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flowercrowngods · 5 months

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who did this to you. part 2

🤍🌷 read part 1 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie

This is not happening. None of this is happening, he’s… He’s dreaming. He’s high. High as a kite somewhere where reality doesn’t matter, where it can’t fucking reach him and he’s— He’s not panicking behind the wheel with Steve Fucking Harrington bleeding against the passenger side window.

It’s not happening.

Because if it were happening, Eddie would simply throw up. He’d leave his van on the side of the road and run the fuck away. Away from Harrington and his trouble, away from his rattling breath that’s so loud and unsteady, Eddie doesn’t even dare to turn on any sort of music, even though he’s itching for it, his hands clenching and unclenching around the wheel until his knuckles go white.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath, barely aware of his surroundings at all, his eyes flitting from Harrington to the red stain against the window, back to the road and then down to the white-knuckled grip and the speckles of dried blood that is decidedly not his.

Lost in his panic and disbelief, Eddie almost runs a red light.

It’s harsh, the way he hits the brakes, and the sound Harrington makes is pathetic enough that Eddie feels like maybe this might actually be happening.

“Sorry,” he breathes, his voice no better than Steve’s — and he’s not the one with a concussion, a broken rib, and that… fucking fear. Of something. Or someone.

Who’s hurting you, Steve?

Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.

He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t wanna know. All he wants is for Harrington to stop fucking bleeding, to keep his eyes wide open and—

“Ed,” the boy says, wheezes, and it sounds like he wanted to say his full name, but had to swallow first. Blood, Eddie thinks. Don’t let it be blood. “Think I’m… ‘M gonna throw up.”

“Please don’t throw up,” Eddie says before he can stop himself, hating how small his voice sounds, how urgent — like that’s the thing to be urgent about. God, he’s such an ass, but he… If Harrington throws up, Eddie will lose it. He knows he will.

He chances a glance over at Steve, who has somehow managed to get his right arm tangled with the handle at the door, keeping himself upright and safe from Eddie’s rather frantic driving style. His head is drooping, moving this way and that against the red-stained glass, and he blinks unseeingly as blood begins to trickle down from his nose and temple again.

He’s making himself small, and Eddie wants to pull him upright and tell him to stay like that, tell him to stop looking so terrible, so horrible, so…

So much like Eddie’s fucking problem.

He hates it. Hates everything about that vision. Boys like Harrington shouldn’t look like this, shouldn’t hold themselves like this, shouldn’t… Shouldn’t have no one but Eddie to take them somewhere safe.

It’s just not tight.

“Don’ wanna throw up,” Steve says at last, the pause too long for Eddie’s liking, and he sounds so solemn about it, yet so helpless, and Eddie kinda wants to scream. Wants Harrington to scream. Anything to stay awake and maybe not ruin his car. Anything to not fucking die in it.

“Tell me something,” he says then, because he knows he has to keep Harrington awake and speaking. Just for another ten, fifteen minutes, he tells himself. “Anything, yeah? Tell me anything. Gotta keep you awake there, you hear me? Sounds great, right, staying awake?”

He’s rambling and he knows it, desperation shining through his words and the god-awful way his voice breaks a little. This is not about him, he knows it isn’t, but still he wants to punch himself, wants to pinch himself and stay fucking calm.

But who could stay calm in a situation like this? The silence is filled with the horrible wheezing and rattling of Harrington’s breath barely audible over the engine, and Eddie has to look over several times to make sure he’s still there, still with him, still alive. His panic spikes each time.

He’s just about to reach over and shake him a little, snap in front of his face to get him back, when—

“I don’t know what.”

It’s quiet, that voice, breathy and tiny and almost invisible, and Eddie wants to scream again.

Tell me why you’re so scared. Tell me why your old buddy did this to you. Hagan would never touch you, so why did he now? Tell me what happened to Hargrove. Tell me why you sound so fucking small.

“Tell me about your…” He fumbles for a moment, taking a sharp left and pretending not to hear the choked-off whimper. Focusing on good things. On normal things. “Your favourite person.”

Eddie cringes at himself the moment the words leave his mouth. Your favourite person? Really, Munson? He scrambles to find something better, something cooler, or maybe something easier like asking his favourite fucking colour, but the overthinking really doesn’t mix well with the already panicked state of his mind. And Eddie just blanks.

Beside him, though, Harrington sits up a little straighter, smearing more blood against his window in the process that Eddie pretends not to feel nauseous about.

God, he never did like blood.

“You wan’ me to tell you ‘bout Rob?”

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie says, a little too loud, a little too shrill, actually running a red light this time because he doesn’t want to brake again and hurt the boy some more. There’s no one around anyway. This is Hawkins. Fucking dead-end of a town. It doesn’t need red lights, or boys who look like Harrington. “Rob. Tell me ‘bout him, what’s he like? Favourite colour, all that shit.”

“Her.”

Eddie blinks, looking over to find Harrington looking at him — or trying to, his eyes still drooping and empty. But it’s a good sign. People don’t die when they look at you, right?

“What?”

“Her,” Harrington says again. “An’ blue. Deep ‘n’ dark blue. She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.”

Eddie doesn’t really listen, doesn’t really process what Steve is saying, already thinking of the next question just to keep him talking. But then he continues on his own.

“Mornin’ blue dep— de… makes her sad, though. So only dark blue. Says it’s why we’re friends. You’re so blue, Stevie. Got half’a my clothes, still, she does. All the blues.”

That's... really fucking endearing, actually.

And he says it with a half-smile, too, bloody and pathetic as it is. Like it’s a secret that only the two of them are in on, only Steve and Robin. It’s kind of sweet.

Not for the first time today does Eddie find himself wondering, Who the hell are you, Steve Harrington?

He exhales through his nose, ignoring the way he’s started to shake with all that panic that’s been sitting inside him for a little too long now with no way to let it out.

“Not much longer,” he mumbles under his breath again, or maybe he just thinks very hard. Maybe he doesn’t know where he is at all. It’s like he blanks every few seconds, too busy thinking and trying not to.

Before he can tell Harrington to talk some more about that girlfriend of his, there’s a pained, confused little whine that forcefully tears Eddie’s eyes from the street for a moment only to meet hazel eyes widened in confusion.

“Wh— Where… Where’re we going?”

Oh no.

“Why’m I in y—“

“You’re safe,” Eddie interrupts him, speaking slowly because suddenly his tongue is too big for his mouth, and not entirely sure if he’s reassuring Harrington or himself. “You’re hurt, okay? It’s bad, but it wasn’t me. I’m taking you to… to someone. My uncle Wayne, he’s— He knows about that kinda stuff. You were telling me about Rob. Remember her, Blue? How about you tell me some more, hm?”

Eddie’s voice is unsteady with worry and fear and panic, and he’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding it. The thing is, he’s going to cry. He’s actually, absolutely, no-doubt-about-it going to scream and cry and punch a fucking hole into something when this day is over, when his van is no longer bloody, and when Steve Harrington won’t have reason to look at him any longer.

Oh, how he wants to skip forward. Past the nausea, past the fear, past everything that’s happening right now. Maybe past the insomnia that will come with a day like this, too.

Past all of it.

Or better yet, travel back in time and never get to that fucking boat house.

But he can’t. So he breathes.

At first, through the ringing in his ears and the racing of his own heart so loud and so forceful he’s shaking with it, he worries that Steve’s gone silent again, that he’s gonna ask again, ask what happened, ask where he is, ask all the questions that make Eddie feel like he’s been doused in ice water because they’re questions that only get asked in stupid movies where terrible things happen to people.

But then he hears him mumbling something. Numbers.

“What’cha mumbling there, Blue?”

“‘S her number,” Steve says, his voice slurring again, worse than before, and Eddie hits the gas a little harder. “‘S jus’ her number. Robbie’s number.”

And he mumbles again. Over and over and over, until Eddie couldn’t forget it if he wanted to, ingrained into the frayed edges of his mind now.

He lets him ramble, lets him repeat the number until the words slur together and he can’t separate a four from a nine anymore. Each time Harrington hesitates, each time he stumbles over the words or forgets a digit, Eddie wants to punch the wheel.

He doesn’t. He only grips it tighter and counts down the turns he takes, the streets he passes, the fucking trees that are familiar, before, finally, the trailer park comes into view.

The sob Eddie lets out when, with shaking, trembling hands he pulls up to his home to find his uncle having a smoke outside is deafening to his ears after the quiet weakness of Harrington’s voice.

It startles him, makes him stop his rambles and sit up straighter when Eddie finally kills the engine. For a moment, without the steady, rolling hum, the car is filled with the small, tiny whines Steve makes on each exhale. Like it hurts to even breathe.

“Wha’s wrong?” He asks, but Eddie can’t really hear him. Can’t turn to him, can’t— “Eddie?”

He’s out of the car before he can take hold of another thought, stumbling out of his open door on legs that feel numb and heavy. The urge to cry is back again, the burning in his eyes only getting worse when Wayne takes in the dried blood on his clothes and hands with careful, calculated worry.

“Ed?”

“I didn’t know what— where—- I’m… Wayne, I’m sorry.”

“Slow down, kid,” Wayne says, raising his hands as if to calm a spooked deer. Like Eddie is the one who needs his help. And he is. He really, really is, and he shouldn’t be, because this isn’t about him, but—

Wayne grabs him by the shoulders to keep him still, and only now does Eddie realise he’s shaking again, restlessly moving his weight from one leg to the other. His uncle steadies him, gently pressing down on his shoulders to ground him, and Eddie nearly sobs again.

“Ed. Are you in trouble?”

“No,” Eddie scrambles to say, becoming aware of what this looks like, hiding his hands behind his back on instinct, like that’ll make Harrington’s blood disappear. “‘S not my blood, I didn’t do anything, I swear! I swear. It’s, uh. I just found him. In the boathouse, I found him, and he was… God, he looked so bad, okay, but he didn’t want the hospital, and he was, like, so scared of something, and we don’t even talk, we don’t even look at each other, but I just… I didn’t know what to do, and you know something about concussions and people who were beat to shit and, again, I’m—“

“Eddie,” Wayne says, his voice so calm but so assertive that Eddie shuts up immediately, gladly handing over to controls to his uncle now. “Who’s the kid?”

He nods towards Eddie’s van, where Harrington looks to be halfway unbuckled, but his eyes are closed and his face smushed against the door again, like he just gave up.

“Shit,” Eddie says, adrenaline and panic slowly falling from him with Wayne’s hand on his shoulder. He sags into his uncle and rubs at his face. “It’s Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington, I mean.”

“Okay,” Wayne says, and he’s so calm. So calm. Eddie feels like he’s about to fall apart, and Wayne is the only one keeping him together, with that’d steady, warm hand on his shoulder. “And you promise me he didn’t give you trouble? Or anyone else who’ll come finish what they started?”

Eddie shakes his head profusely, getting a little dizzy with it. “I promise I’m not in trouble. He said Hagan did this to him, was alone when I found him. No trouble, Wayne, I swear, I’m not like that, you know I’m not.”

“Okay,” Wayne says again, and Eddie wants to weep. “I know you’re not like that, but some people are, y’know? You did good, son. You did good. Now help me get him out of that car.”

It takes his uncle tugging him towards the van for Eddie to kick back into motion, nearly falling over his feet turning back around. It’s only Wayne’s “Easy” murmured under his breath that keeps the ground from opening up and swallowing him whole.

He climbs in on the driver’s side while Wayne rounds the car and gets to Harrington’s side.

“Hey there, Blue,” Eddie says, his voice shaking and the nickname slipping again — but it’s easier to call him that than his real name, it’s easier to pretend it’s literally anyone else in here with him, bleeding against his door.

It’s easier to pretend it’s not Harrington’s breath rattling the way it does, easier to pretend those pained groans so high in their cadence they can only count as whines don’t come from Hawkins High’s Golden Boy who graduated a few months ago and was supposed to be done with bullshit like this.

“Come on, up you get,” he tells him, not daring to raise his voice too much.

He looks so frail. Like he’s already broken. Or like he’s trying not to. Like he’s holding on.

Eddie pretends not to think that the hand he places on Steve’s cheek to gently pry him from the window is not the only thing keeping that boy together right now.

Harrington groans, whines, wheezes, but opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s. Jesus, we’re they this blown before? Or this swollen?

“Hey,” Eddie says, just to say something. Just so he won’t have to hold the boy’s face in silence, just so he won’t have to focus on all the blood. Just so he won’t have to hear more questions that people aren’t supposed to ask.

Steve opens his mouth, his breath coming out a little sharper, like he wants to say Hi rather than Where am I? or When will it stop hurting? Like he wants to say How can I help you help me?

Somehow, Eddie manages a smile.

Wayne chooses that moment to open the door — just unclicking it, not pulling yet; giving Eddie enough time to support Harrington, make sure he doesn’t fall.

“Careful,” he whispers, though whether it’s for Wayne, for Steve, or for himself, he can’t quite tell. Maybe it’s a plea to the rest of the world, and to anyone else who will listen.

Steve is still staring at him. That’s probably not a good sign. He leans back a little, turning Steve’s head to make him follow him. Slowly, of course. Gently. Eddie can’t remember ever having touched something like it was going to break if only he looked at it wrong, but somehow he’s hyper-aware of it now.

Because Harrington is staring at him. Entirely too still, like he has no strength, no coordination to do anything but stare. And yet Eddie is the one who, now that the adrenaline has fallen from him, now that he can let someone else take over, now that Harrington doesn’t need him anymore, finds himself unable to look away.

Because Steve is just a boy. And so is Eddie, who can feel Steve’s breath against his wrist. And maybe, out of the two of them, Eddie is the fragile one. The one about to break.

“Blue, you with me?”

Steve nods. Doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t move. Eddie swallows, briefly looking back down at Wayne to see if he’s ready. His uncle nods, ready to catch Harrington should he go down, and Eddie turns back to the boy who’s smeared with his own blood.

“I’m gonna take off your seatbelt now, yeah?” he tells him, not entirely recognising his voice anymore. “That man out there, that is Wayne. My uncle. He’s safe. He’ll take care of you, okay?”

“Safe,” Steve breathes, and that shouldn’t be the one thing he focuses on. It shouldn’t sound so unsure. So insecure. So hopeful, so relieved, so— Fucking earnest.

Swallowing all these thoughts, all this desperation and all those questions, Eddie reaches over Steve, one hand still supporting his head and feeling the overheated skin of Harrington’s cheek against his palm, the hint of stubble and the crust of dried blood. As if in slow motion, not daring to make a wrong move and hurt him more than he already does, Eddie frees him the rest of the way, letting the seatbelt slide into its hold behind his shoulder.

“Careful,” he says again, just to say anything, but he is careful, and his hold on Steve is steady.

“‘M careful. Not gonna break, Eddie.”

“I know.” But maybe I will.

“Good. ‘Cause… Don’ wanna break.”

Eddie smiles, despite everything. “You’re not gonna break, Blue. Wayne’ll catch you.”

Harrington loses his focus then, his eyes glazing over, but the small smile on his lips widens. “Blue. ‘S nice.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks. He kinda is.

Somehow, miraculously, they get Harrington out of the van and into the trailer. He throws up halfway to the doorstep, and Eddie curses under his breath while Wayne talks quietly, asking him yes and no questions that Eddie can’t really hear through the ringing in his ears — a strange mix of fear and relief, a panic not quite over, but soothed by his uncle’s familiar voice; even if it’s not directed at him.

“Don’t worry about it, kid, the next rain’ll take care of that. Stop apologising.”

It throws him then, rather suddenly and violently, watching Wayne supporting Harrington, watching the blood smeared boy with the swelling, angry red bruises in his face. Somehow it’s different, seeing him in his home.

This was always a safe space. Always void of everything terrible.

And now there’s a broken boy on his doorstep who’s not Eddie.

He remembers the fear, the panic, the plea for no hospital, Eddie. Can’t go there.

Why not? You need a doctor—

Monsters. Only monsters there.

It paralyses him and he stays where he is, holding the door with an arm that’s heavy like lead, standing on legs that begin to go numb again. He watches, but not really, as Wayne sits Harrington down on the living room couch, between magazines and brochures and some of Eddie’s calculus notes from last night that he was searching for a sketch of a monster he was so certain he’d drawn in the margins a few weeks back.

Now there’s blood on his calculus notes. And Eddie is helplessly keeping the door open as though he’s going to run away any second now. Letting in more trouble to join Harrington on his couch.

He should… He should close the door. Help. Run. Disappear.

“Ed,” Wayne calls, snapping him out of his stupor. “The first aid kit, please. A bottle of water. A clean, wet cloth. A blanket, too.”

Wayne talks him through it, takes it one step at a time, has Eddie bring him one after the other like he knows how much he’s keeping his nephew together by keeping him on the brink of usefulness.

Soon, Wayne has everything he needs, taking care of Harrington and his wounds, keeping him awake and talking so much better than Eddie did, even making him smile here and there, hiding his wince when the motion pulls on his split lip or the huffed breath sends a jolt of pain through his rib that Eddie is absolutely certain must be broken with the way he holds himself — with the way he lets Wayne hold him up.

Wayne is doing his thing and Eddie is hiding, gripping the kitchen counter like a vice, staring both unseeingly and hyper-vigilantly as exhaustion washes over him, dragging him under and draining him of more than adrenaline. He slumps against the cupboard behind him, rubbing at his face like that’ll make it all go away.

It’s not right. It’s not. This is Eddie’s home, it’s supposed to be safe, it’s not…

He breaks away, ripping his hands from the counter and all but stumbling outside, heaving a deep breath and giving in to the urge to cry. Tears spring to his eyes and he wipes them away angrily, because it’s dumb, it’s so stupid, it’s absolutely fucking insane that he should be so worked up when Harrington talked about dying earlier.

These things don’t happen. They don’t!

“Stop fucking crying,” Eddie grumbles, sniffling and wiping away more tears as he closes his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Get a grip, Munson, Jesus Christ, there’s no reason to cry you big fuckin’ baby.”

Nobody’s there to contradict him. Nobody’s there to make it worse. So he lets his eyes sting for a while, lets his lips wobble, his jaw clenched shut, the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes, breathing deliberately.

In. Hold. Out. Hold.

He doesn’t even scream. Doesn’t punch the still bloody side of his van, doesn’t run into the woods and disappear into the void.

He simply breathes. Tries not to think about boys dying in mall fires, and even less so about boys beaten and abandoned in boat houses.

Doesn’t think about fucking Hawkins in Bumfuck-Indiana and the cursed way it has, driving its people mad.

Doesn’t think about, They said my brain is hurt, Eddie. Doesn’t think about the Monsters Harrington mentioned. Doesn’t think about Blue, doesn’t think about I’m tired, Eddie. Don’t wanna hurt anymore.

Doesn’t think about blue, blue, blue.

He’s shaking when he comes back inside. He’s shaking when Harrington meets his eyes, looking a little clearer now, the blood washed away and everything bandaged a lot better than Eddie managed. He’a bundled in Eddie’s blanket. It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong.

Eddie can’t move, and neither does Steve.

“Steve,” Wayne says, waiting until those eyes tear themselves away from Eddie and back to him, though Eddie sees them fill with such trepidation, he almost asks what’s wrong. “I won’t hear a no on this, and I won’t let you go home. I’m taking you to the hospital. Especially if you tell me your head was hurt like this before, more times than one.”

“Three,” Blue breathes, a little dazed still. Not magically healed, not even from Wayne. Another thing that doesn’t feel right.

“Three times,” Wayne says, nodding, like he’s encouraging Steve to continue.

“But I don’t want a hospital.” Again with that tiny fucking voice. Like the Monsters are hiding under hospital beds.

“I know, son,” Wayne sighs, tugging the blanket a little tighter around Steve, and Eddie’s eyes begin to sting again when he notices the tone Wayne uses. When he realises. When he remembers.

”I want my mom.“

”I know, son. But she’s not coming. Your mama is gone, Ed, and this is your home now. Think we can make that work, hm? You and I?”

Eddie had never felt so lost as he did then, clutching his blanket to his chest, burying his face in the wet fabric even as this man — his uncle — tugs it tighter around him. Like he is fine with Eddie wanting to hide as long as he doesn’t run away.

He had shrugged, then, even though we wanted to shake his head, tell him no, tell him he wanted his mama.

”I’m scared, uncle Wayne.”

And Wayne had smiled a little, and nodded. “Then we do it scared, Eddie.”

Actually, Eddie feels like he never stopped doing it scared.

And now there is Steve, who Eddie never believed knew what being scared felt like. It’s dumb, of course, because even Harrington is just a boy, but he was always untouchable to Eddie. They never talked. They never existed in the same space together, not in a good way and not in a bad way. Their worlds just never aligned, never collided, never coexisted.

And now…

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, okay? There’s a doctor, Doctor Clarke. Like— Yeah, like your science teacher, remember him? ‘S got a brother who’s just as much of a genius, and just as kind. He’ll take a look at you, yeah? Make sure your brain isn’t too hurt, clean your wounds, give you something for the pain. He won’t, uh. He won’t hurt you, kid. Whatever’s got you so scared, Dr Clarke will be nice to you. Especially when I’m there with ya, I’m an old pal of his. And I will be. Won’t let you outta my sight until you’re well enough to run away from me, you hear me, kid?”

Eddie’s hands are hurting, his fingertips raw from where he’s been biting his nails while Wayne talks Blue through what’s going to happen — and he wonders, with the way Steve’s eyes are glued to Wayne, if he ever had anyone talking him through shit like this.

“Okay,” Harrington breathes at last, still sounding way too small. “But. I’m…”

“Scared anyway?” Wayne offers. Steve nods. You’re so blue, Stevie. “Then we do it scared anyway.”

And they do. Wayne goes to get the car so Steve won’t have to walk too far, leaving Eddie alone with him for a brief moment.

He watches, from his place in the kitchen, how Steve’s face falls into a look of utter exhaustion and tiredness; the adrenaline washing from him just the same. Eddie wants to reach out. Wants to say something, break the spell of tension and silence and I know we don’t talk, but I’m glad you’re doing a little better. I’m glad you’ll go see a doctor. I’m glad you haven’t died, I guess. Do you really think you will? Are you really so scared of that?

But Eddie keeps biting his nails, and Steve keeps his eyes closed, blanket around his shoulders. And they don’t talk.

“Thank you.”

Eddie perks up, not entirely sure he didn’t imagine the words — but Harrington moved slightly, his eyes still closed but his face now turned towards Eddie.

“For, uh. This.”

“I didn’t do shit, Blue,” Eddie says. “That was all Wayne. All I did was freak out, I promise.”

Harrington shakes his head, though, slowly. “Mh-mm.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, because there is no room for discussion here. They don’t talk. And he doesn’t want the bubble to burst with insecurity and sourness.

“Thank you,” he says again, and he sounds final about it. It makes Eddie wonder what he’s like, really like, when he doesn’t consist of pain and nausea and disorientation.

He has a feeling that, despite everything, despite Monsters under hospital beds and torture in boathouses and mall fires that kill teenagers, Blue Harrington might be someone good to talk to. Compassionate as shit, even when all he wants to do is pass out.

“You’re welcome,” Eddie rasps, pretending that his eyes don’t sting.

He wraps his arms around his chest like he’s hugging himself, or like he’s holding himself back. From reaching out, from asking, from telling, from talking.

Unwittingly, even with his eyes closed, Steve mirrors him, and Eddie wonders if he, too, it holding himself back, or just curling in on himself some more even though it must hurt, feeling so small.

Maybe that’s what fear of death does to a nineteen year-old. It’s so fucked up. Eddie wants to scream again.

Outside, he hears a car door fall shut just before Wayne reappears in the door, giving Eddie some kind of meaningful look that he wouldn’t mind deciphering on any other day, but today he fears he needs words.

“I don’t know how long this’ll take. Will you be okay, Ed?”

“Will I be— Yes! I’m not the one with the concussion, man, of course I’ll be—“

It’s a bluff, comes too fast, and Wayne sees right through it before Eddie even realises it, and he steps closer. A warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes stinging again.

“You did good, kid. Everything will be fine. But it might take a while. It’s fine if you need to go somewhere, just… Don’t drive. Call Jeff if you need someone, just. Don’t do anything stupid. And don’t get behind the wheel. Deal?”

Eddie swallows hard, hit by another desperate, aching wave of I wanna go back in time and skip this day. A wave of tired exhaustion and wondering, aimlessly, just who the fuck Steve Harrington really is.

“Deal,” he says, and Wayne pulls him into a hug.

Eddie follows them outside then, trailing behind them like a lost little puppy, helping Harrington into Wayne’s car. His movements are still slugged and a little disoriented, so Eddie decides to lean in again and fasten his seatbelt.

“Careful,” he mumbles, allowing the boy a moment’s warning, a moment to adjust before the weight settles on his chest.

Dejá-vù hits him and makes him pause, with Harrington staring at him again.

“I’m careful,” he says, the corners of his mouth tugging into a little smile.

More lucid than earlier, and Eddie thinks it that which takes his breath away for a moment.

“Not gonna break, Eddie.”

“I know,” he says, still not moving back, instead reaching up to tighten the blanket around his shoulders even though the seatbelt is already there to hold it in place. “You’re not gonna break, Blue.”

The smile on those lips is genuine now, gentle enough to not be ruined by the blood crusting them.

“Thanks. Again.” And then, when Eddie finally pulls away to close the door and tell Wayne to drive safely, “I really do like that name.”

It soothes the urge to scream.

Eddie closes the door as gently as he can — which isn’t much, because the car is old and not exactly smooth.

“I’ll see you later,” he tells Wayne. Promises. To stay out of trouble, to stick around, to not run away for a while again, to stay out of his car.

Wayne nods, a faint smile on his lips.

“Later, Ed.”

And then they’re gone, and Eddie is untethered again. Wonders, for a few seconds every now and then if it really happened, if this is real.

But it did. And it is.

And after sitting on the steps for a while, having a smoke and staring at where Wayne’s car disappeared ten, twenty, forty minutes ago, Eddie heads inside.

He has a phone call to make.

🤍🌷 tagging: @theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 (a thousand percent sure i missed some but oh well such is the 3am disease)

addendum 22 jan 24: onwards to part 3

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington whump #this is so long i am SORRY #i hope tagging y'all was okay (and equally i'm hoping i missed nobody but also it is 3am)#who did this to you #most of y'all will know most of the beginning already maybe i should have split it up but i wanted y'all to have Something New too #and then the Something New got out of hand and oh well :(#dio words

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bandgie · 5 months

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hiiii is ok if i request a stoner smut😭 ( with either han,chan or felix) like y/n and him are smoke buddies and in one of the sessions things get a little hot and heavy 🥲

it’s ok if ur uncomfortable but if you’re not i’d love to see it

-anon 🍃

a/n: yes?!? oh my god?? why give me 3 options when I can do them all?? at the same time??

synopsis: You warned your smoking buddies that you get a little...different when you're really high. They don't believe you though, and smoke you out anyway. Neither of you can decide if it was worst mistake or best decision of your lives.

warnings: MDNI 18+, heavily under the influence, 4some, brief pussy play, no protection, cumming inside, pussy eating, mxm themes!!!, squirting, double penetration, blow job (m!&f!), multiple orgasms (f!), I went crazy with this one I ain't gonna lie

2.6k words

"Oh dude she's gone."

"You shouldn't have smoked her out man."

"She wanted me to!"

You can distantly hear the three of them arguing. Han is, once again, thrown under the bus as Felix and Chris blame him. To be fair, everyone's high out of their mind. Whatever Felix bought back from California hits.

Han is warm as you snuggle against him, his heartbeat irregular as he keeps defending himself. When you told them you get a little excited when you're super high, they thought you'd be bouncing off the walls. Instead, they had to keep you from clawing Han's cock out to bounce on that.

"I'm not even that high," you speak up for yourself. "I just want a little fun, that's all."

Chan scoffs, bloodshot eyes looking at your droopy ones. "You are that high, actually. The sober you that I know would punch Han before he even thought about touching you."

The image of slapping the man you're sitting on makes you laugh hysterically. You're gasping for air, clutching at your chest as you cackle. Your exaggerated laughter makes Felix chuckle, and it doesn't take long until all four of you are on the verge of throwing up from giggling.

"But I like the way he feels," you manage to speak after your chest heaves. "Hannie's so soft and warm, it feels so good." It's not smart of you to talk like that when Han's cock is underneath your ass. You can feel like twitching in response.

You softly grind your ass against it, humming. "You like it too, huh Hannie? Do you want to touch me?"

"Hey. That's enough," Chan's voice is stern, but you don't miss how his eyes drop to your bare thighs. Han freezes under you, scared that moving might make his cock hard.

You roll your eyes and grind against Han again, hearing him hiss. "For fucks' sake Chan, I'm high, not drunk." There's not a care for the aftermath in your head. It feels as though there'll be no repercussions, that time has frozen still for you. For this moment.

Still, Chan shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, you're not in the right mind."

"If you don't wanna fuck me Chan, Hannie will." You turn your attention back to Han, who's struggling under you. He's hard now, but his hands stay placed on the cushions. "You'll play with me, right Han?"

His eyes dart from yours to Chan's, unsure. "I dunno. What if you get mad at me in the morning?" You coo at his uncertainty. Reaching for his hands, you place them on your hips. His fingers dig into your soft flesh, pulling you closer to him.

"I would never be mad at you," you promise. "Just touch me."

That’s enough permission for Han. He parts your thighs while Felix and Chris are front-row viewers. Getting high was just an excuse, you've always wanted him to touch you. For all of them to touch you. It's why you didn't wear any shorts under your skirt. A black thong barely covers your cunt, and Han is quick to play with it.

His fingers slip behind the material, finding your clit easily. He gently rubs you in circles, moaning in your ear. Han slips his hand out and places it over your underwear, rubbing that instead.

It makes you whine, bucking your hips in protest. You're about to complain when you catch the other two boys staring. Felix is on the edge of his seat, staring at where Han touches you. Chan is the opposite, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in his seat. He looks irritated but there's dark arousal in his eyes.

You let Han make a show of you, getting you to drip down your ass.

"Fuck," you hear Felix swear. His voice sounds deeper if that was even possible. His lips are wet from how constantly he's licking them, but he makes no move towards you.

Han pinches your clit. The sudden grasp makes you whine, hips lifting in the air before he forces you back on his lap.

"I don't have a condom," he whispers in your ear. You shake your head aggressively, "I don't care. Put it in."

Chan opens his mouth to say something but snaps it shut. His jaw clenches as he watches Han slips his hand between the two of you, releasing his throbbing cock. He doesn't want to hear you complain in the morning about this, it's your fault.

Han pulls your panties to the side and slides his cock against your folds. You arch your back into him, moaning. You look down to watch his dick collect your juices, lewdly making noise. Then he angles his cock down, catching your entrance.

You have to slightly lift your hips when his tip goes in. The stretch is far from painful, and it feels like you're on cloud nine. You slam your hips down on Han impatiently. He whines behind you, body shaking and his arms wrap around your waist.

It's a struggle to keep your legs open for the other men to see, but you hook them over Han's legs for support. Han starts slow, unused to the feel of your cunt. He groans in your neck, biting your skin. "Fuck, that's good pussy."

You only hum in response as you feel Han fuck into you harder. It sends overwhelming shocks of pleasure throughout your body. Your mind grows hazy, vision blurring. You've touched yourself while high, and that alone was a trip. To have someone bury themselves deep inside you, to feel their hot dick slip in and out of you, it feels like you're at a constant high.

Felix is the first to break. He stands to his feet quickly and takes long strides toward you. Han slows his thrusts, unsure if Felix wants a turn with you already. He grips you a little tighter, possessively.

Both of you are shocked to see him fall to his knees in front of your pussy. He pushes the thong further out of the way with his thumb, looking up at you.

"Can I?"

You're nodding before he even finishes, "Fuck yes."

You cum at the feel of Felix's plush lips. Your walls clench and grip Han's cock tightly, making him thrust into you deep. Felix has to keep his hands on your thighs to keep you still. It's obvious you came with the high-pitched moans and convulsing body, but neither of them made a move to stop.

"Shit, I can feel her creaming on my cock. Fuck, Felix lick me too," Han rasps out.

Felix is quick to comply. You feel his tongue dip past your pussy presumably only onto the few inches of Han's cock that isn't in your pussy. Han trembles behind you, hips stuttering into yours. Felix reaches back up to your clit, running his lips over your nub before he lightly sucks.

You don't have much energy to grind on his pretty face, so you lay there pliant as Han fucks into you earnestly and as Felix gently eats you out. You bury your hands into Felix's green hair, desperate to grip onto something.

The hot sensation builds in your stomach again, this time much more intensely. Han can feel the clenching of your walls, the added wetness your pussy drools out. The pressure in your tummy feels different, hotter, and unstable.

"Felix!" You cry out. "I'm gonna cum again! Fuck, I think I'm gonna squirt!"

You think he might back away, but he buries his face deeper, sucks a little harder. "Give it to me baby, I want it all over my face."

The force of your second orgasm makes Han's cock slip out. Felix's face and Han's thighs are victims of your release. You coat them sheer with your orgasm, watching how Felix keeps his mouth open to drink your release.

He gulps down the remaining spurts of your pussy, a smile on his face. "Yeah, Han. That's good pussy alright." Felix stands, looking down at your wrecked state. He bends down and kisses you roughly, making sure you can taste yourself on his lips. Then he moves behind you to kiss Han who already has his tongue out. Both of them moan in the kiss, making your pussy throb even more.

Felix unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants just down enough to reach for his cock. You drool at the sight, moaning softly. He pumps himself a few times, then taps his tip on your swollen clit.

"Think you can handle two at a time baby?"

Before you can even think to answer, Han butts in. "You should be asking me that. I don't think I'll last much longer." The two of them laugh, and then Felix looks back at you. "Can you?"

Biting your bottom lip, you nod. "Yeah, just go slow." Han and Felix nod in unison, "Of course baby."

The two of them angle their cocks into your slightly gaping entrance. Han pushes the tip of his cock in first. Felix follows quickly after, pressing his tip against Han's. You let your head fall back between Han's neck and shoulder, relaxing your body. It's quite easy since you are already elated, but there's still a painful stretch as they slide in.

You hiss when they stretch you out, their cocks halfway in. Han tightens his grip on your waist and pecks your forehead. Felix soothingly runs his hands against your thighs and kisses your exposed neck. "Doing so good, you're almost there."

Their comforting touches encourage you to try harder. They sink further in and you gasp.

"Chan," Han calls his hyung who's been overly silent throughout the whole thing. You almost forgot he was there.

"What?"

"Think our baby needs a bit of help. Come on."

Chan shouldn't help. He told you many times this was a bad idea, but no one listened. Still, watching your teary eyes get to him. The way your face contorts from discomfort. You looked so pretty cumming over Han's cock, he can't imagine what'd it be like to cream over both.

He finds himself standing and walking over to you three, standing beside Felix.

"Mate, you need to Han bottom out first. Here." Chan hands one hand on Felix's waist while the other guides your stomach downwards. Han moves his hips up, slowly filling your walls. You squeal and tremble, but it's bearable.

"There you go," Chris coos. "Make sure you go deep Han. Felix needs as much room as he can get."

Han obeys his friend, making sure to bury himself to the hilt. You feel him push past what you thought was possible. Your legs threaten to snap shut, but Felix's iron grip keeps them open. Han can feel how tight your pussy is, how good it feels to rub against Felix's cock.

Chan taps the green-haired on the waist, "You're good to go."

"Oh," your eyes roll back to your head. Your lips spread deliciously when Felix pushes the remaining inches in. You can feel how your clit slightly rubs against his girth, making extra warmth flow out of you.

Your reactions make Chan chuckle, smiling for the first time in what seems like hours. "Feels good huh? Taught him well." He playfully slaps Felix on the ass.

The two of them feel heavenly in your walls. All three of you are a moaning mess, content with staying still. It's not until Chris clears his throat that Han begins to move. Shallow thrusts into your pussy that make the trio whimper.

Felix moves with longer strokes. They don't match each other's thrusts, but the speed is the same. One goes in while the other goes out, then sometimes it's at the same time, then it's everything in between. Your walls loosen after a few testing strokes, and they're fucking into you roughly in no time.

Chan tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, getting a good view of your face. It's then that you notice his hard-on, how painful it must be in his jeans. Wordlessly, you open your mouth, tongue lolling out. Chan laughs at your directness, "You sure?"

You respond by using your weak fingers to unzip him, "Yesssss."

He laughs again and helps you undress him. His cock is the biggest of the three, in girth and length. You're thankful he isn't in you, there's no way you could've handled it. Chan taps the head of his cock on your lips, smearing his pre-cum.

Then he pushes in gently, not to disrupt the boys using you. He's hot and heavy on your tongue, slightly salty. Truthfully, getting as high as you did always leaves you with a dry mouth. You find it difficult to provide enough spit for Chan's cock.

He doesn't complain though, and never pushes you past your limit. Chan uses his hands to jerk what you can't fit in your mouth. You want to protest and say you can do it yourself, but with how good Felix and Han are fucking you, it seems impossible.

Han's cock twitches inside you, a warning for his orgasm. "I'm gonna cum. Fuck baby I'm gonna cum in you."

You hum around Chris's cock in response, and soon enough you're filled with Han's cum. It's warm in your stomach and you feel it pool onto the sofa. Felix moans at the extra lubrication, finding it hot to see him fuck the cum out of you.

Han's cock stays inside of you. He likes to think Felix and you help ride out his high. He turns his head to watch you suck off Chan, groaning. Han opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, looking up at Chan expectedly.

The eagerness in Han's eyes has the older man raising an eyebrow, but he indulges nonetheless. Chan slips his cock from your mouth and places it on Han's tongue.

Han is in a better condition to suck. He even does the honor of spitting on Chan's dick. He licks and takes his cock almost to the hilt before gagging. The sight makes Chan moan, and he puts his dick back in your mouth. Your lips are much softer and your mouth is hotter. Han's is wetter though, and much more usable. Chan settles for using both of your throats.

You're thankful for Han helping, it's hard to focus with Felix still pounding away. His fingers are for sure going to leave a bruise, and your pussy may not be the same after this. With your warm pussy and Han's cock, Felix can feel his balls tighten and how his hips lose their momentum.

He doesn't warm you when he cums. There's just his deep, consecutive moans as Felix fills you to the brim. Your legs tremble, and you're cumming before you're aware of it. Chan has to use Han's mouth more often as you moan and whimper through your orgasm.

Felix rides his high out when Chan forces your head to face his cock. He jerks himself quickly, tapping his tip on both your and Han's tongues. Chan cums on both of your faces, hot spurts landing on your cheek and lips.

Your tongue pokes out to get a taste, moaning.

Felix finally pulls out, making you whine. Han follows suit, letting his soft cock leave you empty. Chan lets you give his cock extra kisses while Han unwraps an arm from you to wipe his face.

Chan has to pry you away from his dick, chuckling when you protest. He tucks himself away despite your complaining.

The four of you untangle from each other. Though the couch is small, all of you manage to snuggle against one another with you and Han in the middle. All of you are shining in afterglow and cum, with complete disregard for how you might react in the morning.

Han picks his head up to overlook all of you, a playful scowl on his face. "And you were mad at me for smoking her out."

a/n: man i...I dunno what to say. this is totally self-indulgent. the way I need this to happen. thank you anon 🍃, I truly needed this

1K notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 3 months

Text

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Four

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.7K

Series Masterlist

She was late for work, again. Her boss was going to kill her.

Just like last time she rushed around the house, grabbing what she needed before she left. This time she managed to grab lunch before she rushed off to the office.

When she got there, nobody noticed how late she was. There was a buzz of something else as she slipped into her cubicle, unnoticed. Everybody else was looking towards the bosses office, whispering to themselves.

"What is it?" She asked the girl in the cubicle beside her own as she leaned over.

The girl in the cubicle was also looking towards the bosses office. Staring, actually. "The hottest guy I've ever seen just walked into Oliver's office," she hissed. "Does Oliver have a son?"

"No way," Y/N answered. She too found herself staring towards the office, captivated.

Inside of the office, Lando was beating the shit out of Oliver Cooke, boss of HC Publishing. "You got the money yet, Oliver?" Lando asked between punches. His knuckles ached in the best way.

"Yes!" Oliver cried, thanking god that his office was soundproof. If his employees heard this, he'd never get over it. "Yes, I'll pay you!"

Lando stopped punching just long enough for Oliver to run over to his chest and pull out a stack of bills. He handed it to Lando, flinching when Lando raised his hand to count the stack of bills, to make sure all of the money was there.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said and strode out of the office.

Immediately the employees went back to work, glued their eyes back to their computer like they hadn't just been waiting for him to walk out of the office. The girls were pretty, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing into the cubicles.

Until he came across her.

"Y/N?"

She looked up at him, her eyes wide in surprise. "Lando, what the fuck?" But then a smile crawled across her face. "Are you stalking me? I'm flattered but, seriously, you didn't have to go to this length."

"Not stalking," he said quickly. "But incredibly surprised to see you. I had no idea you worked at HC Publishing."

That was because she hadn't told him where she worked. They talked about everything but their jobs when they drank in his club. "Listen," he said as he leaned against the cubicle. "I've got to go to Spain for a few days. Do you wanna hang out before that?"

"As long as we can do something that isn't drinking in your club until the early hours of the morning. If I'm late again, my boss is gonna kill me."

Lando could do something about that. One word with Oliver, one flash of his bloody knuckles (which were currently hidden in his pockets) and she'd be able to do whatever she wanted in this place.

"Do you wanna have dinner at mine?" She offered.

"Yours as in where you live?" Asked Lando. He had no need to know where she lived, but it would certainly help. "Yeah," he answered, nodding his head. "That would be nice."

"Perfect," she said and quickly wrote something down. "I finish at five." She ripped the piece of paper out of her notepad and handed it to him.

Lando couldn't stop himself from grinning as he said his goodbyes. He was practically skipping out of HC Publishing, and he didn't give a flying fuck who saw.

"Y/N, what the fuck?" Several of her co-workers called.

She looked around at them. "What?" She asked as she logged into her work computer. "What did I do?"

"You know the hot guy that had a meeting with Mr Cooke! How?" They all asked as they crowded around her cubicle. It was all very intense.

She was the talk of the office for the rest of the day, a never ending source of gossip. She ignored it, pretended not to hear it when they theorised how they knew her. There were several people that theorised that she had slept with him, others that had kinder theories. One person straight up asked if they were childhood friends.

The end of the work day couldn't come quick enough. As soon as the clock hit five, she grabbed her things and rushed out of the office. Her co-workers were still whispering even as she left.

As soon as she got home, she checked in her fridge. There wasn't enough in there to make a decent dinner for two and she wanted to pick up some wine.

Showering and changing into her sweats, she headed down to the shops. It was a small shop and everything was marked up, but she still shopped out, purely out of convenience. She bought what she needed, plus two bottles of wine, and headed back up to her apartment.

With no idea what time Lando was arriving, she began cooking. She multitasked, managing to get dressed while she cooked.

What she didn't know was that Lando was outside of her apartment. He was dressed down, his suit jacket missing and the top three buttons of his shirt open, revealing his necklace against his chest. He leaned against one of the trees lining the street opposite her apartment and stared up at the apartment he thought was hers.

She ran past the window on her way to and from the kitchen and Lando knew. It was definitely her apartment. The area around wasn't the nicest; Lando had done enough shady deals in this area to know. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest.

He strode forward, making his way into the building. He already had her addressed memorised, reciting it in his head as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. Lando passed two other front doors before he was standing in front of her apartment. The light in the hallway above him flickered as he raised his hand to knock.

"Fuck!" He heard from the other side of the door. There was a crash before the door opened and she stood there, hand on her hip as she smiled. "Welcome to mi casa," she said and stood to the side, letting him in.

Lando looked around as he strode in. There was no sign of what had made the crashing noise, and he could only assume that she had cleaned it up. "Nice place," he said, looking at the pictures on the walls.

There were some generic ones that she obviously hadn't changed from when she bought the frame. Pictures of family, pictures of pets, pictures of friends. They made her walls bright and colourful.

She had lights strung up around the apartment. Comically large hearts lit by fairy lights, classic chilli pepper lights and more. The couch was covered in blankets and cushions and a giant eight ball rug on the floor.

The apartment had a good feeling spreading through his chest.

"Thanks," she said as she pulled the first bottle of wine out of the fridge and opened the top. "My friends say my calling is interior design. My bank account says to stop buying everything that looks cool." She poured out the wine and handed a glass to Lando.

They tapped their glasses together and she invited him to sit on the sofa. They talked and she managed to take his mind away from his impending trip to Spain. Periodically she ran off to check on dinner and set the table.

After a good fifteen minutes of drinking and chatting, she plated up the food and invited Lando to join her at the table. He brought his wine with him, slipping into the seat opposite her as she lit a candle.

"Do all the guys get a candle lit dinner?" He asked with a teasing smile.

"What guys?" She answered through a laugh.

For a moment, they ate in silence. Well, almost silence. Lando let out a series of moans as he took the first bites. "Fuck me," he said as he got more food onto his fork. But he had no more positive words as he wolfed everything down at an inhuman speed.

She was eating just slightly slower. "So, why were you at the publishing house?" She asked as she picked up her glass.

Lando stopped eating. He should have expected her to ask, but he hadn't. "Uh," he began, trying to formulate a lie. Not that he wanted to lie to her, but he wanted to keep her as far away from his world as he could. "Uh, the people I work for own the building that you guys rent," he said. "I was... having a chat with Oliver about the changing rates," he finished and quickly went back to his food.

She nodded. "It's kind of cool," she said, her gaze on her food. "That you guys own the place where I work."

Lando nodded in agreement, but mostly because he didn't want to say anything else on the matter.

But she had more questions. "You said you're going to Spain, right?" She asked and he nodded his head, still eating. "So, what're you going for?" She asked enthusiastically. "Family holiday?"

Again, Lando didn't want to lie to her. But he had no other choice. He told her as much of the truth as he could. "We're having a wedding out there," he answered.

"A wedding, huh? Fancy."

No, it was going to be traumatising, Lando thought as he finished his food. It was going to be a beautiful ceremony, he knew, but he was dreading it.

It was switch turned on in his head. "Hey," he said suddenly. "Do you wanna come with me for the wedding?" He asked.

"Seriously?" She asked, surprise in her voice.

He nodded his head. "Yeah, hell yeah! It's gonna be a nice ceremony and they'll have an open bar, and I could use the moral support."

"I'd love to, Lan," she said, letting a smile cross her face. "Thanks. I can't wait."

So much for keeping her as far away from his world as he could.

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cutielando · 2 months

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threat ~ max verstappen

Summary: When Red Bull thinks it's a good idea for Max to be in a PR relationship with a model, Max is left to make a choice. Ruin your privacy or ruin your relationship?

Words: 1.0k+

Other works: my masterlist

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Secret relationships were fun.

Sneaking out behind people’s backs, stealing glances at each other when you thought nobody was watching.

But they stopped being fun once management got involved.

Max had a very public life, and a very dangerous job to begin with. He needed to be careful with a lot of things, and that oftentimes included his image. He didn’t care about any of it, he was content with people not knowing about your relationship in order to protect your privacy and have something that was only for himself.

He was okay with it, you were okay with it, everybody was happy.

Except for Red Bull Racing.

They didn’t like the idea of their number 1 driver being seen as unapproachable because he is always without a partner, and since you two didn’t want to showcase the relationship on their terms, they figured out another way to go.

PR relationship with a model.

You couldn’t say that you were surprised. Red Bull was notorious for being willing to do whatever it takes to be on the top, no matter in what field. But you didn’t expect Max to go along with it, certainly.

“We need to talk” he had announced after he came home from a meeting with Red Bull.

You raised your eyebrow, his tone doing little to soothe the worries pitting in your stomach.

“About what?”

“Us” his response made your breath hitch in your throat.

“What about us?” a million thoughts were running through your head, one more sinister than the other.

He sighed, scratching his neck.

“I don’t want to beat around the bush, so I’m just gonna say it. The team doesn’t think that hiding our relationship is beneficial for my reputation, so they are giving us two choices. We either go public in the next few days or they’re gonna hire a model to be my fake girlfriend” to say that the news had come like a punch would be the understatement of the year.

You knew from the very beginning that Red Bull was very vocal and opinionated over your relationship with Max and how it should evolve, but you never thought they would stoop down so low and come up with something like this just because you wouldn’t play by their rules.

“What did you tell them?” you asked, part of you afraid of what the answer would be.

He was silent for a moment, which spoke more about the situation than his words would.

“I told them that I didn’t like being given an ultimatum and that I’m gonna think about it” hearing him brought tears to your eyes.

You didn’t know what you should have expected. Of course he would end up agreeing, you were stupid to think that he would stand up for your relationship and live a secret life forever. You should have known better from the very start.

Who were you even kidding?

“I see” you said, after being silent for a good minute upon hearing him.

“I obviously don’t want to date someone else, regardless if it’s fake or real. But we need to talk about this. You know how the team is, they’re going to make the decision for me and we both know what that decision is going to look like” he said, slowly approaching the bed and sitting down next to you.

You nodded, staring at the folded hands in your lap.

Your brain was struggling to make a decision, struggling to weigh in all the factors that it was supposed to consider.

Were you ready to go public with your relationship? Did you really have what it takes to be Max’s girlfriend? How would his fans react when they found out he was dating someone as ordinary as you? How would it affect his reputation and relationship with the team? Was it even worth the risk?

“I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours. Wanna tell me what you’re thinking so hard about?” his voice woke you up from your little trance, his joking tone doing little to soothe your worries.

You looked at him, analyzing the features of his face. He was too good for you, you knew that. But damn you and your selfishness, you weren’t about to let him go.

“I don’t want to be the reason you tarnish your relationship with the team. I love you too much to be that person. The decision is up to you” you figured that letting him decide would be your best bet, it was his reputation on the line after all.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you into going public. We’ll do whatever makes you comfortable. I just wanted you to know what the team is planning to do, but I’m not going to let them ruin us” he reassured you, taking your hand in his.

You closed your eyes and savored the feeling of his skin on yours, his touch familiar and safe. Nobody had ever made you feel like Max does, not even close to it. He brought a sense of comfort in your life that nobody else ever could, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You had to take a risk if you wanted to be with him.

No matter how hard it would be.

“I want to go public, believe me, I do. But what are your fans going to say? You see what they do with the other girlfriends, they look for the tiniest reason to just tear them to shreds” you said, worry laced with apprehension in your voice.

Max shook his head and scooted closer to you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug.

“My fans are the last thing that you should be worried about. If they don’t agree with our relationship, then they aren’t my real fans. All that matters is that we’re happy and in love, nobody else has a say in this” he reassured you, running his hand up and down your back as he spoke.

You listened and then ultimately nodded, knowing that he was right and you were freaking out over nothing.

As long as you had Max, you would be fine.

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satoruhour · 10 months

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racer jjk are so good 😩 i wonder if u can make a part two where is explain how the boys (gojo, geto, nanami, toji) and the reader first met. THANK YOUUU

a/n: thx baby glad u liked them 😉 here you go! also mb if this is lacklustre guys 🧍‍♀i didn’t wanna write smut bc it’d be too similar ig. fun little post! pls still support me 🥹 (nanami’s is a bit suggestive!) / pt.1 here

✶ GOJO

you actually meet his ass when he almost crashes into u and while making a difficult drift turn before swerving at the sight of you. plus surprise … you’re the police chief’s daughter. gojo at this point is still using a jacked up camaro, so it’s a wonder he’s able to still speed so well away from officers. but it’s not like he was running away from any crime, he just so happened to stumble across an interrogation of a fellow classmate initiated by the police chief’s son (your younger, cop worshipper brother). it was hardly an interrogation tho, more of a bully circle. gojos an cocky man but hes not entirely closed off from things happening around him. when theres people being wrongfully treated he steps in, but he’s pushing the limit a little running away from your brother and his police chief dad. especially when he’s got ties with the racing scene lol. bro doesnt exactly care tho, cause he knew the modifications he made to his engine he’s sure to get away lmaoooo.

there’s a rush of adrenaline that matches the exact moments when the first gear change happens and his foot presses down hard on the break, feeling the familiar sensation of the steering wheel under his fingers as he turns it to the right. nothing like a successful run of a difficult drift route, even more so with an annoying fucking kid chasing him. he was miles behind too, and gojo has to laugh out to himself in the driver’s seat before he yelps out at the shadow on the street.

“damn street lights. don’t even want to spend a few thousand to fix it,” he scoffs, thinking the figure would’ve apologised and ran away, but he’s a little pumped to see you, a relative of the very kid he was running away from. “don’t wanna chase me with daddy over there?”

you notice he’s nodding his head toward the incessant siren, your hotheaded father and your insufferable brother, two of them who butt heads all the time but still manage to get along. you couldn’t care less though, because of their arrogant, conceited behaviour; you vowed never to be like that. your father failed to raise you how he wanted you to turn out: dyed hair at sixteen, a stick ’n poke a year later, colluding with the “wrong” people (they were harmless, he just didn’t like them).

so he turned to your brother, corrupting his mind, and since then, you’ve been a ghost in the house, happy to even be ignored by the conservative kin that find people who are different a ’hassle’. with a story like this, gojo isn’t exactly clueless to your situation so he reaches over and opens the door to the passenger seat in a silent offer.

what’s a little salt in the wound, right?

gojo giggles when you slip in like he knew you would and you simply shrug, knowing this would seal the deal. you know you’re right when you hear furious honks from the police car which is quickly approaching, but watching gojo evade police on the news made you confident he’d outrun them every. single. time. “ooh, doesn’t sound good, princess. i’ll pick you up if you get kicked out of the house.”

it was such a dirty, rude comment that you would’ve slapped him but instead you just burst out laughing, weird noises and all before you’re patting the hand on his stick shift, “drive, hotshot.”

all you can do is roll your eyes with a smile, not missing the exhilarated smile and blush on his cheeks. you already feel at home in the 1969 camaro he’s driving, seeing the exact same car later that night when you’re waiting on the sidewalk with a bulk of your things.

“so much for being daddy’s girl.” gojo smiles, a little sickeningly that you want to punch him (you hear it’s like that from his friends and you find it to be true), but you accept the ride anyway, with a promise he’d get something more later.

✶ GETO

the first time you see him is before a race, having stumbled into the bustling underground of cars and the peak of 2000s fashion because you’re still navigating japan even after six months on an exchange program. it’s difficult when they have different parking lots for every monument building, which all look the same, mind you. it was like a puzzle for your poor mind, especially since there was tons of undocumented alleys in the area you were in. u immediately get hit by the smell of petrol and smoke and conversation and it’s like woah…. stepping entirely into a new world sort of??? even with his fame suguru stays humble tho, keeping gojo ans nanami close to him while keeping his distance from fangirls and stuff. shit gets messy !!!!

gojo nudges geto so hard he almost falls if not for his mazda behind him, and he’s ready to shoot a glare towards satoru but then he looks past the annoying man and into the crowd to find you, doe eyed and looking all around the place like a deer caught in headlights. you’re all dressed up in a cute get-up, hair framing your face so cutely he has half a mind to talk to you. plus, it’s clear you don’t belong here, and there isn’t anything wrong with that but the people here sometimes tend to be a tad bit… stuck-up.

there’s already a few in the crowd giving you weird looks and others giggling, clearly put off by the confused glances you exchange between your phone and the area. geto is prepared to head your way, but his resolve hardens when he sees todo and his gang start to approach the poor person who can only freeze in place.

geto pushes off his car immediately, completely disregarding whatever comment gojo was making while nanami watches silently. todo’s already asked you a question, and when you don’t answer, everyone knows the next thing he’ll do is to humiliate you, but not before geto interferes.

“she’s mine, aoi.” shoving him away, todo only scoffs and spits on the floor beside you because he can’t do anything except leave the place before anything escalates. it’s a clear rule, too, that anyone’s partner or significant other is off-limits, unless you want to propose a race to win them over — but even so it’s not that simple.

the murmurs only heighten when geto asks if you’re okay, a palm on your back to lead you away from the action of everything. thankfully, his mazda and the other two men are stationed at the corner, and the crowd’s attention slowly pulls away from you and onto the revving engines of the two competing cars.

“you okay?” geto looks down, shielding the bright car park lights and peeking a glance at where you were meant to go. it’s a quaint cafe in the basement of a building near shibuya square — a place which could be accessed by the parking lot, but it looks like you took an early turn and ended up in this one instead.

all you could muster up was a nod, mind going a hundred miles per hour just like those cars that were going to race; you’re more focused on his brown eyes that hold yours too well, though, dark and hypnotising that he has to repeat his question.

“yeah. for the most part, i guess. tha—” you mumble, but before you can bow and thank the man who’s already making a mark on your mind with his imposing stature, his friend chimes in.

“don’t mind aoi, he’s just intense like that.” you look past geto to see the white-haired racer who sports a bright grin, and to his side, a blonde, bored-looking guy who’s around the same age. “where you headed?”

geto waves a hand at them and cuts in as you answer, “i’ll take you. don’t mind those two idiots.” his sudden offer has your heart jumping just a bit; a mean brooding guy looking for a little cafe who’s holding a cinnamoroll event at the moment? what a sight to behold.

you’re all prepared to go when gojo tosses the keys to his mazda, and you’re thinking that maybe it really was further than expected but the man is soon leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“but before you go, want to watch me race?” geto grins, noticing that you’re at a loss for words again. you do that a lot, huh. it wouldn’t hurt to show off a little to get you absolutely speechless.

“i’ll treat you to whatever you want in that cute cafe, too.”

✶ NANAMI

ok the small drabble i wrote was sorta how they met but yes basically that!!!! nanami comes in at first (but you’re not doing much, just hanging around in the back), panicking cause he’s got an important race tmr (he just doesn’t gojo to win over whether he would have to borrow one of gojo’s dodge chargers) and hes like ? hes wondering what’s wrong with his dodge and when your dad mentions how he may need to order the parts his world falls apart fr 😭. and then he ends up borrowing it from gojo LMFAOOO. since you guys roughly know their meeting (nanami’s return to the shop after your father fixes the car and then eating you out wheeew) ill highlight life with nanami after that whole shebang!

you like to recall the first time you’ve met nanami, hardly a meeting, really, because you didn’t even see his face, but you hear his voice. a deep timbre with a seriousness to it that tells you that he could’ve fixed his own car if he tried and maybe just lacked the parts. however, you’re appalled when your father comes home later that night and tells you it was a dodge charger they were dealing with, a 1968 release that was no doubt passed down in his generation.

so when you’re peeking out of the supply room the second time nanami returns, you’re not surprised by his blonde hair, possibly a descendant of european blood, but had been born and raised in japan. it wasn’t uncommon, but it felt like he was such a specific ethnicity with the features he had. you’re right when you’re out with nanami a few weeks later, learning his grandfather was danish, smiling as he talked about his family.

it was by chance that he got into the racing scene, getting acquainted with gojo briefly because he was always infuriating in class — but then the both of them began to grow out of high school and entered university, introducing nanami to both geto, gojo’s best friend and to racing. it had made an impression on his heart immediately, reluctantly asking to ride in gojo’s car as they sped through the night and then trying his hand at it later.

“so geto-san was the one who taught you how to drift?” you ask from the passenger seat, a calm atmosphere surrounding the two of you as nanami takes you out for a casual drive along the freeway, bringing you to his favourite place to drift ever since he’s trained there. it was a clean ascent once he reaches the mountain, jogging over to open the door for you before sticking out a hand.

“thank you… kento,” you feel his hand tighten around yours, bringing you around to the front before leaning on the front of the car with you, the jangle of the bracelet he’s got you making noises when he pulls you into his side. it’s been a month with him, yet he already feels so committed, albeit stoic.

but you realise, in the midst of it, you’re the only one who can manage to pry a smile out of him, the lines on his face fading away when he picks you up from your dad’s shop. the loud engine is always an indicator, greeting him at the door of the garage as your father sends you off with a grin, leaning into the driver’s seat to press a peck through the window.

“when you say my name like that,” nanami mumbles, appreciating the scene with his lips in your hair; and while nanami is all soft and gentle with you, sometimes his carnal instincts get the best of him and he says the filthiest things, unprompted, “it makes me want to eat you out on the hood of my car again.”

you roll your eyes with a smile, because you’ve already done it twice: one in the shop and another in a secluded car park, but you know nanami hasn’t glutted his appetite for you yet, and he makes sure you know he never will.

✶ TOJI

the drabble previously mentioned how you were a little older megumi — through tutoring megumi, you met toji. it was a chance encounter sort of, u put up an ad at the end of your second year of uni since the winter break was a little longer than usual, so you decided to earn a bit of pocket money thru tutoring in the one subject you were most comfortable in: humanities. the syllabus in schools nowadays has become harder too, even going as far as to research papers and then scoff in disgust at the intensity of the questions lol … it’s routine in the school system to do that, gearing up for the questions you might be asked when u first get an enquiry call on the line. you hang up with a time and address and when u reach megumi opens the door, but toji emerges from his man cave (garage. hes obsessed w/ his corvette) later and jesus christ hes (almost) six foot of pure dilf that youre considering sidling up to him instead LMAO. esp with how the house looked, it wouldnt be so bad being a old man’s bitch

the doorbell you rang reverberates throughout the house, albeit a bit muffled, but the door opens quickly and you’re met with a black spiky-haired kid, who looks a few years younger than you. but megumi didn’t really need an introduction, because you’re pointing it out to him once inside.

“aren’t you the kid that got suspended for beating up gang members?” sometimes his seniors never knew when to shut up. to this, megumi just sighs.

“yep, that’s me. i told you my name over the phone but,” he extends a hand, “i’m fushiguro megumi.”

you hum and take his hand, introducing yourself as well before a thud makes you snap your head to the noise, where a larger and taller man emerges from the door that connects the living room to the garage. he has features similar to megumi’s and he’s currently clutching his toe, stubbing it on the cabinet on his way out and cursing his head off.

it isn’t difficult to match name to face for him as well, remembering a report you did on the increasingly popular racing scene starting up again. don’t ask — it was a pretty open assignment and you didn’t hesitate to write about the culture back then, something you always wished you lived in.

now, you’re not too taken aback by casually stumbling across fushiguro toji’s home, but more of how he managed to maintain his physique for so many years. if there’s anything your research told you, he was more on the lanky side in his twenties, the right side of his mouth clear from the scar while dominating the drifting scene back in the 80s.

“who’re you, kid?” a little annoyed at the name but you open your mouth to introduce yourself, and toji nods, although confused. it seems like he’s not too involved in megumi’s grades, because when you tell him megumi himself had called you over a bad grade in literature and social studies, his expression drops into an ‘o’.

“ah, i would’ve taught him myself but…” you knew he dropped out of high school before, living a crap life trying to pay off debts his father had left him and turning to racing and winning bets to make a living out of it. it was scary how this information was so accessible to you via one of his interviews, but you can tell he’s put it long before him, choosing to focus on raising megumi and maintaining his corvette.

“make yourself at home, alright, doll?” doll. you stutter out an affirmative reply.

though when he said that, you hadn’t imagined wandering into the same door he had came out of before. he was probably checking on the condition of his car, knees protruding out of the corvette’s side as he rolls out on the creeper at the sound of someone approaching. you didn’t wish to do this, truly, but when some kids from megumi’s school had attempted to play a prank by picking toji’s lock to get back at megumi, the latter had discovered them after coming out the side door.

needless to say, megumi still holds up his reputation, chasing them down for more than three blocks (it was seven) before proceeding to, you assume, beat them up. you imagine it’s routine for toji at this point, but you still want to at least let him know.

“he’s off again?” toji sits up after hearing your explanation, using the wrench to scratch his temple. sure, he’s only like twenty years older than you — it certainly doesn’t stop you from checking out how his muscles bulge against his compression shirt, or the grey sweatpants he’d got on that you told yourself not to peep at. “don’t mind the kid, i’ll lecture him when he returns later.”

he sighs and grumbles under his breath, expecting you to leave, and when you don’t he just raises an eyebrow, a silent prompt for you to explain what else you needed. you only pointed to the hood.

“uh… toji-san, if you’re keen on getting back into racing,” toji fully stands up to his height, curious on what you have to say, but also wondering how much balls you had to talk about racing in front of him, “you should really change your 283 cubic-inch V8 to a 327. i, uh, heard the specifications on the new engine has better fuel delivery and horsepower.”

toji relaxes when you actually know your crap, not wanting to deal with another annoying fan begging him to get back into racing, although you’re not entirely off the hook. “and why should i listen to you, hm, doll?”

he stands there, unimpressed, but you didn’t research cars like a madman for nothing. it was a rabbit hole you had commended yourself for diving into, too, because you always had wanted to start, just, how? and that changed when you finally had the opportunity to delve into the complicated world of cars with the help of your friend’s dad who was a mechanic. “um… you really don’t. just giving some pointers, or at least, recommendations that go well with your ’66 corvette.”

oh my god? you know the exact year his chevrolet was released too?

the ex-racer only nods slowly, keeping it in mind for the next time he has the time to switch to an updated engine, but he didn’t expect help to come from your hands the next time, working under the hood like a professional while still leaving the heavy lifting to him. you had fun each time in the garage, exchanging intel and geeking about cars while you both open up to each other — all under the guise of tutoring his son.

since then, toji has taken his corvette out to meet you more than he takes it out for errands, meeting you with a promise that he would take care of your university fees. but none of the time spent with you would’ve warned him that you two would be changing his next engine, too, except that maybe, you were finally his girl.

why does toji’s always end up the longest bye. also this is the only req i’ve gotten, i swear i don’t bite guys. ♡ thirsts and drabble requests are open!

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gh0stsp1d3r · 3 months

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hiii! i hope ur doing well, if you wanna can u do a luke castellan x gn!reader fic, maybe jealous luke??

𝒥ℯ𝒶𝓁ℴ𝓊𝓈𝓎

A/n: i love jealous bfs anon mwah

Warnings: jealousy, luke gets in a fight, mentions of blood, overprotective luke in here as well, Luke is the god of daddy issues, abandonment issues

You knew Luke was a jealous person- he just managed to hide it very, very well. Usually, you calmed his rage and sadness by reassuring him that he was the only one you wanted.

But this jerk would not stop talking to you. It’s been 40 minutes, and no matter what Luke did he would not stop, and Luke suddenly entered that rage that where he had no clue what he was doing as he stepped forward.

Throwing his cup down, pushing past the partygoers, and making his way towards you. His jaw clenched as he set his eyes on the man, how much he just wanted to squeeze the fucking life out of him. He wanted to see the man suffer.

You noticed Luke, and you were going to stop him, but there was no stopping Luke when it came to you. He landed a punch on the man, the man groaned.

“What the fuck, man? What’s wrong with y-?” The campers came over and formed a circle, none of them dared to try and stop Luke, knowing that if they tried they would probably get punched.

“Luke!” You yelled, desperately trying to pull him off the man. Luke continued landing blows on the man’s face, it was bloody, and you finally managed to get Luke to stop after a little.

“Jesus, Fucking..”

Of course the man’s wounds had healed, he was a child of Hades, Luke soon recognized.

The man went to attack Luke now, but you just grabbed Luke’s hand, pulling on it. You both darted out of the party, seeing Chiron making his way there to see what all the noise was.

“Luke, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You asked him, breathless as you hid behind your cabin.

“He was flirting with you! You both were talking for like 40 minutes!”

“He wasn’t flirting with me.” You shook your head rapidly. You noticed him gripping onto his bloodied and bruised hand.

“I know he was, I know how guys like him think.” His raised voice faltered as you softly grabbed his wrist, examining his wounds.

“Oh, Luke.” You mumbled.

“I’m fine.” He grabbed his hand away, and you just looked at him again.

“Even if he was flirting with me, why would you do that?”

He stayed silent for a moment. Tears welled in his eyes, begging to be let out.

“Because, what if you left with him?” He admitted it quietly, you sighed and shook your head, your hand reached up to his face, and you ran a thumb over his scar. His other hand reached up to grab your hand.

His abandonment issues. Most of it is rooted in his dad, leaving Luke when he needed him the most. He’s terrified at the thought of losing you too.

“I would never. I’ve told you this so many times, Luke, I love you and only you. I would never want to leave with anyone other than you. Okay? So, next time, just talk about it with me. Don’t go punching people.” You whispered the words quietly.

He laughed and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.”

“I’ll apologize to him. But I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Let’s go clean up that, okay?”

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #pjo #pjo tv show #percy jackon and the olympians

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mrsackermannx · 4 months

Text

chef!sukuna who’s still lower in the rank than he wants to be, but so close to being a sous. tonight is his night to do the night’s special dish, finally. he earned this. he knew that if the head chef just let him, he could create the best dish ever served at this damn place.

so, he does just that.

he’s immediately scolded, the dish uses too many ingredients, the head says. too much to prepare. too ambitious. even though he used all of the left over ingredients from the menu’s usuals. 0% waste, 0% additional cost.

sukuna curses, taking a deeper drag of his cigarette. “make sure no table gets that shit,” he hears, with his fists clenching at his sides. ill go to the gym after this, he thinks, yeah, punch the fuck out of that bag.

it turns out that only table 8 has the dish, your table. the server messed up and now they’re crying in the back to the porter because they’ve been fired on the spot. “i told you not to fucking take it! have you never done expo-“

sukuna stalks calmly to the shaking waiter, “show me table eight-“ he sighs, levelling the head chef with a glare, sukuna was much larger, much stronger than him, difference in rank or not. he stood down, stalking down the other side of the kitchen with a huff. “ignore him, i wanna see who’s eating my dish, come on, let’s go.”

a reassuring pat to the shoulder from sukuna was almost enough to make him cry even more. sukuna kind of hated everyone.

“just there, chef. the couple, bedside the pillar on the left…its um…her, chef.” he grins, watching how transfixed the normally gruff man is, “your girl heh heh.”

“shut up,” he says, but he smiles a little.

he watches you, sat opposite some guy you hardly look interested in, you’re beautiful, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, as always, his eyes are drawn to you, no other woman could compare.

he watches you slice through his dish, the fork at your lips, as soon as it reaches your mouth you make a noise of such rapture, a sudden quiet falls upon the floor of the restaurant.

it’s almost weird how heat rushes low at the sight and the sound, he can’t remember the last time anyone else fired him up like this. he never took himself to have any kind of food fetish, either. yet watching you eat his dishes always seems to be an erotic exchange he never anticipates.

“oh…him? think they’re married?”

“i don’t think so.”

that man seems to hiss at you, eyes on his watch, barely touching his dish. “i wanted pizza downtown, god.”

you shake your hand in dismissal, shoving another forkful in your mouth. “i wanted this, i always want this.”

sukuna let’s out a breathy fuck, and the server practically faints.

no one was immune to sukuna’s charm, then, it seemed.

“oh, fuck, table 7 saw me. fuck, chef ive already been fire-“

“go and give them a reason not to fire you. go, go to your table kid, it’s still yours, right?”

the table beside you seems to have called him over, asking for the same dish you seem to believe has came from heaven, telling anybody who asks.

sukuna can’t help but enjoy the lively affair, as the restaurant manager tries to explain over and over to more and more tables that the chef special has been cancelled. oh, how he loved this little bit of chaos.

“why?” your voice clatters through the cacophony like a piece of silverware on crockery. “this dish is phenomenal, the best ive ever eaten here and in this city, in this country-“

“miss-“

“taste it! can you not taste the hard work? the thought? its the best thing ive ever eaten. the chef who made this has impeccable taste and talent.”

your laughter rings through the place at your partners embarrassment. sukuna is about to pry himself away and head back into the kitchen, leaning on the side of the bar and then…your eyes meet, another forkful is waiting before those glossed lips. another sweet sound of joy rings through the air.

now you see him, huh?

your smile is sweeter than agave, “it’s you.”

your words are lost on everyone around you, but to sukuna he hears them as if you whispered them right against his ear.

sukuna was a tall, broad, and unquestionably handsome man, unmissable out of his chef whites, invisible in them, somehow. obscured by the ambient lighting of the restaurant.

you near him, like a moth to a flame, a sensual air to the way your hips flick toward him. “you-“

the head chef storms through to the restaurant floor, the door slamming you both into the corresponding wall. his large arms wrap around you, his hand cups the back of your head.

he slowly retracts his hand, and your chest rises as you resist the urge to press your cheekbone into his palm, “are you okay?”

his voice is deep and addicting, dark and dripping down your throat.

you’re beaming at him, like he’s an angel, like he’s somebody you already adore. he gifts you a lover’s laugh, “you seem to be the only satisfied person in the building tonight.”

“seems like you’ve satisfied me sir.” you wink, still letting his aura press you into the wall, he cages you in with his arms.

“oh?”

“last thursday. that soup, you made it, didn’t you…?”

“sukuna,” he answers for you, “maybe.”

“seafood special last month?”

“yes, and your name?”

for some reason he’s out of breath, you’re so close, so fancy in your silk dress, clad in jewellery that sparkles even under these dimmed lights. “reader, you…you’re a genius.”

“so you came to thank me personally?” he leans closer, swiping sauce from the corner of your lip. it lingers on his thumb, his eyes chase yours as he licks it. “how sweet of you.”

#chef!sukuna #chef sukuna would absolutely ruin and wreck my heart #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #this concept is just in my head i cannot #younger chef sukuna #food critic reader?!!#foodie reader???#now i want to write a whole fic about this

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mvrtaiswriting · 11 months

Note

Hey! Someone suggested your blog for one piece and I decided to check it out!

I’d also like to make a request

How would the monster trio(+katakuri if you wanna write for him) be with a s/o who always looks at them as if asking them for permission to beat some one up (you can add anyone else if you want) f!reader or gn! Reader whichever one

Headcanons pls<3

Have a great day!

Monster trio + Ace, Law and Usopp with a s/o who looks at them before fighting someone.

hullo, thanks for requesting this! i unfortunately dont write for katakuri but i added law and ace to the mix, i hope it's fine! enjoy this lil headcanons, i loved writing these!! also, using this as a chance to restate that requests are open!

warning: none. gn! reader.

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

Luffy: All it takes is a glare. It doesn't take long for Luffy to recognise the sparkle in your eyes. He feels it too; the tension building in your muscles, the adrenaline rising up in your veins making your heart beat ten times faster than usual. Lowering his straw-hat to cover his eyes, Luffy simply chuckles in response. He knows your potential and he is curious of the limits your able to reach and break. He takes this as a good opportunity to train and test your powers; nevertheless, he is watching your back and ready to step in.

Sanji: Sanji smirks and lights up a cigarette, making himself comfortable and untying his tie. He knows well that whoever crosses your path is in real danger - and he brags about it whenever he has the occasion to. He is overly proud of you; plus, winning a fight would always guarantee a special treatment from him. Preparing your favourite meal, smothering you in kisses, an endless ramble of praises. He enjoys the fight, making sure you don't get hurt as he meticulously observe your combat moves.

Zoro: Zoro tries to make you back off. Despite his love and respect for you, he would rather let you stay away from the battlefield. He is aware of your combat abilities, he just thinks it would be easier if you'd let his swords deal with it. Nevertheless, it's easy to convince him if you buy him an extra bottle of booze. After all, despite his protective instincts, he enjoys a partner who can fight and protect themselves. Seeing you go feral and win a fight always tickles his senses.. so you might be in for a good, particularly nasty training session afterwards.

additional characters:

Law: Law definitely doesn't approve your conflictual nature. Although he is a little trouble maker himself, he prefers approaching things, and fights, in a more methodical way - having a precise strategy, and more importantly, a reason. Getting caught up in a worthless fight would mean catching the marine's attention, and that would be dangerous. When he sees you joining the battlefield regardless, he sighs and stands back. But if you manage to get hurt.. be ready to hear him grumble under his breath about irresponsible you were as he medicates you.

Ace: You and Ace would meet looks, the same impulsive idea running through the synapses of your brain. He nods in response, a clever smirk drawing on his lips as he transforms the ramble in a challenge.

"First one to land a punch wins."

Usopp: Tries to discourage you from it. He knows you would be perfectly able to win the fight - but he also knows he would struggle to help you. Your fearless nature worries Usopp, and sometimes it makes him wonder how the two of you get so along. Dangerous situation fuel you, whilst he prefers running from them. Usopp would never give you the permission to battle someone if the situation permits a safe escape - a long, frustrated sighs is the only slightly positive answer you could receive. And when you jump head first in the battle, he whines and snorts, ready to snipe the enemy if the situation escalates.

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bleedingoptimism · 6 months

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Steve only agreed to go out with Tommy after their parents set them up because he “owed” his dad for ruining a potential business partnership for him at a dinner party.

To the rest of the guests, the man had just tripped and embarrassed himself but he knew and Steve knew and Steve’s dad knew: Steve had tripped him. But the guy had groped his ass when he crossed him on his way to the bathroom. He had it coming.

And even if his father had agreed with him after Steve told him the truth, he still needed help landing another client since his most profitable opportunity turned out to be a big ol’ creep. A date with another client’s son. Young, rich, good-looking, a single dad. It didn’t sound that bad.

And so Steve met Tommy.

At first, Tommy was… good. He was charming, cute, a praiser and a joker but the more Steve got to know the less he liked. After a while the compliments stopped and the commanding requests began. Get me this, pick this up, cook me, blow me, dress me, feed me, drive me, me, me, me.

But if Steve wanted or needed something? Tommy was sooo tired and busy. He hadn’t even made an effort to meet Steve’s friends yet. Plus he was always making Steve feel dumb and unimportant, saying his job was silly, even if Steve made almost as much money as him with fewer hours.

Telling him not to ‘worry his pretty head about it’ when Steve asked for clarifications or wouldn’t talk to him about work because Steve ‘wouldn’t get it’. He talked down on Steve all the time and offered him money to “buy himself something nice” in a degrading manner as if Steve was nothing more than arm candy for him.

The worst part was when he realized Tommy… wasn't funny. At all. All his jokes were based on making fun of other people. And he was the only one who laughed at them. He was no better than a bully. He… kind of sucked.

And Steve would’ve loved to never have to see him again. But the problem was he had fallen in love with Tommy’s daughter, Tarja. Because Tommy might have been a terrible boyfriend but at least he was a good enough father. So the weeks Tommy got Tarja, Steve spent most of his time with her.

She was just a delight. Cute, smart, and actually funny. She had the most deadpan sarcastic humor a 6-year-old could manage and it cracked him up. She was also super creative and loved drawing, reading, bedtime tales, and coming up with stories of her own.

Her emotional maturity was impressive, better than her father’s actually, and one of Steve’s favorite things about her. He’d never forget the day he went to pick her up from school and she’d been upset. When Steve asked her how he could help she had calmly explained what had happened, how it made her feel, and what she could do about it… over ice cream, obviously. It made him wonder what kind of person her other dad was like because she had clearly not learned how to communicate like that from Tommy.

And the thing is, Steve had always wanted a kid, ever since he was young all he wanted was a family and even if Tommy wasn’t great he just couldn’t make himself leave the connection he felt with Tarja. And he couldn’t just come out to Tommy and say: ‘Hey I wanna break up, but I’d love to keep seeing your kid,’ that would land him at best a punch, at worst in jail.

There was also the fact that, no matter how much he tried to deflect, Tommy’s comments were starting to get to him. Maybe Tommy was as good as he’d get, maybe he was dumb and uninteresting and the only thing he had going for him was his looks, maybe this was his only chance for a family. So he stuck it out. Cherished the times when they were all together.

And then he met Eddie.

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#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #trans eddie munson #i wrote something #this got away from me #and now its a 5 parter

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kurtie4life96 · 1 year

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Song request: im afraid to go to heaven with Eddie but make it sexy PLEASE

I'm Afraid I'll Go To Heaven

E.M. × F! Reader

Summary: Eddie is sick and tired of being called a "Satanist". Maybe his best girl friend can help him relieve that frustration.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, dom!Eddie, sub!reader, graphic, rough sex, unprotected sex, a bit of ritualistic sex, choking, BLOOD play, KNIFE play, exhibitionism, spitting, handcuffs, masochism/sadism, oral (f receiving), anti-christianity, Christian protesters, smoking

THIS IS VERY ANTI RELIGIOUS/CHRISTIANITY. DO NOT READ IF THAT'S OFFENSIVE TO YOU. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

"Here we go again." Eddie mumbled through gritted teeth.

You sat in the passenger seat of his van as he turned into the trailer park, a swarm of angry protesters with picket signs shouting at the two of you, scattered across the front of his house.

"The cops won't do anything?" You asked, sighing out of frustration.

He laughed, motioning towards the protesters, "Nope. Why should they, anyway? I am part of the satanic panic, after all."

After the events of the Upside Down and Eddie almost dying, he was nearly charged for the murders that Vecna had committed. Miraculously, Hopper had managed to clear his name, placing the blame on Jason, as he was there when Patrick died, mercilessly bullied Fred, and his girlfriend was Chrissy. Plus, Jason was now dead. It was all too easy.

But the people of Hawkins still weren't convinced, still called Eddie a murderer, a Satanist, a devil worshipper.

They protested at Hawkins High, his graduation, even going as far to protest outside of his house.

The crowd slowly started to dissipate after a few months, but they were still relentless, calling him a sinner, a murderer, telling him he was going to burn in hell, to repent.

You had tried to protect your friend from these people. You'd screamed at them, threw trash at them, stuck by his side.

But Eddie was still miserable. And they were never going to stop.

Eddie pulled up in front of his trailer, parking and turning his van off. People began to surround it immediately, yelling at him, perhaps the both of you, holding up picket signs with some of the most vile words on them you'd ever seen.

He ran his hands through his hair, agitated, and punched the steering wheel suddenly, cursing to himself.

You reached your hand out to gently hold his, an attempt to calm him down, "We just have to ignore them and go inside."

Eddie snatched his hand away from yours, hurting your feelings a little, but you understood his anger, not taking it too personally.

"I'm sick of just ignoring them!" He exclaimed, wide-eyed, "I know that's what Hopper said to do, but I can't do it anymore, I just- I can't do it!"

He opened the car door and you quickly followed, rushing towards him as he confronted one of the middle-aged, bearded protesters, getting in the man's face.

"You need to repent, young man," he started, "if you want to live forever, be with loved ones in Heaven, you must confess-"

"I don't wanna live forever!" Eddie shouted, taking an even closer step towards him, making the man stumble back a bit.

"You're going to burn in hell-"

"Then so be it!" Eddie smiled maniacally, throwing his hands up in the air, turning around to face the crowd, "I don't want to go to Heaven, I'm afraid to go to Heaven!"

You looked to the crowd, worried, as they began to argue with him, but Eddie cut them off quickly.

"I'm not afraid of a so-called Devil, or- Satan, I'm afraid of being around people like you forever!" He paused to laugh again, screaming, "It's like me- people like me, are your only entertainment in this shitty town now!"

Eddie snatched a picket fence from a nearby protester, smashing it on the gravel, and throwing the broken wooden stick on the ground with an audible, frustrated groan.

The people went nearly silent for a moment, only quietly murmuring amongst themselves as your heart beat rapidly, waiting for Eddie's monologue to end.

"Whatever is waiting for me on the other side, I'm sure it's better than being around you Bible fucking, no spined, fiction loving fucking sheep!"

He was panting heavily now, turning red from rage as the silence continued. You grabbed his arm, giving it a gentle tug.

"C'mon Eddie, let's go inside now." You urged him with a soft, quiet voice.

"Yeah," he announced loudly, still glaring at the crowd, "let's go inside."

You both began to walk up the steps to the front door, Eddie turning towards them again for a moment to throw up his infamous devil horns, before flipping them off.

You walked in first, him slamming the front door behind him.

"You okay?" You turned to him, an empathetic, yet worried look on your face.

"Yeah," he let out a breathy chuckle, "yeah, I'm okay. Are you okay?"

You nodded, giving him a half smile, "Yeah."

Eddie sat down on the couch, sinking into it with a big sigh, fumbling with his rings, chewing on his lip as he stared off into space for a moment.

Little did he know how much your nerves were on fire, from the adrenaline and excitement you felt watching him get angry, snapping at the crowd and losing it a bit.

Watching him yell at the protesters, smash that sign, the way he stood up for himself, put those awful people in their place, it had butterflies filling your stomach, it made your face feel a little too hot. It didn't help that he was in a bad mood, that he was twirling his metal rings on his fingers.

Sure, you'd had a bit of a crush on Eddie of course, especially after his bravery fighting the demo bats, but you hadn't acted on your feelings. It wasn't the right time. He was going through too much, and the two of you had been close friends for years.

Eddie must have noticed you staring off into space too- or more so, staring at his hands, because he had said your name three times before he got your attention.

You perked up, coming back to reality and grinned awkwardly at him, playing with your hair anxiously.

"Sorry, what?"

He looked at you questioningly, like he was trying to read you, one of his hands gesturing towards the seat next to him, "I said, come sit."

"Oh, yeah, of course," you walked over towards the couch, sitting down next to him, feeling unable to relax.

"Smoke?" Eddie held up two cigarettes and a lighter, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, sure, thanks." You grabbed one from his fingers, staring at them a little too long again.

You put it between your lips, patting your pockets to look for your own lighter.

"Uh-uh," Eddie scolded you, putting his own cigarette between his lips, lighting yours and then his own, taking a long drag, "pretty girls don't light their own cigarettes."

You took a drag and smiled ear to ear, scooting closer to him until your thigh was touching his, shoving his shoulder playfully, "I've heard that one a few times now, Munson."

"Don't act like you don't like hearing it, though." He chuckled, then stopped, his smile fading away as he heard the faint voices from the protesters still outside.

"Fuckers," he spat, taking another long drag, "they're never going to leave me alone. They'll never leave you or Wayne alone, either. Not til' we leave the damn country or some shit."

"Yeah, probably not." You responded quietly, pursing your lips together, staring at your cigarette.

The both of you sat in silence for a few moments, deep in thought, watching the smoke circle around in the sunlight coming in through the blinds.

"What if there was another way?" You glanced over at him, asking nervously.

"What do you mean?" Eddie gave you a perplexed look.

"What if," you sighed, putting out your cigarette, your heart beginning to beat hard against your chest, "What if there was just... another way?"

"I'm not gonna 'repent for my sins', if that's what you're saying-"

"No, no," you shook your head, "fuck that, hell no. I mean... what if we scared them? Like... enough to make them go away? Leave you alone?"

"How?" Eddie scoffed, taking another puff of his cigarette before reaching his hand towards the ashtray to put it out.

"Hold on," you grabbed his arm abruptly, stopping him, your breathing shaky.

"What're you..." He trailed off, shifting in his seat.

You grasped his hand, keeping eye contact with him, as you slowly moved it towards the back of your forearm.

Eddie screwed his eyebrows together, in disbelief, as your forced his fingers on your forearm, putting his cigarette out on your skin.

You gasped in pain and hissed, your skin seering, before Eddie yanked his arm back, throwing it into the ashtray and grabbing your arm, inspecting the burn.

"What the fuck? Why would you do that? Are you okay? Jesus Christ, why? Why did you do that-"

"Eddie," you said his name softly, like a prayer, "Eddie... if it's okay, we should scare them."

He paused for a moment, still holding your arm, before responding, "What are you proposing?"

"I'm proposing," you took a deep breath, looking into his eyes, "we could make a mess. A mess that'll scare them for life."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at you, looking intrigued, pressing the pad of his thumb into your skin.

"What kind of mess?"

"Eddie, I like you. I know it's not the best time to tell you that, but you don't have to like me back," you continued to ramble, "I know the things you like to do when you're... having fun. You've told me. And I like the same things too, sometimes."

Eddie stared at you intently, leaning closer towards you, motioning for you to continue, "Go on, I'm listening."

You sighed, "You could use me, if you want, we could make a big scene, you know, scare them off, but only if you want to, you can say no-"

He interrupted you by grabbing both sides of your face, his rings cold against your skin as he crashed his lips onto yours, leaning into you as much as he could. Your body froze for a second, in shock, but you quickly kissed him back, resting your hands on his shoulders and humming contently.

"Oh, sweetheart, my pretty angel," Eddie broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, his lips grazing your own as he spoke softly, "I thought you'd never ask."

"Really?" You pulled back and looked into his dark eyes.

"Really." His lips curled in a smile, then slowly faded as he asked, "Are you sure that's what you want? Because- I could really hurt you."

You nodded eagerly, "Yes, yeah, it's what I want. It's what I want with you."

"Okay," Eddie sighed, sitting upright as he looked down at you, "but if it gets to be too much, tell me. There's... a lot of weird things I'd want to do with you."

You sat on your knees, gazing up at him, almost as if you were worshipping him. His beautiful brown eyes, his long, frizzy dark hair framing his face just right, his clothes, his plump lips making you feel intoxicated.

"Eddie," you assured him softly, reaching a hand towards his hair, brushing it with your fingers, "nothing is gonna be too much. I like weird. And with these insane assholes outside," you looked towards the window, "how about we make it fun? Like you said... we're just entertainment. Let's put on a show."

He stared down at you, breathless, his heart racing, feeling absolutely feral- a mixture of his anger, excitement, and the sight of you fully giving yourself to him.

Eddie looked over to the window above you that faced the front yard, the crowd still there shouting, and he opened the blinds, staring outside with a sinister smile.

There was a moment of quiet between the two of you, the air thick with tension and anticipation, as you gazed at each other with locked eyes, before Eddie crashed his lips against yours again, much harder this time as he grabbed your hair to yank your head back, his other hand gently cradling the side of your neck.

You moaned into each other's mouths lightly, the kisses increasingly becoming faster, animalistic, carnal, not being able to get enough of each other. You both panted heavily between kisses as you smoothed your hands down his sides, then sliding them under his shirt to feel his scars and soft skin.

Eddie slid his tongue across your bottom lip languid, feeling like silk, the taste of him silencing all of your thoughts as you licked into each other's mouths feverishly, deeply, him tasting sweet like cherry coke- before he bit down on it, hard.

Normally this action would make someone gasp, yelp, cry even- but not you. You sighed contently as Eddie sucked on your bleeding lip, then sat upright again to look down on you, as if he was a God.

"Open." He commanded in a low voice.

You did as you were told, knowing what was coming next. He spat your blood back into your mouth, the taste of iron flooding your senses. You swallowed, licking your injured lip before he could tell you to do so.

"Fuck," Eddie groaned, "you are fucking unreal."

He stood up from the couch suddenly, and before you could question him, he grabbed your ass and lifted you up, setting you down harshly on the top of the couch, your back facing the window.

"I can't wait to put bruises all over this pretty skin." He rasped.

He lifted your shirt up eagerly, pulling it off of you and tossing it to the side.

"No bra, huh?" He smirked.

Before you could respond, Eddie went straight for your jawline, at first kissing it sloppily, then getting greedy, sucking and biting on your skin brutally, as he palmed your breasts, groping them and pinching your nipples, making you gasp and arch into him, his hair tickling your shoulder.

He made his descent down your neck and chest, sucking your delicate skin so harshly it began to bleed as you huffed and raked your fingers through his hair and tugged, wrapping your legs around him, silently asking him for more.

He licked down slowly between your breasts, keeping eye contact with you, then took one into his mouth, kissing and swirling around his tongue.

"Eddie, please," you whimpered, still tasting iron, "more..."

"More what, pretty girl?" He asked in a husky voice.

"Just... more," you whined, "just- I want you!"

"Fuck," he moaned lowly.

He pulled down your pants and panties off your hips and legs frantically, but swiftly, throwing them to the side with your shirt.

Eddie stood back for a moment, admiring your now nearly naked body with hungry eyes- the only garment still on you being your slouch socks, your bare ass pressed up to the window, as you gazed at his lithe figure.

"Open your legs." He gently demanded.

You did as you were told, and he breathed out a shaky exhale as he gazed at your heat.

He looked up towards your face again, your bleeding bruises, your bloodied lip with hooded, unholy eyes.

You grasped the back of the couch with both hands, leaning your head back, and let out a desperate sigh.

"Eddie-"

He kneeled on the couch quickly, spreading your thighs apart, then sliding two fingers along your soaked lips, and began to move his tongue along your clit messy and rapidly, lapping at your heat with a heavy tongue that somehow felt like velvet.

You cried out a mixture of his name and expletives as euphoria gripped your body, arching into his mouth and your muscles tightening.

"Eddie," you cried, "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god-"

He slipped two fingers into you easily, curling them harshly, you feeling his rings at your entrance.

You gasped at the action, raking your hands through his hair, and you felt him smirk against your wet heat as he began to snake his other hand up your bare chest.

You needed more of him, so much more, and you grabbed his wrist, beginning to guide it towards your neck.

Eddie instantly got the hint, and wrapped his big hand around your throat, pressing his fingers into the sides of your neck.

You groaned in pleasure as blood ceased to travel to your brain, ecstacy taking over every inch of your body as your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he continued to savor you relentlessly.

"Harder," you managed to choke out, "please, harder-"

He moaned against you at your request and squeezed harder, making you see stars.

Your skin was on fire as you began to lose composure, and the world crashed around you, the strongest orgasm you've ever felt hitting its peak as you tried to moan, but your voice was strained.

Eddie continued to work you through your high, then kissed your sensitive nub, making you twitch before pulling back, his mouth slightly agape and wet with your slick as the both of you panted. He licked his lips and leaned towards you, kissing you gingerly as you tasted yourself on your tongue, then he promptly bit your lip again, reopening your wound.

"You look so hot when you're bleeding," he huffed against your mouth.

You gripped his shirt with one hand, then reached towards his hard, aching length with the other, making him groan.

"Eddie," you mumbled, "please, take them off, let me-"

"Next time, baby," he assured you, "next time. The sun is gonna go down. We need to hurry."

Your stomach fluttered at his words, 'next time', as you watched him take off his jacket and shirt swiftly, then pulling down his pants and checkered boxers, letting his cock free.

You stared at his length with wide eyes. You knew he would be a little big, but he was larger than you'd imagined. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight. You then watched him lean down to pull something out of his jean pockets.

Eddie stood up, holding up his switchblade, the sharp tip of it shining as he gazed at you intently.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Give me your hand."

You reached your arm out to him, excitement and nervousness bursting in your abdomen.

"This is gonna hurt, okay?"

You softly smiled and nodded, "Okay."

He grabbed your wrist, pressing the blade into your palm and quickly slashing a line into it, blood beginning to pool in your hand immediately. You winced at the pain, but gave him a hum of agreement.

Nodding at you, Eddie took to his own hand, slicing it the same way he did to yours, blood dripping through his fingers.

He threw the knife to the side before intertwining his fingers with yours, pressing your bleeding wounds together, then grabbed the back of your head, leaning in to kiss you passionately.

He pulled back, and took to your chest, smearing the mixture of each others blood all over your neck and breasts, his eyes seemingly turned black.

You whimpered at the sight, but were pleasantly surprised by how much it turned you on, rubbing your thighs together for some friction as your core ached.

"Turn around." Eddie instructed you, grasping your thigh, motioning for you to turn over.

With a sharp inhale and exhale, you turned around, knees on the seats of the couch, hands grabbing the back of couch, as you looked out the window, the crowd of people still outside now looking back at you in horror.

You smirked at them maliciously, wiping your face, smearing it with more blood to terrify them even more.

Eddie groaned at the action and kissed your lower back, squeezing your ass, taking his length into his hand.

"You're the most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm gonna ruin you."

"Do it, Eddie," you whispered.

He lined his tip with your entrance, then gripped your hips harshly, slamming all the way into you with ease, bottoming out.

You both gasped loudly in unison, his cock stretching you out in a way that could only be described as perfect.

"You're so tight, fuck, you're gonna kill me baby." He groaned.

Eddie began to set a slow, but harsh pace, pounding into you deeply as you pushed back against his thrusts. It felt so much like Heaven, that you nearly forgot what you needed to do.

As he continued to snap his hips into yours harshly, you squeezed your wounded hand, collecting more blood in your palm, and dripped it onto the window, smearing it between his thrusts until you were satisfied that it was covered.

He began to fuck into you faster, hitting your cervix every time, as you began your work on the window, drawing a sloppy, inverted pentagram with your fingertips through the blood, the both of you cursing and moaning each other's names.

The crowd outside was horrified at the sight of your bloodied chest, the bloodied window, and the symbol you drew, making them leave the property rapidly in terror, like a bat out of hell.

You arched your back even more, goosebumps spreading across your skin as you both moaned, Eddie still fucking into you, raking his fingernails on your back, leaving behind a pattern of scratches.

Once you'd noticed that the voices outside had disappeared, you wiped your uninjured hand on the fogged, bloody glass, peering out the window.

"Eddie, fuck," you stammered between his thrusts, "it worked- they- they left. They all left."

He let out a breathy laugh, slowing down his pace, smoothing his hands up and down your back, "Oh, angel. You're so smart. Such a good girl."

You chuckled a bit through pants, reaching your arms back towards him to touch him, to hold his hands for a moment.

Eddie suddenly pulled out of you, and you whined at the loss, confused.

"What are you-"

Before you could question him, he grabbed your waist, lifting you up off the couch and making you yelp, throwing your naked body over his shoulder and quickly heading to his bedroom.

"Eddie," you laughed nervously, "what's happening?"

"Sh," he shushed you, placing a kiss to your side, then throwing you on your back onto his bed of messy sheets and blankets, gasping as your body hit the mattress.

You gazed up at him in anticipation, as he held his infamous handcuffs in one hand.

"Do you still want me?" He asked in a husky voice.

"Yeah, of course I do-"

"Good," He interrupted you and smiled wickedly, "arms above your head."

You bit the side of your lip and grinned, doing as you were told.

He got on the bed and crawled over you, placing the handcuffs over your wrists, clicking them in place, making sure they were tight, then kissed your injured lips softly.

Eddie leaned back, spreading your legs open for him gently, his length still rock hard.

"You're cumming like this."

You shivered at his words, and he gripped your hips, yanking them up towards his cock, and pushed himself inside of you.

"Fuck, Eddie,"

"Jesus, you're still so fucking wet," he cursed.

He began to thrust into you again, at first slow, but quickly becoming desperate, pounding into you with a harsh and fast rhythm, gripping your hips tighter and tighter, surely leaving bruises.

You felt fire in your abdomen as he continued to fuck into you, him biting and kissing your knee sloppily as the new angle of his cock hit your sweet spot every time.

"Eddie, I don't think I can last long, fuck-"

"Me too, sweetheart," he groaned, putting a hand between the two of you, circling your clit with his thumb as he watched himself disappear inside of you, "cum with me."

You felt his cock grow even harder against your walls, making your eyes nearly roll in the back of your head, tears burning at the corners as you almost sobbed, crying out expletives as your orgasm took a hold of you, shockwaves gripping your body.

Eddie felt your walls clench around him, making him come undone as he emptied himself deep inside of you, biting your knee to hold back a loud moan as he followed closely after you.

Your highs came to a halt, as he gently lowered you back down, and collapsed on top of you.

You both panted heavily against each other, trying to catch your breath as he finally slid out of you. He held the sides of your face and kissed you desperately, then planted kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

"So, uh, that was..." Eddie trailed off.

"Amazing. It was amazing." You finished his sentence breathlessly.

"Yeah?" He lifted his head up and smiled at you.

"Yeah," you smiled back, "we should... do this again... soon."

"Yes, we should," he kissed your forehead, "we really should. Gotta take you on a proper date first."

He sat up from the bed, and you whined at the loss of his body heat.

"Well angel," he started, "we need to clean up all the blood and stuff, ya know, and fix our hands before Wayne gets home."

"Yeah, we do, but Eddie," you showed him your hands, "you gotta get me out of these cuffs first."

"Oh yeah, yeah, duh," he laughed, "the cuffs. Of course. Just need to... find the keys." He began to look around his room worriedly.

"God dammit, Eddie."

#eddie munson smut #smutty smut smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things smut #eddie the banished #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things 4 #song requests #fic request

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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BNHA Men when You Flirt with Them

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya, Bakugo Katsuki, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, hand-holding, flirting, denial of feelings, banter, kabedon, friends to lovers

A/N: I'm really enjoying writing for BNHA lately, thank you for all the support on the previous posts too, it means a lot and keeps me motivated.

Izuku is not used to this type of attention and is a complete blushing mess when you tease and flirt with him in class. You wouldn't guess it from the way he avoids your eyes but he really enjoys you flirting, him getting your attention and touches. Doesn't have the courage to flirt back during class so he passes you little notes which somehow still manage to sound flustered. He does take you by surprise when he locks his pinkie finger with yours, slowly working up to fully holding your hand, head burryed in his book to hide his blush.

"I-Is this okay? I'm sorry if my palms are sweaty! O-Oh, good, I'll keep holding your hand then. You know, I really like spending time with you, I was wondering is maybe, you wanna go to the movies sometime? N-Not as a date? Or... yes? If you want it to be! I hope I'm not misreading anything here."

Bakugo does not have the patience for this back and forth song and dance you're doing. It won't get him anything but annoyed with you in the long run. So if you want something from him you say it to his face, or whisper it against his lips while you kiss him, that works too. Just be direct and honest, that's all he's looking for really. If you really get on his nerves with the flirting he will push you against the wall and yell in your face to just say it already, come on, everyone knows you have the hots for him at this point, you're not being sneaky at all.

"What's the matter, cat got that pretty tongue of yours? You seemed pretty confidant earlier. Not so much when I'm this close huh. I really hate cowards. You don't want me to hate you, trust me. Unless you're into that kind of thing. There it is, that pretty, flustered expression I've wanted to see. Yeah, I did, but see, I'm honest. You be too and maybe we'll get somewhere."

Shoto is really happy to be on the receiving end of your flirting. He's almost love-struck by it, looking your way in class, letting himself be absorbed by your words. You talk, he pays attention. There's a faint blush on his cheeks when you get really close and lean your shoulder against his to whisper into his ear. Since you're showering him with attention he wants to return the favor, carrying your bag for you or walking to and from classes and dorm rooms with you, having lunch together and knowingly leaning in for you to kiss his cheek.

"I thought you wanted attention from me. It makes me happy that you admire me, I'm the same with you. I'd like to express it in a more forward way if you'd allow me to. If its alright with you, I would like to kiss you. On the cheek if you're think a kiss on the lips would be too fast, but I'd like that too."

Eijiro would grin you at the whole time, taking in every word you say, his smile getting wider and wider at every word. Flirting takes a lot of courage, he's glad to see you have as much as him. Oh he hasn't flirted with you yet but only because he wasn't completely sure that you were into him, he was being a gentleman you see. Now that he knows you like him back he's not pulling any punches with you. Every time he sees you he's throwing an arm around you and pulling you into a kiss or teasing you without mercy.

"Don't get shy on me now baby. Was that bravado just for show? I'm disappointed. Then kiss me. I dare you to, come on. One kiss on the lips to prove you really mean it. So flustered now. How about a kiss from me to you, to give you some of my courage. Lean in."

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silent-stories · 1 year

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 - 𝟑

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: There will be a party at your house even if you didn't organize it. The only thing you can do now is invite Eddie and hope he will come.

Part 2

Friday morning, everyone at school was talking about the party you were having at your house that night. The only problem was, you'd never decided or told anyone you were going to throw a party, much less invite half the school.

You understood what was going on when a girl whose name you didn't even know told you she couldn't wait to come over to your house that night.

You knew whose fault it was.

"Since when do you like parties?" Max asked as she walked next to you towards school with her usual skateboard under her right arm and the sun's rays making her blue eyes shine.

"And I still don't like them." You answered with frustration. "I'm not the one who organized the party."

"Oh, so it's not you who organized the party at your house?" The redhead laughed.

"Max, I swear. It was Aaron, you know, the new one?" You absent-mindedly kicked a pebble in the school parking lot, wondering what you could do to fix that shitty situation that guy had put you in.

"Oh, I know who he is. Everyone seems to be talking about him lately." The redhead answered.

"I can assure you that he's not as perfect as everyone believes. He's quite an asshole, if you wanna know."

"Oh, I knew it!" She exlamed. "I never liked that guy. He looks too much like Jason."

Your gaze fell on a young boy who was looking in your direction, not far from you.

"But I think I know someone you like." You commented with a smik.

"What?" she asked before you nodded at Lucas.

Max lowered her head hiding a smile.

"What are you waiting for? Go to him."

She rolled her eyes.

"Go!" You repeated giving her a light push in a playful way.

"Okay, okay." She laughed as she put her skateboard down and stepped on it with her foot. "See you later, okay?"

"Bye!" You said as she reached Lucas.

You watched them as they walked close and laughed with each other, you wondered if you and Eddie were something like that too. They were cute.

But now you had to suppress all your desire to kill Aaron and try to have a conversation with him.

"Aaron!" You called to him in the school corridor perhaps a little too loudly, causing some heads to turn in your direction, as you recognized his blonde hair from afar, talking to a fourth year girl.

You grabbed him by the arm, turning him towards you.

As usual, he flashed you the sparkling smile that you so wanted to punch right then.

"What the hell did you do?" You blurted out, clutching your bag in your hands.

"I don't know what you're talking about, honey."

Breathe, Y/N. Breathe.

"First, don't call me that. Second, you told everyone there's going to be a party at my fucking house."

He rolled his eyes, as if it wasn't even his fault.

"I just told a few friends that there was a chance there was a party at your house. And my friends told their friends. And their friends-"

"I get the point." You cut him off. "But I told you I didn't want to."

"And I told you it would be fun. Really, I didn't want to make everyone think there was actually going to be a party. It was just an idea."

"Well, thanks to your great idea, half the school will be at my house tonight."

"I'm sorry okay? I just-"

At that moment you glimpsed Eddie at the end of the hallway, wearing a black sabbath shirt, ripped jeans and making his way through the sea of students.

You liked the way your eyes always managed to find him despite the hundreds of students who went through the hallways of the school every day.

"I gotta go." You suddenly said even if you stopped listening to his words a few minutes before and you walked away from him while he was still talking.

"Hey, wait!"

You've had enough of him for all day.

Eddie saw you talking to Aaron and he couldn't hide from himself that every time he saw you with him he felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach and every time he tried to convince himself it wasn't jealousy.

It couldn't be, you weren't his. You never were and you never would be.

Yet every time you shyly smiled at him in the hallway, tou almost made Eddie believe he might have a chance with you, that things really could have worked out between you despite everything.

Despite the looks and despite what others thought of him.

Even if you weren't his, Eddie was definitely yours. And maybe it always would be.

Maybe he was from the first time he'd seen you outside of school talking to Robin, when he still didn't know your name. Or maybe he was even earlier, since Dustin had mentioned you while they were getting ready for a campaign and he mentioned his ex-babysitter who for three years had helped him and his friends come up with backstories for their characters and also draw them.

"Man, she was doing it because your mom was paying her." Eddie had commented at the time.

"Oh no. It's not just for that, trust me. You should meet her, you'd love her." He had answered.

He didn't know yet that he really would. Maybe even too much.

"Hi." Your voice brought him back to reality, he hadn't even seen you reach him and now you were walking beside him, occasionally brushing your shoulder against his.

"Hey." He smiled. "You have history now, right?"

"Yes. And you too, this time you won't skip it."

"Hey! I don't skip classes!"

At least he didn't do it anymore with history, it was the only class he was glad to be in, just because you were there too.

"Yeah, sure." You chuckled as you moved a little to the left to let a freshman pass.

"I heard there's going to be a party at your house. I didn't think you liked parties." Eddie said as you walked to your classroom.

He had heard people talking about your party too and was surprised because he remembered that when you had told him that you would rather stay at home and watch a movie on the couch than go out.

"Please, not you too." You sighed.

"What?"

"I didn't organize the party."

Eddie raised his eyebrows.

"Aaron told everyone even though I said I didn't want to and now it looks like half of school will be at my house tonight."

Eddie placed a hand on your shoulder softly pushing you aside to prevent you from colliding with a guy who was running down the hall despite the hundreds of signs saying not to.

The gesture was so natural that he almost didn't realize he had done it.

"You know, I don't like that guy." It was the first time he said it out loud to you.

"Yeah, me neither."

Eddie was surprised. Didn't you like Aaron? He even thought there was something going on between you two. Was it possible that he misinterpreted it?

"So, will you come?"

"What?"

"I asked you if you will come to the party."

"I'm not one for parties."

"Well, luckily for you, neither am I."

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head.

"Eddie, please. There's going to be a lot of people I hate and that I don't even know. At least if you come there will be someone I really like."

You said you liked Eddie with such spontaneity and simplicity that he wanted to hear you say it a hundred more times.

"I don't know." He said finally, as you crossed the threshold of the classroom.

He didn't want to disappoint you but he couldn't come.

It was kind of weird being invited to a party after years of no one ever doing it but it was nice to know that you cared enough about him to ask him to come. Thinking about it, maybe kids had stopped hanging out with him when he was in about second grade, when they found out his father was involved in illegal activities.

But he really couldn't and he was sorry. He was sorry because you were the best part of his day and he wanted to hang out with you and spend every single free moment outside of school with you.

But with you. Only with you. Not with everyone else in the school, who would watch and judge and laugh at him when he showed up at an event like a party of a girl like you.

Eddie watched you in amazement as you took the seat next to him in class, it was the first time you'd done so since you'd been late that day.

"Please?" You asked again, Eddie could hear the hope in your voice and his heart ached because he really wanted to, but he knew someone like him couldn't come.

"I'll think about it, okay?" He hated himself for that.

You smiled. "Okay."

I'm sorry. I won't come. I know I won't come. Don't hate me, please. Everyone already hates me. Don't hate me too.

The teacher started talking and Eddie found history rather boring like all the other times, he was spinning a pencil he rarely used for taking notes between his fingers when you handed him a folded note.

He looked at you questioningly and you glanced at the note, as if telling him to open it.

When Eddie did it he nearly burst out laughing.

It was a stylized drawing, done entirely with a blue pen, much uglier than what you were capable of making: on one side there were you two, Eddie immediately recognized the stikman who represented him thanks to the bush of curly hair you had drawn on his head and the one next to him was definitely you.

Your arms were linked and Eddie thought that meant you were holding hands, but he couldn't be sure.

You were both smiling, unlike the others on the opposite side of the page, drawn with no hair and no clothes, with angry expressions and smoke billowing from their non-existent ears.

Eddie was betting that Jason and Aaron were among them, but since they were all the same, he couldn't tell for sure which was who.

Eddie stifled another laugh. It wasn't one of the prettiest drawings you had done but it was definitely the funniest.

"What the hell is that?" He asked in a whisper, a huge grin on his face.

"It's us at the party having fun and not giving a shit about Aaron and the other assholes that will be there."

Eddie's gaze returned to the drawing. It would have been nice to turn that into reality.

"Because you are coming, right?" You asked again.

Eddie looked you in the eye and fuck, it was really hard to say no looking into your eyes.

"Maybe." He finally said.

"Okay. Maybe."

You haven't spoken the entire lesson. When the bell rang you had to run away because you had a test you couldn't be late for, so you didn't see Eddie carefully fold the paper you handed him and close it in the middle of a book.

It would probably be one of the few things he would keep for his entire life.

Part 4

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