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occamstfs · 1 month

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Roommates’ Trivial Tiff

Pretty standard nerdy asshole to himbo TF, who doesn't love some cosmic justice ! -Occam

“You just don’t understand what it’s like dude. You have no idea how hard all this stuff is for me.” Brock was struggling to get through to his roommate, someone he has time and time again been more than cordial with. In response Harvey scoffs and rolls his eyes refusing to engage and instead doubling down, “I’m sure it’s real difficult with all your paid tutors and your-”

“You’re not even listening bro! You like to think you’re so elevated, like you have all the answers but you don’t even try to understand what anyone else is going through.” Harvey grimaces and briefly tosses about whether or not this is true but stubbornly neglects to internalize the criticism, “Uhh, I do too?” Brock bites his tongue to prevent just blowing up at his roommate and instead he tries a different angle, “Oh yeah? If that’s the case then, bet you know a lot about me huh? Since we’ve been roommates for a year now,” pausing as he narrows his eyes briefly at Harvey, “and ostensibly we’re friends right?”

Harvey struggles not to display his ever present irritation as he retorts, “Of course we are, uh, dude.” Brock does a better job hiding his intentions as he issues a challenge, “so if we were to say, quiz each other you think you’d come up on top lil dude?” With this gauntlet laid there is little recourse in Harvey’s mind but to accept it, there are few times he enjoys showing off so much as in a trivia contest. So what he might have a less than pristine record of respecting oafs like his roommate, he is certainly not to lose in any battle of the wits regardless of topic or stipulations there may be.

Brock puts out his hand and states the stakes, “You can of course bow out whenever, but uh, how about every question the winner takes something from the loser?” Harvey was resolved to win before hearing the terms and is now spitefully even more eager now as he eyes Brock’s side of the room looking for whatever his prize is sure to be.

Without any further clarification Brock promptly launches into the game, “I guess we’ll start real easy yeah? Only fair.” Harvey feels resentment start to brew as he feels he’s being talked down to as Brock goes on, “For starters then, What’s my major?” Harvey audibly gulps and feels his face blanche as he scrambles to find such an incredibly simple answer. This is such an obvious and pressing piece of information it would be impossible not to have it on deck.

Seeing the hesitation Brock laughs incredulously, “God dude are you kidding? How could you not know this, I-” He shifts his jaw waiting for the second shoe to drop as it is suddenly clear he is about to clean house, this asshole is going to learn respect by hook or by crook. Harvey’s eyes that were just hungrily looking through Brock’s possessions now retread their path, searching for the answer, his eyes linger on some sports bandages and protein powder and he kicks himself for forgetting. “Well duh dude, you’re doing a sports medicine or a trainer degree or whatever. Sorry that I forgot what the proper name is, it’s not exactly high in the list of things I need to know.”

Brock stares down at the clueless nerd before him and slowly shakes his head. “Not even close Harv. It’s-” Before he can finish though Harvey stands and shouts, “Don’t fucking call me that! I bet you don’t know mine either!” This leaves Brock aghast, he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Of course I fucking do! You never shut up about it! I’m lucky if my headphones can block out you whining about homework while also constantly talking yourself up! It’s so, fucking, annoying!”

Hurt by this despite his typical apathy to others Harvey starts up once more, “Okay but you didn’t say-” “Computer Engineering.” Harvey blushes in shame, not over his disrespect but of getting the question wrong. Suddenly there’s a hum in the room and the shadows in the corner grow darker and Brock looks around, “Well I suppose that question really tees me up on what to take huh? I’ll take your major.”

“Wha?” caught on the other foot Harvey blinks and sees that his textbooks and assignments are suddenly piled on Brock’s desk. He feels anxiety rise in his chest unsure of what has happened though confident this must be a prank or something. “No no no that can’t be right? What is happening?” He then returns to look at his roommate once more, a scowl plastered on his face as Brock who, despite his impressive stature always aims to present as kind and gentle, cannot help but smirk as he feels he has gotten one over on this jerk.

He stretches, exposing his midriff and flexing his arms behind his head, perhaps to try and allure or intimidate Harvey, he’s not sure, but Harvey is not going to just take this sitting down.Though at the present, he is too uncomfortable to even vocalize his discomfort as he stands there trying not to shake. Instead Brock begins once more, “Urgh kinda see what all that complaining was about now Harv, kinda got a lot on my plate now hah!”

Harvey stares daggers at his roommate, “Brock I don’t know what kind of nonsense is going through your dumbass ox brain. But it’s not funny, I’m sure you’re used to bullying little g-”

“Excuse me? I’m a bully!? I know you’re not saying that, I go out of my way to be kind, even to little chip on their shoulder assholes like you. I just,” Brock takes a deep breath and flexes his jaw before he continues. “It doesn’t matter actually. I trust you have a vested interest in trying again though right? Surely you want your major back?”

At the moment Harvey is caught between the idea that this is some kind of Christmas Carol-ass dream where he’s supposed to learn a lesson or once more that this is just a prank by Brock. Amenable as he’s always been, Harvey's convinced that behind this lunkhead is the vitriol of the typical jerk jock. In this impossible chance that this is reality though, he can’t just give up his major. He needs it to be an, uh? God what was, no what is his major anyway?

Harvey looks around in shock as he suddenly can’t bring his current course schedule to his mind, but he was literally in class this morning right? He feels his coursework draining from his mind as fear and rage begin to rise in his frail body. Images of lecture halls and professors flash through his mind before they just as swiftly dissipate, somewhere within him deeper than memory he feels that he was studying something with numbers. Mathematics, physics, engineering, something he was good at. He is determined to get that back as he speaks up finally, “What is the next question.”

Brock smiles and toys around in his head, confident that he will end up on top. “How about you pick this one, give you a fighting chance.” Harvey purses his lips and struggles to produce a question that he knows the answer to that his roommate will not. Oh duh, he’ll just ask him a math question, easy! Certainly not the aim of the game but Harvey just needed to get his life back. “What’s a derivative.”

“Kinda not in the spirit of the game dude but whatever. I took calc you know. It’s the rate of change in response to a variable. Now since you’re still being an ass how about I lob one back? How about you derivative 𝑓(𝑥)= 2cos⁡(𝑥)−6sec⁡(𝑥)+3?” Harvey is flat stunned, this is some entry level shit but he cannot for the life of him bring the information to mind. He’s just as sharp as he always has been but anything beyond rudimentary trig is continuing to trickle out of his mind. He meekly chuckles out, “uh easy, it’s f(x) equals, uh tan-”

There’s a blaring in his head as both men are aware of his immediate slip up. Energy once more rises in the air as Brock looks down almost pitifully at his roommate this time. “Now I am sorry for this Harvey but, oof that course load! Like you so relish to say, I am just not that bright hm?” Harvey shakes his head as he realizes the horror about to occur. Brock looks a little uncomfortable as he continues, “After failing to pull your little gotcha, I think I’ll just go ahead and have your intelligence.”

Both men are instantly struck with headaches the likes of which neither could endure under normal circumstances. As soon as the pain arrives though it is converted into a deep profane pleasure. Pins and needles fill Brock’s mind as it becomes heavy. Ideas and understanding fill his mind as a euphoric warmth flows through him. Harvey had enjoyed learning without truly lifting a finger, he had flourished and gained knowledge through no effort on his part but simple absorption. Brock is overcome with the ease at which he will now flow through life. Equally is he overcome by the ecstasy within his body as it only continues to heighten.

Opposite him Harvey clutches at his head as now not only do his learned experiences at university vanish, but all of his capabilities as a student and academic. Even the pleading within his mind slows down as he feels his ability to swiftly process information breaks down. Harvey turns from the man across from him as Brock’s hands feel up and down his musculature in rapturous delight, just in time to see whatever books and tomes he had collected as trophies begin to fade into the aether along with his memories of reading them. He looks down at his hands in confusion and horror, even with his unaddled mind at full steam he could not make sense of what has befallen him. He knows this is not right.

He is unable to find any answers, though as he searches his brain he begins to find a pleasant warmth in the vacuum where there once was knowledge. While his mind has been emptied, the bulge in his crotch demands his attention, which shall likely be a constant issue now that his mind shall evermore be less than preoccupied. He feels his mouth start to fill with drool as he looks down at his cock as it almost feels larger than it should be. He almost laughs at the idea that from now on he may fully be thinking with his cock. He opens his mouth allowing drool to spill out which shocks him back to sense and he turns around to demand that Brock return this all to sense immediately.

Brock for his part is reclined in a chair just rubbing his cock over his shorts almost forgetting about what they had been doing not seconds earlier. He laughs as he sees the expression on Harvey’s face, “Woah dude sorry about that, got lost in my own mind for a second there! No wonder you had, or have rather, such an attitude problem. It all just came so easy to you didn’t it? I mean we could keep going if you want, what else do you have to lose yeah?” Harvey wipes the drool from his face and takes stock, he can still read, he is pretty confident he still passed high school, he remembers his life before whatever hell is currently happening as well as whatever this new reality is. He nods his head and pushes his erection down as it continues to rise upon seeing his roommate’s cocky repose. He answers, “let’s keep going. Your question right?”

Harvey can’t help but trace Brock’s traps as he shrugs, “If you insist lil bro. What’s my middle name?” He knows this one for sure, he would bring it out to tease his roommate as needed. Brock slams his arm down in excitement and shouts, “fucking Laurel!” then he recalls this is only half the battle, Brock must also get his wrong, “what’s mine?” Brock smirks once more and laughs as he stretches to scratch his back, his roommate hungrily staring, “you don’t have one dude”

The energy rushing between the two men is drastically different this time. Unlike the pleasurable prickles of knowledge or the soothing burn of loss there is a direct, deeper connection between the two. Brock’s grin grows wider as understands, “Oh I getcha, question’s a tie so we share the spoils Harv. Only fair that since you’ve the mind of a what, meathead? May as well have the body of one.”

Harvey watches as his roommate takes off his shirt, he feels a warmth in his chest as he stares directly at Brock’s pecs. His breath catches as he watches his roommate flex them and he feels a nervous energy begin to surge within his own. He’s never had pecs before but he feels his chest pushing, growing, into his shirt. He sees his nipples harden and grow too large to ever hide as his chest expands. His swallows to stop from drooling once more as he sees Brock pose and flex his massive biceps, forcing a burning delight down the whole of Harvey’s arms. He matches the pose of the powerful man he has spoken nothing but ill of and flexes, sweat immediately staining through his shirt as the energy and strain heats his body beyond reason.

At the same time both men drop into a crunch, there is a loud tear as the pants of both men tear as they reach the lowest point in the crunch as Harvey’s ass bursts larger and his thighs swell with strength well enough to carry his increasingly top heavy torso. Not only is Harvey to gain the muscle of a tight jock, but the masculinity expected. The cock he has been til now proud enough of pulses with his heartbeat, with each pump it gorges larger, veins thick as the ones surging down his biceps force his cock thicker and further down his strained shorts. He tears at his pants to free his bulge as his balls bloat to the size of eggs, they pull tight ass they’re exposed to the air and all the soreness, strain, and pain of his still growing body becomes agonizing delight.

Harvey’s eyes water as he struggles to even stay cogent with the pleasure and power coursing through him. He smells his new musk breaking through his senses. Through the burning bedlam across his body he feels a soothing burn as hair begins to sprout and thicken where every man should make clear his masculinity. His pubes thicken and curl beyond his waistline and his pits grow wild and begin to spread to make it clear they, nor his musk, can ever be contained.

He lies, sits, writhes, flexes, exists in nothing but pleasure for some time, no longer concerned for his lost intelligence, beyond the care of his education. His hands, larger and painted with still thickening hair, press tight against his body as he feels the new contours of his body. Each new valley and mountain is a testament to the ecstasy he shall now prioritize above all. Until his roommate’s voice breaks through the haze, “Fuck bro you’re really feeling yourself huh?” Harvey’s eyes open to see Brock’s arrogant sneer has only grown worse as he has contendly watch Harvey lavish his new corpus.

Harvey meets it with a scowl and Brock tilts his head, “Want to do one last question then, bro?” His smile grows tight as he tries not to laugh as the appellation of bro has become the paramount definition of this once genius. Harvey just nods his head, still understandably disoriented as he lies in a pool of his own sweat and pre that remains dripping directly onto the floor. Brock motions for him to ask whatever the presumably final question is but is met with a grunt and a wave of the hand. Brock grimaces slightly, “if you insist bud,” he grimaces slightly as he looks down at the man. Asshole he may have be, may still be even, surely there’s something Brock could do to fix even that. He leans to whisper the question in Harvey’s ear, “what color are my eyes.”

Between grunts, Harvey strains to look at his roommate only to find them obviously closed. His body contorts with pain and pleasure as he feels the throes of defeat and one final lose begin to seize him. He groans out through clenched teeth as his jaw widens and his brows thicken as changes already begin to work upon his mind, “don’t… know…” Brock nods and sits next to his roommate laying Harvey’s head on his lap. At the point it would be a kindness for the man to forget his life before, and that is exactly what he is to do.

Brock removes the memories and identity of the sour nerd that made life perpetually unpleasant not only for him, but anyone unlucky enough to grace his presence. His breathing speeds up as his body heat rises beyond imagination, sweat turning to steam in the cold dorm room as he shakes his head and clenches his fists. He writhes only briefly, each flex of his body a final protestation of Harvey as Brock erases even his name from his head.

After a minute of this his body goes still before he opens his eyes blearily and groans. Still lying in Brock’s lap he stretches his arms, turning to smell his impossibly rank pits before turning it into a flex as he must do anytime he raises them. Brock watches this with trepidation, unsure of who exactly his roommate is to be now before suddenly a name surges into his mind, Bull. Perfect fodder for the jerk he once was and an apt name for the behemoth lying on his lap. Testing the waters Brock pats his chest to wake him up, “Morning Bull.”

He yawns and scratches at the same stubbled face he has always known and he sits up, “urgh got a massive headache bro, must have gone pretty hard to have a hangover this bad huhuh! Wanna go grab brekkie and hit up the gym?” Brock stifles a smirk and helps his roommate up to standing, slightly surprised to see him standing taller than himself before responding, “You got it big guy, how about you get some clothes on first though right?” Bull guffaws, looking down at his hairy sweat-drenched body as he throws an arm around his roommate, cock bobbing around in the open air, still chubbed up. “What would I do without you bro huhuh!”

Brock looks to see all of Bull’s tops have changed to stringers and tanks. Where Harvey had nothing but pants Bull has piles of unwashed athletic shorts, one of which he promptly throws on, going commando. Seeing Brock watch him, Bull grabs at his crotch and juts at the door, “Come on bro! Faster we get a pump in faster we can get back here and have some fun dude.”

With that Bull again throws his arm around Brock, once more smelling his b.o. as he almost deliberately spreads it on his roommate’s neck, like an animal marking its territory. The two then off to start their day, in Bull’s mind as they always have. Brock feels his crotch grow weightier as the amble down the hall, unsure if he’s made a horrible mistake in all this. Who is he to say what is too far in acts of cosmic retribution. Brock is certain at the end of the day he and Bull are at least to have quite a bit of fun.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #jockification #himbofication #hair growth #nerd to jock #muscle tf

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dreamauri · 2 months

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♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part one max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

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One of the things Max Verstappen despises about being Max Verstappen is being Max Verstappen. Three time world champion, youngest race winner, mad max, f1 dominator, all the fame and media and people following him around. It's very hard to get a moment of peace or be treated normally. When people hear his name they either put on big smiles or ugly frowns. He hates the special treatment.

He misses when he could have a conversation without people recording or judging him. Without people whispering about him, or fake being his friend for whatever fame. When people would just spend time with him for the sake of spending time, or having a conversation for the sake of friendly socialization and conversation. Luckily though for the Dutch, in this day and age, Max could just enter a spare email in Discord and make a second lowkey account.

The pfp was a random photo of Max, a meme. Lowkey enough, Max decided after staring at the profile long enough before opening DiscoBoard. After scrolling and searching, he was dawned upon with a relatively small server with only 280 people online, surrounding sim racing. After he followed instructions on the welcome page like verifying he's not a robot and picking roles, he got his first ping.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max met you in August of 2022. The way you talked and messed around with him got him constantly checking his phone for notifications over the next months. The way you befriended him and were relaxed around him once the two of you got to know each other, it kept him sane. And although Max didn't really reveal a lot about himself except that his work required a lot of traveling and effort, you trusted him enough to share about your own life up in France, ranting about your weird encounters as an employee at Cisco.

The blonde’s favorite part about getting home was plopping in his gaming chair and switching his Discord accounts. Pulling his headphones on and navigating through the server, he joined the active voice chat. It was as if he was switching lives, turning off Max Verstappen to be an irrelevant 26 year old.

“A millioooon.” you sang like you always did, a nickname you’d given him since amilian sounded like a million.

“Laaaaa.” Max sang back with a chuckle before greeting the other acquaintances present on the call.

“How was your weekend?” You hummed.

“Same as always. Maybe a bit shittier this time.” He sighed, seeing you were on Gran Turismo from your shared screen.

“I’d love to beat up someone for you.” You always offer when he’s down. The blonde would laugh and shake his head even though you can’t see. You never cease to bring him a smile with your tone and jokes and hearty aura, despite being kilometers up north. "We're waiting for Josh to take a few rounds around spa, you wanna join?"

"Oh, yes please." friendly racing with no consequences, points or championship? just friends messing around and enjoying themselves? Yes please.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You see the new verstappen photos that just dropped, Mr. Max Verstappen nerd?" Max looked up from his phone, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at your dm chat where the two of you decided to move the call once everyone else put down the steering wheel for the night.

"This one is from Bahrain I think . . . you know, I'm starting to take a liking to him." Max rolled his eyes playfully at your words. "To be honest, I was kind of disappointed this weekend." Max rubbed his eyes, looking up at your profile picture.

"Why what happened?" He asked even though he probably knew all too well the events of the Australian grand prix.

"Max DNFed on the third or fifth lap." You sighed.

"Oh yeah?" Max hummed, pursing his lips, not wanting to recall the memories. "What's so bad about that? I thought you were a die hard Charles fan?" he asked.

"Excuse you, I'm a die hard Fernando fan." You joked in a sassy tone which pulled a chuckle from him.

"What is it about Max DNFing that is bothering you then?" Max himself asked, putting his phone down to concentrate on your voice.

"I just don't—" you sighed deeply. On your end of the call you rolled back in your chair, getting up and flopping on your bed with your phone in hand.

When you did answer his question, all Max heard was mumbles because your voice was muffled by your pillow. "Can't hear you, La. Aren't you happy about the Carlando podium? You were so happy about it last year."

"I am happy, I am. But Max . . . well Max . . . i don't know." you grumbled frustrated. "He's such a good driver, and deserves a lot— he works really really hard."

Max never thought he'd hear you talking about him like that. He'd usually hear other people on the server dissing him and cursing him. And although you were always mostly neutral with the drivers, the way you spoke about Max tonight melted his heart. It also felt very wrong.

While you turned and laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling of your room, venting your feelings about a driver who you thought didn't know you existed, said driver folded his arms on his desk and leaned forward, resting his chin on his arms listening to you vent about how much you were amazed and proud even though you don't know him personally or him not being your favorite driver.

Max glanced up at his monitor as you sighed to gather your thoughts. "Sometimes when i look at him, he reminds me of myself. I never really got to go past karting, but for some reason I see a little bit of y/n in him."

"—Y/n?" He sat up hearing the name.

"I—" You face palmed upon the realization.

"Is that your name?" Max asked. You nodded briefly with a sigh but he couldn't see.

"Unfortunately." You sighed. "Weird name, I know—"

"I like it." He reassured. "It's not like Amilian is any better." he tried to lighten the mood, working slightly.

"A million." you giggled making him chuckle back.

"A million, " he repeated quieter, a small smile on his face as he leaned his chin back down on his arm.

Such a foolish thing to do, taking a liking to a woman you've never met.

Voice notes . . . ( my brain is like a zoo rn, starting projects and not being able to track anything while working on everything at the same time )Word count - ( 1, 165 ) credits for proof reading -> @classiclitfreak (check out their blog!!)

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mlmshipbracket · 2 months

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ROUND 7: POLL #1 - Finals!

ROUND 7 POLLS [HERE]

PROPAGANDA BELOW

Siffrin/Isabeau:

Propaganda submitted via ask [HERE]

I've put mid paragraph spoilers in || brackets || and paragraphs of spoilers make "spoilers ->"

I should mention that them having romantic feelings for each other is a partial spoiler?

What if. A silly little he/they guy. But! He's really messed up emotionally and mentally. Like. Constantly puts others first to his own detriment and calls himself manipulative kind of messed up. Also he's in a time loop. NOT a fun one. But! There's this jock in his party that he can joke with. And they looove making him smile! And! That jock is head over heels for our tiny hero. But! Neither of them can admit their feelings! ||Even if they know the feelings are mutual!!|| AND THE JOCK DOESN'T KNOW HE'S IN A TIME LOOP!!! AND LITTLE GUY WON'T TELL HIM! CAUSE THEY DON'T WANT HIM TO WORRY!!

I love them sooo much! They are my favorite he/they x ||trans masc|| couple <3

Siffrin is soooo insecure and I'm 100% sure Isa could fix him if he wanted to. They love telling each other just the worst puns and jokes imaginable.

[SPOILERS] -> Isa was a big nerd before he decided he wanted to be a huge jock and now he wants to design clothes now that he saved his county (along side his other friends)

Siff is just a little guy (literally)(he is short) who loves the stars abs doesn't remember a lot about his past. He constantly worries if he's being enough for the rest of his companions and always tries his best to make sure they're happy. He has soooo much trouble seeing value in himself and prioritizing his own needs and it makes me soooo sad :( he deserves to have someone like Isa.

[SPOILERS] -> Siff knows that Isa wants to confess after thier battle w the bbeg, but siff can't get Ida to say it no matter what they try :(

Crowley/Aziraphale:

Literally THE demon and angel ship. Spent thousands of years dancing around each other since they were so opposite even though they loved each other.

#isat siffrin #isat isabeau #siffrin/isabeau #isafrin #in stars and time #crowley #aziraphale #crowley/aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #tumblr poll #tumblr bracket #mlm ship #mlm ship poll #mlm ship bracket #mlm ship bracket tournament #mlm ship bracket 2024 #mlm ship bracket tournament 2024 #fourthr7

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zephyrchama · 26 days

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hi!! please can you spare a crumb of leviathan fluff please?

You knocked on the door to Leviathan’s room out of courtesy, but he was already calling for you to “come in.”

“No password?” you asked. You had been expecting a fun trivia question like always.

“No need. I could tell it was you.” From the sound of your approaching footsteps to the way you knock, and even the little pause between those two actions. Everyone seemed to know your distinctive traits better than you did.

“What’s up?” Leviathan didn’t look over. He was too preoccupied with his manga. He held it up in a way that obscured most of his face. His legs were sprawled out on the floor with his back against an ottoman and a stack of the latest releases by his side. Leviathan had a knack for lounging comfortably in the most inconvenient positions.

“I was looking for something to read. Mind if I browse your collection?” "Mmhmm.” Having unfiltered access to Leviathan’s collection was a rare privilege extended only to you, who could be trusted to borrow things without damaging or losing them. Or selling them, spilling food on them, bending the pages. There had been an extensive list of detailed rules you pledged to follow.

You spent a couple of minutes browsing the shelves. Honestly, nothing stood out. The room was silent, save for the occasional turn of a page and the humming of the lights. You were just bored and hoped to spend some quality time with a certain nerd, however, he was busy.

Giving up on the shelves, you decided to plop down in front of Leviathan. He was so immersed in his comic that he didn’t notice. A lead-up to a large-scale battle scene occupied so much of his attention, he failed to realize you were crawling over his legs like a spy in an action flick. You finally grabbed his attention by squeezing your shoulders between his arms, bumping your head against the book as you tried to worm under it.

“Hey! Ahh!” Leviathan was startled. He raised his hands in shock, or maybe to preserve his manga, but either way it created a wider path for you to take immediate advantage of. You snuggled up to his shoulder with the determination of a thousand shounen protagonists.

“What… what? What are…? Whu?” Leviathan was at a loss for words until he finally settled on demanding, “what is this?”

You were still trying to get comfortable, which was causing Leviathan a lot of discomfort. You rolled over to lay your back against his chest and bent your legs over his knees. Tugging his arms back down so you could see the manga, you explained, “I wanted to read this one.”

“It’s volume 18 though…?”

You nodded, “cool.”

“Did you even read the other volumes? You won’t get it at all.”

You tilted your head far back to look up at Leviathan, catching his eye for a brief moment before he glanced away. You felt him shudder. “I wanna read this one, though, so explain it to me.”

Far from the upcoming battle in his manga, Leviathan faced a raging battle in his mind. He couldn’t even remember what happened on the last few pages. He’d have to go back and re-read them.

“If it’s too much, just pretend like I’m not even here. I’ll figure it out on my own,” you said. The art looked good enough that you could admire that, even if you didn’t know anything about the plot.

“As if I could do that,” Leviathan complained. With a sigh, he hooked his arms under yours and brought his legs up so you fit better in his lap. Now you wouldn't slide down or constantly readjust your position. His movements were slow and deliberate attempts to make the both of you comfortable. He was cautious, as if you might jump up and run off at any moment.

“We can voice the lines out loud together,” you suggested, “but you’re gonna have to speak up or I won’t be able to hear you.” A chance to play voice actor sounded great to Leviathan. He was definitely interested. ”I’m right here though? What do you mean you can’t hear me?”

“Sorry, what was that? Come closer, the thumping in your chest is just so loud.”

With an embarrassed groan, he slapped the manga against his head and buried his blush-stained face into your hair where you couldn't see.

#noblesse oblige here u go #levi shower pic when #i've got the start of vampire mc and levi written too. i've got the start of a lot of stuff. don't look at my drafts folder.#i'm actually still not hip with fanfic terms so i hope this counts as fluff?#ask request #obey me shall we date #obey me fic #obey me!#obey me #omswd #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me levi x mc #obey me fluff #obey me x mc #obey me swd #obey me fanfic #obey me drabble #obey me levi x reader

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mc-i-r · 10 months

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Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

#steddie #stranger things #pre steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fillet #stranger things drabble #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #things get better for Steve i promise #hes just having his angsty time right now #robins part is next tho so stay tuned for that #disposable heroes

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anakinstwinklebunny · 1 month

Note

what about nerd! anakin as spiderman head cannons

SPIDERMAN!ANAKIN HEAD CANNONS 🕷️🕸️

(whoever wrote this, I love you, I adore you please come back 🙏)

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who constantly uses your window to get inside your room. He would always knock softly on it, waiting for you to open

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who goes to you after his every mission always wanting you to check and take care of his bruises/wounds. Even if it's just a small scratch he would still go to you, having in mind that it's just an excuse to spend more time in your presence

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who ALWAYS asks for kisses on his already treated wounds/bruises. Anything. He'd just ask for a kiss, pretending it still hurts and that only your lips will help

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who has a very specific way to take you on the dates. He'd appear by your window, again, in his suit to only grab you by the waist and swang through the city on his spider-web (sometimes, to tease you, would throw you in the air before catching you again with a grin under his mask as you clung all scared onto him)

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who makes his web in school's chemistry class, pretending to do some school's project

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who loves to spend time with you as "basic" anakin that isn't a guy in red suit, making the media wild. He'd often buy you flowers, standing at your doors with this cute smile

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who loves star wars and would often tell you everything he knows about them while his head is on your chest, your hand twirled in his hair

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who makes sure you're all safe when you go back to home after school

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who teasingly leaves small notes in your locker, initiating things he wants to do with you. Bet he'd call himself things like "your friendly neighbornhood spiderman"/ "your dearest spiderman" at the end of the note

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who loves when you kiss him while he's hanging upside down on his web

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who loves when you call him; spider guy, spidey, spider boy

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who would get more confident within himself after spider's bite (his body being more toned and defined). He'd move his arms in different angles to tease you while his muscles flex

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who loves to have you on his lap. Putting red lipstick on you so you could leave lip prints on his face

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who's obsessed with you wearing red/blue colours for obvious reasons

TW: mentions of smut

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who definitely uses his web to tie your hands while making love to you, knowing how much it'll piss you off since you love touching his body. Or use it to cover your mouth to muffle your moans

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who loves your plump thighs. Would leave small kisses on your soft skin while you're laying on his bed, scrolling through your phone.

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who leaves bite marks on your neck to mark you

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who loves to take his time with you. Would never take things forward without foreplay

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who's addicted to your breasts. He'd give them more attention than on other spots. His slim fingers would play or squeeze them, rolling his thumb over your hardening nipple while watching with delightful eyes as your breath hitches

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who takes you slow and hard, groaning/whimpering compliments/words of encouragement like; "shh..just a little bit more"/ "eyes on me when i fuck you, baby..c'mon"/ "mine.." he grunted "only mine"/ "ahh--atta girl..making me all proud and happy, taking it so good like that"

"oh..i--" you breathed out "i--can't take this"

"c'mon sweetheart" he grunted, slowly starting to thrust forward "you've taken worse than this. You can handle me..we'll go nice and slow, hm?"

🕷️ Spiderman!anakin who can't go without giving you an aftercare after taking your ability to walk 🕸️

I want to dedicate this to @yrsjune that account is deactivated now, missing you love <3

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @heartsforanakin @divineani

(if you want to be on the tag list then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

#anakin #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #star wars #anakin skywalker fanfiction #spiderman anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #bunny's replies ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა #i went wild on that #spiderman #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #ani skywalker

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itsactuallywhitewolf · 2 years

Text

What I think Dating Eddie Munson would be like

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

• okay so this is a lot so get ready for a shitload of fluff

• alright so first things first

• eddie would be the biggest simp for you

• like really

• boy would worship the earth you walked on

• even before you started dating

• before you guys were a couple he had the biggest crush on you for years

• his friends in hellfire couldn't hear it anymore

• "You know what happened today in english class?", he'd start as he sat down on their usual lunch table in the cafeteria

• "Y/N came an-"

• "and walked past you? looked at you? Eddie, don't you think it's maybe time to make a move or... you know, let it go? You're always talking about her, and it's not even anything special, it's getting ridiculous," one of them would interrupt him

• "If you would have let me finish then you would know that she came and asked me to study. Together. At her place. Tonight", he explained through gritted teeth, shooting him a death glare, but smiling proudly when he shifted his glance to the others on the table

• they'd be speechless tho

• just as he was when you had asked him

• fast forward 2 months and he finally asked you out

• and after that everything was going just perfect

• Eddie is the most caring boyfriend there is

• he'll always make sure you're happy

• he'll try his very best to cheer you up again when you're down

• he'd cuddle you and hold you and listen to you talk about ehat was bugging you

• but you'd also do anything for him when he was in a bad mood or sad

• you'd take him somewhere safe and quiet where no one would walk in on you, most of the times his bedroom in the trailer, and calm him down there

• you'd hold his face reassuringly and he'd lean into your touch, slightly turning his head so he could kiss the inside of your hand

• however, mornings with him were the best part

• his raspy morning voice was your favorite

• don't even get me started on the bedhair

• another thing: HANDS

• you'd always watch his hands, no matter what he was doing

• if he was playing the guitar

• scribbling something down

• rubbing your clit

• you just loved his hands : )

• you'd also constantly play with his rings

• you once tried them on, most of them way too big on your fingers but Eddie insisted you keep the one that fit

• "take it, babe. as a promise ring."

• ASDFGHJKL

• when you weren't around he'd also refer to you as the queen or Mrs. Munson

• "Hey, Eddie! You free this friday for another campaign?"

• "I don't know, dude, gotta ask the wife."

• He loved you and was certain that it was only you for him

• No one else could compare

• therefore he would also be protective as hell, especially after you went to the upside down

• he was happy you both made it out of that hellscape, he wouldn't ever risk again to lose you

• would be so jealous tho

• if he ever saw a guy of the basketball team try to flirt with you he'd immediately come to your side, hand at the small of your back, and with the widest grin tell the dude to kindly fuck off

• same was for you, you weren't really keen on Eddie having a deal with a girl from the cheer team

• it's not that you didn't trust your boyfriend, it's just, you never know with those cheerleaders

• you'd be the goofiest couple in school

• always doing something weird that would make everyone would stare at you

• once when Eddie saw you walking down the hallway he dropped all of his things to the floor only to run towards you and spin you around in a hug as if he hadn't seen you for months

• he had literally seen you 5 minutes ago

• he'd also often obnoxiously swing out your arms together when holding hands and walking down the hallway to your next class, making you stumble and bump against other students

• calling each other freak, nerd and weirdo for funsies was a usual for you

• hugs from behind

• all. the. time.

• you'd be standing at your locker, putting some of your stuff away when he would suddenly appear out of thin air and hug you tightly, pulling you away to twirl you around

• he's such a dork

• a lovesick dork

• when he was rehearsing with his band you'd join him, watching him play on his electric guitar, practised fingers strumming the strings in a way you've never seen before

• it was so hot

• you sometimes even forgot to breathe

• it took everything in you not to jump him right then and there

• he once tried teaching you how to play, you sitting on his lap as he put his hands on top of yours on the instrument

• his breath fanning against your neck

• god have mercy

• this went on for about 10 minutes until he got aware of the state you were in and started to kiss your neck

• let's just say that the guitar lesson was over very soon and you moved on to do something way more interesting instead : )

• sometimes you'd draw little doodles on his forearm when you were bored

• which made him come up with an idea

• so one day he showed up at your place, falling through your window and onto the carpet in your bedroom to show you the new tattoo he got

• it was one of your little drawings

• "wait, is this real??"

• "Yes, sweetheart, new and just healed"

• you couldn't believe him

• but the next day you got an appointment with your local tattoo artist and got matching tattoos together

• at nights you would sometimes go out for late night drives

• you know that one scene from perks of being a wallflower? it would somehow be like that

• the windows of his van all the way down, music blaring loudly through the speakers while you'd lean out of the window and feel the air hit your face, getting lost in the moment

• Eddie would watch you from the side as you did so, one arm stretching out to hold your knee so you didn't fall off

• he would be wheezing tho when you climbed back in with a disgusted expression on your face "I think I just swallowed a fly..."

• you'd watch him do his homework while laying on his bed sometimes

• "what is it?"

• "nothing. you're cute when you're concentrated."

• "don't mock me, Y/N"

• "I'm not! It's just, I don't see you like this often," you'd laugh, him groaning as a response before continuing what he was doing

• one time he was trying to cook dinner for you

• and almost burned the whole kitchen in the trailer

• now he just sticks to takeout when he wants to treat you :D

• therefore he'd also never bring lunch to school so you'd always pack him something extra just so he'd eat something instead of just chewing on some cashew nuts

• don't get me started on the hellfire shirt

• you love when he's wearing it

• it just looks so good on him

• and it'd also smell so much like him, so you'd always steal it from his closet

• but the boy goes feral everytime he sees you in his shirt

• something in him just stops working at the sight

• therefore you're never wearing it for more than about 15 minutes until it hits his bedroom floor

• whenever you both go out and leave his place together he always makes you sit down on the small steps in front of his trailer to tie your shoes, kissing your thigh while kneeling down in front of you before pulling you up and opening the door of his van for you

• such a gentleman

• however date nights aren't really date nights anymore because almost evertime one of the kids he's friends with is third wheeling you

• or all of them are

• you've practically become their parents now

• sometimes you're lucky tho and you get Steve and Robin to babysit instead

• but you love those little shitheads anyways ♡

• just like Eddie, they would be so excited everytime you joined one of their D&D campaigns

• Dustin and Mike would eagerly explain you the rules each time you got confused while Lucas would quietly give you tips for your next move

• Eddie would watch with a grin on his face while you were trying to follow each of them in between their rambling

• and now listen

• THE EYE CONTACT

• the game was just about to end and all the nerves were high up, you were the only one that could make the final move and all of the players were counting on you

• "What are you gonna do now, Queen Munson?", Eddie would speak from his dungeon master's throne, looking you in the eyes with a shit-eating grin, curious as to what your last move is gonna be

• You held the eye contact for a minute until you stood up and took the dice

• "I'm gonna hit him with a freaking fireball"

• then you threw the dice, it rolled acrossed the table until it stopped just right in front of Eddie, showing the number 20

• "SHE DID IT! SHE KILLED VECNA!", Dustin screamed, making all the other stand up and cheer as well

• You just looked at your boyfriend on the other side of the table, your look telling him everything he needed to know

• You both told the other's you'd stay behind and put everything away, so as soon as the last of them left the club room, both of you rushed to the other, teeth clashing in hasty kisses while undressing each other in a frenzy

• after that you'd go to his trailer, putting on some old vinyl of his uncle, and just swaying gently to the soft tune of the music

• you were in love and nothing else in the world could change that♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things spoilers #stranger things season 4 vol 2 #stranger things season 4 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader

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malereadermaniac · 5 months

Text

Studying ~ Ushijima x Male Reader

Some nsfw! Minors dni and fem readers dni!

Ushijima has always liked how smart you are

Ever since you two had been seated together in class, he admired how you always try in class but aren't too snooty about it - you help him if he needs it for whatever reason

The one time that solidified your relationship as friends was when Ushijima had overworked himself so much at practice because of nationals that his brain wasn't computing with the lesson at hand

"You good?" You whisper, noticing his disheveled look and empty piece of paper

"Uh.. yeah, I'm just confused" he whispered back, looking down at his notebook

Wordlessly you slid your notes to Wakatoshi

He looked up at you with widened eyes and you flash him a warm smile before turning your attention back to the teacher

Once you slowly started to hang out with Ushijima and Tendo, the muscular volleyball player didn't take too long to take a liking to you

Tendo always shipped the two of you, teasing you both by gushing over anything you two did

Which happened a lot, since you and Wakatoshi became really close

You were and still are a shy, gay nerd, you knew there was no chance of him liking you but that didn't stop you from showing affection like you would to any other friend

Wakatoshi on the other hand didn't register that he was head over heels for you

He could only get his head in the game if you were on the court-side cheering him on ever since he met you

He would put his arms around your shoulder when you two would walk to class

Fucking hell Wakatoshi not only catch himself staring at you for ages and conjure up excuses for himself

But finally, once you two finally got together nothing much changed

Except for Ushijima doing everything he used to do x10

He isn't one for a lot of PDA, but when in private, Wakatoshi is all over you

And you love it so, so much

In public he'll call you pretty or handsome, he'd hold your hand and hold you close but that's about all

In private, this man is holding you on top of him, complimenting you, constantly talking to you; there's never a moment of silence when you're with your boyfriend

You both do go out on dates, Ushijima has money and he aims to spoil his boyfriend as much as he can, so fancy restaurants and vacation homes are go-to's

But the two of you do a lot of study dates too

You teach him some things and vice versa

But the common trend amongst your study sessions is how they end

You'll start rambling about a topic you're passionate about and Ushijima will go silent, listening to you while admiring every part of your face and body

He'd look at you hands and touch them gently as you talk - his much bigger and rough hands juxtaposing yours, which he fucking loved

Then Ushijima would focus on your lips and eyes, until you notice and slowly go quiet

You'd look at him too for a split second, admiring his messy hair and sharp jaw

Until he interrupts your staring

"You're so gorgeous, (y/n)" Wakatoshi would softly say, then slowly moving in to kiss you

The work on the desk is long forgotten once you position yourself on Ushi's lap, making out like hormonal teens, his huge hands on your hips, subtly asserting his dominance over you

The more you two make out, the more desperate you both get, your hips involuntarily grinding in short ruts against your boyfriend's bulge

Ushijima maneuvers you with his hands on your hips, his eyes closed as his tongue dances with yours

Your hands on you boyfriends strong, huge chest, rutting more and more against him as small moans and whines escape your throat

"Fuck you're so hot, (y/n)... I fucking love you" Ushijima mumbles against your ear as he breaks the kiss, leaving kisses down your neck to your nape

Your arms wrap around his neck as you mumble a quick "i love you too" in between breathy, quiet moans

You're both fully hard by now, making out for a further 15 minuets, just enjoying each other's touch

Ushijima's hand is gripping your hair gently, guiding your mouth as he makes out with you

However, Ushijima notices how desperate you're getting and stands up, picking you up with him

Your legs wrap around your huge boyfriends waist , his lips still clashing against yours

He lays you on your back on his bed, not breaking contact with your lips even once

Ushijimas hands roam your body, palming your crotch and waist and thighs

Your arm hooks around you huge boyfriend's neck while your other arm reaches around Wakatoshi's back

He breaks the kiss and looks down at you, admiring your panting, disheveled state for a moment

"(Y/n)... can I eat you out?" Ushijima asks nonchalantly

"W-Woah wait aren't your parents here right now?" You ask, your boyfriend's question catching you off guard

But Ushi could tell you wanted to do it from how your dick twitched against his palm at the mention of him giving you head

"They're on the other side of the estate, don't worry about it, darling" Ushijima says with a soft look on his eyes, his fingers slipping under your waistband and slipping your bottoms and underwear down your thighs

"O-Okay then!" You sit up, looking your boyfriend in the eyes with a glimmer of excitement in yours

The brunette chuckles, fucking hell Ushijima loves you

Cut to just a few minutes later, you're a moaning, panting, whiny mess

Your legs are raised, feet flat on the bed while a pillow props your neck up just enough to watch as your boyfriend feasts on your hole

"Fuck, (y/n)! You taste incredible!" Wakatoshi grunts while looking up at you from below, his chin covered in a waterfall of his spit, his hair frizzy from your tugging and his eyes hazy with lust

You chuckle as Wakatoshi gets back to it

You watch as your boyfriend tries to subtly rut against the bed, eating you out making him incredibly hard

You pant like a bitch in heat, moaning like a porn star fir your boyfriend as he shoves his warm tongue into your hole

"Shit darling.. Mind if I do more?"

"Do.... Haaaa~ Do whatever you want, Ushi~" you say breathily

If you were loud before, fucking hell you were raising the roof now

Ushijima slicked up his long, thick fingers with his spit and started toying with you ass, spreading your hole and curling into your prostate constantly

While he was gently working you open, your boyfriend also decided to pay your twitching, touch-starved dick some attention

Your hands dart to Wakatoshi's hair, tangling your fingers in his brown locks while your boyfriend laps at your dick while he abuses your prostate

You tug at his hair as he blows you and fingers you, your moans echoing throughout the room like a porn shoot

Ushijima was loving every moment of it, your face, the noises you were making and fucking hell you taste so good

By the end of what was supposed to be a study session, you and Ushijima are laying in his bed, him laying on top of you

"Wakatoshi. You're crushing me." You murmmer

"Hm... I can't wait to call you Wakatoshi too"

"Sorry!??!?" You shout, your high-school boyfriend daydreaming about marrying you catching you off guard

"What darling? I can't fantasise about you like that?" Ushijima teases you

"Shush! We're in high-school lemme at least graduate first! Plus... who says I'm taking your name"

"My wallet is."

"Shush" you hit your boyfriend playfully

#gay #male reader #x male reader #fanfic #cute gay #fluff #gay smut #light smut #haikyuu x male reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x male reader #ushijima smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #x reader insert #x male reader smut #male reader smut

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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

Note

Genuinely so obsessed with the ask you answered about reader being associated with König’s childhood bullies and coming back years later to try and make amends……. I need the angst, the drama, the nasty disgusting degrading sex, the absolute turmoil on both of their parts 😭 I am starving for this, the way you portray König especially there is exactly how I’ve always envisioned him in my mind!!!!!! And then with reader desperately trying to make him happy now out of guilt and her crush that’s grown 10x since she saw him in school, delusionally hoping and believing there’s a *relationship* between them and she can fix what she thinks she allowed to happen back then 10 years after the fact, while König is constantly fighting himself to not fall for reader despite his own buried crush resurfacing, and convincing himself he’s only using her to release stress and tension after assignment while simultaneously holding so much resentment for her and her sheer proximity to the people that tormented him back then, I am foaming at the mouth for the toxic dynamics to be found there !!!!!!!!! The old him begging to fulfill some childish need to have her, while this new monstrous version of himself only wants to watch her suffer to repent for how he had to suffer !!!!!!!!!!!!

I know right?! I’m obsessed with this too!

I’m so here for the toxic relationship dynamic (sue me), also me and @bucca2/@wordstome had a whole conversation about this yesterday because König would bend over backwards to self sabotage this shit.

(The following is mainly a summary from our brainstorm session from last night + I have bucca to thank for the precious meme at the end, it’s König in a nutshell with his high school crush lol)

First of all our girl is sooo in love. She was in love when they were young, but now? She’s a goner, König is out of this world. He's so handsome, so confident, the epitome of cool if there ever was one... and God, would you look at those muscles?

Now she can finally drool all over him but back then, what was she to do? As the shy one of the clique, she always tried to avoid attention; she could never have endured what König did. Perhaps it was cowardly of her, but she really was just scared. She could only dream about him from afar, and in her dreams, they would both change schools due to their parents moving or something... Ending up in the same area, finally getting to be together like it was a miracle, Deus ex Machina.

Her silly dreams never came true, but it looks like they're coming to fruition now. And this time, she's going to make everything better! Now that they're both grown up and free from their tormentors she can finally admit that she has feelings for him, feelings that are only sparked fast aflame when she sees the man he has become.

And König can’t stand it.

Where was she when he was odd and scrawny? Where was she when he cried himself to sleep over her?? Of course she wants him now that he’s big, independent and menacing, an odd nerd who discovered guns and gym... He thought she was better than this.

Deep inside, he’s still like this:

...but we just need to forget about it because König is NOT going to fold for this girl.

He’s not.

And the sex is so NASTY. Bordering on degrading, König wants to be a gentleman when it comes to ladies, but this one? This one he wants to fuck like he paid for her. She brings out the beast in him, and he finds himself asking her to get on her knees and blow his cock on some filthy cruise... Fucks her like he doesn’t love her, and she’s absolutely lovestruck, when did König become so mean? (God, that she loves him)

Trying not to fall in love with her (as if he ever fell out), König is so incredibly mad at this girl – is this what she wanted this whole time? A buff jerk who fucks her doggystyle until her knees bleed, who gives her the bare minimum, who barely even calls her when he’s away? (He has to physically restrain himself from doing that because of course he’d like to hear her pick up the phone with pure hope in her voice)

While changing his tactics and devising a plot to make her pay, König doesn’t even understand that he’s falling fast for her again while becoming now (seemingly) the best version of himself. It's only to dump her later, of course. He's just being nice so that she'll cry over losing him later. He brings her flowers, eats her out for hours, getting sick satisfaction from the way she cries about how it’s the best sex she’s ever had. He’s going to bring her to her knees, in more ways than just one... She’s going to remember him for the rest of his life when he rearranges her guts, ruining her for any other man.

König is becoming the thing he hates the most while she’s learned her lesson, now wearing her heart on her sleeve. No more shame and secrets, she’s not afraid to tell him how she feels! How she always had a small crush on him… And not even that small… How she loved to hear his presentations, no matter what silly subject they were about because he had actually done his research. How she could’ve swooned when his voice changed. After a short breaking period, he started to talk lower than anyone else in the class, earning himself more of that bullying because he sounded so manly at such a young age.

König is about to burst a blood vessel when hearing all this: she had a crush on him back then? What the actual fuck??

And then come the cuddles, the slow mornings, the coffee and toast, the showering together… She leaves her toothbrush in his place, and it stares at him accusingly from the side of the sink. She wears his t-shirts and looks absolutely gorgeous, mouth-watering and sweet in them. His sexy little minx, the one who didn’t get away…

Wait, what? No. No. No!

And when his high school sweetheart confesses her love for him for the first time, she's so open and vulnerable and sweet about it. Like she has been from the start, his sweet, sweet girl, exactly the kind of woman he always wanted to bring home to see his mom. König is about to lose his mind when she tugs at his shirt, almost cries when she says how much she loves him and couldn’t bear to live without him… She would cry herself to the grave if anything ever happened to him…

(König is like:)

#könig angst #könig fluff #mmm this is so nasty and delicious #they're practically soulmates #collaborating with other writers #könig x highschool sweetheart

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ev3rgreenxtrees · 2 months

Text

Strawberry Shortcake

-M.S

Synopsis; You won’t deny it, you are a very attractive girl. You were now a senior in highschool, and everyone seemed to have their eyes on you- except one boy, who just so happens to be the one you want the most.

Pairing; Virgin!Nerd!Sub!Matt Sturniolo X Experienced!Dom!Fem reader

Warnings; Smut, mentions of sh scars!!!! unprotected p in v [don’t do that you silly willy.], oral (m & f receiving), foul language, praise kink, pet names (baby, sweet boy, sweetheart), mommy kink (im sorry.), bondage kink, choking, BD MATTTT‼️

“Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake

Thats my bad, thats my bad, no one taught them not to grab

Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake”

{3rd Person POV.}

As you strolled through your school’s halls, you noticed everyones’ eyes were on you. It was inevitable. They always were. Sure, you understood that you were attractive, but so attractive to the point everyone needed to stare at you? Not nearly, in your mind. It hadn’t necessarily bothered you, it was only when people began getting bold, did it bother you. Constantly being cat-called with disgusting remarks about your body, people calling you a whore, (even though you had three bodies, which was quite a bit for a senior, but not nearly as much as others in your grade.), and people even asking you out, and you didn’t even know them.

There was one boy, however, that you did have your eyes on. Matthew Sturniolo. A name not known to many besides teachers, his brothers Nick and Chris, and obviously you. You weren’t sure why you have always been so attracted to him. The one boy who never paid you any attention, the one that might not have even noticed you existed, was the one you want the most. Odd how that works.

Matthew always seemed to pay attention in class. Him being one of the very few kids actually participating in class, most- if not all- of his responses being correct. He was seemingly brilliant. You always caught yourself staring at him in class, but he didn’t notice, so you never cared to stop. You realized that when he concentrates so hard on writing all of his notes down, he looks down at his paper, scribbling what seemed like his entire world, yet complete and utter nonsense to you. His glasses always fell slightly down on his nose, his tongue poking out of his plush lips, his hair draping down into his face.

You had always wanted to approach the boy, yet you could never find the words to. This never seemed to be an issue with anyone else in the school, just Matthew. You thought of just upright asking him on a date, but he seems to be the type to not like going out much. You thought about asking him for a book recommendation, but then you would probably have to actually read the book. Also, not a good idea. However, there had been one idea that had stuck with you. A tutor.

You wouldn’t technically be lying if you tell him you need a tutor. You were borderline failing all of your classes. You weren’t trying to- you just simply didn’t understand, and whats the point of trying if you’re not gonna get it anyways? You’d decided to ask Matthew after class today.

The bell rang shortly after, and the whole class left, as they all packed up early. It was the last class of the day, so you couldn’t blame them. Not Matthew, though. He didn’t want to miss a second of the lecture. You found it adorable how much he listens. Hot, even.

“Hey! Matthew, right?” You asked, approaching his desk. He looked down at you, and nodded. You’ve never actually been this close to him, before. His sharp jawline and accentuated cheekbones, his light stubble and his piercing blue eyes. You also hadn’t quite realized how tall he was, either. Not the tallest boy you knew, but you were much shorter than he was. “I was wondering, do you like.. Do tutoring?” I asked shyly, and the boy tilted his head.

“I.. I mean,” He started. His voice was soft, but slightly deep. “I’m sure I could, if necessary.” He shrugged. You let a small smile form on your face.

“Well.. Um.. Do you think you could tutor me?” You gulped. You don’t remember the last time you’ve been this nervous around a guy. Its just the affect Matthew has on you.

“I.. Yeah, I guess so.” The boy shrugged. “Um.. When do you wanna.. start?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, his plain white short sleeve rolling up just the smallest bit, revealing a bit of black ink on his arm. Does he have tattoos that no one knows about?

“I’m free today, actually.. If that’s okay. We can go to the library?” I hummed. “Or my apartment, if you’re comfortable with that. I don’t live too far from here.” You offered, leaving the ultimate decision up to him, expecting him to choose the library.

“Well, it’s Friday. I’m sure there’s gonna be a lot of people in the library, and I don’t want to disturb them with us talking, so.. Your house, if thats okay?” He hummed, and your eyes widened. You were surprised that he agreed to your house, but not upset. Not upset at all. You could now have more ‘alone time’ with the boy.

“Yeah! We should probably hurry up, though. I don’t have my license yet, so I have to take the bus.” You spoke shyly, but he smiled. God, even his smile was amazing.

“No, don’t worry. I have my license, I can drive us.” He states, slipping his bag onto his shoulder, walking out of the classroom, leaving you to trail closely behind him. You figured Matthew would have his license, he seemed like the type. You jogged up to him, staying at his side. “I have to drop my brothers home first, if thats okay.” He states, more telling you than offering. You just nod.

You both made it to his car shortly after, and he offered you the front passenger seat, and he told you his brothers could sit in the back. You were the guest, after all. You both waited silently for his brothers to show up, and they eventually did. The slightly shorter boy with longer hair than Matthew and his other brother pulled the passenger door open, and his jaw dropped.

“No fuckin’ way.” He gaped, staring dead at you. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you quickly looked over at Matthew, whose face was bright red with embarrassment. “Matty! Ya finally pulling! Fuck yeah!” The boy laughed. Matty. Cute nickname.

“Shut up, Chris!” Matthew gasped, and you couldn’t help but giggle. Chris almost read your mind— probably not Matthew’s, though. The boy looked as if he’s never thought anything sexual in his life. “You’re so immature.” He scoffed.

“Aw, shut up. Don’t act like ya ain’t wanna hit that.” ‘Chris’ chuckled. “In the most respectful way, though,” Chris looked at you, smiling.

“Chris! Shut the fuck up! You’re so disrespectful!” Matthew grumbled, turning the key, the car starting. He swore. It was adorable.

“No- It’s okay. I’ve been called and told far worse.” You shook your head, reassuring both boys.

“Oh. ‘M sorry to hear that.” Chris frowned. “I hate people who degrade woman. Fuckin’ dickheads for real.” Chris scoffs.

“Yeah. I know.” I hum in agreement.

“Chris, get the fuck back here before you embarrass Matt even more than you already have. Look at the kid, for Christ’s sake!” The boy who was already in the back scolded. Both Chris and I peered over at Matthew, who’s eyes widened.

“No! Don’t look at me!” He whines, quickly turning to face the window. Chris chuckles, and shuts the door, heading to the back.

“It’s okay, Matthew. I think you’re hot, if it helps.” You shrugged, and the boy in the back fake gagged, and Matthew shot back around to stare at you.

“Hot?” He repeats. He acts like no one has ever called him hot before. It is a possibility, though. Matt was attractive as fuck, most people just chose not to compliment him, though, because he didn’t talk much. They call the poor kid a weirdo. You don’t think he is, though.

“Yeah.” You nod, and Matthew smiles.

“Just call him Matt. Matthew sounds too formal.” The boy spoke up, as Chris got into the car.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Nick. Always complaining about something.” Chris groans, buckling his seatbelt as the car began to move. The boys home wasn’t far from the school at all, so its not too far out of the way to your home. The boys teased Matt about going to my house, claiming that Matt was gonna get laid. Hopefully it was true.

“It’s that one,” You announce, pointing to a large building on left. Matt nods as he pulls into the large parking lot, which wasn’t very full. You led him to your apartment, digging in your pockets for your keys.

You lived alone, unlike most other seniors. All though they were eighteen, they didn’t have jobs or such, but you did. Your parents allowed you to move out when you were seventeen, and you’ve been doing just fine since. You pushed the door open, and walked in, kicking your shoes off, Matt doing the same.

“It’s.. nice, here.” He complimented; and you offered a bright smile. You usually did try to keep your place tidy, since it was only you, if you kept it clean, it’s the less cleaning you have to do overall.

“Make yourself comfortable on the couch,” You spoke, gesturing to the couch with a nice wooden coffee table in-front of it. “Want anything to drink?” You asked, but Matt shook his head.

“No, thank you.” Matt spoke, pulling out the math homework your teacher had assigned you. You made your way back over to Matt, sitting beside him.

Matt shortly after began his lecture, and if you were being completely honest, you actually caught onto some of it. Not most of it, just a little bit. But it was more than what you had understood from before. You knew that the math thing wasn’t what you cared about, though. Plus, knowing Matt, he’d never make the first move.

“I’m getting hot, i’m gonna go change real quick.” You announce, heading to your room. You weren’t hot. You were wearing jeans and a t-shirt, which in your opinion wasn’t revealing enough. You wanted Matt to make it obvious he wanted you before you tried to do anything. You don’t want to embarrass yourself. Once you get into your room, you rummage through your clothes. You finally found something that would do perfectly. Small cut shorts, that used to be sweatpants, and a tight cropped t-shirt. You went for more of a ‘casual’ look, so Matt wouldn’t get suspicious. You slipped your shirt and bra off, sliding the crop top on over your body, accentuating your curves and tits.

You found a pair of black lace panties, that didn’t do their job of covering you very well. You slip those on, and then slip the shorts on over them. You felt satisfied with your outfit choice, and you hoped Matt did too.

You made your way to the couch again, and as you looked over to Matt, he looked up at you. His eyes widened ever so slightly, and you could see his adams apple bob, his face turning the slightest shade of pink.

“Um.. R-ready?” He asked, and you nod, sitting next to him on the couch. You were so close, his leg brushed yours, but neither of you moved. “U-um.. So this-“ He said pointing at a random equation. “This is..” He sighed.

“Thats not the one we left off on, Matt.” You state, and he lets out a deep breath. “You don’t look so hot. Are you okay?” You hum, placing your hand on his shoulder, leaning forwards, giving him a glimpse of your tits. He glanced over, his eyes glued to your tits. “Eyes up here, Matty.” You giggled, grabbing his chin, making him look you in the eyes. His entire face was bright red.

“I-I’m sorry, ‘m so so so sorry-“ Matt whined. “I-I don’t know why I did that! Fuck! I-I just-“ Matt panicked. You took this opportunity to press your lips on his, immediately shutting the boy up. Matt seemed hesitant, but slightly kissed back until you pulled away.

“You’re okay, Matt.” You state, and Matt nods with wide eyes. “Did you not like that? I’m sorry,” I started but Matt shook his head.

“No! I mean.. I’ve just never.. done it before..?” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Sure. you figured Matt was a virgin, but surely he’s kissed someone before.. right?

“You mean you’ve never kissed someone before?” You questioned, and he nodded.

“Oh god… please don’t think i’m weird!” Matt pleads, and you let out a small giggle.

“You’re adorable, Matt. Why would I think you’re weird? You do know why I actually brought you here.. Right?” I asked.

“Oh- yeah. Sorry.” He states, slowly turning to face the paper again.

“No, Matt. I didn’t invite you here for that.” You hum, taking his hand. You slowly and gently place it on one of your tits, and Matt gasps and closes his eyes. You let out a small laugh at this action. “Open up, Matty. You’re okay.” He does as you say, and looks at you, wide-eyed, and mouth slightly parted.

“I..” He gulps. You could tell the boy obviously had no clue what he was doing. You knew you’d have to take lead, which was no issue to you at all.

You place your hands on his chest, pushing him back on the couch.

“Is this okay?” I asked, waiting for his response before moving on.

“Y-yes..” He nodded.

“Good boy.” You praise, and the boy whined. His sounds were euphoric to you. You straddled the boys’ lap, and his hands hovered over your hips, not touching you yet. “You can touch, baby. ‘S okay. I’m yours.” You reassure, before placing soft open mouthed kisses along the boys neck.

His head tilted backwards, allowing you more space on his neck. His hands gripped at your waist, having no other idea where to put them. You rolled your hips on his crotch, and he let out a high pitched, almost feminine, moan. You continued to kiss along his neck, rolling your hips on him, the boys’ grip tightened and loosened on your waist, as you pulled away from his neck, admiring the purple marks you had left on his neck.

“P-Please; I need you,” Matt whines, and you feel his throbbing cock through his sweats and boxers. You could tell he was big.

“It’s okay, sweet boy. Let me take my time.” You hush, and he pouts.

“Need you now,” He whimpers, and you shake your head in disapproval.

“So needy. Can’t even wait.” You scold. “Maybe, we should just continue with our lesson if you aren’t gonna have manners, hm?” You shrug, slowly removing yourself off of his lap.

“N-no! Please, mom..” He cuts himself off, throwing his hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

“What was that, sweetheart?” You hum, and Matt shakes his head. “What did you say, Matthew. Be a good boy and tell me.” You demand, gently but firmly placing your hand around his throat.

“Please, mommy. Please, I need you,” He begged, and your core throbbed. You sigh, before speaking again.

“Okay, sweet boy.” You nod, your hands resting on his waistband.

“Wait- I want to make you feel good,” He offers. How could you pass up something like that?

“Yeah? And how do you suppose you do that, Matty.” You tilt your head, stilling your movements.

“Can.. Can you sit on my face..?” He asks quietly. “Please..” He eyes your body up and down again, before looking away, seeming ashamed of himself.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” You hum, and he nods eagerly, letting himself look back at you.

“Yes! Please, mommy.. I wanna make you feel good,” He whines. You nod, standing up, slipping your shorts off, leaving yourself in your lace panties, which hardly did their job of covering you up. “I… I’ve never done something like this before, so.. let me know if im doing anything wrong..” Matt whispers slightly ashamed of himself.

“Okay, Matty. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” I reassured him, before crawling back onto the bed, this time positioning myself over his face instead of his lap.

“Please sit, mommy,” He pleaded, and you smiled and gave him what he wanted. His tongue found it’s way between your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit.

“Oh- fuck! Good boy, you’re such a g-good boy!” You moaned out. For this being Matt’s first time at anything intimate, he was fucking amazing. The way his hands grabbed at your thighs gently, almost unsure of them being there, and the way the frames of his glasses rubbed against your inner thighs as he shook his head vigorously was driving you mad.

Matt whined at the praise, the delicious sound sending vibrations through your body. How the fuck was he so good at this? Does he watch porn all the time like a bad boy? Did he have his brother teach him? His brother was clearly a fuck boy.

“Oh, god, Matty.. Fuck-“ You panted, your stomach clenching. “Fuck,” You whined, “G-gonna make me cum,” You warned, and he let out a small whine. You felt yourself release on the boys tongue as his nose brushed perfectly over your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You began to stand up, but Matt pulled you back down onto his face, allowing himself to lap up your juices. You let out a small hiss, and he immediately lifted you off of him.

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, ‘m sorry,” He apologized quickly, his hands gently massaging your hips.

“No, you’re okay sweet boy. It wasn’t your fault, I just got a little overstimulated,” You run your hand through his soft hair reassuringly. He leaned his head into your touch, and you admired the way his glasses were slightly fogged up, your juices dripping down his chin. “You’re so pretty..” You hum, your hands slipping up his shirt. “Can I take this off, pretty boy?” You asked, gesturing to his shirt. He hesitated, before nodding.

You slowly lifted his shirt off, admiring his body. He was perfect, to you. You slipped his shirt off, over his head, and tossed it elsewhere in the room. Thats when you notice the tattoo you had seen earlier. It was on his inner bicep, and you admired it closely. It was a ‘N’ and ‘C’. Initials. Thats when you noticed something else. It was placed over scars, that Matt had done himself. Your heart sank; when you realized what they were from. You didn’t point it out, though. The tattoo must’ve been for his brothers, Nick and Chris.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” You hum, looking back at his face. When you said that, you saw all the worry leave his face. You leaned forwards, placing kisses on his collarbone, matching the ones you had left on his neck.

“Please.. Wanna see you,” The boy whimpered, and you pulled away from his collarbone, wasting no time slipping your own shirt off. This left you in your bra, shorts, and panties. “You’re so pretty, mommy.” The boy complimented, leaning forwards to kiss you.

You leaned into the kiss, slowly pulling his pants down, making sure to leave his boxers on him.

“Please—“ He whined, pulling away from the kiss. “I need you.” He hummed, and you let out a small giggle.

“Patience, baby.” You tutted, and the boy squirmed.

“No!” Matt cried out, slipping his own boxers off quickly. “Now!” Matt demanded, his voice loud, yet still submissive.

“Matthew!” You growl. “Stay put, and don’t fucking touch yourself. Got it?” You demanded more than asked, and his eyes widened.

“I— I’m sorry mommy, I-I didn’t mean to!” He wails, but you ignore his cries. You walked out of the living room, heading to your room. You rummage through your bedside drawer, pulling out three long strips of lace, perfect for what you need them for.

You walk back out to the living room, seeing Matt on your couch. You eyes widened and you stopped your movements. Matt was completely naked, rubbing his cock against your couch slowly, your shirt in his mouth stifling his moans and whines, his eyes shut tightly with tears rolling down his face. It was now when you realized how big he was. What a shame that he was keeping something so pretty away from everyone.

“Matthew!” You gasped, acting as if you had just walked in. “You’re such a dirty boy. How pathetic.” You scoff lowly, walking towards the boy. Hs eyes were now wide open, his movements stilled. He took your shirt out of his mouth, quickly covering his cock with it, insecure of the way you were commenting on him.

“‘M sorry! I wasn’t touching myself, mommy!” He whined. “I-I just need to…” He trailed off, clearly embarrassed.

“Thats still bad, Matthew. I thought you said you were a good boy?” You shook your head. “Sit up, hands behind your back.” You demanded, and Matt looked as if he were about to cry.

“N-no, please! I am your good boy! I-I promise! P-please..!” He cried out, but you shook your head.

“Good boys don’t do that, Matthew. Up.” I demanded once more, and he reluctantly listened, slowly sitting up, putting his hands behind his back.

“I’m sorry, mommy. ‘M really sorry..” He whined the entire time you tied his hands up. Once you were done, you laid him back down, moving down to his legs. You tightly tied them to the coffee table right at the end of the couch, so he couldn’t pull out of the restraints, but it wasn’t hurting him.

“Now you’re gonna have to hold still, hm?” You teased, walking along the couch, scraping your nails gently along his body, making sure to run them up his cock and back down. The boy was holding in his breath as to not moan already, at the slightest touch. You let out a small sigh, brushing the hair out of his face. “Such a shame you were a bad boy and now you have to be tied up.. I could’ve let you touch me..” You shake your head in disappointment, moving back down by his cock, before getting on the couch.

“I-I’m sorry, mommy.. Wanna touch you s’bad,” He cried, and you lick your lips, staring at his cock in awe. Out of the three others you had seen, Matts’ was by far the prettiest and the biggest.

“I know, pretty boy.. I want you to touch me, too, but you were naughty..” You tutted, and Matts’ jolted the second you rubbed your fingers gently over his tip. You leaned down, licking the vein along the underside of his cock.

“Oh! Fuck!” He yells out, squirming below your touch.

“Yeah? You like that, baby?” You tease, and the boy eagerly nods.

“Y-yes! Fuck, yes!” He yells out as you take his tip abruptly in your mouth. “Oh god,” He whimpers, as you swirl your tongue, collecting the salty precum, licking his slit. His stomach flexed and his back arched slightly. You knew this was his first time, so he obviously wouldn’t last long.

You slowly took the rest of him in your mouth, the boy’s hips sputtering, not thrusting though because of the restraints. You bobbed your head up and down, swirling your tongue around his warm wet cock, humming around him.

“F-fuck, mommy! I-I need to cum!” He warned, but to his surprise, you pulled off. “N-No! Please!” He wailed attempting to squirm out of the restraints, and you shook your head.

“This is what you get for not listening.” You explain, and he pouts, feeling his much needed release slowly fade away.

“Please…” He whines, and you move to hover yourself over him.

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay, baby?” You reassure, placing your hand on his cheek. “I’ll stop immediately.” I speak softly.

“O-okay.. Please..” He nodded, letting out a shaky breath. You began to lower yourself down onto him, sliding his tip into your wet cunt, causing the boy to attempt to buck his hips up. “Fuck, mommy!” He yells, his back arching and his eyes squeezing shut, as you took him deeper, bottoming out.

“Fuck, baby- filling me up so well,” You moaned out, beginning to bounce up and down on his cock slowly. He tried lifting his legs, but the lace ropes were not allowing him to. He let out loud moans and whines, hearing his sweet noises were beautiful. His legs began to shake as you rutted your hips against him, your clit brushing against him each time you threw yourself down.

“I-I- please, mommy! I need to cum..!” He cried out, and you leaned forwards, gripping his shoulders tightly, your boobs falling in his face. He took this opportunity to take your tit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipple.

“G-Good boy, Matty!” You praise, and Matt lets a loud whine out as you clench around him. He came, but he felt bad for cumming without your permission. Even though you wanted to yell at him for it, you were too focused on how good you felt as you were fucking him, his face scrunched up in pleasure, as he licked at your tits.

You slow your movements as you let yourself go on his cock, letting a loud moan out in the process. You slowly pull off, immediatly plopping down on Matt. He let out a deep breath, placing open mouthed kisses to your neck, matching the deep marks he had on his.

A few minutes of you catching your breath and Matt sucking and biting at your neck, he pulled away. He began to stand up, and your heart dropped. You don’t want him to leave. You wanted to fuck him, sure, but you want him too. In more ways than just sex. You reached out to grab his wrist, stopping him from moving, causing him to turn to look at you.

“Please don’t leave,” You pleaded shyly, and he smiled. He leaned forwards, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“I wasn’t planning on it, darling. I’ll be right back.” He states. He then begins walking down the only hallway you had in your house, before turning to walk into the bathroom. You laid flat on your back. waiting for Matt to return, which he did soon after. He had a wet rag in his hand, which he used to gently wipe you down with. He then wipes himself down, and grabs your panties, slipping them back on for you, and rummaging through his backpack.

He pulled out a hoodie that he must’ve kept in there, and slid it on you. It smelled like him, bringing you comfort. He slipped his own boxers on, before picking you up gently into his arms. He begins walking down the same hallway he was down moments before, peaking into all the doorways to figure out which room was yours.

He finally found it, and placed you down gently on your bed.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He states, before exiting your room. You cuddled into the hoodie, pulling your soft blanket over you. Matt came back, moments later, your phone and his charger in one hand, and his phone in the other, which he held up to his ear. “I’m stayin’ the night here tonight, so have ma drive you and Nick to school tomorrow, kay?” He asked into the phone. He waited a minute, before scoffing and hanging up. “They keep makin’ jokes about me gettin’ laid.” Matt shakes his head, and you giggle immaturely.

“To be fair, they are telling the truth,” You shrug, and he lets out a small sigh, before plugging his phone in and crawling into the bed besides you. “Good luck at school tomorrow with them.” You joke, and his eyebrows furrow.

“Hm?” He asks, tilting his head.

“I marked ya up, pretty good.” You hum, and Matt’s eyes widen.

“Oh.. well, it’s okay. At least they’ll know im your man, and your my girl.” He smirked, gesturing to the same marks you had on your neck.

“My man? Your girl?” You teased.

“Yeah? Are ya not my girl?” He asked, but you shook your head, placing a kiss to his lips.

“Only yours.” You state proudly, tucking yourself into his body.

“Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake

Thats my bad, thats my bad, no one taught them not to grab

Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake”

『 ↳✧･ﾟ Finn yaps❕ ;

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ I do NOT give permission for my work to be published on any other site, nor to be claimed as your own . However , reblogs , likes , and comments are much appreciated ! 🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso @75sturn @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fanfic #christopher sturniolo #fluff #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #angst #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #sub matt sturniolo

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