbie? Steve and Robin Henderson?"
"Would we get access to Claudia's lasagna recipe? Because if so, I'm behind this plan one hundred percent.”
"By 'we' you do mean me, right? Because I love you more than life, Bobs, but I'm not letting you anywhere near a casserole dish. I've learned that lesson."
"It was one time!"
"It took me three days to get all the cheese off the ceiling! There's still a stain!"
"Well good! Ceiling grease stains can be the Harrington's problem now, anyway. They deserve it!"
Argyle is nodding sagely from on top of the incredibly deflated bean bag he's sharing with Jonathan. "I do like Bucklington, it makes you sound like a fancy butler. But family is important, brochachos, and so is lasagna. I vote Henderson."
This spurs impassioned arguments from all corners, which Steve is more than happy to relax into the couch cushions and let wash over him.
There's a light, bubbly feeling in his chest. For the first time since his dad walked in unannounced yesterday, interrupting his phone call with Robin at the worst possible moment, the knot of fear and grief in his stomach starts to loosen.
Robin smiles at him, and he grins helplessly back. Who needs parents when he's got a soulmate? They're together, they're safe, they're surrounded by their family. Steve holds Dustin tighter to his side and lets himself feel loved.
He takes advantage of a lull in the Last Name Wars to get out the last of the speech he'd planned. "Anyway, we decided to tell all of you the truth when we came up with this plan last night, because we do trust you and we didn't want to lie to you, and also because we knew you shitheads would never shut up about us being in love if we didn't and that sounded awful."
He laughs delightedly at the chorus of indignant outbursts this gets him before continuing.
"It's really important that you don't tell anyone outside the Party the truth, alright? We're gonna tell Eddie when he gets back, and we might tell Joyce and Hop eventually, but that needs to be our choice to do. You can't do it for us, and you absolutely can't tell anyone else. The whole point of this is to keep us safe by keeping people from finding out the truth, okay?"
El looks vaguely uncomfortable, but not upset. "Will you tell my Dad soon?"
Steve glances at Robbie, who's looking anxious again, and then over at Will. His shoulders are tense, hunched up around his ears, and he's staring intently at the table in front of him.
Steve isn't sure if anyone else knows what he thinks he knows about Will, but he's pretty sure he recognizes the specific flavor of isolation he can see Will struggling with sometimes, and he's definitely sure he recognizes the looks Will shoots at Mike whenever Wheeler isn't looking. Tommy used to look at him like that.
Either way, he knows the kind of fear the kid must be suffering, just like he knows how terrifying today was for Robin. For Steve, the worst case scenario has already happened, so he has a lot less left to lose. He can afford to smooth the way a little, to test the waters and make sure they're safe for everyone else.
It's not that different from his normal role in this group anyway, just a different kind of monster. He's always been good at taking hits so the others don't have to-- this is just another threat to step in front of.
"Tell you what, Ellie, I'll talk to Hop and Joyce this weekend, that way you won't have to keep secrets from him for too long. I'll just tell him about me, though, at first, okay? That way we'll know if it's safe for Robbie." Or anyone else, he doesn't say.
Jonathan hears it, at the very least, and shoots him a look that's equal parts surprised and grateful. Maybe Will has someone else in his corner after all, then.
El nods happily, satisfied with that.
Before anyone else can jump in, there's a clattering on the basement stairs. None of them have time to tense up too badly before the door bursts open and Eddie comes tumbling through it in a flurry of dark curls and frayed denim.
"Fear not, my wayward wastrels, for I have returned from far off lands, bearing tidings and the promise of libations!"
Steve only recognizes, like, four of those words, but seeing Eddie gives him the same happy, fizzy feeling in his gut that it always does these days, so he grins.
"You're back early, Eds, everything ok?"
Eddie blinks at him, then around the room, looking surprised to see it so packed.
"Yeah, my cousin Clarence accidentally broke my MeeMaw's pasture fencing and set all the goats loose in the hills, and if we stuck around we were gonna have to help round them back up, so Wayne and I snuck out early. I was coming to invite the gremlins out for pizza to tell you all about it, but this is more people than I was expecting. Y'all having a family meeting? Without little old moi?"
Steve valiantly suppresses the shiver that the twang in Eddie's voice triggers. Steve's not sure if Eddie notices the way his accent gets stronger when he's been talking to family, but he's had to work very hard to make sure he doesn't notice the way it affects Steve.
Steve has barely tested the flirting waters with Eddie since admitting his crush to Robin, he's definitely not jumping right in with 'It makes me tingly all over when you start talking with a drawl, wanna call me darlin' and see what happens?'
Luckily Bobbie notices his inner struggle and comes to his rescue.
"It was kind of a time sensitive issue- not a life or death one! Or like. Not a monster one, anyway. But shit went down last night and we needed to brief everyone before the geek squad figured out something was funky and came beating down the door. Steve wanted to tell you in person so we were gonna wait til you got back, but here you are!"
Eddie's looking at Robin with an amused smile on his face, one eyebrow raised and his lips quirked in a lopsided grin that is, frankly, unreasonably attractive. "Here I am indeed, my fair Lady of Feathers. So what's the scoop?"
He plops down next to Jonathan and Argyle on the beanbags, nearly sending them all toppling before Argyle hooks both of them around the waists and drags them practically into his lap.
Steve is not seething with jealousy. He's not.
A half a dozen voices chime out all at once.
"Robin's gay!"
"Steve's homeless."
"Robin and Steve are getting married!"
“Purple married.”
“It’s lavender, dummy.”
“Lavender’s a kind of purple!”
"They're gonna be Hendersons!"
"No they aren't, weirdo, they're gonna be Buckleys."
"Bucklington is clearly the superior choice, even if Argyle was right about the butler thing."
“Bucklington my ass, y’all dumb as hell if you think Mom and Dad aren’t gonna try and make him a Sinclair after this.”
"Mama and Papa Harrington didn't like that Stevie boy has double the love to give. Totally bogus. Bi bros for life, man."
"I still call Steve's best man!"
Eddie blinks a little when everyone quiets down, looking vaguely shellshocked. "That was. A lot of information to get in thirty seconds."
And, listen, Steve is like, 97% sure Eddie's cool. More than cool, even. He moves that bandana to the same pocket every time he changes his jeans, no matter what outfit he's wearing. There's no way that's an accident. But if Steve is being totally honest, which he's trying to do more these days, at least inside his own brain, this is maybe not the way he'd have chosen to come out to his crush. It's somehow way more nerve-wracking when he didn't even get to say it himself.
Oh well, it's out there now. It's fine, probably.
Still, there’s a definite feeling of relief when Eddie turns that megawatt grin on him again.
"Man, I wish I'd known there were other queers in Hawkins, I might have listened sooner when Henderson told me how cool you guys were!"
Steve laughs, only a little hysterically. "Dude, if you thought you were the only one, what the hell have you been wearing that hanky for? Who are you hoping will see it?"
It's a little gratifying to see Eddie go flaming tomato red in seconds. "I am not talking about that in mixed company, Steven. There are children here!"
"Ugh, we're literally teenagers."
"Tiny baby infants! If you're so curious, you can ask me again later."
"Promise?" Steve can't stop himself from grinning wolfishly.
Eddie tugs his hair in front of his face to hide, and the frantic little giggle and the quiet "Oh my god," he lets out both sound more than a little strangled. Steve's having the time of his life right now.
"Gross." Ugh, rude. He glares at Robin for ruining his fun. She sticks her tongue out at him.
Before they can devolve into the inevitable slapfight, Nancy cuts in again.
"Alright, unless anyone else has anything to share in private, I think we should take Eddie's suggestion and get something to eat." Good thinking, Nance. "To celebrate the happy couple, of course," she adds with a smirk. Yeah, that makes more sense.
"Onward then, my noble companions, to pizza and to paradise!" Eddie vaults off the beanbag, sending Jonathan and Argyle tumbling. Argyle laughs and accepts Eddie's hand up, while Jonathan just rolls his eyes good-naturedly.
Eddie slings an arm around Robin's shoulders as they head for the basement door. "So, Birdie, what's this I hear about a wedding? I need context."
As the kids go thundering up the stairs, arguing about who gets to drive in which car, Steve lingers. He noticed Will hanging back from the others, and now they're the last ones left, Will still slowly packing up the pens and notebooks he seems to carry around with him everywhere. Jonathan is hovering anxiously in the doorway, so Steve sends him a nod and waves him off. He's got this.
"You ready to go, kid?"
Will fidgets with the zipper on his bag for another few seconds before looking up at Steve through his, frankly tragic, fringe. "I'm sorry your parents suck."
"Yeah, man, me too." Steve shoots him a wry little smile. "It's alright though, sometimes we're better off without them. I've got plenty of family here that love me, I'll survive without Richard and Diane."
Will studies him for a minute. Steve's not sure what he's looking for, but he hopes he finds it.
"That's what Jonathan says about Lonnie." Steve nods, trying not to wince at the memory of the things he spat at Jonathan that day in '83 when everything changed. "I used to think it was my fault he left, but Jonathan says he was just a bastard, and it's better he's gone anyway."
"I didn't know Lonnie," he's careful not to say your dad, "but from what I've heard, Jonathan's probably right. And he's definitely right that it's not your fault."
"Like it's not your fault your parents kicked you out?"
"Yeah, exactly like that. If it was my fault, that would mean I did something wrong. The only thing I did was exist, and be different than they thought I would be. If they can't love the kid they had, then they shouldn't have had a kid at all. That's their problem, not mine. There's nothing wrong with me."
It doesn't matter if he heard all of these things from Robin first, if he's still trying to learn to believe them. Will needs to hear them like they're true, the same way Steve does.
"Are you sure?" Will's voice is trembling now. He's looking at the floor, but Steve can tell there are tears coming. "How can you be sure this is how you're supposed to be? Wouldn't you rather be normal?"
Oh, kid. "I mean, yeah, maybe it would be easier if I only liked girls, but I don't. I tried for a long time to pretend that I did, but it didn't make it true. And yeah, part of me wants to hate myself, because that's what they taught me to think, and I still kinda wish doing that would make them love me, but it won't. But honestly, you wanna know the biggest thing?" Will nods.
"I can't hate that part of myself without hating Robin, and there's no universe where I could hate Robin. Robin's perfect. She's the best person in the world, and she's gay, so being gay can't be bad. It's impossible. So whenever that voice in my head starts saying shitty things to me, I just think about how much I love Robin and tell it to shut up."
There's a beat where Will seems to be absorbing this.
"How did you know it would be safe? To tell us the truth?"
"I didn't."
Will stares at him in shock.
"Not a hundred percent, anyway. I was pretty sure, but it's never a guarantee with stuff like this, you know? But the other option was never telling anyone, and that...it gets tiring, you know? Always having to hide. Always having to check yourself. Lying when people ask the wrong questions. It wears you down. And I've fought monsters with you guys. I've been tortured by spies with you guys. If I can't trust this group to have my back, I can't trust anyone, can I? And I didn't want to live a life of not trusting anyone. I didn't want Bobbie to live a life like that. So, we took a chance. And it paid off, because all of you are the people we thought you were, and we were right to trust you. But it was a leap of faith, dude. It always is."
"What if I'm not ready?" Fucking shit, this kid. He's been through more than any of them, except maybe El, and he's still so goddamn brave. Steve would have crumpled like a tin can in his place.
"Then you're not ready. It's not a test, Will. There's no right or wrong answers. But I will say that every single person out there loves you, and they'll keep loving you no matter what you do. They're not like my parents, or Lonnie. Our friends aren't broken inside the way they are. Their love isn't conditional. You won't chase them away. You couldn't if you tried."
Will lets out a shaky breath, clearly fighting back tears. Steve leans against the table and keeps his head down, offering the kid the illusion of privacy while he pulls himself together. After a few minutes he speaks up again.
"You ready to go, you think?"
Will nods. He goes to walk past Steve to the stairs before hesitating and, to Steve's surprise, wrapping his gangly arms around him in an awkward hug.
"Thanks, Steve," he mumbles into Steve's shoulder.
Steve runs a hand down his back uncertainly. "Anytime, kid."
He keeps his arm around Will's shoulders tentative, but when the kid doesn't shrug him off or move away, he lets it settle more firmly, tugging him closer.
“Come on Baby Byers, let's go get some pizza. You think I can milk the disownment thing to get Eddie to pay for extra toppings?"
Will snorts. "I think Eddie would pay for as many toppings as you want as long as you do that little eyelash thing at him again."
Steve throws his head back and laughs, long and loud from his belly. Yeah, it's gonna be a good night.
my head hurts too much to keep writing this but please know that the pizza parlor engagement party involves plenty of arguing about roles in the wedding party, resulting in MOH erica/best man dustin (scoops troop babeyy), flower girl team lumax (max demanded the role bc her wheelchair means she can carry extra baskets of petals, and lucas will be pushing the chair so her hands are free. he's just excited to be there.) nancy/el bridesmaids and byler groomsmen (mike grumbles and groans but he's secretly thrilled). jonathan does the pictures and it turns out argyle got ordained back in cali as a joke so he officiates. eddie plays crimson and clover for robin’s wedding march. there’s a bit of a kerfuffle when claudia and the sinclairs both try to claim steve as their son, but after someone makes the argument that charles and sue have two kids to carry their name while claudia only has one, they end up hyphenating and becoming the buckley-hendersons. yes, claudia cries. yes, they get the lasagna recipe.
(at the pizza place, eddie asks what his role will be and steve says he doesn't know yet, but he'll save him a dance regardless. eddie has to hide in the bathroom to stop blushing.)
#stranger things#steve harrington#robin buckley#platonic stobin#dustin henderson#will byers#eddie munson#appalachian eddie munson#the party#not tagging everyone bc i don't want to clog character tags but the gang's all here#inklings of steddie#for what it’s worth i’m firmly in the camp of ‘will is out to el so she knows about gay people’#the stobin lavender marriage fic#almost#the pre-stobin lavender marriage fic is more accurate#this is mostly a coming out to the party fic#idk i had fun with it#but my head hurts and tags are hard#happy reading i'm going to sleep#my writing
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breathe, you're okay - mason mount
summary: when the mounting pressure of a Women's UCL run is falling on Y/N's shoulders, she isn't handling it by herself as well as she would like everyone to believe she is
pairing: Mason Mount x footballer!reader
word count: 2.9k
warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, no established relationship, !!descriptions of a panic attack!!, discussions about mental heath, supportive Mase
requested: no
notes: surprise!! I'm sorry I haven't posted in months-- my life kind of went up in flames over the summer and I haven't had the time to write that I was hoping to. I have a few WIPs in my drafts, and I am still working on all of your requests! Please let me know what you think of this!
The hot afternoon sun beat down on you, and you felt the drops of sweat sliding down the side of your head and tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you ran up and down the field, weaving between cones, carrying the ball at your feet, running through a series of consecutive drills that were designed to refine your skills and test your endurance.
You did your best to recall the instructions that your coach had carefully laid out before the team began the drill, but with the heat and the fatigue that was seeping all the way into your bones, it seemed impossible to remember. You wound up relying on the teammate in front of you to recall what you needed to do next.
You let out a heavy sigh of relief when you heard the sound of the whistle—two short chirps, signaling for you to halt your movements. You draped your arms over your head, drawing in deep, heaving breaths as you attempted to get your heart rate under control.
You joined the rest of your teammates as they gathered around the coach, preparing for his parting words before everyone was dismissed.
“Good session today, ladies,” he clapped his hands in front of him, looking around the circle. “I’m seeing a lot of good things. A lot of improvement in our touches and finishing. You all are looking really good.”
A couple of the girls clapped at his words, the rest too exhausted to do anything but listen.
“We have the day off tomorrow, so use it well. Rest, recover, and come back Monday ready to go. We’ve got some heavy prep next week before the second leg on Friday,” he continued, and a couple others whooped, getting excited for the upcoming big game.
“They’re gonna be a really tough opponent, I’ll be honest. We know that their back line is really strong, tough to break through.” Your coach’s eyes fell on you, and you knew what was coming next before he even began to speak, your stomach sinking slightly. “But that’s what we have Miss Y/N, for, right?”
Several of the girls cheered for you. The girls near you slapped you on the back, trying to get you hyped up. And the weight that had settled in the pit of your stomach grew heavier.
The Manchester United women were on an impressive UEFA Women’s Champions League run, overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds to make it to the semifinal. And according to the media (and now your own teammates and coaches), it was all thanks to you.
In the group stage, a decisive game in which your team had gone down 2-0 in the first half had seemed hopeless until you had scored two goals in the second, assisting on the third to put your team through to the knockout games. Another three goal contributions in the quarter-final matches had put you in the spotlight of all of the team’s media coverage, thrusting a wave of attention upon you that you had never asked for.
You had gone down 1-0 in the first leg of the semi-final, and now you were playing from behind. And it seemed that everyone expected you to be the one to pull them out of it.
So now, you were left feeling the pressure as the second leg was fast approaching.
“Alright, ladies. Have a good rest of the day and a great day off tomorrow.” He clapped his hands, dismissing you all. The circle of girls dispersed, chatting among themselves.
“Am I still leaving the cones out for you?” the coach raising his eyebrows at you. You only nodded in return. “Okay, don’t work yourself to death.”
You laughed humorlessly as you fiddled with the ball at your feet, not meeting his eyes.
“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder to try to draw your attention to him. “Get some rest tomorrow, okay? We all see how hard you’re working. Give yourself a break.”
Another nod is all that you can muster, and you don’t miss the short sigh that he lets out as he drops his hand from your shoulder and walks to join the rest of the group moving indoors.
You repositioned a few of the cones to set up your own drill and got right into it.
Across the field, on another training pitch near yours, Mason watched as you carried the ball with you up and down the field, weaving between cones, practicing a few skills that he had seen you implement in games, and taking a shot on the goal at each pass.
He was supposed to be doing a bit of extra work with a few of the boys. The men’s team had finished their training session about an hour before, but a few of them still felt like they wanted to get a bit more done before calling it a day. So here they were, running a few small three-a-side games to utilize the last of their energy that day.
But he couldn’t help but notice how you never stopped.
During the team training, you were always one of the hardest-working ones out there. When he had returned to the pitch from lunch, you were taking shots on the goal with the rest of your team nowhere in sight. He wasn’t even sure he had seen you eating lunch inside when he thought about it.
And now here you were, sprinting across the length of the field, over and over, after the rest of your team had hit the showers.
He felt a twinge of worry for you but brushed it off as one of his teammates called his name to pull his attention back to the game they were playing.
Your head was spinning as you pushed yourself to keep moving. Your entire body was drenched in sweat. Every muscle ached from overexertion as you gritted your teeth, forcing them to keep moving. The sun was dizzyingly bright as the evening set in. You could feel the heat practically radiating off of your skin. Your lungs were burning with your heaving breaths and your mouth quickly grew dry.
“That’s what we have Miss Y/N for, right?” Your coach’s words echoed through your head as you carried the ball down the field.
“Y/L/N carries the Man U Women through to the semifinal!” You recalled the title of the article as you weaved between the cones.
“I really believe Y/N Y/L/N could be the one to lead Manchester United to their first Women’s Champion’s League trophy!” You heard the words of the pundit clear as day as you planted your foot, striking the ball cleanly. It soared through the air, curving toward the goal, and struck the crossbar. The ball flew away from the goal, bouncing pathetically on the ground in the penalty area.
You took a pause, the words and expectations crashing around your mind leaving an unsettling feeling in your chest. As you stood there, you couldn’t seem to get your panting breaths to grow steadier.
Your shirt suddenly felt too tight on your neck. You grasped the fabric, pulling it away from your body in an attempt to allow yourself to breathe easier, but nothing seemed to be helping.
Your head was spinning. You felt your stomach sink, a feeling like when you plummeted down the tall hill of a rollercoaster, a sick feeling settling in your abdomen. Your skin began to crawl, and you just couldn’t stop hyperventilating.
You began to panic. Eyes searching frantically for relief. You weren’t sure what you were looking for—something, anything.
You suddenly felt like you were too out in the open, needing to seclude yourself away from the sight of prying eyes. You set into a sprint, off of the field and around the corner of the nearest part of the building to you, trying to find some shade from the hot sun and hide yourself from anyone who might see your pathetic state.
But it was too late. Mason had seen the whole thing.
They had just paused their game for a short water break. He had seen you take the shot, instead hitting the crossbar. It only took him a few seconds once you paused to realize that something wasn’t right.
He watched the way your chest rose and fell rapidly in quick, short breaths. When you began attempting to pull your shirt away from your body, he instantly knew what was taking place. He’d recognize that feeling anywhere.
You were having a panic attack, whether you realized it or not.
As soon as he saw you take off for the side of the building, he was running after you without so much as a word of explanation to his teammates.
Once in the shade of the wall you hid behind, you began pacing, unable to keep still. Every inch of your body felt jittery, and you felt unsteady on your legs. You couldn’t manage more than rapid, shallow breaths. Your throat felt tight, your breaths sounding more like wheezes, and it was starting to make your head spin. Your hands flew to your head, scratching at your scalp in an attempt to somehow rid yourself of the feeling.
You were startled by Mason swiftly rounding the corner, concern written all over his face as he stopped in front of you.
“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he spoke calmly and evenly. He quickly reached up, taking your wrists in his hands so he could gently but firmly pull your hands out of your hair to keep you from hurting yourself.
“I can’t, Mason. I can’t,” you panted, shaking your head ‘no’ frantically and still trying to weakly pull your hand from his grip.
“You’re okay, Y/N. Try to slow down your breathing,” Mason’s calm voice directly contrasted your frantic behavior, speaking in short sentences so as to not overwhelm you more. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
A short sob fell from your lips, and you felt the tears spilling over and down your cheeks.
“We’re gonna lose,” you sobbed, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “The semifinal, we’re gonna lose it, and it’s gonna be all my fault.”
In that moment, everything clicked into place for Mason-- the UWCL run, your success in the games leading up to the semi-final leg, the pressure from the fans and the team, the countless extra hours you had been putting in.
A loud noise in the distance, coming from the direction of the parking lot, startled you, snatching your attention and you whipped your head to the side, eyes searching frantically for the source. He released your wrists from his hand, testing the waters as he turned your head back to look at him with a hand on your cheek.
He cradled your face with a hand on either side, keeping your focus on him. His thumbs wiped the tears away that had slipped down your cheeks.
“Hey, look at me. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you,” he repeated the affirmations he had already been telling you.
As he stroked his thumbs softly over the skin of your cheek, he felt that your breathing was already growing a bit slower. You had reached up, holding onto his wrists with both of your hands to steady yourself, feeling too unsteady on your feet. His hands were gentle and soft on your skin.
Mason watched your expression, taking long deep breaths for you to emulate. Your eyes were still wide, darting frantically around his face, but you were trying your best to follow his breathing. He continued whispering short reassurances.
“You’re safe.”
“It’s gonna be okay.”
“I’ve got you.”
You were beginning to calm down, but your eyes darted to something behind Mason, pulled away from the calm atmosphere he had tried to create for you.
“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he spoke gently, pressing his forehead to yours so you would only focus on him. You were shocked at how little the intrusion on your personal space bothered you. In fact, to your surprise, the closeness seemed to settle you a little more.
You continued focusing on your breathing, gripping tightly to his wrists as if you thought he’d disappear if you let go. Your eyes were clamped closed, listening to Mason’s soft and slow breathing. You felt your pounding heart being to slow its pace.
The panic you had been feeling subsided, leaving behind a wave of extreme fatigue. You felt completely and utterly drained.
Mason must have noticed the way that your body slumped over, and he guided you to sit down on the grass, leaning back against the brick wall of the building. He sat down next to you, leaving space so he didn’t make you more nervous. But in the haze you felt in your mind, you felt a need to still be close to him, leaning over so you could place your head on his shoulder. A short pang of guilt washed over you as you noticed the crescent-shaped indents you had left on his wrists, your nails digging into the skin as you had held onto him.
The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your eyes slipping closed as you continued focusing on breathing slowly. A gentle breeze blew through, cooling your clammy skin and brushing through the blades of grass.
“I used to get them sometimes, too, you know?” Mason broke the silence, speaking softly.
You responded with a quiet, “hmm?” unsure of what he meant.
“Panic attacks,” he explained. “At the end of last season, before I left Chelsea. There was a lot of pressure. Any time I played, everyone had something to say about it. Even when I didn’t play, some would find a reason to be upset. It all just got to be too much.”
A deep sadness filled you while you listened to his words. “How did you get through it?”
“Ben found me having one in my car after training one day.” He was quiet for a moment. “I tried to power through it—like you. Skipping lunch and staying late to train a bit extra on the field or put in an extra session in the gym. But once Ben realized what was going on, he made sure that I was taking care of myself properly and wasn’t dealing with it on my own anymore.”
You sat up so you could look at Mason’s face, and you saw a hint of sadness there. “So I’ll tell you what he told me. There are 10 other people with you on that field at all times. If you fall down, there are 10 pairs of hands ready to help you back to your feet. If you succeed, there are 10 others to celebrate with you. But it’s not all on you.”
Your eyes were misty, welling up with tears at his words. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a secure hug as the tears began to stream down your cheeks.
“No matter the outcome of the game next week, you’re an incredible player, Y/N.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve already done so much so early in your career. The media and the fans will say what they want—don’t let them get to you. And your coaches may get carried away with their expectations for you, but it’s just because they’re so excited to see you succeed. Just be the player you know how to be, and your achievements will speak for themselves.”
“Thank you, Mason,” you whispered after pondering his words for a moment. No words could express the gratitude you felt for the relief he had brought you just by letting you know that he was there and he understood. But as he squeezed your shoulders lightly in response, you hoped he knew just how thankful you were.
Eventually, Mason helped you to your feet, guiding you back toward the fields. You were still feeling a bit weak and unsteady, so he made sure you remained upright with a gentle hold on your arm as you walked. Deciding it was time for you to call it a day, he insisted on collecting the cones that you had been training with, not allowing you to help him by picking up even one of them.
It took some convincing but you told him you would be fine to drive yourself home—his only condition was that you texted to let him know you made it there safely.
“Alright, then. Rest on your day off tomorrow. Give yourself a break, okay?” he spoke as he put the last of the cones away. “I’ll check in with you on Monday, if that’s okay.” He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. The two of you had been friendly before today, but you wouldn’t have considered yourselves close friends. He just wanted to be sure that you knew you had people in your corner.
“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” you nodded, smiling at him. With a final hug, he sent you on your way as he turned to rejoin his (undoubtedly confused) teammates where he had left them.
“Remember: rest!” he shouted back at you as you parted ways, and you couldn’t stop the blushing smile that worked its way onto your face.
tag list:
@landoslover @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti
#mason mount#mason mount x reader#mason mount imagine#mason mount fic#mason mount fluff#mason mount angst#chelsea fc#footballer fic
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WARNING: 18+, Smut, mention of sex, dirty talk, sex toy, explicit language, squirting
(If I left out any warnings please let me know and I will add it)
Thinking about.....
Shoto using a vibrator on you.
You’re laid out on the bed naked with hands and legs tied to the bed frame. He loved the site of you. You were all his and he could do anything he wanted to you. He had brought this idea up to you earlier and the moment you agreed with it he couldn’t wait to see you in this moment. It was perfect for you too. After a long day of work, you wanted to not think. You wanted Shoto to just take control.
He turned on the vibrator on the lowest setting and started at your ankles. He traveled up your leg. The closer he got to your pussy, the higher the setting got. Once he got to your inner thigh you started to squirm and whine. Shoto can see how bad you needed this. but he wanted you to wait a little longer. He takes the vibrator away from you inner thigh and goes up to you neck. You whine in distress but shut up once Shoto lips are on yours. With the heavy makeout and the vibrator going towards your breast, your brain feels fuzzy. but what made your brain melt was shoto bringing the vibrator over your nipples and sucking on your tongue at the same time. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, hips coming off the mattress, your pussy in need of friction.
With the way your moaning, shoto thinks he’s falling love with you all over again. He loves the way you arms are struggling to break free from the rope and how whiny you’ve become. How desperate you’ve become. Shoto pulls back from the kiss and whispers right in your face.
“Does your pretty pussy need my attention?” you nod your head so hard you might get whiplash.
Shoto brings the vibrator to the center of you stomach and goes down slowly. Your pussy aches from how slow he’s going. He torturing you ,but you love that shit.
“Please. Please. Please.”
He giving you a devilish smile seeing the way you beg for him. How much you need him.
Finally the vibrator is on you clit on the highest setting and you’re seeing stars. Shoto lays next to you, whispering ungodly things in your ear. With the mix of the dirty talk and the vibrator abusing your clit, your about to cum.
“Sho Im gonna fucking cum, oh my fuck” your stomach seconds away from snapping.
“Go on, be a good slut and cum”
Your vision goes white and you’re on cloud 9. Little did you know, you squirted all over the bed. Shoto watches you with a smile and whispers in your ear ”good girl.”
Once you come down from one of the most destroying orgasms of your life. Shoto takes off the ropes, massages your wrists, and kisses you softly. Telling you how good you did for him. This night was needed. :)
_______________________________________________________________________
Again not the best, but yeah. :) I wrote this in like 10 minutes. I needed to get this out of my brain. Like always, any warning or tags I need to add please let me know, thank youuu. 🫧💤💗
#shoto torodoki#todoroki shouto#shoto todoroki imagines#shoto todoroki smut#todoroki smut#bnha shoto todoroki#shoto x reader#mha shoto#mha imagines#mha smut#shoto todoroki x reader#Smut#dream is thinking 🫧#i kinda like this#but also i dont#idk
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can you do reader x matt sturniolo where readers dad just passed away and she’s been all like “i’m fine” about it and not crying or caring at all and she’s alone with matt and just breaks down and he comforts her?
my dad died recently and he was my best friend and i thought of this and tbh i’m in need of some matt comfort lol
i trust you’ll deliver heartbreakingly beautiful writing as always!! (i love u and ur work)
'i can't go on.' - M.S
Synopsis - "Matt, please don't go." "I wasn't planning on it."
Warnings! - Mentions of death, light profanity, crying, smoking, hurt/comfort, lowercase intended.
A/N - i'm so sorry anon. i know how you feel, i lost my dad in 2020 and it was the worst feeling ever. i really hope you're doing okay and that things start to look up soon. and thank you! I really hope this helps.
I let out a slow breath as I lower my phone from my ear.
"Everything alright?"
I turn my head to where Nick and Chris are sitting on the couch and nod.
"Yeah. Yeah. I think I'm gonna go smoke a cigarette. I'll be back in a sec."
"Okay."
I smile, tight-lipped, as I grab my purse and walk downstairs to the front porch, opening the front door and sink into one of the cushioned chairs, pulling out my pack of cigarettes.
Tears stream from my eyes as I light, and smoke my cigarette.
Fuck. Why today? Of all days, why on my anniversary?
I lift my head and face whoever just stepped outside.
Matt. I almost break down right then.
"Baby?"
It takes me a second to realize he's speaking, but when I do, I flick my cigarette on the concrete and stand up, wrapping my arms around him tightly, burying my face in his shoulders.
Out of instinct, I feel his arms wrap around me, stroking my hair as I sob, occasionally running a hand down my back.
"What happened sweet girl?" He murmurs as he presses a kiss to my head.
"He's gone Matt. I- I-" I start to sob uncontrollably.
"Hey, hey. Shhh. Breathe baby. Breathe. It's okay."
After a minute or so, I stop crying, but as always, I end up starting to hyperventilate.
My breathing picking up and becoming raggedy.
Under my head I can feel Matt taking deep breaths, and quietly encouraging me to follow suit.
"Breathe with me baby. In, 10. Hold. Out, 10. repeat. In 10, hold, out 10." This goes on for a few minutes as I control my breathing, still coming out shaky at the end.
"Who's gone?"
"My dad."
I feel his arms tightening around me, pulling me closer. I can feel a shift in his own demeanor. My dad always liked Matt. Said he was his favorite guy I've dated. And to be honest, me too. He's my favorite as well.
Exhibit A, honestly.
One last kiss is pressed to my head before he pulls back, his hands on my cheeks.
“We’re going to get through this. You’re going to get through this. I know it’s hard to… to grasp, but it will all be okay in the end. I love you, and don’t you forget that.”
I nod and sniffle.
“I know. It’s just… he was my best friend. And I- I don’t-”
He nods and kisses my forehead.
“I get it. I do.”
“I love you so much Matt.”
He pulls me back into another hug and rubs my back comfortingly.
I just melt into his touch and rest my head on his shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay.” He whispers one last time.
And with the way he says it, I can believe it.
Tags ! ✮
@dwntwn-strnlo ✮ @ssturniolo ✮ @strniolo ✮ @20nugs ✮ @prettysturniolo ✮ @mxqdii ✮ @thetriplets3 ✮ @slaysturniolo ✮ @gwenlore ✮
If you want to be added to the list, all you have to do is ask ! ✮
I love ll of you guys !
And I hope you all have a good day and / or night ✮
#l writes!#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo imagine
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Can we get a blurb where an accident happens on set and drew has to do cpr on reader who he’s been secretly dating for a while?
thank you for this request omg!! and i thought this was so perfect to post for drews birthday :') i miss him
wrong place, right time - d.s.
pairing: drew x fem!reader
wc: 1.5k
tags/warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, injury but not violence, idk no one dies and its not very descript so its p safe
requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)
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Drew is watching from behind the cameras as you film a scene he's not meant to be in just yet, sitting against a wall on the top deck of what will eventually be known to the audience as The Coastal Venture.
It's been a fun day as far as filming goes, but very long. He's tired, and he can see that you are tired too. He sips on his third cup of coffee, watching you film your scene. Right now, you're helping Cleo pull the cross which is hanging from the crane.
You're looking over your shoulder, camera's zoomed in close on you while you're supposed to be keeping an eye out for Rafe. Standing guard for who is meant to be your on-screen boyfriend, anxious about the act of betraying him. If Drew didn't know better, he'd believe your expressions. You're incredibly talented, and every chance he gets he'll watch you film your scenes. He can only do that so often, though, without it drawing any suspicion. After all, your relationship was kept only between the two of you for now.
Drew watches as you're given your queue that Rafe will enter, and you turn fully. He'll be filming that scene after his break, so he starts to pack up his snack and downs the rest of his coffee. He's distracted when he hears a loud crack, followed by gasps and a loud thump. His head quickly turns, and you're laying on the ground, the cross on its crane swinging above you as chaos breaks out on the ship.
The fake cross wasn't particularly heavy, but with the wind picking up and it's height dropping due to someone in the crane messing with the controls at just the wrong moment, it ended up swinging right into the back of your head.
"Y/N!" Drew can't hear a single other thing anyone is shouting as he's shoving past crew members to get to you laying on the deck. "Y/N? Hey! Talk to me!" He calls out, turning you onto your back and grabbing your face in his hands. You're out cold, that's clear.
"Shit... shit! Okay, uhm..." He's talking to himself now, leaning down to press his ear to your chest. Listening desperately through the commotion to try and hear a heartbeat but he can't make one out, and he has no hope of finding a pulse on your neck or wrist with such shaky hands.
"Okay, come on Baby, wake up." Drew mutters, consequences be damned as he's quickly rolling up his sleeves. He places his hands on your chest, taking a breath before pumping as much of his strength as he can into you, over and over again, hoping to bring you back to life.
He pauses, leaning down again to try and hear if you're breathing with his ear to your lips. Again, nothing. "Come on, Love, you've got to wake up." He mumbles, going back to compressing your chest. Just a few seconds at a time, before leaning over again and pressing his lips to yours, blocking your nose to try and breathe the life back into your lungs. Just a few times. Just four times and then back to your chest.
The cast is ushered away from reach of the swinging cross which is now being hoisted up and out of reach, leaving them all huddled together behind the commotion. "Is she okay?" Madelyn asks, hands clasped to her chest.
"She's gonna be fine." Chase replies, chewing the inside of his cheek. "She's fine."
"Did you guys hear it? I could hear it." Rudy whispers, voice shaking as he's wrapped in a towel from the plunge he just took into the ocean filming his own scene. "It was like... this awful crack. No way she hasn't broken something."
"Dude, shut up." JD says, shaking his head as they all try and see what's happening. More than a few tears have fallen between them, shock wearing off as they realize the gravity of the situation. You still haven't woken up.
People are yelling at Drew but it all sounds so different- his tunnel vision is on you, ignoring even the tears rolling down his own cheeks as he keeps repeating the cycle. Ten pushes on your chest, five breaths. Is he doing it right? He doesn't even know.
"Baby, come on, wake up... You have to wake up..." He says, hoping by some miracle that you'll hear him. Where the hell are the paramedics?
Just as the panic is fully starting to set in, exhaustion nowhere in sight, you gasp, lifting your arm slightly to try and grab your boyfriends attention. The stabbing pain coming from seemingly everywhere in your head was keeping you from speaking, just allowing you to squint your eyes shut as your hand hits his forearm.
"Y/N/N? Hey, you're okay... I'm right here." Drew says, finally being able to breathe as he gently pushes your hair out of your forehead.
Just then, since it didn't take them long enough, the on-site paramedics reach your side, joining Drew as he kneels next to you.
You can't even open your eyes as they're wrapping your head, putting something in your arm, and moving you over to what you assume is some kind of body board. Drew holds your hand the whole way, and by now, realization has dawned on not only the rest of the cast, but the crew as well.
"Are they together?" Carlacia asks, watching as Drew clings to your hand on the stretcher as you're moved. "Did I miss something?"
"No." Madison answers, shaking her head. "You didn't miss anything. I didn't think they were, I knew they hooked up once ages ago but that's not really how you treat a hookup, is it?"
"They hooked up?" Chase chimes in, tearing his gaze from you as this new information dawns on him.
"How is that relevant right now? She's dying!" Madelyn spits, eyes blotchy and red. "If you didn't know you weren't meant to know so don't talk."
"Good girl, you're doing so well..." Drew mutters to you, pressing a hand to your cheek as they move you. "You've gotta stay with me here. Can you open your eyes? Can you try?" You just groan, the light from the sun beating down on you too intense to open them more than a sliver before you black out again.
You wake up in the hospital, head pounding. Your whole body aches, you only know where you are because of the bright fluorescents and the sterile smell. Blinking your eyes open slowly, trying to adjust to your new environment.
"Y/N/N? Hey, are you waking up?" Drew is there. Of course he's there, and he's quickly standing up and once again pushing your hair away from your face. It really wasn't in your face anyways, he's spent the last six hours being so finicky with everything in your room that there was no chance of a limb remaining untucked or a hair being out of place. He had nothing better to do than distract himself, waiting for you to wake.
"Hi." You mumble, trying to sit up.
"Woah, wait, lay down. Just relax, okay Love? I'll get the doctor. I'll be back." He promises, dropping your hand to leave.
"Wait, wait..." You call out weakly. He's quick to stop and look at you again. "I'm okay. Just, can you stay for a minute?"
Drew nods, returning to your side. You just need a minute before you're bombarded with doctors, and possibly people with questions. You didn't want to face the world, for now, you just wanted to face him.
"What happened..?" You ask after a moment of him staring at you like you were about to evaporate into dust.
"Uh..." Drew clears his throat, giving a slight shake of his head as he rubs his chin. "There was an accident. You got hit in the head, it wasn't your fault."
"Where are we?"
"Duke."
"Am I... Am I okay?" Hesitation is dropping from your voice and he nods, squeezing your hand in between his before lifting it gently to kiss your knuckles.
"Just a concussion, bruised ribs. Luckily no breaks. The concussion is serious, though, from what they can tell. They're gonna keep you, I think. The doctor will have more answers than me." Drew explains. "Can I grab them for you?"
You shake your head slowly, weary of the pain already pulsing through your skull. "No. I just want another minute with you. Before everything is real again."
Drew nods again. "Of course. I just-" He sighs, dropping his head. "Thank god you're okay. You scared me so bad." He laughs slightly. "I just about passed out over you."
You smile, avoiding the urge to laugh. "Must've been a sight. Wish I could have seen it."
"I wish no one had to." Drew chuckles, rubbing his eyes. "By the way, bad time to tell you this, but I may have outed us; at least to the cast and crew. Legal will probably be calling."
"God, Drew. I'm so disappointed." You tease before quickly reassuring him. "It's fine, it doesn't matter."
"As long as you're alive," He agrees. "I couldn't care about anything else less."
taglist: @bookishbabyyy, @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury, @fullfledgedemo, @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @rafeoccasionally, @ietss, @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @rafegirly, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn, @whtvrrafe, @r1vrsefx, @frxcless, @ari-nicole, @@urmooniee,
#drew's birthday bash !#obx fanfic#outer banks#obx#rafe obx#drew starkey fanfic#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey
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can i request dom chubby y/n with sub good boy kurapika with praise kink please 😫😫😫 i love your writings so much thank you mwah 💋💋
Good Boy(NSFW)
Sub!Kurapika x Fem!Chubby!Reader
!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!
warnings: pussy eating, sub!kurapika, soft dom!reader, creampie, breeding, praise kink
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!
Kurapika has always had trouble being vulnerable with people, rarely letting his guard down around his friends.
So to have him sitting at your feet, chin resting on your thigh as he looks up at you with those pretty brown eyes was something he’d never thought he’d be able to do, to let you control him completely.
“Kurapika, how are you feeling?”
You play with his hair, your touch sweet and gentle as he kisses your plush, bare thighs. “Feeling… needy.”
He’s cute like this, really, face flushed and eyes half lidded. Kurapika nuzzles against your clothed, plump pussy, looking up at you for permission. “Please?”
His voice is soft, and underlining neediness that only you can pick up. You coo at him, reaching out your hand. You don’t even have to cup his cheek, as soon as your hand is close enough he rests his cheek against your palm. His face is hot, and when his scarlet eyes meet yours, you smile.
“Go ahead, Kurapika. You’ve earned it…”
You slide your panties to the side, revealing yourself to him. The way his breath hitches makes you giggle, and it embarrasses him just a little just how much he wants to devour you.
Kurapika places a kiss on your clit, making you coo softly. “Mmm, such a sweet boy…”
He nuzzles into your pussy, sucking on your clit as he looks up at your though those soft, blonde lashes of his. Kurapika trails his fingers down your thighs, waiting for permission.
“You can do it, Pika.”
He hums against your clit, sliding a finger into your pussy and moving slowly, looking up at you occasionally for reassurance and guidance.
“You’re doing so good, gonna make me cum…”
Kurapika looks so happy, speeding up his fingers and tongue. He loves making you cum, desperately wanting to please you as much as possible.
You cum, moaning and gripping his hair, shoving his face further into your pussy. “F-fuck, so good, such a good boy…”
He groans into your cunt, continuing to lap and suck at whatever he could while your hands trembled in his hair from your orgasm. Every word of soft praise causes his cock to twitch, and he can’t wait to be inside you.
When you let go of him, he looks up with such soft eyes, leaning his cheek against your thigh again. You can see his cock standing at attention, gently bobbing as he whines and nuzzles into your soft flesh. “Please… wanna be inside you…”
You cup his cheek, wiping away his needy tears. “Of course sweetheart, good boys get rewards, don’t they?”
He nods frantically, planting appreciative kisses on your palm. “Mhm!”
He stands up, tentatively pushing you down on the bed, making sure to look up at you every few seconds for permission. “My sweet puppy, you can put it in. You’ve been so good tonight~”
Kurapika swallows, the tip of his cock prodding against your entrance. “Thank you… love you so much…”
As he pushes in, you pull him in by his hips, kissing him. “I love you too, my pretty boy.”
He thrusts in and out, whining and whimpering into your ear as his cock sinks into your wet cunt. “Hnn, feels so good… love you, love you so much!”
He clings to you desperately, fucking into you faster as his need to breed you takes over. “P-please! Wanna cum inside! Wanna get you pregnant!” he begs, his lip quivering.
You cup his cheek, panting softly and mewling. “Mmm, how can I say no when you’ve been such a good boy tonight? Fill me up, breed me Kurapika.”
He locks his lips with yours, his tongue dancing with yours as his cum fills you to the brim. “Mmph!”
When he pulls away, a line of saliva connects the two of you. He pants softly, before smiling and kissing your cheek. “Thank you, angel. I really needed this.”
You hold him in your arms, letting him keep your pussy plugged up with his cock. “You did such a good job, my pretty puppy. I’m so proud~”
You keep him in your embrace as you play with his hair. “Want something to eat? A bath?” you ask, planting loving kisses on his forehead. He hums in contentment, meeting your lips for a few sweet kisses.
“No, just… just hold me…”
And you do, falling asleep with him in your arms. Although Kurapika enjoys having his control in the bedroom, sometimes letting go can be really relaxing, and you’re the only one he would ever trust to see him like this.
“I love you, more than anything…” he whispers, nuzzling into your breasts before following your lead.
#x reader#anime x reader#headcanon#requests open#reader insert#hxh x reader#hxh imagines#smut requests#hunter x hunter x reader#hunter x hunter headcanons#kurapika hunter x hunter#hunter x hunter#hxh#kurapika hxh#kurapika headcanons#kurapika smut#kurapika x reader#hxh kurapika#kurapika#hunter x hunter smut#hxh smut#x reader smut#smut headcanons#smut fanfiction#anime x chubby reader#chubby!reader#chubby reader#fem reader#female reader#fem!reader
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Can we get Robert Fischer obsessed with a cam girl?
thank u so much for this idea omg ... i had so much fun w this !! also u have the honor of being my first fischer fic LOL
superstar
robert fischer x camgirl!reader
word count: 1.2k
tags: male masturbation, sex toys (vibrator), overstimulation, camming
(ao3)
Robert lets out a groan as he watches you through his monitor. You had just started streaming, still completely clothed, but he couldn’t resist how you teased at your hardening nipples through your top. Scantily clad, of course, you never were the type to dress modestly for these shows.
He had been watching you for about a month now, turning notifications on almost immediately. The way you would fit all these toys inside yourself with almost no difficulty, and yet still sound so authentic– Robert could be falling in love at this point. Don’t even get him started on your angelic face, he has never seen someone quite like you. If he had, he would’ve been married a long time ago.
“So many people already… and even some new faces!” You grin and begin to hike your pathetic excuse for a skirt up your thighs, revealing the tiniest of panties. “Of course, my favorite supporter is here too. Hi, fischbait!”
“Fuck…” Robert covers his mouth with his hand as his length twitches at you simply uttering his screen name. He knew it was unavoidable that you would notice him– every stream he would send you a minimum of 500 bucks. It didn’t matter if you did anal or anything out of the ordinary, Robert just loved seeing that look in your eyes when you hear that telltale notification sound.
Sometimes he would send messages along with the donations, telling you to buy a specific kind of toy or outfit. Most often, though, he was a silent supporter.
“I think you’re really gonna like what I have in store, you guys,” Robert watches as you move your panties to the side, revealing a vibrator already inside of you, “Whoever gives the biggest donation gets to control this little thing. How cute is that?”
He scrambles closer to his desk, making sure he heard that right. Messages flood in the chatbox:
come on, we all know who’s gonna control it
Just want to see you happy, pretty girl :)
do we even have a chance against that rich fuck lol
even if i control it for just one second, ill be so happy
Yeah, Robert heard you loud and clear. He knows no one will even come close to the amount he could donate, but he decided to keep it lower than what his dirty mind wanted. He watches as the donations pour in rapidly, only reaching a measly 300. Didn’t they realize you deserve so much more?
“Jesus, I always gotta step up to the plate, don’t I?” He chuckles to himself as he sends in his amount of cash, waiting for your reaction.
You’re already moaning halfheartedly due to the other donators’ actions, but your eyes widen in what seems like genuine shock when you see a notification you have never seen before:
fischbait donated 1,000 bucks!
“Holy fuck, thank you, f– ah!”
As soon as the control prompt showed up on his screen, Robert couldn’t resist making the vibe go to the highest setting, even if it was for just half a second. He bit his lip as he watched you recover from the sudden stimulation, your breathing ragged.
“Oh, thank you so much, fischbait,” you smile widely, opening your legs even further, “Treat me nicely, okay? Or don’t…”
Robert’s hand drops from his mouth to palm at his hardness. He wanted you to pay attention to him only, and he was finally gonna have that. He moves the vibrator’s settings to something more realistic and watches as you begin to grab at your chest.
“Feels so good, fuck," you pull down your top, revealing your tits to Robert– well, everyone, but he didn't want to think about that right now. "You're so good to me…"
"Yeah, just like that, (Y/N)," he takes his cock out from his increasingly uncomfortable slacks, quickly fisting it. "Show me your pretty tits, yeah…"
Robert waits for you to get comfortable with the speed he set, just to move it up by one. Your thighs tremble slightly, he could tell you were holding back. He sees you getting even wetter around the toy, glistening in the soft light of your room– it could be a studio, for all he knows. Robert's donations could certainly fund that. He acts like that idea didn't send a jolt through his body.
"Fuck, fuck," your head rolls back slightly, revealing your damp chest even further, "I think I'm gonna come already. God, don't stop!"
He couldn't care less that he was in his office and that his godforsaken secretary could walk in with some useless papers for him to sign at any given moment– he needed to make you come over and over again. Robert’s tip was leaking profusely, but his grip stopped him from doing anything prematurely. Maybe he wanted to be caught with his dick in his hand, what could anyone do about it?
Robert ups the setting again and watches you convulse around the tiny thing inside you. Uncontrollable moans and whimpers come out of his speakers at an embarrassing volume, but he’s only focused on keeping his pumps in time with your trembling. You babble nonsense as he brings the vibrations down somewhat, but not turning it off.
“Please, please, please… it’s so much!”
With his unoccupied hand, Robert quickly types into the chatbox:
Beg for me to stop if you want it so bad.
Your eyes glance at your own monitor, and you bite your lip before you respond, “Please, fischbait, don’t… don’t stop. Make me come again, okay? I want it so bad it hurts, please– fuck!”
He turns it to a pulsing setting, and you collapse back onto your plush duvet. Robert fists his length as you shake, the two of you practically moaning in sync. The wet sounds he was creating echo in his office as he chases his release, trying his best to time it with yours.
“I’m coming, God, I’m coming, please!”
Robert comes with a loud groan just as soon as you do, his release spilling all over his pristine desk. He continues to pump himself as you come down from your high, almost overstimulating himself to the point of incoherence.
You rise slowly from your bed, giggling tiredly, “Jesus fuck, thank you all so much for your… generous donations. I think I’m all tuckered out!”
He calmed his breathing only to hear your fucked out voice– which had him already preparing for another hard-on. “God, (Y/N)...”
“I’m gonna head out for the night,” you got closer to the camera, winking, “See you all next week, yeah?”
The camera clicks off, and he leans back in his chair, exhausted. Taking in the mess on his table, Robert realizes something. He never had a sense of clarity after orgasming with you, there were no regrets to be had. The things he’d do just to have you in his arms…
His reverie is interrupted by a ping! from his desktop, a message landed in his inbox.
today’s stream was perfect thanks to you, honey! you always treat me so well. i’d love to get to know you better ;)
Tonight was far from over.
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Jungkook
𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖙 [Teaser] 🔞
They told you to be careful with him, that he's much more than meets the eye, but you'd been convinced that you had him all figured out; all bark and no bite, just like any other big buff alpha you've met before. Oh how wrong you were.
Tags/Warnings: (here we go...) werewolf!kook, Alpha!kook, werewolf!reader, omega!reader, some angst, blood and fighting, we love drama, strangers to mates, soulmate AU, major injury, hurt & Comfort, fluff, Primal Play, slight powerplay (mc fights for dominance but looses), biting, rough manhandling, Dom!Jungkook, protected sex (an implant is mentioned we practice safe sex even in our imagination after all), Size kink because it's me writing this get over it, strength kink because it's me writing this get over it², spitting oops, spanking oops², mean dom kook, scratching oops³, orgasm control, knotting oops⁴, happy ending Yay
Length: unsure, approx. 5 chapters, ~2k words each.
A/N: Hi hello look it's technically not a hybrid fic. Also yes this teaser contains partial smut so please do not read this at church or your mom's birthday thanks.
🌘.━━━━━━━━━━.🌕.━━━━━━━━━━━.🌒
"Hm, but I'll play with you, won't you like that, hm?" He hums into your ear, and you melt underneath his words, easily nodding at his proposal, because you've waited way too long for this.
He's finally made his move, and you're gonna enjoy every last second of it.
"You think I haven't heard you talk to Jimin about me, don't you?" He suddenly brings up, inked arm reaching over your thigh so his hand can cup your heat- harshly so, forcing your body upright even, and you can't help but mewl at the way it puts pressure on your aching core. "You think I don't know how you yap about me to your friends hm? How you call me nothing but what? A 'bitch in heat', wasn't it?" He recalls, and you whimper a bit because you did call him that.
You called him a lot of other nasty things, and you do regret it a little. Just a tiny bit though. Or maybe a lot.
"Yeah well-" you huff impatiently, throwing your head back over his shoulder. "-You're all talk and nothing more." You complain. "You'll just- you just wanna fuck me and then toss me aside like everyone else!" You tell him with a slightly angry bite to your tone, and he clicks his tongue, fingers of his effortlessly opening the buttons of your shorts.
"Stupid omega-bullshit." You blame, hips moving impatiently as you curl your toes from the sensation. He shakes his head.
"And yet you let me." He chuckles, and you want to cry. Because you do let him fuck you over like this, right now. You do, with full knowledge of the consequences after. But you also want him, because he's got these.. glimpses of something you've never had before.
These moments of actual happiness, actual care and gentle adoration- something similar to the love everyone always gushes about around you, the thing you've never quite experienced before. "Why, I wonder." He asks you, while his fingers easily dip in between your legs, slick making it easy for him to move around.
"I think you know why." He shakes his head however, free hand moving to pull you up properly against his chest again, perched up on his thigh, legs spread open while your shorts and underwear pool at your ankles. "You know exactly why you let me, and why I'm doing this in the first place." He offers, and you don't answer.
Cause you're not sure. If it's not your omega hormones, then what? Is he going to come at you with some fated soulmate bullshit?
"You've got me tangled around your fingers, darling, and you don't even know it." Jungkook tells you with ear amusement in his tone, voice vibrating against your back. "Your body is calling out to me, and only me, isn't it?" He wonders, two fingers dipping inside you, finally giving you something at last. "You crave me, and can't bear the thought of anyone else touching you like this." He explains, while he leans in to let his lips run over the skin near your ear, searching for where your scent is strongest. "You feel empty without my touch, cold without my presence, lonely without my eyes on you." He goes on, and you want to cry out of frustration because first of all how does he know, and second of all why can't you fucking cum?!
"You know I'm right." The alpha wolf tells you. "Because I feel the exact same things." He offers.
"Wha-" you start, before you're interrupted by a specific motion of his fingers inside you, legs kicking out.
"Dont act so surprised." He mumbles against your skin, watching from above how you squirm in his grip, arm holding you close while the other plays around with you. "Its not like I'm hiding anything from you or anyone else." Jungkook chuckles. "Not like you, that is." He teasingly bites at your earlobe, making you shudder.
You're absolutely boneless in his grip right now, close to crying as he keeps your final high always a breath away.
"You're testing my patience, darling." The wolf continues, really making sure you know he's truly playing with you. "One moment you want me, the next you don't. Who's really playing a cruel game here, I wonder?" He accuses, and now you're really close to tears, but for different reasons.
"I dont-" you start, moving your legs in desperation. "- Wanna talk 'bout that now.." you whine, and he clicks his tongue.
"You don't ever want to." He almost growls. "And I'm sick of it, darling." He says, the pet name said almost like a threat, harsh and sharp. "You either talk-" he starts, and you're sweating at what cruel thing he's got in mind. "-or I'm leaving you."
And you know that by leaving, he's not only talking about his hand between your legs.
And that- the prospect of him leaving you alone- finally breaks the floodgates, making you cry.
Because you dont want him to leave.
Not anymore.
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#bts smut#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook smut#bts jungkook fanfic#bts jungkook imagine#bts jeon jungkook imagine
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It needs to be said Under My Skin is the best Radiobelle fanfic I have read so far! Everything in it is a 10 for 10 the characterization the plot, the slow burning romance it’s just so good the latest chapter had me somewhere between cackling, with giddy enjoyment and incoherently squealing at everything that happened.
Firstly, let me just say, Alastor’s mini shadow minions cuddling, and loving on Charlie was pure genius. It’s like he can’t be honest with himself so his powers find another way to release those feelings, and once again, it is thrust into his face how he really feels. Then the ending with the delivery with the flowers and him destroying the delivery man’s truck quite possibly killing the delivery man. Clearly, he’s never heard the term don’t shoot the messenger shoot the sender. His jealousy is definitely believable. We see it as clear as day because we’re getting a glimpse into his feelings, but he reacts to it subtly when other characters are around so they don’t take notice.
Now, for Vox’s scheming I like how you didn’t make Charlie, so naive as to believe that they wanted to sponsor the hotel without something in it for the vee’s. It was definitely a nice touch and refreshing to see Charlie being kind but not stupid. I feel like a lot of people don’t understand that just because a person is naïve does not mean that they’re stupid. Meanwhile Vox is trying to be cunning, but he can’t hide his physical reactions towards his animosity with Alastor but at the same time he subtly invades Charlie’s personal space not enough send her running for the hills but enough to give off a false sense of charming not that Charlie is fooled by it she’s obviously weirded out by his attempts. It’s clear that he wants to achieve something, but as what it is at the moment, I’m not entirely too sure he could be planning to put a false story out there of himself charming hell’s princess, in order to get under Alastor’s skin. But that’s just a guess. I feel like that’s not it though because it’s too obvious. I can’t wait to see Lucifer‘s reaction to all this because it seems like he knows something is brewing. He’s just not clear on what it is yet. And I’m all too eager to see Alastor lose his temper again
The sparring oh my God, the sporing was everything I hoped for and more it was just delicious just everything about it the mood, the tone, the teasing the banter that was just right and the the unintentional striptease!!! I had to be revived while reading the striptease! How did Alistair not realize that Charlie bit her lip so hard that she cut it? Alastor I understand you’re a massive emotion and you’re sweating through your feelings but you’ve got to pay attention. Your woman is literally thirsting over you. I also love that he’s training Charlie, because I feel like it adds to him saying what he said before about her having potential that he can guide.
My theory is on the awkward Boner tag is that it’s gonna happen if/ when Charlie loses her shit over something because he already checked her out before when she went into her full demon form over, losing her temper about the whole Gloryhole situation. But that was just her losing her temper for a quick second, if she were to actually harness that anger towards a person I think Alastor will be like Oh. Oh deer I need to excuse myself for a quick moment. All in all the chapter was fantastic. The whole story I could read four times and read it again it’s just so good may you continue to write I can’t wait to see what chapter 13 holds.
Oh my gosh, thank you so much! 🥰 This message has made my entire week!
I’m so glad you liked the cuddly shadowy minions! I just loved the idea of Alastor losing control over parts of himself because of his growing feelings for Charlie. He’s a guy who’s always in control of his emotions but he’s never had to deal with these types of emotions before. And he’s very ill-equipped to do so. That also causes these bouts of anger and jealousy that he also can’t control. It’s all he can manage to at least have these outbursts in private.
I agree about Charlie’s naivety! She’s kind and overly trusting but she’s not stupid. She’s willing to give Vox a chance because she’s willing to give everyone a chance. But she definitely went into the meeting feeling cautious and also picked up on his bad vibes. Plus Vox was very much trying to charm her in the same way Alastor does and she was like “Mmm no, that only works on me when Alastor does it.” 😉
I love the “training together” trope and couldn’t wait to write it for Charlie and Alastor! So much delicious potential for banter and sexual tension. 😏 And Alastor was too busy fuming over the insinuation that he lost to Adam because of his fancy clothes (which of course Charlie doesn’t actually think), that he totally didn’t notice her undressing the rest of him with her eyes.
You are very close about the awkward boner tag. 😉 I’ll just say it’s coming up soon.
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i dont know if youre taking requests but if youd like to, would you write a comfort fic with nathan bateman where the reader has really severe anxiety and panic attacks? i really love your nathan fics and barely anyone writes him, especially not the way you do
I am and thank you so much for the request! (I have such a soft spot for this silly man.) And thank you so much for your kind words (I am so terrible at expressing how much comments mean to me.)
(Also I am assuming you suffer from panic attacks, as do I, I hope you're okay and are doing well💚)
Any Time
Nathan Bateman X GN!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged? | request info
Warnings: Panic attacks, swearing, typos! Railroad sentences! Soft!Nathan being a big softie, please let me know if I've missed a warning!
Word Count: 683
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You weren’t sure what set it off. Whether it had been one thing, or a combination. At the very least, if you had been sure of the cause you could try to avoid it in the future.
But here you were, in the middle of the kitchen, clutching the countertop so tightly that you probably could have ripped the marble in two.
You knew what it was. Had had so many by now that they should have been routine. The fact that you knew it was a panic attack should have been enough to calm you, to settle your breathing and the crushing weight in your chest.
Instead the air caught in your throat and somehow didn’t seem to make it to your lungs. The dread built and grew until your bones were shaking under the weight of it.
This was going to last forever. This wasn’t going to end. This was-
“You okay?” Nathan’s voice cut through your internal dialogue like an air horn. It was too much. And only added to sickening compression around your throat. You didn’t want him here. Didn’t need him to see you like this.
Talking was practically impossible.
You shook your head, and managed to release the counter just long enough to wave your left hand dismissively. I’m fine.
“Hey, hey, hey,” you didn’t hear him walk towards you, but you felt his hand on your clammy shoulder. Warm and cold at the same time, too heavy, too much.
You shrug him away, looking down, trying and failing to control your breathing. To get a hold of yourself.
“Sorry, hey, sorry,” he held up his hands. “Look at me okay?”
You shook your head. Little spots of swirling colours were starting to appear at the corners of your vision. You were going to be sick. You were going to fall down. You were going to be-
“Look. At. Me.”
The firmness of his voice seemed to pull at your limbs, moving you before you even had the chance to register what he had said.
“You’re okay. It’s alright.” He nodded, keeping his voice calm and soft. “You’re gonna breathe with me alright,” he took in a breath through his nose. Over exaggerating the action and holding it for four seconds before he breathed out through his mouth.
He repeated the process, composed and sure. Breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, breathing out.
“You’re doing great, you’re okay,” he repeated between breaths.
Breathe in, breathe out.
“Doing so good, baby.”
You missed the pet name, didn’t see the flicker of self consciousness that flashed across his face at his slip of the tongue.
“You’re safe, nothings gonna happen.”
You tried to match him, at first failing miserably. But slowly both of your chests started to rise and fall in rhythm.
He continued to talk while you started to calm, the shaking in your hands lessening.
“You know how many panic attacks I’ve had?” He didn’t wait, or want a response. Just letting you focus on your breathing.
“So many. Hundreds, thousands maybe.” Nathan continued. “One always sticks in my head, I’d messed up some really basic coding. I was tired and stressed and it was really fucked up. And I just… broke.” He shrugs. “Panicking all by myself at half four in the morning.”
He smiles. “Thing is, the coding was just for a project I was working on. No deadline, no one else was gonna see it. I wasn’t letting anyone down, no one’s life was at risk and still… it was like my body was crumbling around me. Just,” he motions towards his chest. “Imploding. Suffocating me.”
He smiles again, but this time it’s at you. One of those rare, soft Nathan smiles.
Your breathing is a lot better, a lot closer to normal.
“Can I get you some water?”
You nod and Nathan helps you to sit at the kitchen table before he brings over a glass. Ice cubes are floating at the top.
He sits down next to you as you gulp half of the water down.
“Thank you.” You whisper.
“Any time.”
____________________________________
Thank you for reading! Want to be tagged?
Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @mbakubabe @whatthefishh @romanarose @pimosworld @boredzillenial
If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here
#nathan bateman#ex machina#nathan bateman x reader#x reader#nathan bateman x you#x you#nathan bateman x gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader#nathan bateman x gn!reader#x gn!reader#my writing#fanfic#oscar isaac#oscar isaac characters
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Late night thoughts with Oxygenpdf no. 2
Topic of the night: Max Verstappen’s dominance in formula one
@flyingcakeee you’re being tagged because you deal with my yap seshes 24/7
Max hate got so bad across platforms, had to specify that I indeed support his dominance in this sport. And will not be participating in the; “praying on his downfall” day.
Thank you.
No but in all seriousness. I get WHY people say “it’s getting boring” and to some extent I do agree, being able to anticipate who’s gonna win takes away some fun. However, it only adds to the enjoyment of NOT knowing another outcome. When Max dominates, majority of you guys don’t think of other possibilities. “What if Charles gets the lead?” “What if this is Landos first win” Max’s dominance allows us as fans to not only enjoy his progression in the sport, but also the anticipation of not knowing what else can happen.
of course, never would I pray on a drivers downfall. Every driver has their ins and outs. Max has been a personal new grid favourite of mine for a while. As has Lando () however, when he wins I get excited. Not for Redbull, but for him [or checo] individually.
Claiming that the sport is getting boring purely BECAUSE he’s winning is so ridiculous, at least in my opinion it is. I won’t fight you on it, that’s not what these yap seshes are for. I can come to terms with different opinions and thoughts. Hell if you don’t like Max, that’s totally fine. No one can truly bash your ideal driver lineup. But purely placing the blame onto him, as if he has a choice, is funny. He’s given a damn good car, and he’s a damn good driver who can control said car. Of course he’s going to take it home every race. He’s talent, skill, and ability mashed into one. It’s not “the car” it’s him.
here’s what I say; if you give a driver a good and fast car, said driver needs to be able to control it.
Redbull has given Max a very good car, as they should, and he’s been able to control it. THATS what the sport is about, good driver = good car, good car = needs a driver that can control it. It’s not about him reducing his wins because fans think his dominance is wasted or repetitive.
Even if Redbull didn’t give him a worthy car, yall think Max wouldn’t haul its dusty ass to 1st still? He proved way back in his early years that even when the car is absolutely shit, that he’s able to control it well enough in the points.
Rounding back. I can see why the sports getting boring. I too find it a bit boring, but that’s not because of his dominance, but because everything is really happening off-track more than on-track. And unfortunately the times good shit happens, it spirals out of control and things happen [AHEM Daniel AHEM Lance AHEM] also because I’ve watched this sport for so long, sometimes the excitement doesn’t catch up to me in time. I’ve always found Indy more entertaining, but F1 comes a damn close second along with WEC.
Anyways this is my propaganda against Max hate.
#pro Max Verstappen#that better be a tag#because I am pro max all day everyday#late night thoughts with Oxygenpdf#formula 1#f1#formula one#max verstappen
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Bite Me
❯ Pairings: Heeseung x fem! reader
❯ Genre: Cakeverse AU (please read A/N if you aren't familiar with this AU), smut, yandere.
❯ Word Count: 3.612
❯ Tags: unprotected sex, suggestive, yandere, praising, stalking, slight possessiveness, and manipulation.
❯ Narrative viewpoint: First-person point of view (for Heeseung) and Second-person point of view (for the sexual part)
❯ A/N: I'm sorry for any inaccuracy in grammar as well as writing style because English isn’t my first language.
❯ A brief of Cakeverse:
“Cakeverse” is a spin-off of the “Omegaverse”. Similarly to its predecessor, characters in the Cakeverse are divided into three categories: Cakes, Forks, and normal people.
Cake: They are born with delicious fragrances, but they don’t know about it. The only way they find out about their status is through the coincidence of kissing a Fork.
Fork: When reaching a certain age, Forks will lose their sense of taste, only able to feel the taste of Cakes. Fork's basic instinct is eating Cakes, including bones, blood, and meat (NO, TRUST ME I NOT GONNA ADD THEM IN THIS FIC, they sound horrible to me)
The first time I met Y/N, through those innocent eyes, I'd already visualized her figure being pressed aggressively under my body.
I couldn't help myself from the desire to kiss, bite, and lick every inch of her skin, much as one would suck the fruit filling on a strawberry dessert. I narrowed my eyes at Y/N in the hopes that I hadn’t scared her off. I could smell the fragrance of blood running underneath her skin from this far.
“You must be sweet like that too, don't you think?”
At that moment, I realized that Y/N had awakened my taste buds. She is my Cake, and this is a fate that none of us can escape.
The first strategy in hunting is gently approaching the prey.
For several days, I observed the small bar where Y/N was singing. She initially went there with her buddies, but after a while, she went herself. She looked abstracted that day, seemed to think about someone, revealed a hint of sadness, and even though it only lasted for a moment, I still clenched my jaw in a fit of jealousy. She should have been on my bed, sobbing uncontrollably until her eyes turned red. I would have applied something like cream on her lower abdomen and licked it off slowly.
Y/N is the most expensive and high-grade Cake in the world, yet nobody can taste her sweetness.
“But that’s not bad at all. Thanks to that, I have more time to put you in my pocket.”
The second strategy in hunting is deceiving, pretending to be pure and innocent to gain the trust of prey.
Y/N was surrounded by a lot of low-level Forks who are so despicable. She only realized that she was a Cake when those bastards couldn’t control their fangs and the repulsive desire in their eyes. She was always sluggish, and it was too late to flee.
When those inferiors were getting closer to her, I kicked them hard from behind. Even though I wanted to delay this fight a little bit, I couldn't bear to witness their dirty hands ruin my dessert.
I pulled Y/N in my arms tightly. Her eyes were wide with panic, her knuckles became white as she grasped my shoulder to calm her rushing heart.
The distance was so close. I hoped that she wasn’t aware of the sound I made as I gulped saliva. I made an effort to control myself, but her body and soul were so fragrant that they kept triggering my hunger.
A half-deaf Fork rushed over with an empty glass bottle in his hand. I turned around so that he could hit me. As I had hoped for, Y/N witnessed that scenario. She was terror-stricken, looking at me with unbelievable eyes.
My plan was half successful.
The worst disappointment was that Fork's dirty hands had touched my sweet little Cake. I broke his hands and watched him trembling uncontrollably on the ground like a loser. I covered Y/N’s eyes, my palms were wet with her tears. She touched my injured forehead out of worry. She probably didn’t know how fragile she looked at that time: a blush of shyness crept up her face, and her eyes were blurred with tears. She looked like a ripe cherry waiting to be picked. I wanted to bite her lips, but my vision was becoming blurry…
“It’s all right, this is just the beginning.”
After being discharged from the hospital, Y/N accompanied me home. I told her a lie about being homeless. My band and I used to have a good time, but I eventually fell on hard times. My innocent little Cake was always easy to be fooled. All I had to do was stare at her with my bambi eyes. She looked awkward but still soft-hearted at the end. I couldn’t look at her for too long because doing so would arouse my hunger.
The third strategy in hunting is penetrating her life step by step.
Because I had spent a few days with Y/N, I was somewhat aware of the reasons for her earlier unfocused attitude in the bar. She had previously lived with her colleagues, one girl, and one boy. Then there had been some conflicts, so she moved out. I was quite curious about the circumstances, so I looked through a photo album in Y/N's big suitcase. The relationship between her and her ex-roommates seemed so good. Actually, too nice that it was a bit abnormal. Y/N looked at the boy with a sparkle in her eyes.
Perhaps Y/N had been in love with him, but they had cut off contact due to some reason, so her mood was extremely terrible. But in my point of view, it was fate. That’s why I was here, in her house.
I started to live with Y/N. Every morning, I woke up and waited for her to make breakfast for me. Although I had lost my sense of taste, I could feel a little craving when glancing at Y/N, then tried to swallow food. She didn’t know much about cooking, perhaps just begun to learn so she could take care of me. Like a fledgling waiting to be fed, I waited for her to finish her work and go back home every day.
Y/N uncarefully cut her hands while slicing meat. I put her finger in my mouth, her blood tasted sweet, like syrup. I innocently glanced at Y/N. She assumed I was worried about her. She moved her hand backward and comforted me by saying that it didn’t hurt.
When we went to the supermarket, I liked to buy things in pairs such as house slippers, toothbrushes, cups, and even bowls. Y/N clenched her fists and hit my chest as she stared at the long receipt. The last time she had such an upset expression was when I had eaten all the flavors of ice cream in her refrigerator. I liked to tease her and relished her kitten-like anger. I assured her that I would pay her money every month.
I developed a close bond with Y/N that was apart from our Fork-Cake connection. She progressively became open to sharing some stories of her life, how she had experienced loss, how her confidence had faded away, and how her unrequited love had not been returned. I coaxed her by complimenting her unconditionally every time she writes songs for me.
I made up some fairy stories and told Y/N before bedtime every night. She had worked during the day, then she quit her job at the bar to take care of me. People who were too lonely usually don’t have a peaceful night, and my Y/N consistently had trouble sleeping. Every time I completed a fairy tale, she would beg me for more. But I always said that the best would be reserved for later. I was aware that she didn't particularly want to hear those stories.
Y/N simply did not want to sleep alone.
The fourth strategy in hunting is attacking and grabbing the chance to swallow prey.
When I thought the time was ripe, I feigned to be ill. A slight concussion, according to the doctor, led to vomiting and an appetite loss. Thanks to that dirty Fork with his glass bottle.
I didn’t eat anything. Y/N tried to come up with new foods for me to eat more. She attempted to study a new recipe and used her meager monthly wage to buy cooking supplies.
No more fairy tales at night. I wrapped myself in the blanket and pretended to be extremely exhausted. In spite of the fact that I didn’t eat much during that month and lost a lot of weight, my desire for Y/N outweighed my bodily hunger.
Y/N made a bowl of egg soup, which she had just learned when getting home from work. She ruined numerous eggs before encouraging me to eat by patting my back, like coaxing a child.
- Hee, please eat something.
I didn't take her spoon. Instead, I pulled her closer and gave her my passionate-bambi gaze until she blushed. My little sweet Cake has innocent eyes but at that moment, I just wanted to see them in tears, seeing that she couldn’t help but wrap her legs around my waist. I wanted to devour her.
I was dying of hunger.
I tentatively pressed my lips on hers. Y/N didn’t shy away, then I knew I could start tasting my Cake.
I had waited far too long for this day. When I caught her on the first day, my heart raced faster uncontrollably. My palm was so cold. When I touched her, she trembled slightly like a young bird that had just been wet, and I was her only wind-avoiding nest.
My lips parted from hers. I could hear the sound of her heavy breath, the sound of her blood streaming rapidly. I kissed her forehead softly. That was my devotion to the prey. Those eyes came next. Her eyelashes were shaking. Y/N's eyelids were so thin that I could see the tiny blood vessels beating slightly beneath them. She was too white. Even when Y/N wasn’t shy, her nose tip and eye corners remained rosy.
I believed that a high-grade Cake had to have a gorgeous outlook. It couldn't just be a smooth cream surface; it also needed some decorative strawberries. And Y/N had all of those characteristics.
Heeseung guided you to sit on his lap, locking your arms around his neck. His hands on your hips eagerly pushed your heat down against his erection, hoping that you would notice his half-hard boner pressing your core. His hands found the hem of your nightgown and slowly took it off. You were too nervous to open your eyes. Heeseung lifted your head by your chin and mildly bit your cheek. He said that it was fluffy like soufflé.
- Naughty girl with no bra huh?
His hands squeezed your boobs, leaving kisses alongside your jaw. He kissed down your neck to your collarbone, pinching and rolling his thumb over your hardened nipple. He took one boob in his hand, rubbing it. His tongue twirled around the bud before sucking your nipple while his other hand rubbed your thigh, slowly reaching your intimate area.
You moaned like a mess, feeling the sensation build up inside your stomach.
- So fucking cute, moaning like this just because I suck your boobs.
Heeseung blew hot breath on your tits after abusing them. He kissed the area of the underboob, leaving strings of his saliva all over your flesh. Your tits were shiny like being sprinkled with sour cherry Brandy wine. You ran your hands through his hair as he pressed his head more on your chest, inhaling the smell of shower gel that he bought for you. His hand abandoned your ass and started running his thumb around your nipple.
- T..that f..feels good, Hee.
He smiled.
- Yeah? If you consent to me, I can make you feel even better.
Heeseung looked up and saw the unshed tears glistening in the corners of your eyes. He squeezed your waist to stop your non-stop trembling body.
- Baby, it will be ok...
- I-I allow you…
Heeseung couldn’t help but grinded his hard cock against your core. He reassured you as he pulled you into a slow kiss, and let you lay down in bed. Your belly must be the most delicate area since there are hundreds of butterflies fluttering inside. Once his lips pressed on it, they seemed to fly out. Heeseung gripped your waist as his teeth pulled your underwear down.
He suddenly remembered the milk pudding he had eaten in childhood. When unwrapping the plastic package, the soft pudding exposed to the air, even bounced up to the amplitude of movement, left memorable ripples. He squeezed your butt cheek and watched the tiny moan coming out of your lips.
- I'll be gentle. Once you feel uncomfortable, I will stop immediately.
His fingers traced over your clit, middle and index fingers spreading your pussy lips apart. Heeseung pushed two fingers into you slowly and scissored them to stretch you out. You started clenching around his fingers. It drove him mad with lust when feeling your velvet walls tighten. He had no intention of stopping, added a third finger, and began moving faster, his thumb reaching up to your clit, not until you were begging him.
- P-please, Hee. Please I want more….
Heeseung thought it was really cute whenever he teased you. Maybe he would edge you until you were sobbing and then make you get off with your own fingers. But not now, not this damn moment.
The sound of him pulling down the zipper of his jeans was loud enough that sent a shiver down your spine. It was nothing, though, to compare with the groan he made as he stroked his cock outside his boxer. You held your breath as you strained to hear him. Heeseung pulled his cock out of his confinement, his cock throbbing against his stomach. He wrapped his fingers around his erection, spreading beads of precum on himself.
- Wanna feel it?
He guides your hand down to touch it. You grabbed a hold of his dick, stroking slightly. Only God knew how desperate he was to see this scene.
- Do you want me to use a condom or not?
You bit your lip and debated for a minute whether to answer truthfully.
- No, I want to feel you.
- Shit Y/N, you have no idea how much I want to bury my cock inside you, stretch every single inch of you until you writhe under me, beg me to stop.
It was your turn to breathe out weakly, back arching off the bed to reach his dick, wondering if he could feel how wet he was making you.
- I want that as much as you do, Hee.
You lifted your gaze to meet his. His eyes were dark and glazed over with both lust and frustration. Heeseung smirked and raised an eyebrow upward as he guided your legs wrapping around him, heels digging into his lower back to facilitate his penetration. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down over your sopping fold.
- Let’s carve the safe word in your head baby. Chocolate.
Chocolate because there is no more Vanilla.
You nodded, and closed your eyes, waiting for the delicious stretch of his dick pushing into you. Heeseung dragged his cock along your fold and lubricated it with your wetness and his precum before slowly plugging his length down your hole until he bottomed up, making the two of you sigh in relief. A deep groan escaped his lips as he adjusts to the feeling of your hot, wet cunt around him.
- Fuck, baby. Like fucking made for me.
You gasped and tossed your head back, your hand covered your mouth and your eyes rolled back. Heeseung left sloppy wet kisses on your neck to ease your pain. It took a while for you to adjust his big size. You guys stayed in the position, just feeling each other.
- Hee, you can move now.
He nodded and started to fuck you slowly, before eventually hitting your walls at a perfect angle with an unforgiving pace that has you seeing stars. Your hands ran over his torso, scratching his back deliciously that got him hissed, obviously leaving marks on it. Your back arched high from the mattress, your voice reached that high pitched while Heeseung kept thrusting into you constantly. Your room echoed with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Heeseung moved his hand to your belly, feeling the small bulge he made every time his dick was buried inside you. The stimulation was becoming too much, something in your stomach slowly tightening.
- Heeseung!
His name ripped from your throat when he led one hand down to roll your clit in circular figures.
- I.. I’m about to… to cum.
He sped up and kissed your cheek.
- Go ahead babe, cum for me.
You came with a string of moan mess, painting his length with your juice, some getting on his base, some dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. Heeseung was in awe as he watched milky white rings around his cock. He stopped for a second for you to catch your breath.
- Will you cum in me too?
Heeseung cussed under his breath. The way you sounded so innocent while spilling those lascivious words. He panted against your lips.
- You're gonna kill me Y/N. You’re so hot.
- Say it to yourself.
You kiss him one more time before bucking your hip upwards. He chuckled at your flirtatiousness.
- Yea- gonna put our kids in you.
Heeseung sank further, cockhead burying itself deep into your cunt with every snap of his hips. He grabbed your jaw to force your gaze onto him.
- You take me so well, so fucking tight for me. Look at my eyes when taking my fat cock, love.
Heeseung angled his hips higher so his tip aggressively reached the right spot that made you see stars. He thrusted hard for the last time before he spurted his white and warm load of seeds inside you. His head falls forward and he takes the opportunity to plant sweet kisses all over your face and cheek. He leaned into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.
And at that fucking moment, Heeseung started to lose control over his desire of eating you, like a Fork want to devour his Cake. Finally, his sharp fang coming out wanted to pierce through your seductive neck.
Suddenly, a dagger was placed against his chest. Heeseung gave you a shocked expression. Both of you had not yet fully recovered from the intense orgasm. Your eyes were crimson in the corners, fierce yet also attractive. You spoke to him in a shaky voice that was full of hatred.
- You are a Fork too. You wanted to eat me.
This statement wasn’t a question. You indulged him repeatedly despite the fact that you were quite certain of his motivations and had known it for a very long time.
“No wonder you are my little Cake, Y/N”
Heeseung grinned at you and kissed your hair and eyelashes gently. He grabbed your hand and positioned it an inch to the left, where his heart was there.
- Here, love. Stab here to kill me. Kill me and no one will tell fairy tales to you tomorrow night.
The last step in hunting is a retreat for a longer-lasting relationship with prey.
Y/N's dagger fell to the bed. She covered his eyes and whimpered. In fact, Y/N has been in love with me for a very long time. When I gradually entered her life, she became accustomed to seeing the lights in the house while coming back from work, and paying for the long receipt in the supermarket's checkout,... In her perception, her house now became warm with a full smell of cooked food, rather than an empty room and midnight takeout.
I replaced the photos of Y/N and her ex-roommate with our photos.
Y/N started composing songs with happy tunes. When she played piano, they sounded like soft lullabies. I learned those tunes by heart, humming them while I brushed my teeth next to her in the morning. Y/N turned her head excitedly and asked me how I remembered it with a mouth full of toothpaste foam. I said that I could recall all the songs written by her.
Y/N also no longer took sleep pills. She hid a variety of psychiatric medications under the bed, including red and white tablets that I have no idea what they taste like but must not be delicious. If I had a chance, I would have surreptitiously replaced them with colorful candies. Y/N looked forward to my stories every night because I would lean close to her and pat her back. As long as I was beside her, Y/N could sleep peacefully.
Y/N couldn’t accept my leaving. She would gladly offer me her heart if I asked to devour her. There was a lack of love and safety in her. People were a little friendly to Y/N, she was willing to offer them all of her love and kindness.
Y/N held my face and kissed my lips while pleading with me not to leave her. She was still in tears. Y/N twisted around, shoved me down, and raised her white wrists to my mouth.
- Lee Heeseung, bite me. You can devour me, just please don't go. Don't leave me.
My plan of letting my Cake bring herself to me was achieved. I bit her collarbone and tasted the bleeding skin where my teeth had left their marks before biting somewhere else. My tongue stirred in her mouth, playing with her tongue…
Little tooth marks were highlighted on her white boobs, yet Y/N still insisted on hugging me.
I thought that I would devour Y/N because she was really seductive that challenged my ultimate limit time after time.
But I wouldn't have survived if I had eaten Y/N. We had managed to achieve a symbiotic connection in some way.
Y/N had already fallen asleep. She continued to sob in her dream while encircling my neck with her arms. That pose was very uncomfortable to sleep in. I took her arm, embraced her in my arms, and kissed her forehead.
Good night.
My little Cake.
I will be very thankful to read your feedback so plz don't hesitate to leave it in comment or in anonymous box keke
#heeseung#heeseung smut#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#heeseung hard hours#lee heeseung smut#yandere heeseung#heeseung imagines#heeseung x reader#heeseung fanfic
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