Tumpik
#i turned the volume completely up
deus-ex-mona · 10 days ago
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and the award for the ✨most annoying name✨ goes to—
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caughdeighy · a month ago
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okay, no, because i saw someone defending joly poly's right to ~write about her trauma~ in re: online harassment and while i agree on principle that yes, online harassment is traumatic and people have crossed the line in threatening violence against her etc etc... what? way to entirely miss the FUCKING point.
the criticism i've seen levied against the book was NOT on the basis of "don't write about online harassment, wah wah, who cares about people threatening you on the internet?!" it was on the basis of like. the horrible ableist caricature of the story's "SJW villain". calling out SPECIFIC DIAGNOSES and pinning them to this ableist caricature, implying that anyone with those illnesses is an attention-seeker?!?!?? trying to make a sympathetic victim out of an artist who is "accused" of being racist, ableist, and transphobic - and isn't that exactly how JK paints herself as well? a sympathetic victim who's only been "accused", never actually done anything wrong, and doubled and tripled down and not apologized or taken accountability even once?
this isn't a criticism of writing about online harassment or about trauma, and if JK wanted to write about either of those things in a way that wasn't so blatantly two-faced, and STILL BIGOTED, i'd support her in that! but the book itself is STILL problematic in all the ways she's been called out on already. this book is just another way of trying to absolve herself, and/or take cheap shots at the victims of HER bigotry, while the #IStandWithJKR squad laughs along and pats her on the shoulders reassuringly. so, no, i don't feel bad making fun of her for writing this thing. it's pathetic and it's too long for a mystery novel and its intention is as clear as a goddamn blue sky.
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g-a-y-g-o-y-l-e · 9 months ago
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putting off taking my meds so my anxiety will keep me awake while i grind to try to complete a goal on a shitty mobile app. i make good decisions always
#ive got 10 hours left and im BARELY MAYBE on the right trajectory to make it! but i have to be awake until then#coz i gotta keep managing shit and grinding. this goals not gonna meet itself#for anyone on bakery story whos curious: its the rising stars goal#which only appeared for me TWO DAYS before the deadline because i was late to something else#this is not meant to be completed in two days. especially not for a first-timer (id never done this goal before)#BUT#i think im getting there#i just have to stay awake stay vigilant focused etc#italked#itagged#original post#tag later#also if you Are on bakery story like. dm me we can be neighbors#i call bakery story shitty because its definitely like. janky and poorly-maintained and stuff#but its still really fun and catchy#and now theyve made it pretty easy to get gems. it used to be hard/impossible to get any consistently without paying real money#now you just have to watch short mobile game ads#which is p easy when i can just turn off the volume and watch a video on the laptop and not really pay attention to the ad on the ipad#its like. sort of in the adventure quest realm for me of like. im going to admit straight-up this is objectively kind of a shitty game#but its also really fun and very retro at this point and like. its nostalgic for anyone who played it when they were a kid#and theres lots to do! which is neat#and a lot of the motivation is design (aq worlds is all about fashion and bakery storys about interior design.#even if thats not necessarily something ive ever heard anyone outright say like. all of us who play these things know that.)#if you need something to kill time both adventurequest worlds and bakery story are Perfect for that
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ceet · a year ago
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『チェンソーマン』 第一部完結記念 「早川家のリビング」
There’s a livestream from Shonen Jump called the “Hayakawa Family Living Room”. Chill music’s playing and the art changes from time to time to show different characters (when Makima pops up the music gets creepy lol).
It’s a premiere so there may be an announcement about Chainsaw Man at the end!
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sofarsogoodsowhat · a year ago
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have you ever had to take painkillers WHILE youre headbanging before. its an experience
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spacingout · a year ago
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Im gonna beat my alarm clock with a hammer
#ramblings#ok so#there are two different settings for alarms#you can either have it play the radio as the alarm or this sign sounding alarm thing it calls a buzz#I always. ALWAYS use the radio setting when i use the alarm on it because the buzz siren alarm scares the absolute shit out of me#ive had this alarm clock for quite a few years#probably since like 7th grade thats like at least five years#i have not ONCE set an alarm to the buzz one because i dont like waking up and having a fucking panic attack#p s i dont even use this for alarms any more just to charge my phone because ut doesnt hold the time#but all these years ive had it it does this absolutely insane thing#usually it happens between the hours of 2 and 4am but not always#anyways. the thing it does is that it will just randomly start going off full volume on the buzz setting#imagine waking up at the ripe time of 2:38am to a very loud screeching buzz screaming directly into your ear#yeah thats what it does#just completely randomly whenever it likes#MIND YOU THERE IS NOT AN ALARM SET WHEN IT GOES OFF#if took me 10 minutes of loud screeching at 3 in the morning the first time it happened for me to get it to stop#the only thing that turn it off is turning on the radio which is going to be equally loud as the buzzing and then turning it back off#i don’t know why the hell it does this but it does and i hate it#so yeah that just happened while i was in the middle of my fucking game#made me hit my head the damn ceiling bc i sat up so fast to fix it too
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lovehopeandconfusion · a year ago
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Fee “Mr. Hate” Waybill. (x)
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bunbundle · 3 months ago
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how do I gently tell my dad that he doesn't have to watch funny videos on facebook on his phone at full volume
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upsidedownwithsteve · 3 months ago
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You Make It Easy
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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [9k] prompts: "I almost lost you" "I fucking hate you" "I’m never leaving, promise" and "I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified to be honest.” A little upside down angst, some soft sex, best friends to lovers.
“God, I fucking hate you,” Steve panted, his voice pained and his words harsh but there wasn’t any heat behind it, his hands soft on you as he pulled you into the rough surface of the rock face. 
“Hey now, that’s not v’nice” you mumbled, voice fuzzy and you hissed in pain when Steve tried to gather you into his side, lifting at your sleeve, exposing the bite marks on your shoulder. 
You really didn’t understand Steve’s confusion at the sight of you appearing from the gate, waterlogged and chest heaving, ready to run for him, fight for him. You knew he’d do the same for you, for any of you. It’s why the idiot was the one to declare he was jumping over the side of the boat in the first place. 
He’d left you on the narrow bench, rocking on the surface of Lovers Lake in darkness as Robin counted the seconds he’d been submerged, sounding like a ticking time bomb as you stared into the water, willing him to surface. 
When he eventually did, you didn’t anticipate him to be ripped from your grip so quickly, so easily. You’d heard him call out your name, voice shocked, just as he swallowed water and disappeared. 
The only person that seemed so shocked you’d immediately followed him, was Steve himself. Your jacket and any logic you’d had, had been left on the floor of the boat, your only thought being the safety of your best friend. 
“Shut up,” there still wasn't any bite to his words, his eyes flashing with worry and anger, and you could feel it roll off of him in waves, his hands shaking on you. 
Robin and Nancy exchanged a look, unsure if they should be helping or not, but god they were just as scared, eyes frantic, knowing all too well what else could come out from the vines and red mist of the upside down. So they stayed at the edges of you both, shoulder to shoulder and watching the tree line for monsters and nightmares. 
Steve sucked in his bottom lip, trying to stay calm despite the situation you were all in. He felt helpless, frantic at the sight of your blood and the way your eyes were turning a little unfocused. 
Dust and grey matter floated around you all, Eddie and the girls bathed in a dull, crimson light as they stared at you both, everyone with their own injuries. Cuts littered everyone’s skin, their clothes ripped, eyes wide, chests heaving. 
“You never listen to me, you never goddamn listen to me, I told you to stay in the boat!” Steve was rambling now, voice climbing a little higher in volume as the landscape around you roared and hissed with life. 
He stared at you, wide eyed. “Why d’you gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn, huh, sweetheart?”
“It’s been four years Harrington, that shit is on you if you think if I’m gonna start listening now.” 
Your eyes were closed, hiding from the pain or your best friend’s accusatory glare, you weren’t sure, but when you heard a small snort of laughter, you knew it was Robin. You opened one eye, peeking out from your lashes and you watched the girl shake her head when you winked at her. 
Steve was decidedly less amused. He was muttering to himself, completely ignoring your smart ass cracks but he winced and frowned every time you let a whimper of pain slip out. He felt sick, stomach rolling at the sight of your injuries, hating that you were hurt, mortified that it was because of him. 
You could feel his hands on you, pressure and something stung, something seared at your skin and you tried not to think about it, tried not to think about how it was almost Steve. You felt a little sick, the image of the boy in the ground with that thing wrapped around his neck, like something out of a horror movie, your own personal nightmare. 
It didn’t matter that you were hurt. You were fine. And Steve was safe. You’d slammed the bat with a broken oar, the wood rotting and damp in your hands and it left splinters and dirt in your palms. But you’d swung it almost mindlessly, panic in your chest that burned worse than the cuts and bites, because Steve had been choking. 
He whispered your name and it sounded like a prayer, like a cry for help and you immediately sobered when you pulled your gaze away from Robin and looked back at the boy. 
The smile slipped from your face and you realised you’d been slipping down further against skull rock, eyes lazy and unseeing as you let sleep pull at you. It all felt like a bad dream, a nightmare that nipped and sliced at your skin, razor sharp teeth gnawing at your bones until they burned. 
Steve was on the ground next to you, kneeling in the rocks and dirt as he crowded into you, hands pressing material onto your upper arm that you quickly realised Nancy had ripped from her shirt. 
His movements were clumsy and he was trying so hard to be gentle, to not hurt you anymore than you already were but his chest was heaving, his brown eyes were glassy. 
Nancy hovered, placing a hand on his shoulder before whispering, “Hey, why don’t you let me help her?“
But he was shaking his head furiously, eyes set on you, on the blood that was running down your arm, soaking into your shirt and turning the cotton a dark red. He was stubborn and determined, completely unaware of the tears that were making his vision blurry because his attention was solely set on you - the fact that he could feel you warm and moving under his palms was the only thing keeping him together. 
“Steve-” you began gently, voice breaking and wavering at the sight of him. 
Dirt and blood streaked the sides of his face and neck, an angry, red welt there that you knew you would stay for a while; a horrific reminder of what you had to watch. He blinked at your voice, hands pausing, chest wrecked and finally, a tear tracked its way down his cheek, cutting through the grime and landing on his lip. 
“I told you to stay on the boat,” he said again, but this time his voice was shot, cracking, splitting, shaking and he shuddered a little when he stole a gasp of air, his forearm swiping angrily across his lips, smearing tears and blood. 
You tried to move, groaning when you shifted closer to him, just an inch - it was all you could manage - but you caught his chin in your hand, eyes wide, fingers splayed across his cheek and jaw as you rubbed circles into his skin with your thumb. 
“I’m fine,” you whispered, trying with everything in you to soothe the boy, to bring back the same sarky attitude he had with you before. “I’m okay, I’m here and I know you hate me, I was just trying to-”
“I don’t hate you,” he scoffed and Steve was shaking his head, loosening your grasp on him and rocked back on his knees, staring at you with such guilt that it ruined you. 
 “I almost lost you,” Steve’s voice had risen again, his words biting and left hanging in the air and behind the anger, the frustration you could hear what was written in his eyes, what was making his chest heave. 
Fear. 
Behind you both, Nancy, Robin and Eddie shuffled, moving a few feet away to offer you what little privacy they could afford despite the overwhelming threat of god knows what. 
The Upside Down was still breathing with you all, it had its own heartbeat, a pulse underneath your feet that served as a constant reminder that you were being watched, tracked. 
Like something was waiting. 
But suddenly, there wasn’t anything more terrifying than watching Steve break apart in front of you, face damp with dirt, blood and tears, a pretty mess that you wanted to curl into, to ask ‘please take me home, it hurts.’
You sniffed instead, swallowed a gulp of air that tasted stale and like metal and you nodded, understanding. It took you a second but you moved to your knees, pulling yourself up gingerly with your hands gripping your best friend's sides. He was swearing, alarmed and annoyed that you were exerting yourself more than you should but you could feel the way his chest heaved underneath your touch, the way the air between you both crackled and roared with panic. 
Anxiety was rolling off of the boy in waves and you wanted to do what you couldn’t do before, you wanted to grab his hand and pull him back up. Out of the water, out of the dark and into the boat. 
Safe. 
Your hands found his face again, thumbs smoothing away the tears that streaked his cheeks and lip as you swayed into him, chests bumping and he caught you, hands wide across your ribs, his palms gingerly avoiding your wounds. 
“Steve,” you whispered, trying to sound stern, trying to cut through his panic but your voice was cracking too, his emotions seeping into your own chest, squeezing at your heart, “Steve, babe, hey.”
He blinked, focusing on you, eyes roaming desperately over your features and he let out a gasp of breath that sounded like a sigh of relief and as he leant into you, forehead brushing your own, he was mumbling, voice soft and a little broken. 
“I almost lost you,” he repeated, “you should’ve stayed on the boat, I thought I fucking lost you.”
“Shh, I know, it’s okay, I know,” you soothed him, eyes frantic as you scanned his face, watching how his strong features crumpled, like he was losing the strength that was holding him together. 
“I’m here, I’m okay,” you reminded him and you moved slowly and carefully into him, hands dragging from his cheeks and into the hair at the nape of his neck as you wound your arms around him. 
It took a second or two, maybe less, before Steve let himself return the touch, strong arms wrapping around your waist and you closed your eyes at the feel of it, not at all surprised to feel your own tears slipping down your cheeks, salt on your lips. 
The pain you felt from your bites and cuts disappeared at his embrace, just for a minute. It was enough to warm you, the cold damp from the lake still sticking to your clothes and skin, but the feel of Steve safe and solid against you made you feel like everything was okay. 
Somewhere in the distance, a creature roared and the boy’s hold on you tightened. 
“You think I’m that easy to get rid of, huh?” You tried to lighten your voice, soften your tone, and you pressed the words into the soft skin of the boy's neck, your lips moving against the curve of it in an almost kiss. “Someone’s gotta stick around and watch your dumb ass, you’d never get anything done without me.”
You felt Steve let out a huff of breath, hot air falling onto your cheek as he pressed himself into you and it sounded like a laugh, like relief and sunshine and safety. 
If you closed your eyes and played make believe, you could imagine you were in Steve’s bedroom, drunk after a stupid party and holding your best friend as you fell asleep, wishing and pretending it was something more. 
“I’m okay,” you told him again, voice a little firmer and he nodded against you, his breathing stuttering as you soothed a hand over his wild hair, trailing your palm across the back of his neck. “We’re okay, I’m not leaving. Not leaving you, promise.”
The feel of his lips pressed to your temple, white hot and burning your skin, told you that he believed you. 
—————
Going back to Steve’s house was the easiest option, for all of you. The home lay empty, free of worried parents, panicked questions, calls to the police that wouldn’t make any difference. 
You sat in the back of the car, pressed between Robin and Steve, ‘cause after the kids dropped you a lifeline from Eddie's trailer, you’d watched in surprise as Steve threw his car keys to the other boy, his hand tightly intertwined with your own and no one questioned it. 
He wasn’t letting go of you and nobody was going to make him. 
Dustin, Max and Lucas were in the trunk, quiet and wide eyes searching their older friends for some signs of reassurance. Nancy was up front with Eddie, talking softly about how everyone needed a hot shower and a good sleep, answering the questions that Dustin was asking, the younger boy’s voice worried and choked. 
You leaned into Steve, your cheek on his shoulder, his head resting on yours and every now and then, he’d run his thumb over the top of your hand, reassuring you and himself, that you were both still there. 
Eddie slowed and stopped at each house, dropping off the younger of the bunch and you all watched until they disappeared into the safety of their homes, one by one, waving before the doors closed. 
You weren’t sure who decided the five of you were staying at Steve’s, it could’ve been Nancy, maybe even Robin. But Steve hummed his agreement and Robin directed the other boy to the house, impressive as it was empty. The windows were dark, the driveway clear and when you all stepped out onto the front porch, you could smell the chlorine from the backyard pool, a false sense of summer and happy memories. 
It was easy to let Steve guide you to one of the bathrooms, Nancy and Eddie peeling off on the ground floor to find a shower and food, the kitchen lit up as the smaller girl busied herself at the oven, pressing buttons until it hummed to life and she searched the freezer drawers for pizzas and chicken nuggets, potato waffles and frozen fries, a late night dinner than Dustin would have envied. 
You could smell pepperoni and the coffee machine that Steve’s mom bought but never used groaned and clicked to life, but Steve still had his hand in yours, the other on the small of your back as he led you to the en-suite off of his bedroom, as if keeping you as close as possible to the things he held dear would keep you the safest. 
It was a little hazy as he pushed open the shower door, murmuring softly about water temperatures and left to right as he tapped the dials. You could only really nod, your grip on him still tight and you briefly wondered if you were able to let him go, if he was gonna be able to walk away from you. 
But then he was turning on the water for you, spray hitting against the tray and it immediately engulfed you both in warm steam, sticking to your skin and easing some of the tension you held in your bones. 
“I’ll be right back okay?” Steve told you, voice low and gentle as if he was worried he’d scare you. “I’m just gonna get you some clean clothes.” 
You nodded again and despite what he’d just told you, you were surprised when his hand slid from your own. You felt uneasy, alone, surrounded by the mist of the hot water but Steve kept the door open and you watched him as he busied himself at his drawers, pulling out shorts and shirts, discarding them on the floor until he found one he deemed comfortable enough for you. 
Slipping back into the small bathroom, he placed the clothes on the sink top and ducked his head a little to look at you, gazes meeting. You felt far away and somewhere in the back of your head, you wondered if this is what shock felt like. The humour and sarcasm that fuelled your experience in the Upside Down had long left, sinking away with the adrenaline that kept most of the pain at bay. 
But now your arm was aching and your mind was slower, foggier; and moving felt like running through water. Catching Steve’s gaze was the only thing that seemed to ground you then, one hand catching your chin and he lifted your face to look at him, eyes searching. 
“You okay?” He whispered it, as if he was terrified to hear the answer. 
You were ready to nod again, for a third time but he caught you, fingers smoothing your hair back from your eyes and he looked at you almost pleadingly when he asked, “please, sweetheart, lemme hear you? I need to know if you’re alright, yeah?”
Your throat felt dry but you licked your lips and swallowed, hand reaching up to where he held you, fingers wrapping around his wrist as if he was the only thing that was giving you the strength to still stand. You were so tired. 
“I’m okay,” you mumbled, voice cracking a little. “Exhausted.”
Steve nodded, a humourless smile on his lips and he pressed his forehead to yours, leaning down into you as you both sought out that little slice of home within a house that didn’t feel like it belonged to either of you. 
“What ‘bout you?” Your words were pushed into his top lip, barely grazing but he felt you, warm and soft in front of him. 
“Used to it,” he grimaced, chuckling when you rolled your eyes. He turned serious when he cupped the back of your neck, somehow bringing you impossibly closer. “Just please, please don’t do that again. Not for me.”
If you’d had the energy, you would’ve argued with him all night. You would’ve shoved at the boy, angry tears in your eyes, frustration biting at your skin before pulling him back into you and telling him how loved he was, how much you needed him. How you’d jump out of any boat, how you’d follow him to the ends of the earth if he needed your help. 
But the shower was still running and the room was filled with heat and steam, making your clothes stick to your skin, the dirt and blood still caking both your bodies slick and itchy. 
You didn’t know how to tell your best friend you loved him. How you were so in love with him that it hurt, it ached. It was a push and pull on your heart that you’d felt since you were fourteen, young and too dumb to understand that the boy next door was everything you ever needed. 
So instead, you moved away from him, leaning tiredly against the wall and letting the corners of your lips lift into a smile that held just the right amounts of fight and attitude. 
Your eyes were shining and you wondered if the boy looked hard enough, that he’d find all the love that you knew was held in your gaze. 
“We’ve been making bad decisions together since 1972, Harrington. I’m not gonna stop now,” you grinned and he huffed, an almost laugh you were sure. “If you’re gonna make it a habit of throwing yourself into lakes, you better sure as hell expect me to follow.”
And that was that. 
He nodded, pointing to the towels and backing towards the door. Your heart leapt, realising he was leaving you. 
“Towels are there, just shout if you need me, yeah?” Steve caught your gaze, watching the tension in your body that had returned, the lock of your shoulders, the square of your jaw. “I’m gonna be right outside sweetheart, I’m not leaving, promise.”
If his words seemed familiar, neither of you mentioned it and the door clicked softly as it shut, leaving you alone. 
Shedding your damp, dirty clothes made you feel a little better, the material pooling at your bare feet as you stepped out of them and into the shower. The hot spray stung at your cuts, bore down on your bones and made you ache in a new way, like you were being broken down and put back together again. 
You leaned your forehead against the cool tiles, watching as the dirt and blood from your skin swirled down the drain and when you finally turned the shower off, you could hear soft voices from Steve’s room, dulled by the closed door but drawers were opening and shutting, a sure sign that the rest of your friends were freshly washed and stealing clean clothes from the boy too. 
When you opened the door, Steve’s shirt was hanging to your knees, hiding the soft cotton shorts he’d given you and the boy was sitting on the edge of his bed, face still streaked with grime and blood, the cut on his brow and lip still angry. 
“You should’ve cleaned yourself up,” you told him, frowning as you stepped into the pool of soft light that came from his bedside lamp. It lit the room up in a warm glow, a welcome change from red skies and shadows. “You must be freezing.”
“I told you I wasn’t leaving,” he shrugged, eyes searching your upper arm for your injuries, for any signs of pain or discomfort. He nodded to your shoulder, “How’s the arm?”
You shrugged back, pushing one foot into the plush carpet as you tried to avoid his heavy gaze. It made you feel too warm, like you didn’t know what to do with yourself and before you could brush him off, before you could lie and say you were fine, Steve reached out to grasp your hand, pulling you towards him. 
He steadied you in the bracket of his spread legs, his knees on either side of your thighs and he still sat tall before you, his hands making quick work of softly pulling his sleeve up until it uncovered your upper bicep. 
He tutted, eyes soft and his thumbs made gentle work of turning your arm this way and that as he inspected the wound. It was smaller now that it was clean, the filth and dried blood that had coated it making it seem worse and angrier than it was. 
It still stung, a nip and prick on your skin when the cool air hit it but Steve pressed a quick kiss to the unmarred space below, a hot push of his lips that lit your body up, skin burning, eyes wide. 
“There,” he mumbled, voice thick and if you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn the highs of his cheeks were turning pink. “All better.”  
And shit, maybe it was. 
You ate with the others as Steve showered, the distant sound of the running water the only thing that soothed you enough and allowed you to swallow down a slice or two of pizza, a chicken nugget that you smothered in ketchup. When Steve finally joined you all, hair clean and damp, on end from where he’d run a towel through it, he frowned at your near empty plate and slid another slice on it when you weren’t looking.  
The five of you ate in silence, crowded around the breakfast bar, barely having the strength to pull out the stools as you all picked at the food Nancy made. You were all shoulder to shoulder, dressed in Steve’s clothes, sweatpants that hung off slim hips, shirts with too short sleeves and sweaters that hung off collar bones. Everyone smelled like apple shampoo, clean like body wash and laundry detergent, but the cuts were still on everyone’s skin, red and fresh, unable to be hidden. 
And when the plates were empty, Steve batted you away from gathering them all up, planning to take them to the sink. You’d wondered if you could scrub away the blood that was still embedded under your fingernails, and fuck, you wondered who’s it was. 
But Steve caught your hand, still gentle as he led you down the hall. Robin followed you both, passing Eddie as he threw himself onto a sofa, blanket in hand and shoving cushions under his head. Nancy disappeared, searching for the phone so she could call Jonathan, her eyes heavy with sleep. 
It was easy to let Steve cajole you into the guest room and you stood tired and heavy on your own feet as the boy busied himself with pulling back the heavy duvet, launching the ridiculous amount of throw pillows to the floor. 
Robin jumped in first, a noise of content purring at the back of her throat as she slipped between the sheets, head pushed into the plush pillow and her eyes fluttering closed. 
You turned to Steve, panic settling into your chest once more at the thought of him leaving, of him walking back down the hall and up the stairs to his own room, a walk that practically took him to the other side of the house. 
You wanted to ask him if you could stay with him, if he could take you by the hand again and lead you to his bed but you didn’t feel brave anymore, and he wasn’t asking you that question either. 
You stared at him, eyes searching and beneath the strands of hair that fell across his eyes, you could see that he looked as troubled about it as you felt. 
But he nodded to Robin, already half asleep and breathing softly. “You look after each other, yeah?” He tapped at your hand with his own, squeezing it briefly, a flash of warmth and comfort before he stepped back into the open door frame. “Come get me if you need anything, okay?”
You wanted to tell him to wait, to stop, to come back. You wanted to tell Steve that you needed him. But you were sure that if you parted your lips to speak, you’d only release the tears that were making your throat tight, your eyes sting. 
You felt too small, too fragile and you were desperate to say something, anything. Steve was looking at you as if he was hoping for the same, like he could burst with all the unsaid things that buzzed and fizzed in the air between you. 
But he wasn’t feeling all that brave either. Not right now. 
So you smiled, watery and nodded, moving backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed and Robin grumbled, reminding you both of her presence. 
“Night Harrington,” you whispered, throat tight, eyes glassy. 
You watched his neck bob and move as he swallowed, eyes holding just as much emotion as your own. He nodded too, willingly himself to back away from the door. 
“Night, sweetheart.”
———————
You tossed and turned for what seemed an age, Robin plastered up against your side and providing you with warmth and the soft sounds of snuffled breathing, her head pressed between her pillow and your shoulder. You wondered how she could sleep after the events that took place merely hours before, how the scrape across her cheek wasn’t stinging against the cotton. 
There wasn’t a clock in the room to tell you the time but the sky outside was still dark, then night unmoving and still despite all the things you knew that roamed under the earth, in the depths of lakes and between shadows. 
You were buzzing, an electric current that flowed through your body, keeping you awake and on edge. You wondered if it was residual adrenaline, maybe the looming threat of nightmares that promised to take you when you eventually closed your eyes. 
Maybe it was just Steve, only a few rooms away. 
The thought spurred you into action and with as much care as you could, you pulled away from Robin, smiling slightly when she mumbled her protests, still very much asleep. You pulled the duvet back over her as you slipped from the bed, toes pushed into the soft carpet and it softened your steps and as you headed for the door, leaving the room.
You could hear Eddie snoring from the couch, head tipped back and hair dripping messily over the arm, his lips parted, brow creased. You wondered how he’d coped with everything that had happened, how he’d managed to sleep so deeply so soon. He didn’t stir when you walked past, feet finding the stairs even in the dark, so very used to the house's layout after years of sneaking in and sneaking out. 
You stood outside Steve’s room for what seemed like too long, the minutes stretching in, the night barely moving around you. You had raised your hand to knock several times, chickening out everytime, just before your knuckles met the wood. You felt like your heart was in your throat, too hot and too much. 
You lifted your arm for the sixth time, chest hammering, stomach fluttering and before you could press your knuckles to the door, it opened, leaving you knocking on air before your gaze met Steve’s. 
You stilled, lips parted. 
The boy was shirtless, sleep mussed despite his eyes being bright and wide. He looked like he’d slept as much as you, hair misbehaving from where he’d dragged it across his pillows, seeking a comfortable spot that he could never find. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and there were some dinosaur themed plasters stuck haphazardly across his ribs, hiding cuts you never got a chance to care for. 
No one spoke. 
But you lowered your arm, wondering what you should say, wondering what he was still doing awake. Steve was looking at you like you were a dream, surprised and dazed, and he parted his lips to speak, stopping short when he realised he didn’t know what to say either.  
Briefly, you considered asking him if he was okay, but you knew the answer, could read it in the way he looked at you, the way he held himself. You thought about telling him you didn’t mean to wake him, that you were sorry and were going back to bed, but there was something in his gaze that had you rooted to the spot, chest warm, breath coming in harsh pants. 
The idea of telling him, your best friend, that you were in love with him, flickered through your mind and the mere thought of it made your tummy roll and dip. You shuffled from foot to foot, wondering if there was another way, if Steve could make it easy for you and read your mind instead. 
He whispered your name, a soft noise that sounded like a prayer, a question, a promise all at once. It had your eyes flying to his, gazes locked and something passed between you both, a silent answer, an understanding, a ‘oh, thank god.’
You moved at the same time, you think. A push and pull of two bodies, meeting in the middle, as natural as the tide. He found your hand between you both, grasping in the dark and he tugged you to him as you surged forward, a clash in his door frame, a heavy sigh, a blissed out swear. 
Your lips found his easily, his own searching for yours as one of his hands tucked itself across your jaw, fingers splayed messy across your cheekbone, his thumb pulling impatiently at your bottom lip, asking for you to give him more. 
You obliged immediately, the kiss deep and slow and languid. It filled your body with heat, it made your toes curl, it made you push yourself further into the boy until your grip on each other left crescent shaped moons on the other's skin, nails raking through hair, fingers pulling at clothes. 
You sighed into him, relief and wonder and Steve swallowed your sounds, groaning at your noises, at the way you were pulling him down to you, desperate for more, for everything, for all of it. 
For him. 
You barely registered moving, his hands cupping each side of your jaw as you stumbled together, chests meeting, feet clumsy as you moved into his room, Steve’s hand only leaving you to push the door shut before pressing you against it. 
You weren’t sure if it was the underlying threat of danger, of losing each other all night or simply the decade of growing up together, tension building, bodies blooming, curious stares that turned into lingering gazes over new milestones and hot Indiana summers. 
You weren’t sure why it felt the way it did, Steve’s lips on yours, his tongue licking into your mouth, his hands heavy and wandering, pulling up the hem of the shirt that he gave you palms seeking out smooth, bare skin. You had never had a chance to thread your fingers through his hair so roughly, tugging with confidence, as if you already knew he liked it. 
He did. 
You weren’t sure why it felt so familiar, so natural, like it was some cosmic event that was just waiting to happen, a comet waiting to fall, a star waiting to burst. 
His kiss felt like magic, like kismet, like home. 
Steve Harrington was mint chocolate chip ice cream, the smell of sunscreen and old arcades, cherry slurpees and Coca Cola, sleepovers on bedroom floors, bike rides without training wheels, first trips to the beach, old cassettes passed between classes, notes in your locker, smiley faces inked into the palm of your hand during lunch. 
He was a first crush, last love, favourite kiss, first good morning, last goodnight, twirling your fingers around the phone cord, late night chats, and sneaking through your window.  
He was picking you up. Breath heavy and chest heaving as you wrapped your legs around him, both oblivious to the aches and pains the press of your bodies brought you both. It all felt too good, too fucking good to let go of. You pressed closer, his hands under your ass, fingers digging into your flesh and your back was against the door, pushing your moans and sighs into each other's lips. 
It was too easy to fall into him, a lifetime of trust there as he smoothed a hand over your bare thigh, snuck his fingers under the hem of your shirt and swore at the discovery of more bare skin underneath, tracing the dips and curves of your body. 
The kiss slowed and stuttered, stopping as Steve pulled back just a fraction, just enough for his nose to graze against yours and he found your gaze, both of your eyes hooded and heavy, watching each other through your lashes. You were panting, chests pressed together and heaving, puffs of hot air brushing across the others lips. 
You thumbed at his cheek, an affection press of your fingers against his face and he turned, pushing a kiss into your palm that you wished you could peel away and keep forever. 
His eyes were still on you, searching for an answer, a question, maybe even regret. He didn’t find any of the latter and when he whispered your name, voice wrecked, you nodded, giving him everything he wanted to ask. 
You moved when Steve did, carrying you easily from your perch against the door and across his dark room, the only light coming from the split in the curtains, the open window letting in the summer air, still heavy in the night and the glow from the moon. 
He kicked a shoe out of the way, lips finding yours again as his knees hit the bed, bringing you both down until he pressed you into the mattress, sheets tangled and smelling of him. Steve moved over you, knee between your legs, hitched up into the apex of your thighs and you gasped at the friction, the solid weight of it pressed against you. 
His arms caged you in, his hands braced on either side of your head as he kept too much of his weight off of you, scared to go too fast too soon. But you let out a soft sound, a whine, a plea; and you reached for him, hand at the back of his neck as you dragged him back down to you, kiss messy and desperate. 
You felt like you were going to float away, like you’d open your eyes and you’d still be sitting in the barren landscape of another world, Steve in a chokehold and monsters clawing you apart. 
But Steve sighed, soft and pleading, your fingers diving into the hair at the nape of his neck and as you silently told him, more, harder, more, please. 
He took the hint, hands roaming, kisses turning heated, with more pressure and bite and the tears of build up burst for you both, an outpouring of crushes and tension, jealousy and what ifs, experiencing lust and falling in love. 
His hands found your sides, fingertips walking up the steps of your ribs before smoothing across your bare skin, nothing under his shirt. He grazed a thumb over your nipple, both of you groaning at the feel of it, a new shock of pleasure for you to share together. 
The boy pulled back, forehead against yours and eyes squeezed shut as if he was in pain, as if it was all too much. He spoke against your mouth, words rushing across the part in your lips and each syllable felt like another kiss. 
“Sweetheart, you gotta tell me if you wanna stop,” he was whispering, voice low and rushed, “I don’t wanna fuck this up, don’t wanna go too fast…”
You shook your head, back arching to press yourself along the length of him, hard against your bare thigh, Steve’s shorts rucked up to the highest point of your leg. 
“No, no,” you were panting, voice a high and a little desperate and you would’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t looking at you like you were the entire fucking world. “Steve, please, please don’t stop.”
His lips came back down on yours at that, greedy and pushy, urging you to open for him and you did, easily, keening into him, legs spreading so he could fall into the cradle of your thighs. His hand still stroked over your skin, underneath the shirt, thumb circling over your breast, running down your side, lifting at the hem of your shorts. 
You felt dizzy. 
“Take it off,” you mumbled, your request mixed in with kisses, lips, teeth and tongue, but the boy got the hint, swearing as he pressed his mouth into your neck and leaned back enough to pull your top off of you. 
His lips parted at the sight, another sigh leaving him, eyes hooded and dark as he took you in. You gave him no time for recovery, wiggling prettily against his sheets and his body as you shuffled out of the shorts, dragging the material down your leg and kicking them away. 
Steve rocked back onto his knees, jaw slack, hair mussed from your hands and lips rosy from yours. He whispered your name, took his hand and dragged it from your knee to your thigh, gripping at the curves there, staring at how you put yourself on show for him. 
“Can I touch you?“ he asked, voice reverent, breaking halfway through his question, like he could barely keep himself together. 
You nodded, teeth biting into your bottom lip, body tensed in anticipation. 
“Words, sweetheart,” Steve reminded you, “c’mon.”
You gasped at the sensation of his fingers curling into your inner thigh, lifting your leg over his so he could prop you up and spread you out, eyes hungry and disbelieving. 
He felt like he was going insane. 
“Jesus, yes, Steve,” you groaned, a little impatient, your hands pulling at his, pushing them across the small curve of your tummy, down to where you were desperate. 
He fell apart when his fingers swept through you, cursing at how wet you were, telling you how soft you felt. He thumbed at your clit, quickly leaning down and pressing his lips back to yours when you keened loudly, your appreciation ringing out across the house. 
Steve kissed away the noise, soothed you down from your frantic reaction and he dipped a finger into you, groaning against you as he slipped one inside, a second joining quickly. 
You were overwhelmed, hands grabbing at his hair as he pressed open mouthed kisses to your jawline, smoothing his lips over your neck, sucking a bruise there, biting at the skin before running his tongue over the marks he made. 
You were pushing at the waistband of his sweatpants, grinding down against his hand, his fingers moving a little faster as they brought you to the edge, far too quickly. 
“Easy, easy,” he soothed, voice hushed, eyes lit up at how you responded to him, “I got you babe, c’mon.”
But you shook your head, hands desperate as they dove beneath the cotton of his trousers, finding him hard and heavy for you, Steve swearing profusely as you pumped him once, twice, in your hand. 
“Not yet,” you told him, voice shaking, eyes glassy, “want you.”
You heard his breath stutter, his fingers slipping from you, only to glide over your clit again, pressure building at each stroke. You whimpered, grip tightening around him and thumb swiping at his head. 
He looked like he was unravelling. 
“You gotta stop, I’m not gonna last long,” Steve murmured, voice gone, rough and hoarse. He licked his lips, looking down at you as he ran his hands up your body, gripping you at the waist and pulling you into him. “Not with you, not when you look like that.”
But you were desperate, needing to feel him, over you, on you, in you. Maybe it was the way you were looking at him, bottom lip jutted, eyes glassy, skin still marked up from your cuts and his teeth. Maybe it was when you pulled him down into you, lips at his ear telling him, “I’m already close too.”
He gave into you. You made it easy. 
His sweatpants hit his bedroom floor, a soft thud against the drawers of his dresser, neither of you looking to see where they landed. His lips were on you again, body flush, skin warm and Steve was mouthing at your jaw, your neck as you tilted your head back, giving him everything he wanted. 
You brought your knees up to his sides, caging him and he crowded into you, one forearm on the pillow by your head, holding himself over you as the other smoothed over your cheek, into your hair and you communicated through soft gazes and parted lips, a tilt of your head, a hand on his chest, as he pushed into you.
It took everything you had not to moan too loud, biting down on the muscles of Steve’s shoulder instead, the boy sighing, muscles taught, staying still. He gave you both a minute, his hand dropping to your waist, the curve of your ass before lighting up your skin, trailing fire down your thigh and hooking his fingers underneath your knee. He hitched your leg to his side, thigh pulled high as he opened you for him, the slick slid of both of you making it easier to move. 
Steve set a slow pace, agonising as it was amazing, both of you blissed out and lips parted, the summer air painting a sheen over your skin, stray hairs stuck to flushed cheeks, eyes heavy and hooded.  He moved over you like he’d done it before, head bent, lips brushing almost lazy against your own, as if kissing you was already second nature, as if he should’ve been doing this all along. 
You bit back a sound, a tight huff that made Steve snap his hips, making both of you stutter and swear. You could tell the boy was growing impatient, tightly wound and ready to snap but he was holding back, holding on, waiting for you. 
Pushing yourself up, you grabbed at him, hands slick on his skin as you gripped his shoulders and he got the hint, lips curling into a smile that made your heart thump and he grabbed at your ass, rocking back onto his knees until you were seated on top of him.
He took the chance to push your hair back from your face, kiss you slow and deep, hands squeezing at your ass, sliding over the small of your back as he held you to him and you couldn’t help it anymore, couldn’t wait, couldn’t stop. Not when he felt so deep, so good.
You rolled your hips, gasping when the movement caught him off guard, made him bite down on your bottom lip. He hissed, eyes wide as he looked down between your bodies, watching your hips move over him, rocking, grinding and taking him in over and over again.
“Jesus christ,” he whispered and he sounded fervent, voice swallowed by the whimpers and moans that fell from your mouth. “Fuck, you’re too pretty, too much,” he puncuated each word with a press of his lips, pushing kisses to your cheeks, you jaw, your neck and shoulders. “You close?” Steve asked, mouth agape as you started to move quicker, hips stuttering with impatience and greed and you almost sobbed when he clutched at your tighter, one arm around your waist as he helped you move, leaning you back as he thrust into you, his other hand dropping between you, thumb rubbing tight circles over you. 
You hummed, nodding frantically, hands grasping at his broad shoulders, his neck, crying out as you tightened around him and Steve swore, head tilted back and eyes clenched shut at the sensation. He gathered you to him, arms wrapped around you and he let you both fall back into the mess of sheets and pillows, hand out to catch you both as he moved another once, twice, three times, into you, hips stuttering, all rhythm lost. 
He fell when you did, eyes shut, stars blinking behind lids, the world warm and hazy. You clutched at each other, hand petting and soothing over damp skin and smoothing back hair, mouths panting out hot air into the crook of the other’s neck. You pressed kisses to his jaw, stubble rasping over your cheeks in a way that you decided you loved, skin flushed and sticky.
It took a second or two, before Steve realised you were both shaking, limbs liquid, voices gone. Carefully, as not to hurt you, he pulled back, slipping out from between your legs and you exhaled at the loss, hands reaching out to him in the dark and he found your fingers, twisting them between your own as he fell onto the bed beside you, chest still heaving. 
You wondered when it would feel awkward, if at all. If the inevitable moment of regret would hit, a common feeling after having sex with your best friend, you were sure. But it never came, the moment stayed warm, familiar, safe. Steve turned to you, slipping the sheets over both of you, pressing a kiss to your palm and pulling you into the heat of his chest. 
You fit just under his chin, the perfect height to place your lips on his collar bone, dropping kisses along the line of it, legs tangled.
“I feel like this is normally the part when one of us says we’ll need to talk about this, y’know?” Steve murmured, his lips pressed to the crown of your head. His thumb soothed over your ribs, dancing across your skin in a way that made you feel heavy, melting into him. “But I get the feeling that you might feel the same way I do.”
The boy’s voice cracked a little at that, and he cleared his throat, ducking his head into you as if he was scared to see your reaction, as if you were ever going to tell him he’d got the wrong idea. 
You hummed, a soft noise of agreement and you pulled back a little in his arms, just enough where you could nudge at his nose with your own, silently asking him to meet your gaze. You found his eyes, brown and warm like honey, but looking so conflicted, so unsure.
You brushed your nose against his again, once, twice, soft, slow. 
“Would it help if I said it first?” You asked quietly. 
Steve didn’t reply but you felt him hold his breath, his chest still and tight against yours, both of you still bare, warmed by the other, slick from sex. You continued despite his silence, knowing the boy well enough by now that despite the bravado and confidence he had throughout high school, he was fucking terrifed of what could possibly be rejection.
You saw him swallow hard, adam’s apple bobbing and if you didn’t know the boy any better you might have laughed. ‘Cause you were naked and in his arms, your bare chest pressed against his, his leg wedged between your naked thighs and you’d jumped off a boat for him earlier, swam to another dimension to save his life.
But it was Steve, the boy whose family left him alone, the boy who looked after everyone before himself. So you shifted from his arms, catching the way his eyes widened in panic, as if you were going to get dressed and hightail it out of his bedroom window. 
You soothed him, hand stroking over his cheek and you smiled when he realised your intentions, crawling over his body and settling yourself onto his lap again. Your thighs spread themselves over his, leaning down and into him as he propped himself against the messy pile of pillows at his headboard. 
His palms smoothed over your thighs, a solid and warm weight that gave you more comfort than he knew, making you feel a little braver as you crowded into him, hands pushing back his wild hair, nose bumping against his.
You cradled his face, hands on the strong line of his jaw, tilting his head for him as you brought your lips back to his, a soft press of your lips that turned into a demanding kiss,  a little force and heat behind it as you wished and prayed for him to feel the way you did for him. You left him breathless, a mess underneath you, hands gripping your legs, lips parted, eyes wide.
You smiled.
“Hey, Harrington?” You whispered, lips brushing over his in an almost kiss that he tried to chase. He hummed at you, answering without words. “I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified, to be honest.”
It felt a lot like saying I love you, and Steve must’ve understood cause he gaped at you, brown eyes shining in the dark and he brought his arms around you, pulling you down and into him in a hug that engulfed you.
He spoke into your hair, eyes closed and the dark of the night making him feel brave. “Fuck, yeah, same.” He cleared his throat, voice thick, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“I don’t wanna lose you,” you started, voice quiet and small and the boy was quick to bring your face to his, eyes serious when he interrupted.
“You won’t,” he choked out, “shit, sweetheart, you could never.”
“Yeah?” You sniffed, eyes glassy and god, you were overwhelmed. By the night, by Steve, by his lips, his bed, his body against yours. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
———————
No one said anything the next morning. 
Not Robin when she woke up in the guest room alone, your pillow cold. Not Nancy when she passed you both leaving Steve’s room as she left the bathroom, his shirt swallowing your frame, your shorts on his bedroom floor. 
She had smiled at you both, knowing, looking at your sleep mussed hair, soft smiles and marked up neck, Steve’s hand on the small of your back as he led you downstairs. Eddie followed your joined hands from where he was still sprawled across the couch, chest bare, rings glinting in the morning light. He grinned, laughing quietly when he caught Robin’s eye behind you both, shrugging when she shushed him. 
It felt like a new day, a fresh start, a second chance. 
The idea of defeating whatever this monster was, working out what it was that he wanted with you all, keeping the kids safe, helping your friends. It all felt a little less impossible than the day before. Your arm still stung, a dull ache that reminded you of the fights that had already been lost, but Steve was pressed against your back as you cracked some eggs into a pan, a breakfast for all of you, his arms around your waist and his chin resting on top of your head.
He pressed a kiss there and you decided that he made it feel a whole lot easier than it should. 
-----
Ko-Fi ♡
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dykevirgo · 6 months ago
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it’s 7:45am on april fool’s day and i’ve already been rick-rolled twice 😒
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meatteabusinessmagazine · a month ago
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Magical Archives Game Guide Character Notes
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・"Ack!!" Like Spade, he seems to be easily startled by the unexpected. ・"Normal anger!" When provoked, his face becomes red with anger like the Queen of Hearts. ・ Generally has his head slightly tilted back to look down on others (in a pompous way).
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・Smiles when he is uncomfortable. His facial expressions are gentle, but his eyes are angled upward and his face itself isn’t built in a gentle way. ・He has a dark side, so his smile may hold a deeper meaning. It might be good to have him smile without showing his teeth. ・"Grin" (Mean) ・Glasses slipping ・"Ack!!" ・Angry… It might be good to have his glasses completely misaligned for gags. ・He is the type who, once his smile disappears, it stays gone for a while.
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・It’s not half up, it’s a pompadour. ・"Sigh~" ・Crooked-tooth character. His right canine tooth is generally visible. ・He tucks his hair over here behind his ear, so it curls forward. Look at the overall balance and give him something of a sexy look with the angle of the curl. Pinned back.
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・ Kind of like cat eyes ・ Normal ・ Make up. The heart is drawn from slightly off-center from his pupil. ・ A collar that cannot be removed over the head. After closing tight around the neck it adapts to the person it has been applied to. It is rather heavy and very conspicuous. ・How its looks to other students (a doodle of a cat with a sign around its neck that says ‘I ate food that I stole’)
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・A cool beauty with a bit of roughness. Slanted eyes. ・Make up. A spade mark, angled like eyeliner from about the center of the eye. Opposite side to Ace. ・Not too gross-looking. Kind of like a flower. (a doodle of a cat with a sign around its neck that says ‘I sharpened my claws on the couch’)
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・He has a hair whorl in the front. ・Braids. They get narrower towards the ends. ・Not really frizz, but rather hair that hasn’t grown as much as the rest to his back. ・Round ears that face forward, as he is a carnivore. ・His hair reaches down to about his shoulder blades.
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・”Sigh~” ・His hairstyle is a little Mohawk-like, with volume at the top like a hyena. ・The large eyes make him look a little young, but his proportions are the same as Ace. ・He’s cute when his shoulders bob up and down ・”Shishishi!!” ・Laughter that is similar to the hyenas in the Lion King ・Mean grin ・”Ack!” ・Angry
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・He looks the same from either side ・He’s a tough-looking character, but as he is still only 16 please do not draw him so that he looks too tough. Compared with Leona and Trey, he has slightly larger eyes. ・Out of all the characters, he is the most muscular. ・Wolf Form
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・”Sigh~…” ・His scheming face. He looks a little more mature than the other second year characters. He has a mole near his mouth. ・I think he is the champion in the “hair that is difficult to draw” category. If you don't start with a rough outline of the silhouette and then draw it in, the right side will almost certainly come out too big… ・Rough drafts look like this ・You can’t really see his eyes from the left side. His glasses frames do not turn transparent.
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・”Hm~” (dumbfounded by something bothersome) ・He has heterochromia and a double eyelid. Eyelid fold is in the shape of the eyes. ・More gentle than he looks. ・Doesn’t make very big facial expressions and doesn’t open his mouth very wide. ・You can see jagged teeth when he opens his mouth, as he is an eel. ・He is basically always smiling. ・Eel Form ・Human, Ace, Mermaid ・Around 190cm, so over twice that long? ・He is more fish-like than Azul, with proper fins. There are gills on his sides. ・Eels have stripes, so his body has stripes in places. Since the bottom of the sea is dark, his body is luminescent.
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・He has a sturgeon scale earring in his right ear that matches Jade’s. Inspired by Ursula’s “Beluga Sevruga, sturgeon of the Caspian Sea”* ・His hairstyle is the mirror image of Jade’s. It is slightly messier, but it’s the same otherwise. ・I think having him slouch a little would help differentiate him from Jade. ・His eyes tend to do this, but be careful not to overdo it.
*It seems that when Disney's The Little Mermaid was translated into Japanese, the lyrics were changed from the original line of “Beluga Sevruga, come winds of the Caspian Sea” to "Beluga Sevruga, sturgeon of the Caspian Sea", so this might be a reference to Ursula's "stealing your voice" spell that only people who saw the Japan release of the movie will understand.
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・”Sigh~” ・I’d like it if his earring could swing back and forth ・Like Jamil, he has prominent lines around his eyes. His expressions are similar to Ace’s, but 30% more exaggerated and he doesn’t try to look cool. He doesn’t look down that much. He’s easygoing. ・”Ahaha!” ・His “mean” face is more like a prankster ・A look he makes when he’s being controlled by Jamil. This expression looks a lot like Jamil himself. ・”Whoa!”
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・He generally doesn’t open his mouth very wide when he laughs. This expression is him trying to keep himself from laughing but failing. ・Mean ・Wearing a hood ・His hair drapes over his left shoulder when his hood is up ・No hood
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・His disappointed look can be a complete change from his usual expression ・”Ugh~ so disappointed” ・Just a well-groomed face. Heavy eyelashes, both top and bottom. Eyebrows are masculine and thick. His face is also slightly long in a masculine way. The placement of his eyes and nose are balanced in the same way as Leona’s and the other older students. It would be great if his gestures could be graceful, similar to the Evil Queen. ・Evil Queen laughter “Oh no―hohoho”
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・The flow of his hair ・He is secretly very well-muscled. He almost never takes off his gloves for everyday tasks (in order to not leave any fingerprints behind). His neck and arms are thicker than Vil’s. When weighing himself it was discovered that he is actually heavier than Trey, and he feigned surprise. Hair looks the same from either side. ・His hair is just slightly longer towards the front. ・After drawing him, I wondered if him turning his head more gently and calmly would be better suited to the character.
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・I designed the character to be a beautiful boy who looks like he belongs in a 1970s shoujo manga. He is a countryside juvenile delinquent on the inside, but Vil is forcing him to be a 'bishonen' character. His acting is not very good, so his facial expressions are usually stiff, but when his true self comes out, he often laughs a lot, often gets angry and is generally mischievous. ・”Ahaha” He has an innocent-looking smile
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・”So disappointing” ・The flames of his hair become weaker when he loses interest in something. ・The bags under his eyes and the blue of his lips are not make up, but entirely natural. His eyebrows always make him look troubled. His hair is flames, so it is always moving, and the ends are translucent. His eyes are always shaded. He has a well-defined face, but he is not aware of it. ・The best smile he can manage. He is not plotting anything.
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・His entire expression relies on his eyes because of his mask, so it might be hard to tell when he’s being mean. If possible, we can do things like raising or lowering his shoulders in a ‘hehehe’ gesture.
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・”Disappointed” ・He has pointy ears. Since his horns are so large, his head tends to look too big if his face is not drawn a little smaller than other characters’. He has long lower eyelashes, but his facial features are a little softer than Vil’s and Leona's. ・”haha” His fangs are visible. ・He doesn't really get super angry, but the rare times he is angry it's like "Uwa, he's inhuman!" ・Super angry
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・He wears a jacket in the same design as Malleus’ but it is oversized and floppy. The collar and sleeves, etc. are drawn overly large and exaggerated. ・Three layers of frills. The bottom layer has small pleats (after the pleats it becomes transparent) ・Disappointed ・His expressions are less so cute than they are calm. He opens his mouth wider than Riddle does and makes improper expressions, carelessly picking his nose, etc. ・Mean ・”Wahaha!"
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・When he does smile―which is rarely―it’s a gentle expression. Lilia sees him smile quite often.  ・He usually does not look mean. ・Surprise. He usually hides when he is shocked so that others cannot tell he has been caught off guard, but he does get surprised.  ・Angry! He gets angry if something puts Malleus and the others in danger.  ・As he cuts his own hair (or Lilia cuts it for him), it is rather rugged, but half of that is just bed hair.
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・He is not as well muscled as Jack, but he is rather sturdy. However, his facial features are similar to those of Azul, and he has a refined face. Although he has an older-looking face for a first-year student, on the inside he is more like a puppy, and if you get to know him, he laughs a lot. In front of Malleus he acts like a cool and composed follower, but he actually has a wide range of facial expressions. ・”Ugh~…” ・Lightning bolt → ・His bangs and eyebrows are shaped like lightning bolts. He has an undercut hairstyle. He actually wants to push it all back, but his hair is too strong and won’t allow it. It is not cropped.
▶︎ ▶︎ ▶︎
These are just a few of the many notes in the Magical Archives, a game guide released in 2020. This is a different book from the Visual Book that was released on 22/8/10, which also included illustration notes, a few of which have been translated below!
(Disclaimer: Proofreading of the above was done by a professional JPN -> ENG translator that I reached out to, but these are still all fan translations! Official translation involves a lot of going back and forth with the client so that they can approve of how their work is being represented, but that does not happen with fan translations, so always be wary of anything like this, scanlations, fan-subs/dubs, etc., that do not come from official sources!)
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ddejavvu · a month ago
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Can I pretty please get a part two to the one you did where Eddie and Steve tease the reader about having a mysterious crush. Like maybe Dustin knows (because that adorable little shit knows everything) and accidentally let’s slip to them that it’s Steve and Eddie she likes and it completely blows their minds?
part I | part II | part III | part IV
"Two guys at once," Steve groans, watching you splash Robin in the face from the deep end of the pool, "How does that even happen?"
"Well," Eddie's face drops into a shit-eating grin, "One in the mouth, one in the-"
"Eddie!" Steve reaches out to whip his towel against Eddie's bare chest, leaving behind a striking red mark, "Fucking gross, dude!"
Eddie only snickers, craning his neck back to reach out for the beer Dustin hands him on his way back out to the pool.
"Thanks," Eddie nods graciously at Dustin, and the boy nods eagerly, sitting at the base of Steve's lounge chair.
"What are you guys talking about?" Dustin cocks his head to the side, water flying from his curls. Steve flinches as some hits his face, and he uses the towel he'd just attacked Eddie with to wipe it away.
"Y/N and her little crushes," Eddie nods to you from his chair, watching as Robin dunks you under the surface, "We've been teasing her for weeks and she finally told us."
Dustin's face lights up, "She did?! Oh my god, finally!" He reaches over to shake Eddie's leg as it stretches across the chair, "Congrats, guys!"
"Congrats?" Steve furrows his brows, "For what?"
"I mean, aren't you happy? You guys are dating her now, right?" Confusion clouds his eyes for a moment and Eddie sits up straight, no longer lounging against the chair.
"Us?" Eddie inquires, his hand flapping between himself and Steve, "She has crushes on us?"
Dustin's face pales, "She.. she didn't tell you who she likes?"
"Oh my god," Steve nearly drops the soda he's been holding, glancing over at Eddie who's mouth is slightly open as the gears in his brain turn, "You're kidding."
"I.. I didn't mean to tell you!" Dustin stands, backing away from them, "Please don't tell her that I ratted her out!"
"Calm down, dude." Steve scoffs at the boy's panic, "We just.. are you sure it's us?"
"Totally sure." Dustin nods vigorously, "She's, like, crazy for you."
"Fuck." Eddie curses, reaching over to smack Steve's bare chest, "We've been tormenting her for weeks!"
"Ow!" Steve flinches away from the crazed man, "You've been doing it too, dickhead! Don't blame me!"
"What do we do now?!" Eddie whispers, your attention on them now as their freakout grew in volume, "Do we tell her?"
Steve glances over at you, meets your curious eyes, and turns back to Eddie, determination shining in his own soft ones, "No. I have a plan."
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luveline · 5 days ago
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sharing idea time! Eddie being the lovable menace likes to tease or "be a meanie" as reader would say to Roan, so one day he's being playful and Roan decides to "defend" reader by "standing up" to her dad. like on the couch to try making eye contact and lecture him with such a glare he's worried her face will get stuck.
omg yes nothing so romantic as some light bullying (I say this genuinely) fem!reader
Eddie does this thing with his hands that is completely, unmitigatedly cruel. He might take your hand, and you settle into his side expecting to be loved on. When he's in an especially good mood he pulls your arm to his chest and runs the tips of his fingers over your bare skin slowly. It's a sweet tickling sensation that could lull you to sleep.
When he's in a better mood than that, he gets mean. He teases with the callused hands of both a mechanic and a guitarist, built for precision and brute force. His hand follows down to your palm and he holds your hand in his in a simple gesture, and then he gathers your fingers and squeezes until all your bones ache.
It always makes you laugh, a panicked braying as you try to pull your hand back and fend off his horrible attack. Eddie only grows more eager, rolling your fingers together until you gasp and beg to be let go of.
This time, he's done not only a number on your hand but your thigh. You're too sensitive for his pinching, and he gets right in there and squeezes until you can't breathe.
"Eddie," you squeal, totally dissolved, limp and gasping and flat on your back across the couch. "Please stop."
He tickles up the inside of your thigh but doesn't do any further damage. "You're laughing, aren't you? I think you like it more than you admit."
"Laughing isn't the word I'd use."
He grabs at your doughy thigh until you're pleasing for mercy and says, "No? You wouldn't? What word would you use, baby?"
His voice raises in volume with each new question as to be heard over your keening.
"Eddie, please, would you-"
"Stop!" Roan cries, climbing up onto the couch with impressive speed and dexterity.
You raise your chest and legs as she lands straight into the pouch of your stomach with an "Oof!" that whipes you out completely. Roan defends your limp state with two hands outstretched and a darling, dramatic scowl.
"Stay away, dad!"
His turn to frown. "That's daddy to you, short stuff. What's your damage?"
"You are my damage!" she shouts. It's hilarious and lovely in her baby voice and clumsy pronunciation.
You giggle under her weight and smile so wide it infects him. He catches Roan's furious gaze and it swiftly falls away.
"Baby, what's wrong? We're just playing."
"You're being the meanie!"
"A meanie," you correct mildly, hands coming to rest on Roan's hips.
"A meanie," she says crossly.
Eddie can't understand how he got here, why her favouritism tips so strongly to your side. You giggle again, to yourself more than either of them, and he remembers. The sound is pretty as your lackadaisical grin, your face tipped to the side to see him from around Roan's commanding pose.
"I'm sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry, "I'm not trying to be mean. It's just to make her laugh, Roan. Don't you like laughing?"
Roan looks him straight in his face, real upset between her pinched brows. How many times has he seen that expression on his own face? A furious kind of injustice.
"You have to be nice!" Roan declares.
"I am nice."
"No, you're mean. You squish too hard."
He supposes that's true.
Eddie dips his chin toward his chest and pouts at her apologetically. "I'm sorry..." He holds out his hand, hoping to hold her small palm against his own. She gives it to him with enough reluctance to break a dad's heart.
"You're mean."
"I'm only playing," he stresses.
He rubs the back of her hand and lays it down thickly. Affection has always worked against her moods, ever since she was a baby. Half the time she'd cried and Eddie could fix it with a hug and a kiss.
"You have to play nicer," she chides gently, sounding a lot like he does when he has to explain things to her. It's so close and so genuine he finds himself wanting to kiss every bit of soft skin on her face.
"I will, I promise. No more squeezing. Alright? Does that make you feel better?"
"Not me, Y/N!" she says.
"Oh." Eddie manoeuvres his daughter so she's in his lap and then pulls you up by your hand, bringing it to his lips in a princess kiss. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I won't be doing anymore squeezing."
You grin at him. "Damn straight you won't. Or you can answer to my lovely protector. Isn't that right, Roan?"
Roan has melted into her dad's arm like butter in the sun, but she has enough wits about her to say, "Right!"
Eddie kisses the top of her head, careful not to crush her freshly washed curls. He can't find it in himself to be mad that his girls have ganged up on him now. He likes having you both be on the same team. He only wants to be on that team with you.
"I'm sorry," he tries again pathetically, dropping his cheek into the couch cushion to look pitiful.
You do take pity on him, dropping your own cheek close enough to meet his eyes. "That's okay, handsome. You're forgiven."
He tries not to make it too obvious that he's looking down at Roan.
You bite with a pleased little smile. "Roan, would you forgive daddy? He's sorry."
She pats Eddie's thigh. "Okay."
Her forgiveness isn't grand, but it does feel good. Good enough to celebrate.
"Thank you, baby..." He toys with a ringlet of hair behind her ear until she shivers. "How about we go out for dinner, huh? The three of us."
"Where?" you ask.
"For cake?" Roan asks.
"I'm sure they'll have cake," he assures her.
You both seem remarkably, impossibly lively after that, a stark contrast to your sleepy states. He can't believe how quickly you abandon him, or how quickly you pull on your shoes.
-
more eddie and roan
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hawkins-losers · 2 months ago
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Blind date with the freak | Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: You get set up on a blind date with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson as a joke from your friends. The joke’s on them because you end up having a really great time
Word count: 1.3k
Request: Can you write Eddie and reader going on a blind date?
A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for so long that I lost the ask...
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The idea of going on a blind date with a complete stranger set up by your friends didn't enchant you, but they had already told the guy that you were going and planned everything so you felt bad for ditching someone last minute.
You got ready, sprayed some perfume and applied a coat of lip gloss. Carol said your date would pick you up at eight…which left you three minutes to put on your shoes and calm your nerves.
What if this date turned out to be a complete disaster? What if he doesn’t show up? What if-
Your thoughts were interrupted by the clock strucking eight and your doorbell going off at the same time.
You took a deep breath for courage and opened the door, confused to see Eddie Munson on your doorstep.
‘’Munson? What are you doing here?’’
By the look on his face, he was just as surprised to see you. ‘’Eh, I was sent this address for a date…’’ He reached into his jacket pocket for a piece of paper with an address on it, read the number for the fifth time and checked the address plate by your door. It matched. ‘’Do you live here or?''
''Yes. I've lived her my whole life.''
Eddie groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in realization. ‘’Fuck me.’’ He shifted on his feet, about to let you in on your friends’ little plan. ‘’Eh, please don’t slam the door in my face, but I got sent at this- at your address for a date and I'm probably testing my luck here, but...I think it’s with you?''
It all made sense now. Why Carol was being skittish these past days and why she didn’t want to come and help you getting ready for your date. It was a joke.
''Oh god.''
‘’Yeah… You’re probably disappointed that it’s with me, and I get it. I would be too if my friends set me up with the school's freak.’’ Eddie laughed dryly. ‘’Look, we don't have to go on this date if you really don’t want to. I can go home and pretend-''
‘’Eddie,’’ you said, cutting his ramble. He looked at you, expecting you to reject him and slam the door on his face, but you smiled warmly. ‘’Let me grab my purse, then we can go.’’
After all, what’s the worst that could happen on this date? Him forcing you into partaking in satanic cult activities?
You locked your door and followed Eddie to his van. It was black and a little beat up. There was a few stickers on the paint, matching with the patches on Eddie’s signature jeans vest.
He opened the passenger door for you, already surpassing your last date in the gentleman book. ‘’You'll really go out with some guy you don't know?’’
You paused before getting in the van, giving him a light shrug. ‘’Well, you can't be worse than the guys I do know.’’
Eddie smiled down and nodded.
Eddie Munson wasn’t at all the type of guy you usually went on dates with. You liked the athletes and the popular guys like Jason Carver and Tommy Hagan. You never gave a second glance to guys like Eddie, following the popular crowd and simply ignoring their presence at school.
Now that he was standing before you, he didn't seem too bad. His hair was a little wild, but it didn't look dirty. His jeans had ripped in them and he wasn't wearing a button up, but he smelled good - had he put cologne?
''Where are you taking me?'' you asked after he pulled out of your neighborhood, the volume of the loud metal music having been lowered down.
''I haven't planned that part yet,'' he admitted, laughing nervously. ''Are you hungry?''
You ended up in a small diner you had never stepped a foot in, ordering burgers and milkshakes. Everyone was at the drive-in or getting ready for parties tonight, so the place was practically empty.
‘’I assume it’s not where you typically get taken to when you go on dates, but don’t let the outdated 50s decor fool you. I can assure you, they make the best milkshakes in Hawkins,’’ Eddie said as you sat down at a booth.
‘’Does that mean I have to order one?’’ Eddie nodded. ‘’Which flavor do you recommend? I think it’s safe to assume you come here often.’’
‘’I personally take triple chocolate, but you might get a sugar rush from it. I’m immune to that, not much can get me more hyper than I already am,’’ Eddie explained with a chuckle.
‘’I’ll take vanilla.’’
The waitress took your order and you were surprised by how fast she brought back your milkshakes. You politely thanked her and observed the tall glass, smiling at the rainbow sprinkles and the bright red cherry on top of the whipped cream.
You brought the straw to your lips and took a shy sip.
‘’So? What’s the verdict? Do I get brownie points for introducing you to the best milkshake of your life?’’
You took another sip, longer this time, and smiled. ‘’It’s actually really good.’’
‘’My dad used to take me here when I was a kid,’’ Eddie said, surprising you with a personal anecdote. ‘’It’s actually where he met my mom.’’
‘’Oh?’’ You raised an eyebrow and smiled, ready to hear the sweet story. Although everyone knew Eddie, no one knew much about his life - other than running the Hellfire club and selling drugs. You felt privileged - special - to hear a story about his parents.
‘’She was a waitress. My dad was…holding up to the Munson name,’’ Eddie began with a snicker. ‘’He was on the run from the cops and desperately needed a place to hide so he jumped over the counter one late night and begged her to let him hide there. Not quite the romantic story you were expecting, uh?’’
A small laugh left your lips, reaching for your milkshake again. ‘’Not all love stories have romantic beginnings. Life can’t always be a movie.’’ 
Eddie’s eyes flicked to yours and he smiled. He was expecting you to say something about his criminal father, but you hadn’t. It was nice. 
‘’Burgers and one large fry,’’ the waitress called, coming to your table with hot plates and putting an end to that conversation. ‘’Bon appétit, kids.’’
A middle-aged couple had walked in while you were eating and they put money in the jukebox, playing Elvis Presley, the Beatles and Billy Joel. It wasn't your kind of music, but you didn't mind it.
A new song came on and Eddie laughed, a smile on his lips as he swallowed his bite and hit his palm excitedly on the table. ‘’This song is totally about you.’’
You pulled your eyebrows. ‘’What?’’
‘’Listen to the lyrics.’’
You did and laughed along, admitting he was right about the song. You were the uptown girl. 
Your night continued filling with surprises as you found yourself gazing into Eddie’s eyes. You had never noticed before, but they were so big and beautiful - like a doe. Very deep in color too.
‘’You have really pretty eyes, you know?’’ 
The words had slipped out, but you didn’t regret it. It was the truth. 
Eddie was taken aback by your compliment, his cheeks turning pink. ‘’Eh, thanks?’’ He grabbed his milkshake and looked down, not knowing how to react. 
‘’You’re not what I thought you’d be like.’’
‘’Mean and scary?’’
‘’Yes,’’ you admitted.
‘’Yeah…well, I’ll admit, I didn’t want to come. Dates are not my thing, you know,’’ Eddie confessed, snatching a fry from the basket in the middle of the table and biting it in half. ‘’But I’m glad I did.’’
‘’Me too.’’ You smiled at the young man before you, genuinely happy about the turnure of the date. ‘’My friends set us up as a joke, but I’m having a good time so…joke’s on them.’’
Although they were your friends, you hated when they made fun of people. Just because someone was different from them didn’t mean they deserved to be made fun of or ridiculed - which was what they had in mind when setting up this blind date.
-
Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  @wandamaximoffs-deadchild  @horrorstreet  @rmeddar123  @Pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys  @lanalanabanana
Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss  @eddiemattress  @ghoulishlygrey   @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook  @truewdw1 @bubsonnobx @ohhrexella @Dreamtiara @pastelbabygirl19  @steves-robin @eddiemunsonbby @jenlouvre @bonked-beyond-belief2  @tvserie-s-world @bootlegmothman420 @courtmr @chrisxevans-seb @satinselenite @thikkiesixx  @jennilynn63  @nia-um  @welcometohellfirw @strangermarvelgirl @sugar-simz @fandomloversvaries @miakatharinaa  @julsss321 @m1rkw00dpr1ncess  @Minksblog @soph69420world  @ameliakf13 @nancewheelersworld @parasadic-blog @nluvwitheddiemunson
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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 4 months ago
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Night at the Opera
Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader, Jake Lockely x Reader
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A/N: I don’t usually write smut and this is basically my first piece of smut but this idea had been stuck in my head. Feedback is much appreciated, I love hearing you guys’ thoughts on what you liked! Hope y’all enjoy!
Summary: Marc surprises you with tickets to see Phantom of the Opera for your birthday. But after seeing you in the new dress that you got yourself, the men begin to have other plans in mind.
Warnings: 18+ smut, language, fingering in public, teasing, jealous Marc, Marc saying filthy shit, Jake being an absolute deviant, and Steven being the complete simp that he is.
“Marc come on, you have got to tell me where you’re taking me. First the special dinner now this. You know I hate surprises.” You pleaded with a teasing tone in your voice, turning to face your husband who’s vision stayed centered on the lamp lit road of the street ahead as the wind blew against you from having the top of his convertible down. Your eyes traced the profile of his face, following the slope of his nose that you loved so much before lingering on the darkness of his thick brows and long lashes which you secretly envied that paired perfectly with those deep brown eyes of his that reminded you of thick woods in the midst of dusk. All of that belonging to the face of the man you came to love and cherish with all your being. A smile softly sat on your lips as you watched how the amber glow of the street lamps would replace the sunset that claimed the bronze, magenta, and violet brushstrokes of the forthcoming night sky every time you drove under one of them, the luminescence dancing across his face in playful patterns of light that painted his olive skin in streaks of gold. God you could stare at him all day, a literal work of art comparable to the statues sculpted by the hands of Michelangelo himself. Perfection. God’s work at his finest.
“Sorry y/n.” Marc shook his head with a smirk playing on those pink lips of his despite the pout you gave him. “You’re just gonna have to wait.”
“You are such an ass.” You laughed with a scoff, throwing your head back against the seat in the most slightest irritation with your elbow propped up on the car door. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, enjoying the cool evening breeze against your bare skin until the soft sound of the radio made you perk up. “Oh wait I love this song!” You almost jumped out of your seat, reaching over to the radio to turn the volume up as one of Lana Del Rey’s familiar tunes played through the speakers. Singing along to the lyrics of Brooklyn Baby, you threw your hands up above you, a grin plastered on your face as your body swayed to the music. “They say I'm too young to love you! I don't know what I need! They think I don't understand! The freedom land of the seventies!”
“God she’s absolutely stunning, isn’t she Marc?” Steven breathed out in awe from the reflection of the rear view mirror.
Marc glanced over at you, an adoring smile on his lips at the sight of you losing yourself to the music. He had always loved the sound your voice whenever you spoke, finding it to be the very medicine for those days where it felt as if the whole world was against him. But after hearing you sing for the first time, something which you rarely did especially around those you barely knew, Marc and Steven only found themselves falling ever more deeply in love with you. And god you looked absolutely beautiful right now, with your skin glowing against the warm glow of the sunset and the radiant smile on your face while your hair blew in the breeze, wearing the new Tiffany diamond drop earrings along with the matching necklace Marc got you that sparkled against your complexion. You were the embodiment of an angel, a goddess, and till this very day he still had no idea how he had ever managed to get you to be his wife, the woman whom he was willing to worship the very floor you walked on and give his own life for. How you ever had happened to see something in a man such as him was beyond him. And though Marc still found himself dwelling on the thought, especially after he revealed his soul and you accepted who he truly was, Steven and all, words could not describe how grateful and happy he was to just be be with you and wake up to your face every morning.
“Well, my boyfriend's in a band! He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed! I've got feathers in my hair! I get down to Beat poetry! And my jazz collection's rare! I can play most anything! I'm a Brooklyn baby! I'm a Brooklyn baby!” You sang out in tune, your voice ringing out in a clear melody while you reached your arm out to lovingly place your hand at Marc’s broad shoulder. Smoothing your fingers across the fabric of his tux, you traced your maroon almond shaped nails up the length of his jaw, drawing a line up along the curve and running your fingers through the softness of his hair before resting your palm at the nape of his neck where you drew small circles on the skin that laid there. Marc turned to you at the gesture from the way his neck became warm under the pads of your soft fingertips, staring into your bright eyes before lowering his head to press his lips to your wrist, eliciting a smile from your red painted lips once you saw him place a kiss on the skin there which filled your whole arm with the warmth of his love.
“We’re approaching our destination here pretty soon so I’m going to need you to close your eyes baby.”
“Ugh you are incredibly extra, you know that.” You gave a playful roll of your eyes before closing them, earning yourself a small chuckle from Marc.
“Hey no cheating alright. Or Imma have to blindfold ya.”
“Oof. Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You smirked, feeling the car come to a stop and using your hearing to sense Marc get out from the driver seat before the passenger door being opened.
“Watch your step.” Marc teased as he looked down at you, chuckling at the way you had your eyes completely squeezed shut to avoid suspicion.
“Haha. Very funny.” Your replied sarcastically to his teasing little antics, something that the two of you had been known to do ever since the day you first met due to your clashing stubborn personalities.
After grabbing your purse from your lap, you felt Marc’s hand wrap around your forearm to help you up while his other hand placed itself firmly on your back to steady you. "That's it. Atta girl."
Holding onto his arm for balance, you pulled yourself out of your seat and stepped onto the sidewalk, smoothing down your hair before interlocking your arm with his as he led you through. “So how much longer exactly am I supposed to blindly trust you to lead me to your very special surprise which you absolutely refuse to tell me?”
“Not long. We’re almost there.”
“You know.” You smirked as you walked alongside him with your heels clicking against the cement, lowering your voice to a whisper. “Last time I was blindfolded it involved silk and I nearly kneed you in the face AND cracked my head on the headboard.”
“You are never going to let me live that down are you.” Marc’s smirk matched the one that settled on your lips.
“Nope.”
“Okay, we’re here.” Marc stopped you, barely able to hold his own excitement as he placed his hands on both of your shoulders. “You can open them now.”
Fluttering your eyes open, Marc stood beside you to watch every detail of your reaction as your eyes slowly widened in wonder at the elaborate building in front of you before, the lights sparkling against your eyes as you finally read the sign that was displayed with a gasp. “YOU BOUGHT TICKETS FOR PHANTOM OF THE OPERA?!” You squealed, your face still written with the expression of shock as you snapped your head towards Marc who only beamed down at you with that smile of his that you loved so much where his eyes would form crinkles at the end, holding up two tickets between his fingers.
“Happy birthday darling!” Steven popped in, a look of pure admiration on his face as he absorbed the happiness that you radiated.
“Aaah! Steven! Thank you thank you thank you!” You threw your arms around his neck in the purest joy, engulfing him in the tightest hug you could muster up and nearly knocking him over as Steven chuckled in response, his chest vibrating against yours as he wrapped his strong arms around your back and pulled you against him.
“Happy birthday baby.” Marc murmured against the skin of your shoulder as he smiled, inhaling your alluring scent that he associated as home as he placed another soft kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger there before pulling away to look at you. "You ready?"
"You kidding? I've been waiting for this my whole life. How did you know? Was this you and Steven’s idea?”
"Eh we both had a little work in it. Now what kind of husband would I be if I didn't know my own wife."
"Marc Spector," You smiled up at him, running your hands up the smoothness of his tux before adjusting his bow tie, “how can I ever thank you."
“You don’t have to.” Marc brushed the front strands of your hair back with his fingers before stroking the soft skin of your cheek. His rich mahogany orbs stared deeply into your e/c ones before flickering down to your red lips, his large hand resting at the back of your neck as he leaned in to kiss you, muttering against your lips. "Because tonight is all about you."
You were practically shaking with excitement after you entered the building as you gazed around at the intricate decor of the opera house, from the gold baroque details and the paintings that hung on the walls, down to the formal attire that the women wore as they moved about the place. And though you managed to compose yourself as perfectly as possible by maintaining your posture and all that, it could not stop your face from betraying you. While you were preoccupied with the grandeur around you, Marc’s eyes were solely focused on you, drinking in the way you looked with the pure delight that painted across your features. And as Marc passed the time being fully immersed in your spark, he began to notice the many eyes that followed you from the men around you, their eyes stalking your form like a pack of hungry hyenas. And though Marc was rarely ever the jealous man, or so he thought himself to be, he could not help the tense and hot sensation that spread through his muscles as he slipped his arm around your waist, his hand brushing softly against the skin of your back as he pulled you closer to him. His hand rested at the top of your hip, his jaw clenching ever so tightly as he glared at the man who even laid a single glance your way. It was as if they were completely oblivious to the diamond wedding ring nestled on your finger that caught the light wherever you went, a flashy reminder that you were his woman.
“This is it.” Marc pulled back a red velvet curtain before gesturing to a pair of seats that overlooked the balcony and the theatre underneath.
You gasped, taking in the two red velvet chairs that sat next to each other facing the stage below. “You got box seats?!”
“Thought we could use some privacy while getting a good view at the same time. After all, it’s your birthday and your night beautiful.”
“Marc you shouldn’t have. These must’ve cost-“ You stared at him with wide eyes, on the verge of going into your little rambles of concern before Marc silenced you with a kiss.
“It’s nothing, really. Now we wouldn’t want to miss the show now would we.”
“Tsk.” You smacked him playfully with your purse before heading in.
Marc followed after you as you went, his eyes slyly lowering down your exposed back and watching the way your hips swayed effortlessly with each step you took, your black silk dress fitting perfectly on your hips and moving in waves with every movement. It wasn’t until the two of you got seated that Marc drank you in like the wine of the gods, appreciating more of the beauty that was you as he set his arm up on the back of the seat, casually watching the way you brushed your hair to the side to expose your neck as you leaned forward to rest your forearms on the rail of the balcony, stretching out your back while your breasts hung underneath the cowl neckline of your dress that stopped just at the valley of your chest. Marc's dark eyes trailed every inch of you as if he were about to paint your portrait, from the way your diamond earrings hung down the length of your neck, twinkling against the dim lamps like the many stars that filled the night sky before following his gaze down the line of your back where the delicate silver backdrop necklace you wore cascaded down your middle like a crystallized drop of rain, ending with a small pear shaped moonstone that settled itself right the lower curve of your back, drawing wandering eyes to the very same spot. He vividly remembered seeing you in that dress for the first time, the way it draped perfectly over your form and made his breath get caught in his throat.
You shifted in your seat, aware of the way your husband's eyes were on you as you moved your leg out from under the slit of your dress that stopped near the top of your thigh, the slightest smirk playing on your lips from the way you could almost sense the way he felt.
"Bloody hell." Steven's voice echoed within Marc's mind as he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes moving up the smooth skin of your thigh as he shared the same exact thoughts that ran through Steven’s mind. God they wished they could just have you right then and there, bent over the balcony like that with your dress hiked up to your waist. And though ever fiber in their being wanted to ravish ever single inch of you, they couldn’t. It was your night and they wanted to make sure you enjoyed every moment of the performance you had been waiting to see ever since you were a teen.
“How’s Steven by the way?” You spoke up, the faintest hint of a teasing tone laced in your voice though you acted as innocently as possible.
He swore you could read his mind sometimes, Marc thought to himself after hearing your statement. “He’s fine.”
“Well I hope he gets to enjoy the show as well.”
“Oh don’t worry. We’ve got it all sorted out.” Marc gave you a reassuring look before pulling out his small metal case of cigarillos. He needed something to calm his nerves for a bit, especially with the way you were making him feel. Placing the cigarillo between his lips, Marc put the tin away and brought out his lighter only to see you reach out and pluck it away.
“I thought you quit.” You raised your brow.
“I did.”
Marc looked at you amusingly as you instead placed the cigarillo between your own lips, maintaining your eye contact with him as you did so. With a small smirk at your little antic, he reached over and held the lighter to the end of the cigarillo, lighting up the end of it before closing up the lighter with a click and slipping it back into his pocket.
You held the cigarillo between your two fingers, crossing your bare leg over your knee and reclining back in your seat, making sure to arch your back in order to puff your chest out a little to draw his eyes there before pulling the cigarillo out and letting the smoke leave your lips.
Marc was at first captured by your cleavage from the way you settled in your seat, his eyes following the soft curve of your breasts hidden beneath the tantalizing silk of your dress before he became fixated on the cigarillo nestled between the scarlet red petals of your lips, watching the way you held the thing between your slender fingers before pulling it out as the smoke escaped from your mouth. You looked like you could have belonged as one of the Bond Girls of the 60s, from the soft curls of your hair, to your cat eye makeup, to your sultry red lips, down to your backless dress and the black suede high heeled sandals that you wore. He almost could not blame the men that glanced your way, for you truly were a sight to behold. But even then, that did not change how he felt. You were his. Only his and no one else’s. And as you handed Marc back his cigarillo with your lipstick stain on the wrapper, all Marc could do was chuckle with a slight shake of his head. You were definitely going to be the death of him.
“What?” You raised your brow at his countenance, thinking he was laughing at you for some odd reason.
“Nothing, nothing.” Marc smirked before setting the cigarillo back between his lips, right over where your lipstick stain was. “Just think you look beautiful tonight.”
“You’ve said that a bunch of times now.” You let out a silvery laugh, throwing your head back as you did so.
“I mean it. You’re absolutely stunning.”
“Well you look quite dapper yourself.” You rolled your eyes before reaching over to place a quick kiss on his jaw. Settling back in your seat, you found yourself to be the one staring at him now, watching the way he held the cigarillo between his long fingers before taking it out, noticing the thin strand of saliva that pulled with it as he blew the smoke out. God how you craved his lips to be somewhere else, somewhere more delicate, from that spot on your neck to the one between your legs, his cheeks brushing against your thighs and your fingers tangled in his curls. But god was he gorgeous. He reminded you so much of the likes of those old noir actors that you used to fawn over and it drove you absolutely crazy. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was not too long ago when Steven had offered to strap on your new heels that he had bought for you after your old ones broke, remembering the way he lowered himself to his knees before wrapping his hands delicately around your ankle and calf to pull your foot up onto his thigh, his fingers running along the skin of your ankle as he fastened the strap around it while his eyes occasionally flickered up to meet yours. Did Marc teach him that? You may never know. But oh the things it did to you.
Before you knew it, you were snapped back into your current reality by the playing of the orchestra as the curtains opened to reveal the stage and the set up behind it. Like a child at a candy shop, you leaned forward in your seat, unable to hold back your grin as the actors appeared on stage, beginning the performance and belting out the songs. You could practically have sung along with them you had listened to the soundtrack so many times. Minutes had passed by, and you only got more engrossed in the musical as time went on, admiring the costumes, the music you held so dearly to your heart and just the overall effort that went to putting together the production and nearly squealing once the phantom appeared on stage. But though your focus remained entirely on the lit stage with your eyes following the actors, something, or rather someone had distracted you as you felt a warm hand on the bare skin of your knee, slowly making its way up. With furrowed brows, not quite fully aware of what was going on, you turned your head to Marc slowly, surprised that he would do something like this in public only to be met with the eyes of someone other than your husband.
“No pensaste que esto era lo único que recibirías esta noche, ¿verdad? (You didn’t think this was the only thing you’d get tonight, did you?).”
“Jake?” You nearly scoffed. Of course he would be the one to pull something as scandalous as this, not that you were surprised or even complaining at the matter. You could not help but be nervous at the thought of performing an act such as this in public considering the formal setting, despite the adrenaline that now ran through your veins. After all, Marc and Steven only kept things inside the walls of your own home. But this, this was complete foreign land for you. And if you were being honest with yourself, deep down, you were even a bit thrilled, eager to try something daring and new.
“Jake, what about-“ you tried to reason, referring to the people in the booths next to you and praying their view was as obstructed as possible, but your words came short. There was only one thing on your mind now and only one way to relieve it.
“No te preocupes muñeca, estás en buenas manos. (Don’t worry doll, you’re in good hands.)” Jake lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes hungrily roaming up your body and smirking at way your chest shuddered with every breath you took as he kept moving his hand almost excruciatingly slow up your thigh. He could just have you all to himself, Jake thought as he zoned in on the goosebumps forming across your skin that only raised in temperature beneath the palm of his hand. But he couldn’t, not now at least. This was your night. The way that Jake’s hand barely moved an inch in the time that he was there, torturing you with just how slowly he moved higher up your thigh caused you to bite your lip in response, unconsciously shifting in your seat as a heat started to pool in the pit of your stomach and between your thighs. Jake leaned in to place his lips at your ear, nipping at your lobe as he did so. “Solo necesitaba darles un buen empujón a los muchachos. (I just needed to give the guys a good push.)”
Did they plan this? You thought to yourself. Could they all have taken a part in this? Or was Jake just the instigator. You began to feel a bit guilty with yourself, a part of you wanting Jake to stay just so you could find out how he operated while he whispered shit to you in Spanish. But despite your internal desires, you needed Marc and Steven the most.
And with a devilish smile that glinted in his dark eyes, Jake left, replacing himself with Marc who stopped at the softness of your inner thighs, drawing patterns on the skin there underneath the pads of his fingers, a smirk settling on his lips at the way you squirmed under his touch. He had not even reached that spot you yearned for yet and you were already starting to fall apart underneath his fingers.
Marc you sly dog, you thought to yourself after noticing the smirk that sat on his pink lips. He had to have known.
“Marc?” You rasped out, your breathing steadily growing quicker by every lingering minute he did not make a further move.
“Shh.” Edging his way closer, he ran his fingers up the lace of your panties, hooking the lacy fabric under his fingers with a sly smile. “These feel new. I’ll have to take a better look at them when this is all over.” And with that he slipped his hand under the waistband, running his fingers up your folds and eliciting a gasp from your lips. Your gasp was like music to Marc’s ears, and the way he was so quickly able to draw out a sound from you only made him hum the lowest, most inaudible moan that you barely were able to catch with your ears. “Oh baby, all this for me? I wasn’t prepared for you to be this wet. You should’ve given me some kind of a warning.” He breathed out a low groan, his breath hot against your neck as he gently bit the skin underneath your ear before replacing the spot with a wet kiss.
God that threw you over the edge, the way he rasped out those very words with his hand shoved down your panties, his fingers barely moving against the skin there. You clutched the edge of your seat, your knuckles turning white from its grip as you slightly moved your hips against his fingers, whimpering as you did so and wishing he would stop being such a tease and just get on with what he started.
“Hush now.” Marc leaned in to whisper into your ear, inhaling your perfume like a feral animal with their prey trapped between their claws. Just your scent alone was able to get him intoxicated, as if you were the only thing to get him to such a state of euphoria that left him unable to process a single thought.
“Marc…….please.” You pleaded between broken breaths that shook your entire torso with half shut eyes and your brows knit together.
“I’m sorry baby but you’re gonna have to be more clear. Can’t really hear you over the opera.”
“PLEASE.”
With the slyest smirk playing upon his lips, Marc pressed his thumb against your clit, moving along the area in circular motions which only elicited another gasp from the back of your throat, this one louder than the last. “You’re gonna have to be more quiet than that. Wouldn’t want the others to hear now would we. After all, these tickets weren’t cheap and I’d hate for you to miss the rest of the performance.“
“Damn you Marc.”
“Damn me?” Marc raised his brow, his forehead pressed against your temple as he murmured in your ear in that low raspy voice of his that made your head spin. “Oh sweetheart. You don’t think I knew what you were doing? Wearing this new dress of yours knowing damn well how much Steven and I would get riled up just seeing you in it. The way you would occasionally curve your back and move your hair to the side and bring out your leg, flashing just the appropriate amount of skin just to get us going. Or the lipstick stains on the wine glass and my cigarillo knowing how much I would prefer it around something else.” Marc persisted with the circular movements, taunting you only further by keeping his fingers outside. “Let’s not forget poor ole Steven. He nearly drove himself up the wall being on his knees and strapping on your heels for you. All this effort when all you had to do was ask.”
“P-please.” You let out a small whine, begging for him to slide his fingers into you.
“Please what?”
“Marc please.”
“Oh, you mean here?” Marc hovered his two fingers over the area you needed him most, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing against the skin there.
“Mhm.” You hummed with a nod, slightly bucking your hips up against his hand in anticipation.
Marc slowly slid his two fingers inside you, his eyes trained on your face as you nearly collapsed at the sensation, your head thrown back against the chair and your red lips parted open as you shut your eyes in pure bliss against the way he pumped his long fingers in a fluid motion. “God you’re so fucking wet. And all for me.”
“Fuck.” You let out a hiss, grabbing Marc’s arm from the way he curled his fingers as he pulled out, your nails digging into the sleeve of his tux as his thumb remained on your clit.
“Shhh baby.” Marc pressed another sloppy kiss to your neck. “Imma need you to focus on the play now. Wouldn’t want to draw any attention. That’s my girl.”
You peeled your eyes open, training your gaze on the stage below despite the heaviness behind your lids and biting your lip to suppress a moan. You reached your hand out towards Marc, sliding your nails up the fabric of his pants before feeling him grab your wrist with his free hand.
“Tsk tsk. Now what did I say? Enjoy the performance baby. This night is ONLY about you.” Marc quickened the pace of his fingers, reveling in the way you looked at the moment, your skin glowing, your cheeks flushed pink, a dazed look in your eyes and your lips parted in ecstasy, releasing sounds that only he was able to make. His fingers played against you like an instrument, knowing just the right notes to elicit whatever sounds he wanted you to compose as if you were a cello. And though he wished to stay for longer, to ride you through your high, it was now time to let Steven have his turn.
“You’re doing amazing love.” Steven swiftly took over, his fingers moving delicately inside you as he let out the softest moan from how you felt around his fingers; warm and soft, closing his eyes in response before opening them back up to trace the details of your face. “God you’re beautiful.”
“Steven.” You let out a soft moan to acknowledge him, placing your hand at the back of his neck and gently stroking the hair at his nape. “Shit. I think….I think I’m gonna….”
“That’s it darling. You’re almost there. You’re doing lovely.” Steven whimpered softly against the skin of your shoulder as he placed a delicate kiss there, using his nimble fingers to make sure that you reached a perfect orgasm and ignoring the tightness that formed in his own pants while an intense, almost unbearable heat tightened itself within your core.
“Sh-shit. Don’t stop.” You gritted your teeth, your eyes rolling back as you neared your orgasm while Steven maintained his pace. “Steven I’m gonna cu-“ You squeezed your eyes shut against the intense sensation, your nails digging into his skin as you buried your head in the crook of his neck to muffle out the moan that tore itself from the back of your throat from the familiar warmth that spread itself from the pit of your stomach to throughout your body. Your juices from your euphoria poured out from between your legs, coating your thighs and Steven’s fingers as you released your shaky breaths onto his neck, running your fingers through the soft curls on the back of his head and peppering weary kisses down his neck.
“You did wonderful love.” Steven pressed his lips to your forehead before letting Marc take back control.
“Fuck baby.” Marc uttered with a breathy moan at your wetness, slipping his fingers out of you to hold them up to the light as he moved your cum around between the pads of his fingertips, smirking as he glanced down at your flushed face.
“Well that was something.” You smirked in return, looking at your husband from under the thickness of your lashes before placing a sensual kiss on his lips.
“Oh baby.” Marc lifted his hand to his face with the slyest smirk on his lips to get a better look at the product of his work as you watched him slide his two fingers into his own mouth, licking your juices clean off the length of them. “We haven’t even gotten home yet.”
Part 2?
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choigore · a month ago
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besties 4 life ig ; lhs
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warnings ; smut word count: 1.3k. lighthearted, best friend!heeseung, afab!reader, semi-experienced!reader, blowjob, little bit of perv!hee. not edited !
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“heeseung do you think that will work?” you asked your best friend, who was currently sitting on your back in help of attempting to crack it. he bounced slightly making you grumble and gasp for air. “off- off!” you pushed him off with a small laugh, he laughed with you laying back on the bed. you being you, you sat up and straddled his lap. “your turn.”
heeseung shook his head and laughed, holding your arms before you could move them again. “you’re gonna get in trouble,” he chuckled pointing to the door. any moment your dad could walk in your room and see you in this position. he always suspected something going on with you and heeseung but never brought it up due to you always shutting him down.
“don’t worry about him, he’s to focused on his works to bother us, plus.. i told him we’re gonna watch a movie and study for entry exams later. he won’t be bothering us anytime soon.” heeseung sighed, hand moving towards your lap. recently, heeseung couldn’t help but think how you’d look underneath him, hell the sight of you over him turned him on.
‘relax yourself.’ heeseung thought to himself. the last thing he wanted was to get a boner underneath you. not that you’d hate it, but he doesn’t know that. he thought back to the morning time, when he had a wet dream about you. he woke up with the worlds most painful morning wood. he couldn’t stop himself from using a pair of panties he’d stolen to help him get off. “turn around. i’ll give you a back massage..”
“y/n..” heeseung moans out, the sun burning his skin as he stroked his cock to the thought of you. wishing his hand was your cunt, the way he rode up into it, the sounds he let echo through his studio apartment. cursing under his breath and throwing his head back into the pillow. “fuck..” his eyes were shut, picturing you there, imagining the sounds you’d make for him. ‘hee-… god—fuck heeseung.’
“heeseung,” you pat the back of his head. his eyes opened, you’d finished giving him a massage and climbed off of him. he was in a dilemma, ‘shit…’ he thought to himself. “you okay bestie?” you plopped down beside him. heeseung only nods, hiding his face and caging his hand to cover himself up. your head tilts from the sudden change in the mood, the air was much more tense. you could feel it, not that it was bad..
“y/n.. what im about to say might ruin our friendship but i don’t think i can help myself.” heeseung announced, your heart almost dropped. did he know about what you’d been doing? what if he was disgusted by it. “i um.. don’t think i’m weird please.” you shook your head, sitting up on your knees and looked at him with a small pout. ‘that face..’ heeseung thought to himself. he was painfully hard, there was no going back.
“i’m.. kinda, hard. i really need your help.” heeseung slid his hand into his pants, applying pressure so some of the pain could ease up. “and i mean it’s really painful, you’re my best friend and i trust you more than i trust my own mother. i don’t want to ruin anything between us but please help me.” you thought it was something horrible, a sense of relief ran through your veins to be completely honest.
“oh, i thought- you were breaking up with me.” you huff, holding onto the necklace heeseung gave you a while back. he chuckled and shook his head, watching as you stood up to check outside your door. looking at your ass, he could get off to the sight of it. “here’s the deal bestie, i’ll help you.. but you can’t be loud. we’ll get in trouble.” you explained, closing the door behind you and playing something on tv.
you turned the volume up high enough and dimmed your lights. “can you turn around and sit up for me?” you asked him, it wasn’t like it was your first time. you’ve kissed each other before, that counts right? heeseung turned over, looking down at the same time and saw the tent in his pants. “woah-. you’re pants aren’t even off yet.” your hands thought on their own, going down to his pants and palming him softly.
the sigh he let out was one he didn’t know he was holding in. you climb into his lap and sat yourself on top of him. slowly grinding on him and lifting his head so you could kiss each other. “how’s this seungie?” heeseung was too far gone to even process words, this alone would make him cum if he said too much. he’d been waiting for this moment since the first time you made out with each other for ‘practice’.
“can you show me how to kiss?” you asked heeseung, turning around quickly and taking a small glance at you. a playful smirk spread on his face. “stop don’t tease just tell me yes or no,” you blush softly. heeseung nods, walking to the couch and sat down, patting his lap for you. you climbed on and felt his hands slither their way around your waist. leaning in slowly as he placed his lips on yours, instantly melting against each other like it was meant to be.
heeseung did the same thing, wrapped his arms around your waist but instead of leaving it at that. he pressed your hips onto his, a small gasp left your lips as he did so. the closest you’ve ever been to sex was some really bad head from your ex. not to mention how you always touched yourself and imagined it as heeseung instead. “this won’t be awkward afterwards right?” heeseung asked.
you hushed him, kissing his lips again while biting on his bottom lip. you started to kiss down his body, heeseung watching your every move as his hand went down to your head. your fingers hook around his waist band — tugging his jeans downs along with his boxers. this wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t new. although, you’ve never gone down on your best friend you could help each other out when needed, right?
your fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking it slowly while kissing down the side of it. “y/n,” heeseung lets out a breathy sigh, his head tilting to the side and eyes flutter shut. you hum softly, moving your lips to wrap around his tip. heeseung’s jaw dropped, propping his hands behind to hold him up. you were a little nervous, you’ve never given a blowjob before, heeseung wouldn’t judge you though.
he loved everything you did, it made you—you. “that’s a good girl..” hee coos, slightly rolling his hips while guiding you to suck him right. your eyes flutter closed as you kept one hand at the base of his cock, the other resting on his thigh. “you’re doing well, sucking it like the pretty little cunt you are.”
before you knew it his moans were louder, mixing with the volume of the tv. you prayed your dad wouldn’t catch you on your knees for another man who isn’t god himself. “god, i’ve been waiting for what seems like years to see you between my legs like this.” heeseung pants, one of his hands stroking your cheek as he guided you to help him cum.
“fuck,, keep doing that.” he huffs, the tightness in his stomach getting stronger. heeseung was at his breaking point, holding her head still and fucking into her throat. hearing her gags turned him on, he only wanted to hear more of them. “i’m cumming fuck y/n.” your grip on his thighs got tighter.
heeseung released himself into you mouth, pulling away quickly after and finishing on your face. he let out deep pants as leaned forward and swiped the cum with hips thumb, sliding it into your mouth. which you cleaned gratefully for him. “you look so pretty, if only your dad weren’t here.” heeseung smirks.
“y/n, heeseung are you guys hungry?” before you knew it your door cracked open, causing the two of you to freeze. in heeseungs mind he was nervous yet thrilled, the thought of someone catching him always made his blood rush, you in the other hand could die right now. “oh. my. god.”
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permanent taglist : @duolingofanaccount @ivesgaeul @cha0thicpisces @muffinminnie ;; to be added to the permanent taglist send an ask !!
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Story time! So I’ve got this friend Phil.
Now Phil is damn near indescribable as a person. To be honest, if you wrote him as a character, no one would entirely believe it, unless you put him in a comedy show where reality is slightly twisted and therefore people can be much more... Phil-like. He is actually incredibly clever, but no one can really tell, because thanks to a very strong case of the ole ADHD (don’t @ me I have it too) he is also as impulsive as a sugar-high kitten and makes the sorts of leaps in logic that only the super neurodiverse who are connecting random shit together at the speed of sound and then forgetting what they started with can, which means he does not come across as clever; no, he comes across as Very High and also Very Dumb. He combines this with also being astonishingly kind and breathtakingly easily impressed, so he will respond to anything you say at all with the enthusiastic child-like wonder of an eager and delighted freshly-landed alien. 
And he’s a standup comedian, which is how I know him. Weirdly, even though he has a billion completely fascinating stories, he never talks about them on stage because he doesn’t see them as fascinating. He once had to swim out to sea to avoid a pack of rabid dogs. He once fought a spider for an Oreo and lost. He once agreed to have tantric sex with a woman without knowing what it was, but assumed that the word sounds a bit like frantic so that must be it, and then spent four hours in a state of polite bewilderment and increasing horny frustration because he was too nice to say anything. He doesn’t think any of these stories are interesting or funny.
Anyway, he’s decided he wants to be an engineer, and so has gone back to uni. As part of this, his maths needs to be good, so he’s paying my husband to tutor him, because Steff is very good at maths. At the same time, though, because comedy gigs dried up somewhat during lockdown, he got a job in a call centre for a phone company whose name I shall redact for the purposes of this story.
Now, this company has a policy of doing a Big-Ass Weekly Meeting, and everyone has to attend over Zoom, once a week. Except, obviously, these meetings are very boring, and contain over 50 people at any one time, and most people are mute participants to the whole sorry affair and just count down the minutes until they can log off. Phil is no exception to this, so he uses the time to practice his maths.
On the day in question, a couple of weeks ago, that’s what he was doing. But Phil being Phil, he made something of an error. 
Everyone has to have their cameras on, you see. But rather than muting himself as well, Phil decided to just turn down the volume on the meeting and then carry on with some sums. This itself wouldn’t be a problem, but for two things:
Phil, when he does maths, mutters under his breath to himself (”Okay but if that’s 2... can that be a four? That doesn’t seem right. Let’s divide it by that number instead, that’s probably it. Wait, is that balanced?” etc)
On this particular day, Something Happened.
Part way through his maths, Phil suddenly becomes aware that... something is wrong. Something is not happening that should be happening. A noise he hadn’t been hearing had stopped. He pulls the meeting screen back up.
Fifty people are silently staring at the screen.
This is weird, thinks Phil, and tries to work out what the fuck is going on. The screen is not frozen. The sound is still working. Fifty people are just staring into their cameras.
“So,” says his supervisor suddenly. “Is that everything, Phil?”
And Phil says, “Hmm?”
“...That’s great, isn’t it?” the supervisor says.
“Yeah,” says Phil vaguely, calling on every comedian skill and instinct he possesses to stay cool and not cry.
“Okay,” the supervisor says oddly. “Well, let’s move on...”
The meeting continues. Hastily, Phil messages a friend in the meeting to ask what just happened. The story comes out.
Turns out... the week before, Phil had had a phonecall.
Like so many of his customers, it was an old woman who didn’t know how the internet worked and was very confused, and honestly, was lonely and wanted to talk to someone. He gets a lot of people like that, and each time he’ll periodically say just the right scripted sentence like “Is there anything else I can help you with?” that means they can keep chatting to him and he can officially stay on the line if a manager decides to listen in, because Phil is extremely ditzy but really not stupid. Anyway, this old woman, Mari, had mentioned that she lived alone in lockdown, and she missed seeing her grown up kids and having a meal with them.
So Phil, being an extremely kind and exquisitely weird man, says “Tell you what, I’ll order you an Uber Eats if you like, on me.”
Which actually becomes a whole Thing, because Mari does not know what an Uber Eats is, and for a while thinks he’s saying he’ll personally cook her dinner. But after some back and forth, Phil gets her to understand.
“Pick a cuisine,” he says. “What do you fancy?”
“Well,” says Mari. “I suppose a roast dinner.”
“There we are,” says Phil cheerfully. “I’ll send you one.”
“Ooh, lovely!” says Mari. “And a bottle of wine, bach.”
“Sure,” sighs Phil, impressed by Mari’s gumption. “And a bottle of wine.”
So he does, and thinks that’s the end of it. And it is... until the day before this weekly meeting, when Mari’s glowing letter of praise landed on the head boss’ desk, describing what incredible customer service this young man called Phil had given her and how impressed and touched she was.
So, in this meeting, Phil’s supervisor, delighted with his worker, read out the letter. “I have the most astonishing piece of customer feedback,” he says, reading out Mari’s words. “I’m at a loss for words! In all my years of doing this job, of working in this field, I’ve never known such dedication, and such outstanding care for the customers! So congratulations, Phil, we’re giving you a gift voucher and we thank you for your work. Do you have anything you want to say?”
At which point...
Fifty people go quiet to listen to Phil.
Who, to them, is staring into the camera, intensely concentrating, and trying to speak.
“Sorry, Phil,” one person says after a bit. “I think your microphone is turned down. We can’t quite hear you.”
No response. Phil continues, apparently speaking, but unheard.
And then he stops, his concentration changing, and he stares back, now silent.
“So,” says the supervisor, unnerved. “Is that everything, Phil?”
“Hmm?” Phil says.
“...That’s great, isn’t it?” the supervisor says, trying to get SOMETHING out of this, his Weirdest Employee.
“Yeah,” Phil says vaguely.
Everyone collectively decides to move on.
Incredibly, this is not even the weirdest thing he’s done in that job, and I think his supervisor is as surprised as the rest of us that he hasn’t fired Phil yet.
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