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hairmetal666 · 5 months

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Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.

Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.

Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.

It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.

It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.

Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.

It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.

They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.

They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.

"What." Eddie says.

"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.

"Me?"

"You like dnd?"

He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.

"Doubt it," the boy says.

Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.

The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.

"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"

Dustin shrugs. "Steve."

"Steve?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."

"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.

He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"

"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."

Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.

They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.

It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.

Steve.

"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.

Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"

"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.

"Um, the kids?"

And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.

"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.

"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."

Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."

"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."

Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."

"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"

Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."

Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."

"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."

"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.

"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."

"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."

"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."

"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.

"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"

Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.

He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.

And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #mechanic eddie munson #baker steve harrington #ficlet #fluff #meet cute #mutual pining #matchmaker dustin henderson #longing glances #dustin is sick of hearing steve talk about the hot mechanic next door but never making a move #dustin makes it for him #the party are a bunch of well-meaning menances #for some reason insomnia is an intrinsic part of steve's character even in an au

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slut4jeon · 3 months

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Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer (jjk)

Officer!Jk x fem reader

Summary: Tiredly calling it a night after attending your workplaces celebration New Year's Eve party. You may have or not ran through a stop sign foolishly thinking no one would have been around to witness it…oh how wrong you were

Warnings: mature (18+), smut, degradation, unprotected sex, Voyeurism, don't read this if this does not interest you!! You have been warned!

I had this prepared early Jan but tumblr didn’t save my writing :(( so I gave up on it lmao. I also really wanted to write smth w tsx jungkook. The police trend w the Lana song gave me inspo for this although the actual trend isn’t in the fic.

You were calling it a night, exiting the noisy building that is your workplace. There was a currently a party in the building where your coworkers were celebrating the New Year's.

You were tired. The loud music and chatters annoying you. You chose a safer route tonight, sticking to sparkling cider since you were driving yourselves home tonight.

The cold air hitting your bare skin leaving goosebumps over your entire figure as youstep out into the windy area heading towardsyour parked car.

That's the consequence of wanting to look good and presentable for a celebration, you of course always look stunning. It doesn't hurt to get ready. You were currently sporting a black ysl mini along with a deep v neckline and a pair of matching black pumps. The shoes, also annoying by how sore they left your feet.

Black heels clicking onto the floor as you begin entering your car as you drove into the pitch black night. Admiring the way the twinkling city lights look, along with the lit up buildings and lampposts. You got a little too carried away when you were oblivious to the stop sign you foolishly didn't stop and passed by.

Regret lingered in your chest as you panicked over your foolish action. Perhaps you'd be fine as it is the late night and no cars were present, oh how wrong you were.

The sound of a police siren began ringing as the bright red and blue lights gaining up on the tail of your car. You pulled onto the side of the road swiftly and put your car in park. Your trembly hands gripping both hands onto the steering wheels most definitely leaving your palms and knuckles white. That's when you heard 3 knocks on your left side window.

"Shit" you muttered. Feeling a rise of mixed movement in your lower belly as you begin lowering your window. There you met the gaze of a handsome officer.

"Driving late on New Years Day? When everybody's drinking and celebrating tonight. License and registration." He spewed with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yes, of course." Your hand quickly traveled to your glove compartment pulling out the documents. Then, pulled your license from your clutch.

As he inspected you couldn't help but gaze at him. His raven black sleek parted hair showing off a bit of forehead. His black button up dress shirt that was tucked in the matching black jeans, and rolled up from the sleeves stopping before the elbows to show off his meaty arms that were covered in artworks of tattoos.

The stern look he holds as looking at your documents. The burrowed brow and line wrinkles in between the brows. He was attractive, godly attractive.

"Step out the vehicle for me" he said. You did as told

You couldn't help but gaze at him. He was an attractive specimen. But soon you were ripped out of your thoughts.

"Walk along that yellow line"

"Officer I'm not drunk or anything of the sor-" you were interrupted

"You were given instructions. I expect you to follow them." he bluntly said

Obeying his words you stepped foot onto the yellow line. The cold air doing you no justice as you were trembling from it.

What you weren't aware of was how he stared at your ass that was threatening to spill out of the little piece of flimsy material you call a dress.

Turning around, his gaze caught you off guard at how he stared at you as a helpless little fawn about to be hunt down by a hungry wolf.

"I'm gonna pat you down. Step right by the car for me, palms flat onto the vehicle", he demanded.

Swiftly obeying, you got into position. Beginning his pat down inspection from head to toe. His muscular hands roamed over your body. You wondered whether your goosebumps was from the cold wind or his slithering fingers tracing over your open skin.

As he got lower and lower, padding the waist and soon hips he made sure to grope onto your flesh just in case of any dangerous possessions.

You were a whimpering mess, biting into your bottom lip to suppress any noise coming out of your mouth. The attractive officer had an effect on you. Especially when passing your thighs and ankles, rising back to the top his movement slowed as he reached back to your thighs.

You let out suppressed mewls as his fingers inched towards your inner thighs. Your legs were gonna give up at any threatening moment. You questioned whether he caught onto your reaction to his touch.

His fingers were dangerous close to your soaking cunt. You were took aback at his touch you could not longer suppress the noises that urged to come pass your lips. Your heat was aching for his touch.

He took notice to your glistening folds in with your juices threatening to spill out of your wine red lace panties. The officer could no longer resist the temptation of the sweet treat in front of him.

Riding your dress a bit up his face inched closer to your cunt, nose and all. Hooking his fingers onto your panties and pushing them aside, he ate you out from behind. Your knees about to give in as he ate your pussy like a starved man. His tongue lapped over your clit playing with the cute bud left you a whiny mess.

"Please” you voiced out quietly

How cute, the officer thought. His fingers lathered your juices, leaving them coated and dripping. The sudden intrusion of his long fingers intruding into the tight ring of your hole.

With your mouth agape, your mind was left into a frenzy at how good the officer worked his fingers into your soaking cunt.

"Clenching onto my fingers, aren't you a little eager thing?", he said

You looked back to him to see his pretty pouty lips all swollen and tinted from eating you out. Your juices trailing down his chin and neck. He looked too edible.

He sensed you were near as your gummy walls clamped onto his fingers. Quickly pulling them out and robbing you of your release you mewled at the empty feeling.

You were a minx he thought. His cock hardening and imprinting his jeans. The feeling got only tighter as his fingers savored the taste of your pussy juices that coated his index and middle.

He needed more. Turning your body swiftly around the officer face to face with you connected both mouths together. His hands sneaked onto your hips and lower onto your ass making sure to grip the plumpy flesh.

You couldn't help out moan into his mouth as you both were in ecstasy. You needed more.

"Need to fuck that pussy, will you let me pretty thing?", who were you to deny him?

Eagerly nodding your head in confirmation. "Words, pretty", the officer said

"Please fuck me", you said in a desperate manner. That's all it took for him to roughly turn you around and begin grinding his hard length into your ass.

Desperate for friction you pushed out for him, like a bitch in heat. Your dress being a nuisance for him he unzipped you, freeing your bare body to be in display of his hungry eyes.

You wore no bra as the dress had padding, all you were left in was your wine lace panties. His lips traveled from your neck to breasts. Scattering marks as if he were leaving burns.

The way his teeth clamped onto your bud, sucking and pulling. Something about the way you were fully bare at his mercy as he remained fully clothed while he played with your pussy had you rubbing your thighs together.

"Officer please, fuck me!", you could no longer take it.

He smirked at your eagerness. Finding it humorously cute at how much of a cock hungry whore you are.

Your ears perked at the noise of him fumbling with his belt. His cock sprung free fully erect as he began aligning it to your entrance.

"O-oh! Fuck.., officer!", you blabbered incoherently as the intrusion of his length stretched your hole.

"-shit, such a tight little pussy", his pace greedily fastened.

You were a mess. All that was heard in the quiet night was the way he rammed his cock into your pussy. Balls slapping against your clit.

"Such a whore you are, aren't you? You like getting rammed from behind by an officer out in the outdoors?" he said as he continued abusing your cunt.

"Who would've thought a pretty thing like you was such a dirty slut, huh?" Your walls clenched by each word coming out of his filthy mouth.

"yes!yes!yes!", he fucked you deliciously good, your orgasm threatening to approach with his current pace.

You were cock drunk. Barely paying any kind of attention to the fact you were getting rammed out in public. Any person or car could pass by but your mind would only be focused on the way his dick drilled at a relentless speed.

His fingers sinked to your clit, rubbing your bud provoking your body to tremble in ecstasy of how he worked wonders on your body.

"Sir, i-it's too much!"

"You can take it ,baby. Milk my cock, make a mess.”

His words were perfectly on cue. Creaming his cock in your release. Falling limp into his arms. His release wasn't too far off yours. Head leaning into your neck as both of your panted. Silence went on for a few minutes before he helped with re-dressing you.

The officer broke the silence, "So, the names Jungkook. Could we perhaps exchange numbers, I'd like to take you out sometime soon.”

- end

#jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jungkook x female reader #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #fanfiction #fanfic #bts fanfic

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cupid-styles · 3 months

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Oh fuck tattoorry piercing his girl’s nipples would be so hot specially with how much she loves humiliation that entire interaction would be so sexually charged

this took me FOREVER but I hope you enjoy!!!!

part of the tattoorry/plugrry world

word count: 3k

content warnings: piercings (mentions of needles), spicy but no smut

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

"Wait, you're being serious?"

Harry huffs out a laugh, sticking his chopsticks in the to-go container of veggie lo mein. "Of course I'm being serious. Why would I lie about that, dovie?"

His response, though not meant to make her feel bad, makes her shrug, a warm blush blooming over the expanse of her cheeks. She stuffs another bite of dumpling in her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully to save her from further embarrassment in front of her boyfriend.

"Don't feel bad," he murmurs, his large palm finding the space between her shoulders, rubbing her sweatshirt-clad skin comfortingly. Her eyes stay glued to the television in front of them, where they're watching the newest episode of Ru-Paul's Drag Race per Y/N's request. (She's never watched it before and Jo, the receptionist at St. Mark's Social, told her she had to. Y/N's been steadily binging it for weeks. Harry pretends like he doesn't love it, but he's secretly just as invested.)

"Dove, look at me," he sighs, placing his food on the coffee table. She does, positioning herself to face him and flittering her eyes up to his face. He looks tired, but they both are. It's been a long week of work and school — however, Y/N was able to get an interview for the bookstore on campus, which ended up causing her a lot of stress and anxiety. It ultimately went well and they said they'd be getting back to her soon. Even if it wasn't the bookstore she wanted to work at, it was still a source of income that would hopefully replenish some of her savings and help her pay rent and bills.

"I shouldn't have laughed, I'm sorry I did that," he says softly, "It's just a given to me, because of my work. Nipple piercings aren't otherworldly, like they probably are for you."

She shouldn't be nitpicking, but somehow that hurts just as badly. Sometimes, she feels like a child around Harry. It's as if he's lived a thousand lives in the adult world and she's just recently gotten to have a smidgen of those experiences.

"It's not otherworldly," she says the word like it's an insult, and Harry has to press his lips into a line so he doesn't laugh, "I just didn't know people got them."

Clearing his throat, he forces himself to put on his professional piercer-and-tattooer face, "Yeah. It's something that anyone can get and I've done a fair amount of them. Semi-painful in the moment with a long healing time. They can look good on the right person, though."

That causes her eyebrows to nearly shoot up to her forehead.

"What do you mean, the right person?"

"You're just a nosy little thing tonight, aren't you?" Harry fires back with a smirk. She goes to cower with deflated shoulders but he instantly makes a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, grabbing her hands to keep her close, "I just mean, like any piercing, it doesn't always look right on the person. Sometimes people get nose or eyebrow piercings and it's like, oh, that's fine. But sometimes it's as if their anatomy looks complete with the piercing — almost like it's meant to be there, if that makes sense."

It doesn't, but it only continues to pique her curiosity even more.

"What about me?"

"What about you?" Harry chuckles, using a hand to smooth her hair down.

"What piercings would look good on me?"

He smirks at her little game. She plays this sometimes, and he assumes it only comes from a place of true wonder. When they talked about the drugs he's done before, she asked which ones he think she'd like. (None, except maybe for weed, but she has to get her anxiety under control before she tries it.) They went over different styles of tattoos when Y/N was interested in his work, especially when he explained that his are just a hodgepodge of designs, some with meaning, some without. (He said she can get whatever she wants if she decides on something one day, but he's particularly partial to a little "H" on her bum.) And now, she wants to know what piercings would fit her.

"You can get whatever you'd like, dovie," he replies, "Just as long as I'm the one doing it."

She rolls her eyes and leans her shoulder against the plush of the couch cushion. "Yeah, but you're the professional, Harry! You know what would look best on me."

"Anything would, you're gorgeous."

"That's a cop-out answer and you know it!"

Harry laughs loudly and places his hands atop her shoulders, "Okay, okay. Let me think, dovie. I need to assess my client."

"Oh, you're being a professional now?"

"Shhhh!" he exclaims, and it only makes her laugh harder. He's already gone to that focused place, though, with wandering but fixated eyes and that small crinkle between his eyebrows. She feels bashful beneath his gaze, blinking her eyes as he analyzes her facial features. She's watched him work before, but for some reason, this in particular reminds her of the first time they met, when she sat in on him tattooing Mai. She remembers the way her stomach warmed and her core throbbed at his attuned facial expression, similar to how it is now.

"Okay," he murmurs. Slowly, he reaches up to gently tap at the side of her nose. "I think you'd look very pretty with a small nose piercing."

"Really?"

He nods. "Yes, but you're beautiful with or without, so it doesn't matter. Plus, I can't have my girlfriend looking cooler than me."

She's not surprised at the way he instantly returns to his teasing self, even if it's not exactly the answer she was fishing for. She watches as he leans forward to grab his carton of noodles. With her tongue peeking out to moisten her lips, she attempts to grab his attention again.

"What about...?" she glances down at her chest. Harry looks at her with a quirked eyebrow. Her form is currently swallowed up in a sweatshirt that's a few sizes too large, so she realizes she's not being entirely specific about what she's asking. "Like...?"

"Huh?"

She sighs frustratedly, "My boobs!"

"Oh," Harry's eyes widen, flickering down to her covered breasts, "You wanna know if you'd look good with nipple piercings?"

She nods, nibbling on her bottom lip. She watches at the cogs turn in his brain, his gaze meeting hers a moment later.

"Need to see 'em." he says decidedly.

She huffs out a chuckle as he helps her peel her sweatshirt off, leaving her in a comfortable bralette. It's pale pink and sheer, but with Harry's hands splayed across her ribs, he still pulls the fabric down. In an instant, her nipples are stiff and peaked from the cold air, and she's attempting not to feel sheepish underneath his intense eyes as they flicker between her breasts.

"I don't know why I'm even contemplating it," he says, though it's mainly to himself, "Of course you'd look hot with them. You're you."

He looks up at her with a goofy grin before pressing a kiss between them. She blushes.

"You think so?" she asks as her hand finds the back of his neck. He nods, eyes flickering closed when her fingertips play with the shorter, curly tendrils.

"Of course."

"Would you do it, then?"

Harry's eyes shoot open. "Wait, what? I thought we were just... talking, I didn't think you were being serious."

Y/N shrugs, "I dunno, I kind of like the idea of it."

"Dovie... you only have your ears pierced," he mumbles, sitting up and reaching to gently touch her ear lobes, "If this is something you'd seriously want, I'd want you to think about it for at least, maybe, a few days, not just 10 minutes."

"I've never done anything impulsive, though," Y/N says through a whine. He understands it, and his face crinkles some at her request. "You've gotten tattoos while you were drunk! O-or given stupid ones to yourself!"

"I know, baby," Harry coos, "But those were stupid decisions and I don't want you to make the same ones. You're so much better than that."

She sighs dejectedly. He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks, then to her nose.

"I get it, dove, really. And by all means, I'd rather you get an impulsive piercing than a tattoo. But the healing time is really long, and it is painful. I just don't want you to regret it or... or get mad at me, either."

Y/N's heart softens a bit, nodding her head as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "No, I understand."

"If you still want them in a few weeks or months, I'm more than happy to be the one to do it," he says softly, reaching down to give her hand a small squeeze. She perks up a little at that, and he smiles. "Just give it some more thought, okay?"

. . .

Harry really, truly thought Y/N would never mention the whole nipple piercing thing again.

It turns out, his girl is way more stubborn than he could have ever anticipated, because it's been four weeks since then and she still wants them.

In fact, she's currently sitting in his little work zone, where he tattoos and pierces other clients. Not his girlfriend.

"Are you sure?" he asks for the thousandth time. In the time since she first brought it up, she's done tons of research, including asking Harry just short of a million questions. He appreciated her enthusiasm towards education, but talking about nipple piercings as soon as he finished up work wasn't always ideal. Still, though, he made sure to entertain anything she had to ask, even catching her looking up different jewelry styles and what it looked like on different people.

And, as soon as Jo accidentally overheard Y/N talking to him about it, of course she offered to show her own. Harry wanted to bang his head into a wall as he listened to them excitedly chatter in the corner, right after one of his employees bared her entire chest to his girlfriend. It had to be some type of workplace violation, only Harry served as the closest thing to Human Resources at the shop — and, considering they sold weed on the side, he didn't think he had much of a case against Jo.

It just so happened that Y/N got out of classes early on Wednesday and Harry hung around the shop those days, making deals and doing boring business administration things. When she asked if she could come by to get her piercings done, he reluctantly said yes.

It wasn't that he didn't absolutely love the idea of it — he did, actually, and his mouth nearly watered at the imagery it created in his brain. What he did hate was the thought of causing his girl any kind of pain. He was still in the camp of being fearful that she'd get angry at him if she didn't end up liking it. But her excitement towards it never wavered, and he would never be one to tell her no.

"Yes, I'm sure," Y/N replies, wringing her hands together in her lap. "I'm nervous, though."

"That's normal, dovie. Just try your best to relax, it's only me."

She nods as he shuts the door to give them some privacy. He never does that with clients, but he wants to make sure he's making it as comfortable as a process as possible — and, maybe he's keen on ensuring no one else gets a peek.

He busies himself with sanitizing his tools, washing his hands, and eventually pulling a pair of latex gloves on. He wishes he could make it a more fun experience for her, but the whole thing is quite medical.

"You already picked your jewelry out, right?" he asks lowly. She nods her head as she watches on.

"Mhm. I sent you a picture of it last week."

"Right, these simple pink barbels, hm?"

The piercing jewelry she'd chosen were pretty spot on to Y/N's aesthetic of being uncomplicated and feminine. When he saw what she picked, he immediately told her that it would fit her perfectly.

"Alright, I'm gonna clean them and then we can get started. Still feeling good?"

She nods again.

"You gonna tell me if you're gonna pass out again, baby?"

She scowls, remembering back to fainting from her first ear piercing. The sour, twisted frown on her face makes him laugh.

"That's still so embarrassing." she mumbles. On the newly cleaned workspace, Harry shakes his head, placing the sanitized jewelry and piercing supples down on it.

"Not embarrassing. Cute, actually," he corrects, peeling his gloves off. "Okay. I'm gonna help position you, is that okay?"

"Do you do that for every client?"

He narrows his eyes at her playfully, "No, you jealous little fiend."

She pulls her sweater off, revealing a pale blue baby tee. He swallows as she lays back on the extended table, taking a deep breath to surely calm her nerves. He gently squeezes her wrist, hovering over her form as she gets comfortable. When she shoots him a small nod, he smiles, flipping her shirt up.

"Okay, baby," he says, smoothing his hand over her stomach, "I'm sure you read this in your... insane amount of research—"

"Not insane."

He nods curtly, "Right, not insane," he quickly corrects. "Anyway, your nipples have to be hard for this. It helps with the placement."

She issues another silent nod his way but doesn't move to do anything. With a small smile, he gently cups her breast.

"Do you want me to?" he asks, his tone dropping lowly. She's not quite sure what he's even asking to do, but she still provides an affirmative answer. It's not a second more before he's latched his lips around her nipple, her eyes fluttering back from the sucking sensation. It's messy, the way he alternates between each one so they're swollen with his spit, and her fingers find his long curls, tugging at them gently to press him closer to her chest.

It feels like he's gone far too quickly, plushy, wet lips pressing a quick kiss to the valley between her breasts as he examines his work. Her mouth parts as she watches him bite his lip.

"You're good," he pants out, though he takes a moment to adjust the growing bulge in his pants, "Need to... put gloves back on."

They're both a bit lust-driven now, but Harry's quick to meld back into his professional persona after snapping a clean pair of gloves on his hands. Y/N swallows as he analyzes her, feeling squeamish beneath his eyes. Wordlessly, he grabs a marker and places two dots on either of her nipples.

"That's just for the placement," he explains, grabbing a mirror so she can look at where the jewelry would sit, "What do you think?"

Truthfully, they could have been completely wonky and Y/N wouldn't have noticed, let alone say anything. She trusts Harry implicitly, even if she still feels a bit hazy from the welcomed assault on her stiffened breasts.

"Good." she says with a nod, glancing up at him, "Looks good."

"Alright, baby," he replies. He turns to get the clean piercing needle from his rolling tray. "I'm gonna count down from three. I want you to close your eyes and inhale on three, then exhale on one. We'll take a short break after the first one, and then I'll do the second. Does that sound okay?"

"Mhm," she mumbles, nervously biting her lip. "Just do it, please. 'm gonna lose my nerve."

He chuckles and nods, instructing her to keep her eyes closed as he situates himself over her.

"Okay. Three— there you go, dovie, big, deep breath— two, one."

She immediately winces from the sharp bite of pain, a noisy gasp falling from her lips. Harry silently cringes to himself — not because the piercing isn't perfect, but because he absolutely hates knowing he's the reason why she's in pain right now.

"Keep your eyes closed, baby," he murmurs as he fits the jewelry through the first piercing, "Good girl. You're doing so good for me, hm? My strong baby."

She swallows harshly, hands balled into fists at her side. It's painful, that much is true, and she's beyond grateful when he finally finishes screwing the jewelry into place. She lets out a shaky breath and Harry coos, taking one of his gloves off to thumb her tears away.

"Was that okay, dovie?" he asks worriedly, "We can always save the second for another day."

Y/N quickly shakes her head, "No, no. Just do the other one now, otherwise I'll never have you do it."

Harry repeats the process on the other side. The pain is just as bad, tears continuing to cloud Y/N's vision and roll down her cheeks despite her keeping her eyes squeezed close. He shushes her softly throughout it, his heart tugging. Once he's finished, he's quick to wash his hands, listening to her quiet sniffles.

"I know baby, I know," he mumbles. He crosses the room as soon as he's done, sitting down next to her and brushing her hair back, "You did so good, you know that? 's all done, dovie, you're done."

She sniffs, batting her wet eyelashes up at him. "'s done?"

"Yeah, sweetheart." he says with a small, crooked smile. "You were so good. Took it like a champ."

"I didn't, I cried the whole time."

He chuckles and leans down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Do you wanna see them?"

She nods, nibbling on her bottom lip as he stands to grab the handheld mirror. He helps her slowly sit up, hinging at the waist. He holds it up to her chest, both pairs of their eyes staring at her swollen breasts. His eyes flitter to her face to gauge her expression, scared that she hates them.

"Wait," she mutters, cocking her head to the side, "Wait... they're kind of hot."

Relief floods Harry's system and he smirks. "You think so?"

"Yeah," she nods, sitting up on her knees, "I know they're kinda puffy right now but... I think I like them. A lot."

Harry swallows harshly, dropping the mirror on his chair. Suddenly, he's surging towards her and taking her cheeks between his large palms, smushing their lips together like his life depends on it. It takes her entirely by surprise, and it's hurried and hot and desperate, so much so that she's panting into his mouth and gripping at his black tee-shirt.

When he finally breaks their kiss, strings of spit still connecting their mouths, he keeps his forehead pressed against hers. Again, he glances down to get another look at her chest.

"I love you so fucking much," are the only words he can utter out before he's pulling her jeans down to bury his head between her legs.

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blueywrites · 3 months

Text

Thinking about spending Valentine's Day with older!Eddie.

18+, age gap (25ish - 40ish)

You're in your mid-twenties and he's in his early forties, and you've been dating for only a couple months before the holiday comes up. And Eddie had been surprised a pretty little thing like you would give him the time of day despite the fifteen-odd years between you. But you find him sexy, and sweet in a gruff sort of way, especially when he slings a protective arm over your shoulder when you walk down the sidewalk together, tucking you to the inside as he sucks on the end of his cigarette. His leather jacket smells like Camels and tangy motor oil, musk and home, and you must be getting soft on him because you don't even scrunch your nose anymore at the acrid sting of smoke in your nose. The world has left him grizzled and huffy, nearly perpetually tired, but Eddie's deep smile lines ease back into boyish dimples at the sound of your bright laughter and the hook of your small pinkie around his rougher one. He calls you 'sugar' and buys you the big milkshake when you asked for the small, husking a fond chuckle when you pout and whine about it being too much. You melt a little when his fingers graze the hem of your skirt as he walks behind you, just a little idle brush like he wants to remember how soft you are.

He shows up at your apartment door standing stiffly with a frilly pink bag strap clutched in his tatted knuckles, like he knows what an eyesore he must be with it. You don't think so, though. Not when you pull out the purple Jellycat bunny with a squeal of unabashed delight, nor even when he grumbles about 'how expensive a damn stuffed animal was' as you throw your arms over his broad shoulders, pressing kiss after kiss to his stubbly cheek until he scowls and goes pink up to his ears. "Lemme get the fuckin' door closed at least," he grumbles, "'fore that bitch next door gives me the evil eye again for defilin' you in front of the neighbors." But you know he's secretly pleased that you'd kiss him anywhere, anytime, no matter who sees.

You'd given him your Valentine's day present: his favorite meal and a tin of too-many cupcakes to take home and indulge in after his shifts this week. Now he's underneath you, warm and solid, body strong but gone softer in some places than he'd been when he used to be your age. He's beautiful there - his dark hair unbound across your duvet, streaked with gentle gray, faded in places like the tattoos that cover him in a tapestry of passed time and grim imagery. His weathered fingers press bluntly into the supple curve of your waist, and he watches with heavy-lidded eyes as his hips punch little mewls out of you from below, impacts that you take eagerly as you let him hold you in place and work you over. His voice is all husk and grit, rich like whiskey as he murmurs to you. "Got the sweetest little pussy, sugar. All for me, hm?"

Your head lolls back on a breathy moan, eyes slipping closed as your fingers tighten where your hands are planted on his chest. It makes him hiss with pleasure when they catch on and pull the wiry hair there. "Yes, Eddie," you sigh, soft where he is rough, your heart throbbing in time with his. "My pussy is yours. All yours."

He's fucking you fuzzy and near dumb, but you manage to roll your head forward and blink your eyes open to catch his heavy gaze. "I'm yours," you say, aching at the way his face shifts when you add so sincerely, "Want everything with you."

He doesn't answer you. But once he's rendered you boneless and sated, sticky with his release leaking between your thighs, you can feel that reply in the gentleness of his arms as they wrap around you, the slant of his lips as they press to your temple, the tender way he brushes back your hair and draws his thumb over your dewy brow.

The world has left Eddie grizzled and tired, but you are making him new.

happy Valentine's Day 🩷

#blueywrites #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic

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evie-sturns · 3 months

Text

ɢᴇᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

summary: you're spending the weekend at the sturniolos house, you've never had feeling for matt, but this weekend has been different, he just looks too good, the sexual frustration builds up to the point where you just have to get yourself off, but matt walks in on you..

Warnings: swearing, smut, f!masturbation, caught gettin freaky w yourself, fingering, p in v.

-----------------┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛-------------

i'm spending the weekend with my best friends, the sturniolos. i've never had any feelings for them, but this past week matt has been looking.. different. he's recently got more tattoos, his facial hair has grown out slightly, giving him a subtle moustache. matt's been wearing different earrings, longer ones, i've never thought about him this way, it weirds me out, but i can't help myself. i've had no privacy for the past 3 days though, constantly with a triplet. i've wanted to touch myself, but i physically cant.

i open the trash can, throwing in me, matt, nick and chris's empty solo cups, which were filled with rootbeer.

"im so fucking tired what time is it." chris yawns, standing up from the dining table.

"1:30am." nick mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

"okay guys, i'm going to bed yeah? gotta be up early for the beach tomorrow" chris says, doing stupid claps with a wide grin on his face.

i scoff, waving him goodbye as he disappears upstairs. nick runs over to me, giving me a quick hug "i'm gonna sleep too, love ya y/n, see you in the morning."

me and matt stand in the kitchen, i lean on the countertop slightly, scrolling on our phones. his face is lit by his screen, highlighting his features. i don't even notice the fact i'm squeezing my thighs together until he looks up at me.

"you okay, mrs. staring problem" he jokes, giving me a smile. my cheeks flush, i uncross my thighs and wipe my face quickly. "sorry." i say, quickly.

"i'm gonna go watch a movie okay? my rooms always open." i say, giving matt a hug.

i get butterflies, why the fuck did i get butterflies?

i feel a heat grow between my legs, i run upstairs, going into the spare room which im staying in for the next few days. i lock the door behind me,

atleast i think i do.

i flop down on the bed, my hand reaches under my waistband, tracing soft circles over my fabric of my panties. "fuck." i whisper before shimmying my shorts and panties down in one motion to my ankles.

im left with my bottom half revealed on the bed, i use one finger to trace my clit in circles. i squirm on the bed, restraining my moans. after a few minutes i plunge two fingers into my hole, pumping in and out.

my mind subconsciously flicks to matt, his tattoos, which crawl up his arms, his hair, his hands, i wonder what they would look like around my neck-

the door opens, my eyes bulge open, me and matt make direct eye contact, i instantly yank up my shorts,

"get out please!" i say, my voice shaking, as i sit up quickly

"oh fuck im so sorry!" he yells slamming the door shut, his face pale.

i fall back on the bed, covering my face with a long groan.

embarrasment.

is the only thing i feel, my heart pounds as i bring my knees to my chest.

after 10 minutes, i hear a quiet knock on the door, i sit up off the bed, walking towards the door and opening it.

im met with matts guilty face, his cheeks are flushed, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

he opens his mouth, nothing comes out execpt for a small noise. he clears his throat "sorry."

"i uh, sorry um, i really shouldve knocked." he says fidgeting with his hand. i stay silent, my cheeks cherry red. "i swear i didn't see much." he assures, i look up at him, raising an eyebrow in a 'really?' way. he stares at me "maybe thats a lie, but i swear ill blank it out of my mind!" he says, his voice frantic.

"its fine matt, i shouldve locked the door okay? lets go watch a movie in your room." i say, giving matt a warm smile. he nods, walking towards his room.

i follow close behind him as he jumps into bed, laying an arms out, i jump in beside him, cuddling close into his side.

my heart beats again, when im nervous words just come out.

"i was thinking about you when i was touching myself." i blurt out, slamming a hand over my mouth. the room goes silent. im frozen in shock.

"what?" he says in confusion.

"not true." i mumble out. my hand glued to my mouth.

matt tenses up under me. "y/n.. you have to tell me right now what your were thinking about.." he says, calmer than expected/

i stay silent.

"y/n." hes cut off by my voice.

"you it was you, i don't know!" i say, my voice trembling from embarrassment.

"what about me?" matt teases, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly

"tattoos, hair, hands" my mouth is moving faster than my brain.

"is that so now?" he says, looking down at me.

i nod quickly, matt sits up on his knees before hovering over me. i look up at him, my eyes submissive.

he smashes his lips into mine, holding the back of my head. "matt" i whine into his mouth. "i know, i know." he says, pulling my shorts down. "can i?" he says, toying with the waistband of my panties.

"please." i beg, lifing my hips up to help him. he leans down and whispers into my hair.

"whats gonna happen is you're gonna ride me, and you arent going to make a single noise, nick and chris are right next door."

i nod, flipping us over, straddling his thighs with my bare lower half.

he pulls down his sweatpants, his large erection springing out. "you ready?" he says, tearing open a condom with his teeth and rolling it on him. "i really like you.." i whisper, hovering above his tip. "you need help sweatheart?" matt speaks, holding my ass.

i didn't, i just wanted to feel his hands on me.

"yes,- yeah please.."

he lowers me down onto him, halfway down. suddenly he drops me, my ass colliding with his thighs, i let out a gasp as he smiles, he lifts me back up to his tip, before dropping me again.

i let out a shaky moan, matt holds a hand over my mouth. "can't stay quiet can you baby?" he teases, lifting me up and down.

i squeeze my eyes shut, pushing myself up and down with my hands on his collar bones. i let out muffled whimpers, his hand clamped onto my lips.

"so good princess." he praises, lifting me up and down faster.

"you're clenching, gonna cum for me?"

i nod frantically,

"go on." he says, i instantly comply, orgasming on his length.

he groans before pulling out of me, his cum spilling into his condom. i instantly collapse on his chest. matt whispers praises in my ear.

i place a long kiss on his neck.

"pretty glad i didn't lock the door." i say in between breaths

—-———-----┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛------------------

had a shitty day today so i wrote matt smut LMAO

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut

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risuola · 9 months

Text

FACE MASSAGE — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN ft. Yuji Itadori

You give your boyfriend a nice, relaxing face massage when Sukuna, being bored out of his mind, takes over Yuji’s body.

cw: fluff, Itadori is 18 and is a vessel for Sukuna — 1,3k words

a/n: alrighty, this one I wrote randomly thinking of how the lines actually are quite a good guide for a face massage (also, if you never had face or a scalp massage, you're missing out!). i usually write Sukuna as his separate person, but here he's in a vessel. it's nothing but purely fluffed up piece of late-night babbling, enjoy 🩷

It was already late, the clock showed almost 11pm, but you were not asleep. Yuji had just gotten home, taken a shower, and breathed out loudly, whining to heavens about how he had worked his butt off during the training session with Gojo. Your boyfriend came back all tired, and the hot shower didn't do much to soothe his strained muscles.

"I'm soooo tired," he whined again, and you couldn't help but smile at the adorable pout his lips had formed as he walked into the room you shared with him.

"'My poor thing," you cooed, kissing his forehead as he sat down next to you. "How about I give you a little face massage?"

"Yes, please," Itadori nodded vigorously and you giggled as you instructed him how to position himself and when you had his head comfortably over your lap, you warmed up a nice portion of face cream in your palms.

"Relax for me, baby," you told him, and he closed his eyes the moment your fingers made contact with his skin.

Yuji loved the magic your hands performed upon his aching muscles, and he found head and face massages particularly relaxing, so it wasn't surprising when he began to doze off in a matter of moments. With him half-asleep, you could take your time to admire the boy who had shamelessly stolen your heart with just one of his wide and extremely kind smiles, and as you glided your fingers smoothly across his forehead, down his temples, cheekbones, and jaw, you fell in love all over again. At first you were extremely gentle, stroking along his features, warming the skin as you went, before applying more pressure to the knots under his skin.

You rubbed small circles across his forehead, paying a little more attention to the space between his eyebrows and near his temples before lowering your hands to work the lotion into the large muscles over his cheeks. Using your thumbs, you forced the tension away with enough pressure to make Yuji purr softly. Then something unexpected happened. Black, tattoo-like lines appeared under your fingers and you slowed your movements, startled by the sight.

You knew that there is a curse living rent-free in your boyfriend, and you've seen Sukuna before, but he had never come out like that, for no reason, without a fight, without a single trigger, so you had no idea what to expect.

"Continue," he ordered, and you swallowed, pressing your fingertips back to his cheeks. Ironically, the lines that adorned his face made for a perfect guide for the massage, and you unconsciously followed them.

"Is there a reason for your appearance now?" you asked cautiously, keeping your fingernails away from the extra pair of eyes as you brushed over the bones beneath them.

"Nothing in particular," he replied lightly, looking up at you as his expression turned more serious. "Although I don't like you looking at me from above."

"You're literally on my lap."

"That's why I'll allow it, once. As for why," he relaxed his face again as you slid down his cheeks to work the muscle around his mouth and along his jawline. "Can you imagine how bored I am inside this brat?"

"I'm afraid not."

"You can't, that's right." A sigh left Sukuna's mouth. "What a pity, I'm bored out of my mind."

"I see, but please don't tire Yuji any more, he's already exhausted."

"You should worry about yourself rather than him being tired."

"I probably should, but if you were to decide to kill me now, you wouldn't get to experience the wonders of my scalp massage, so if you're okay with such a loss..."

You were really pushing his buttons here, being way too brave for your own good, but he seemed comfortable with the situation, which gave you hope that you wouldn't be decapitated anytime soon.

"Proceed then, and I'll make my decision afterward."

You finished his facial massage with a few light strokes along his features and wiped your hands with a tissue to remove any excess cream that hadn't absorbed yet, before you sink your hands into his hair. "Could you flip over to your stomach?" Once that was done, and Sukuna turned almost too obediently as you guided his head back to your lap, you used your fingers to brush through his blush-toned hair, pushing it back and purposefully scratching the skin between the strands as you dragged your hands to the nape of his neck. Once again, you used circular motions and quite a bit of pressure to stimulate the circulation and relax the tense muscles. You knew it was pleasurable, you knew how Yuji's body reacted to your touch and the fact that it was the King of Curses at this moment couldn't change that. The only thing different was the silence, which would normally be filled with constant mewling and whimpering from your boyfriend, but you couldn't expect those from Sukuna. Frankly, you'd be startled if he suddenly started purring.

As you worked your magic, the man remained calm, his cheek pressed against your thigh and his arms behind your back and around your legs, and it didn't really bother you too much. His touch was almost non-existent, he just kept his hands there because they had to go somewhere.

"Do you find this acceptable?" you asked quietly, lowering your fingers to graze the back of his neck. Your thumbs slid down the line of muscles that connected them to his shoulders, and he moved his arms down, giving you more access to that area.

"Acceptable is a good term," he muttered, exhaling deeply as you firmly squeezed the shoulder muscles, working out the tight knots there. Normally, this would turn Itadori into a whining mess, needy of affection and ready for endless cuddles, but for Sukuna, you put more effort into what you were doing. It felt strange. Technically, it was still your boyfriend's body that you had touched many times before, but somehow it felt like you were massaging a foreign man. Even though your fingertips knew the dips and curves of his silhouette, your mind found it hard to process.

Lost in thoughts, you let your hands go lower, onto the shoulder blades and near the spine, following the line down, working your palms into his toned back, only snapping back to reality when one of your hands brushed over the stitches. Oh yes, Yuji had injured himself the day before and because of Shoko's absence, he had to have the wound stitched up. He shouldn't be training with that at all, but he's so stubborn...

"Sukuna?", you addressed him quietly, trying to sound as respectful and polite as possible.

"What do you want?" he replied, his voice indifferent, but he knew from your tone that you needed something from him.

"There is a wound on Yuji's back. Could you heal it so that I can massage that area as well?"

“I don’t mind the pain. I don’t feel it,” he informed bluntly.

“But I can’t massage over stitches. I know it’s nothing for you, so pleaseee?”

"You're pushing your luck, you know that, right?" Sukuna laughed. Oh, how sneaky you were, he loved it, and it's only because he really enjoyed the massage that he granted your request. The sewn-up wound healed before your eyes and black stitches fell away. Your whole face lit up as you ran your hand over the spot.

"Thank youu," you smiled, and as if on autopilot, your body bent forward. You planted a soft kiss on the top of his head before you could think twice and only realized what you'd done when it was too late. Oh. "I'm sorry," you muttered quickly.

"You're so fucking clingy," he scoffed. "Humans..."

"Don't be mad, I'm just grateful," you cooed, returning your nails to his scalp to hopefully distract him from wanting to cut you to ribbons, and it seemed to do the trick as he melted over your thigh, relaxing his body once again.

In few minutes the black markings disappeared, your boyfriend was back and you were left confused but relieved.

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harrysfolklore · 3 months

Text

uncle harry

gif by @kiwikiwiandkiwi <3

im so soft rn, enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The phone ringing in the middle of the night meant bad news most of the times.

However, when you and Harry were woken up by the sound of his ringtone, his mum on the other line frantically saying "It's time! The baby is coming!", you couldn't be happier.

Gemma broke the news that she was expecting a few months ago and Harry was man enough to admit that he cried a waterfall, not being able to contain his happiness over becoming an uncle.

And you were absolutely melted at the sight of him being excited about it, every single time he went out, he would come back with stuff for the baby, he face-timed his sister every night and overall he couldn't stop talking about being an uncle.

When Harry found out that he was going to have a niece, his excitement reached a whole new level. He started planning everything, from what he would teach her to the tattoo he would get for her once she was born, and once again, it made your heart burst to see your boyfriend so excited.

So now you headed to the hospital, ready to meet the brand new addition to the Styles family.

"I'm so excited," Harry said as he drove through the streets of London, holding your hand, "I can'y believe Gemma is a mummy now, feels like just yesterday we were pulling each other's hair and arguing over the last piece of cheesecake."

You smiled at him, kissing his knuckles softly and placing your intertwined hands on your thigh, "Feels like just yesterday I met her for the first time at your show, I was so nervous!"

"You really were, lovie," he smiled at the memory, "And you ended up becoming inseparable."

"What can I say? She's the cooler Styles."

Harry gave you a side eye and then laughed along with you, the rest of the drive was quiet and soon enough you were pulling up to the hospital where a few family members already stopped by to meet the little bundle of joy.

"Are you ready to meet your niece?" you turned to look at him as you unbuckled your seat belt, noticing that he had small tears in his eyes, "H? Baby are you crying?" you grabbed his chin and couldn't help but smile tenderly when he looked at you with watery eyes, "Oh my gosh, you're too adorable."

"I just, I can't believe I'm about to meet my sister's baby, that's insane."

You kissed his lips shortly, grabbing his face with both of your hands when you pulled away.

"She's already so lucky to have the best uncle in the world," you pecked his lips again, "Now let's go, I'm eager to meet her too."

You and Harry entered the hospital, hand in hand, ready to meet the newest member of the Styles family. As you approached Gemma's room, you could hear the sounds of laughter and joy coming from inside.

When you walked in, you were greeted by a room full of close family members, the room was pretty spacious and had a spare area where visitors could hang around without disturbing Gemma and the baby. Anne immediately approached both of you, happiness radiating from her eyes.

"You made it!" she said as she hugged you, turning to Harry when you pulled away, "H, baby! I'm a grandmother!"

"And I'm an uncle! Holy shit!"

You melted at the interaction, over the years the Styles-Twist family had taken you as one of their own and you were happy to be present for important moments like this.

"How is Gem? Is she awake? Can we see the baby now?" Harry eagerly asked after hugging his mom.

"She is fine, doing amazing," Anne said proudly, "Michal is inside with her, let's go."

Anne guided you to the door that lead to Gemma's private room, Harry squeezed your hand and you walked next to him, excitement evident on his every step.

Anne opened the door, peeking her head inside, "Your brother is here."

You and Harry walked in, Gemma was lying on the bed looking tired but happy nevertheless, a tiny head peeking from the blanket on her arms.

"About damn time, I was about to pick a different godfather for her if he didn't show up soon," Gemma sassed, making Harry turn his head back in laughter.

"Dammit, you're really a mum now," he approached his sister, you decided to stay back with Anne, "The bloke your brought to my concert years ago really was the one huh? Who would've thought."

"What can I say, mate? You trying to sabotage our date was kind of our blessing." Michal chimed in, standing next to Harry and patting his back.

"Congratulations, mate. I can't think of a better guy for my sister." Harry said as he hugged him, everyone looking at the scene tenderly.

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to hold your niece now?" Gemma wiggled his eyebrows at Harry, holding out her arms to him.

Harry took the baby into his arms, his face lighting up with pure joy. He cradled her gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Hello, beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm your Uncle Harry, and I already love you so much."

You felt your eyes get watery at the sight, Harry looked up at you and urged you to come closer to him and the baby.

"This is your auntie," he cooed to the baby again once you were standing next to him, "She's the coolest ever and makes the best pancakes, you're going to absolutely love her just like I do."

"She's gorgeous," you said as you looked at the baby's face, "Congratulations, Gem."

"Thank you," Gemma said softly, a tired smile on her face but her eyes shining with gratitude.

"Just so you know," Harry looked at Gemma with a serious face, "She's not allowed to have any boyfriends until she's like 30."

Michal laughed and agreed with Harry, you rolled your eyes at him and Gemma shook her head.

"Uncle overprotective, that's what you are," Gemma said, a yawn coming out of her mouth right after, "I can't even imagine how is it going to be when you have your own kid."

You felt butterflies in your stomach at this, Harry giving you a small smile and winking at you.

"Let me put a ring on her finger first please," he turned to look at Gemma, "Because unlike you, sister, I'm not having children out of wedlock."

"Come on, now!" Michal protested, making the entire room laugh.

Hours passed and Harry was glued to the baby, babbling nonsense to her and cooing at every little thing she did. Eventually Gemma drifted off to sleep and that was everyone's cue to leave and let both her and the baby rest.

"I'm so happy right now," Harry said as you drove back to your house, "I feel so happy for Gemma, and for our family."

"She's going to be the best mum ever," you looked away from the window to face him, "And you're going to be the best uncle."

"Thank you for being here with me today, for sharing this moment with me. I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, leaning in to kiss him softly. "I'm so happy for you, for all of us. Today was perfect."

"And I meant what I said back there, I'm not letting her have a boyfriend until she's 30."

"Whatever you say, uncle overprotective!"

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inkyray · 1 month

Text

INKED

MATT STURNIOLO

a/n: this is my first oneshot and i deadass have no idea what im doing, go easy on me. im so used to writing full stories i kind of struggle with stand alone oneshots but yeah, i appreciate constructive criticism

3.6k words

warnings/content ahead: the bitch is getting tattooed yall, smut, p in v, brief fingering, degrading, hair pulling, the plot that leads up to the smut is longer than the smut itself ☠️

๑

You felt the prickly needle press ink in and out of your flesh, it spared small stings that you didn't exactly hate. Nick sat on his living room couch not far away from you, but still far enough to raise his voice a little so you could properly hear him. He had a good bond with the tattoo artist, and she didn't mind coming to his house to ink him up.

Nick sat with his short sleeve rolled above his shoulder, revealing a tattoo he had just got done with. His shoulder is sore and red, covered in a layer of antibiotic ointment and plastic wrap. Earlier today he had invited you over, since he knew how long you've been wanting a tattoo, and you had decided you know what, fuck it. You tagged along. You and Nick are close, he's one of your only best friends in LA, since it isn't really where you're originally from. You two would hang out any chance the other was free.

It often got annoying for his other brothers how much you were around, but they had caught a quick loving for you and found the place empty and weird when you weren't there, considering how much you were with Nick.

The buzzing of the tattoo machine filled the silent void before it was interrupted by a TikTok Nick was watching on full volume, making you two laugh as the tattoo artist held down on your waist to keep you from messing her up. You were getting a tramp stamp tattoo on your lower back, your sweatpants folded right on where your underwear begins.

A few minutes pass of just buzzing, your stinging skin, loud TikToks, and the smell of antiseptic.

"We should make a TikTok." Nick announced after a while. You raise an eyebrow, "Now?" you wondered. Nick nods, taking the throw blanket from off of him and getting up. "I don't know Nick, kind of in the middle of getting a tattoo." You smiled up at him as he got closer. You were laying on your stomach, your body against the black leather chair wrapped in plastic, but your elbows kept the rest of your body that weren't your ribs, up, so you could use your phone.

"Oh please, you look hot as hell right now." He stood, chuckling. You rolled your eyes. "Nick. I'm in sweatpants and a tank." Nick looked at you from his phone, tapping a few things on there which you assumed had to do with TikTok. He quite literally sighed. "You are so unaware of yourself, girl."

You shrugged and blew him a kiss. "So TikTok or nah? I want to do, like a transition of our tattoos and us lip syncing to some shit song from the 2010's. I already made a draft of myself doing it before I got this bad boy." He points to his new splotchy tattoo of the bat on his shoulder. "Yeah, guess so. You're gonna have to film me in the midst of getting my tattoo, though. I didn't exactly record myself before this."

With the press of a time skip button, you guys filmed the TikTok, posted it, and Nick declared he was tired, going for a nap to his room. This wasn't out of the ordinary for him to be asleep with you here, you'd do it all the time when he was at your place, and either one of you guys eventually followed in the others footsteps, finishing whatever you were doing and going to lay beside them to sleep too.

The front door of the house opened, and you already knew it was Matt and Chris. They were running errands for their manager and Nick had decided to stay behind with you, since you were planning on getting tattoos together. Footsteps creep into the place and you wait for their reaction. They didn't exactly know you were also getting one, and they knew about your commitment issues with tattoos, so this was kind of a big deal.

Chris walks in first and doesn't even turn to look at you, assuming you were Nick getting tattooed. "You're still getting inked? How big is your bat supposed to be, Nick." He grabs a Pepsi from the fridge and pops it open. "Pretty big." You answered, your head resting on your palm as he turned to look at you, Matt following closely behind.

"Oh, shit." Chris gulps down the Pepsi, walking over to you as he inspects the tattoo on your lower back. "How does it look?" You question as you see Matt stop in his tracks and come closer to get a better look at it. "Fucking sexy. Good job." He holds out his fist and you bump it, smiling at the comment.

You feel Matt's gaze linger too long on your skin as Chris goes back into the kitchen, making another comment about the tattoo you didn't quite catch. The stinging on your back now feels ice cold. "What do you think, Matt?" You wonder, turning your head slightly to look at him.

"Bold. For someone like you." He mutters, walking over to the kitchen to grab a root beer, maneuvering around Chris since he's constantly in his way. You scoff. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Is Nick sleeping?" Chris asks, you nod, he quickly goes looking for him.

"What I mean is that it's a tattoo decision I would've never thought you'd pick." Matt says, looking at you from the kitchen as he sips from his drink. This could mean so many things and you found yourself getting confused. What? "Matt, I'm gonna need you to elaborate."

It wasn't a secret that you were the least closest with Matt. Everytime you'd try to do the things you'd do with Nick but with him, there'd be some sort of thick invisible fog in the air, making you hyper-aware of everything you're doing and saying. Your chest always felt too heavy around Matt and the tension it weighed on you was too much. It wasn't normal, and you were sure Matt could feel it too. You knew a lot of stuff about him, and he knew a lot about you, but there was something between you two keeping you from taking the extra step of declaring you guys close.

He lets his eye's dart everywhere in thought, putting together how he's going to explain it to you. "Mmmm," he mumbles, "...no." He decides as he begins to leave the room, stopping in his tracks before he fully leaves, peeking his head around the corner. "You look good though, what Chris said." And he leaves.

You are beyond confused, you turn your head toward the tattoo artist, who was sharing the same look on her face. She spared you a shrug.

It's been a few weeks and your tattoo is fully healed, you loved the way you felt with it. The urge to get a million more tattoos on you was strong, but you held back.

On the other hand, being around Matt had begun getting more unbearable by the day. When you two were left alone, there was nothing to talk about. You would shift uncomfortably and he would bring out his phone as a distraction, doing nothing significant on it other than switch between apps. You were too aware of the other and the air around you would increasingly thicken. You were sure if you tried, you could slice through it with a knife.

Right now, was one of those times. Matt in the driver's seat and you were in the middle back seat, Chris and Nick had gone inside a store to grab a few stuff.

You watched his fingers tap the steering wheel, his thumb patiently rubbing against it, studying the fact they were slender and long, trained by veins that went down his hands. They looked so perfect under the gleaming hour of the sun. His nails weren't painted, so his short nails naturally colored themselves pink with a small white hill on his thumb. You let your imagination run free. Touching the dip of your waist or massaging the inside of your thigh. His fingers curving themselves inside you…

His eyes darted at the rear mirror, catching you focused on his hands. It took you a second too long to realize that. You looked up at the mirror and found his blue eyes fixated on you, dark hair sitting across his forehead and strands messily on his eyes. Your heart gave you a loud thump and a punch in the face of flushing blood. You didn't look away from his eyes, but you could still see his thumb grazing against the steering wheel.

Your brain was empty of words. You had no idea what to say and you were sure neither did he, until he began to speak. "What ever happened to that tattoo?" He asked, still looking at you from the mirror. You furrowed your eyebrows. It takes you a second until you realize he was talking about the tramp stamp you have. "It ran away." You answered blankly, because what kind of question was that supposed to be.

Matt sighed, looking out of the window, you watched him look outside as you calculated the messy hair that didn't seem too bad to pull on. "I mean, it never made an appearance again. No one ever saw it ever since you got it." He said. A small smile forms onto your mouth. "Some people have seen it." You mutter lightly, not bothering to look away from him as he goes back looking at you.

"Is that so?" He wasn't smiling, his face was processing a look of annoyance. You wink.

The car doors are pulled open and in one sudden movement, Chris comes in with a laugh and sits next to you, Nick follows closely behind, chuckling in that deep-voiced way he does after he made a joke he was proud of, and seating himself in the passenger seat. "Why are you sitting here?" Matt questions, not bothering to ask what they're laughing at. Chris takes out a Mento and offers you one, you reluctantly take it and let it sit in your mouth, wanting to suck the flavor out before you chew it.

Nick laughs even harder. "Oh, I didn't even realize I was sitting here. Chris, and you just let me?" Chris cackles, "It doesn't matter Nick, it's just the passenger seat." He puts an arm around you. "Plus I wanted to sit with her." He tells you specifically, looking at you as he begins to chew the Mento. "How I am honored." You sarcastically put a hand to your heart, not once taking your eyes off Matt. He was expressionless and began driving.

The conversation held on and turned into a different topic, you would make sly remarks here and there but for you, the entire ride home was hard. Matt would catch you staring at him, and when he had to turn the car back with his hand behind Nick's headrest, he would look at you longer than the road behind him. He didn't look really… pleased. Which had you amused.

He was upset that he wasn't one of the people who got to see your tattoo finished and healed, and you were catching onto that. The longer they'd drive, the more stern his expression would shift. He got progressively more and more irritated throughout the ride.

They make it home and Matt doesn't even give you a glance, he immediately heads to his bedroom and makes it known by his silence he'd like to be left alone. Okay, drama queen. You thought.

You had to go see what was up, it was just in you. After the conversation you two barely had and the eye content you held, which you were pretty sure was a hallucination you pulled out of your ass, you were curious to see just how riled up he was. Or you could get him.

Chris and Nick get a call from their manager saying she's outside, picking them up so she could explain to Nick something that had to do with their merch. Apparently she already spoke about it to Matt, so it'd just be Chris and Nick going to their studio warehouse to see, since that's where all their merch first goes.When they leave, your thought process changes in a matter of seconds. Seeing how upset he is, you want to see how hard you could push his buttons.

You approach his room and knock 3 times. No answer is received, you raise your fist to knock a second time, and by the first knock the door is pulled half open, revealing Matt looking down at you, expecting you. "What?" He asks, his eyelids drooping as he looks at you blankly. He changed into gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt.

"Can I come lay down next to you? I barely got any sleep last night." You lightly fluttered your lashes at him, holding your phone with both your hands. Matt stares at you, inspecting just how tired you looked. You looked fine, but he still opened the door wide enough for you to enter, not saying anything.

You lay on his silk bed sheets. Silk. What a slut. He sits in front of his computer, and boots open a game, not bothering to acknowledge you here. You don't like that. After leaving yourself alone with your thoughts for a while today, the least thing you wanted was to be ignored. Especially by him. Even if it meant annoying him, you just wanted to have some sort of contact with him. Either verbally or physically, you don't mind a single bit.

You clear your throat. "Thanks, Matty." He grimaces at the nickname, used to hearing his family say to him, but not from you. "My legs have been hurting all day." You say, cuddling into his pillows, stretching hard enough to arch your back. A real yawn escapes your lips.

"You don't work out, don't play that dumb shit with me." He says, turning his head to look at you for a moment, before turning back to look at his monitor. "Who said anything about working out?" You tell him. He stops, completely forgetting what he was supposed to be looking at.

"I don't know, I guess my tattoo really does magical wonders for me." A smile slips through your lips as you turn the other direction, your back facing him as your shirt exposes the tattoo, your pants hanging dangerously low on your hips.

You can't see him, but you hear him turn, and you feel yourself getting excited. "Why'd you get it?" He asks and you turn your head softly to look at him. His question was simple, but the expression on his face certainly wasn't. "Why does anybody really get a tramp stamp, Matty?" You respond to his question with another one, and he is giving you a look of impatience.

"Just fucking answer me right now, sweetheart." His voice isn't loud, but his anger is. He practically huffs and you feel yourself getting immensely more attracted to his aggressiveness. You turn your head back to the other side, leaving him unanswered as he burns holes in the back of hair, knowing that would tick him off.

You hear shuffling and then the bed dips, and your heart literally does skip a beat. You swallow your built up spit down your throat as Matt grasps your jaw and makes you look at him, your eyes meeting his blue ones immediately. "Don't look away from me, y/n. Why'd you get that fucking tattoo?" He held your jaw firmly. He was on the bed rooted on his knees, looking down at you as you laid on his pillows.

Your smile somehow got wider, flashing him your white teeth as you slowly parted them to answer. "So you could fuck me." Your eyes were staring intensely at him but in a lazy manner.

Matt's eyes narrowed, darting between your eyes and your mouth. "You fucking whore." He muttered, his lips pressing onto yours so much faster than you could say the word 'whore' itself. Your eyes screwed itself shut and took the opportunity as fast as you could, kissing him back harsher.

He let go of the kiss too quickly, which only frustrated you. "You got that tattooed for me, baby?" He wonders, his voice is hoarse and breathy. You nod so fast your hold almost fell off, and as embarrassing as it was, it was true.

You had only 1 body since before the tattoo, and you barely even counted it. Constantly being around Matt but not knowing how to go about it made you more desperate. He did something to you no one had ever done. Sometimes you would feel yourself pulsing for him, imagining your fingers as his.

The reason why you had even begun considering a tramp stamp is because of the sick fantasies that they held, using Matt as its lead.

Recently you got laid, and it was underwhelming and disappointing. Your legs actually hurted because you did a few squats the day prior, not because the sex was good.

"You fucking liar." He was smiling but nothing in his tone was friendly, his eyebrows were furrowed but his grin was undeniable. You licked his mouth and he pressed against your lips. "I wouldn't lie to you, Matty." You moan into the kiss, feeling his hand trail down your body and to your waist. A hand was on the dip of your waist and the other was holding your jaw secure.

Your heart was quite literally out of its body now, his soft hand trailing to feel your bare skin under your shirt, grazing just the hill of your bare chest, purposely not touching your nipples. In a sudden movement, he cups your breast and your whimper is muffled under the kiss.

He has his knees caging both sides of your thigh, pressing his knee into you. He smirks as you gasp. "Lift your hips for me?" He pulls away, a small string of saliva connecting you two. You look straight at his eyes as you lift them, making sure he holds eye contact. And he does. He does as he curls his fingers along the strap of your pants and shoves them off.

"Let me see it." He orders. You grin, raising an eyebrow. "That could go for a lot of stuff." He grabs the side of your underwear and lets go of it, having it snap against your skin. "The tattoo. I want to see it." His voice is more demanding, more gruffly. Your pussy was soaked.

"No." You tell him all with a sly smile, you liked him aggressive and didn't mind seeing how far he'd go. In a sudden movement, you are flipped to your stomach, your hair is being gripped by his hand, pulling your head up as you feel his fingers tracing your tattoo. His fingers were too light. Too soft on your skin, you felt your back arch as he decided to balance the softness with a harsh slap on your ass.

Some hair was loose, out of his grip, resting on your back. The rest are being pulled closer to him, you feel his hot breath whisper in your ear. "You slut." A smirk spreads on your face, biting your bottom lip close enough to leave it bleeding. "You talk a lot." You tell him. He forces your shirt from off of you, leaving you just in your black lace panties.

You're still on your stomach, your bare chest pressing against his silk sheets. Your underwear is slipped off of you. Two fingers found their way to your pussy, sensitivity rubbing against it, your back arching your ass into his hard dick. "Fuck me already, Matt." You moan, knowing he's only touching you to get you overstimulated. He ignores what you're saying, responding to what's going on in his mind. "You look so beautiful. Bending yourself for me on my bed, begging for my cock."

His fingers rub against your folds, flipping your stomach inside out, pressing against your clit and your moan comes out louder than intended. "So wet for me." He licks his lips. Just as you were about to push yourself against his fingers, he let go abruptly. A huff leaves your lips and you whine. "Sorry, baby, you need something?" He mocks. You give him a noise of annoyance in response.

He grabs your ass hard, and to your surprise, you feel his tip at your entrance. You immediately clench around it and you hear him moan. He shoves himself inside of you and you practically scream, your whimpering gets louder each thrust he makes in and out of you. "You feel that, slut? Is this what you wanted?" He groans, not bothering to stop. You answer by pushing yourself onto him, fucking yourself to him.

You pushed your lips into your mouth, loving the sound of his moans and whimpers. Your head was pressed against his pillow, and he went faster, tears started prickling your eyes, shutting them. Your noises were getting more intense and a knot began forming in your stomach.

"I'm.. oh fuck–" Before you could even finish what you were saying, you release. Matt slows down, every push in is longer and slippery with your liquid, your pussy tightens around him and he mutters a quick "fuck" and pulls out, cumming all over you.

You turn to look at him. He looked back at you. There were many times you thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, but now, seeing your hair a mess and its baby hairs sticking to your forehead, your lips sore and red from his aggressive kisses bare on his bed, he thought he was looking at a goddess. You glare at him, noticing he's been staring at a few seconds too long. "What?"

"I think I might need to see that tattoo one more time."

(idk how a tags list works)

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steddiealltheway · 3 months

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It's Cass Day!!!! Happy happy happy happy birthday @henderdads. i love you so so much, and I'm so thankful that you let me plot all my fics and ficlets (including this one ha!) in your dms. (and of course, I'm thankful for you forever and always for everything). I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful birthday :))))

Wednesday afternoons are Steve’s favorite afternoon out of the whole week.

There’s something about pushing a squeaky cart around the local grocery store and making small talk with the Wednesday regulars - a gossipy book club of moms who do their shopping at the same time so they have more time to complain about their husbands - that really fills Steve heart. (Or maybe it’s just the slight bitchy side of him that loves to rag on Elizabeth’s husband Tom who really needs to get his head out of his ass and appreciate the beauty in front of him, and of course he can’t forget Charles, Lisa’s dick of a husband who apparently doesn’t know what a date night is, oh! And Margaret’s husband Al… and really, he could go on about these husbands for hours without getting tired of it)

Really, he loves the routine of it all. And the way the women dote on him for being so kind to his girlfriend back home - which he constantly reminds them is not his girlfriend. But he sometimes wishes the groceries in his cart and the scribbled list in his hand was for someone he could go back home to greet with a kiss. (After giving Robin a hug of course, because in any fantasy, some of those things on that list and in the cart are always going to be for Robin).

But really, it would be nice to have someone to brag about to the group. Maybe bring up their spirits that love is not lost and-

Steve stops in his tracks, all thoughts gone from his head as he does a double take at the magazine rack near the checkout. And yeah, he knows that Corroded Coffin is popular. Hell, he’s seen Eddie’s face on the same rack at least five times before. But never like this.

The picture on the front page is taken at a lower angle, with Eddie clad in leather pants and a tight mesh black shirt that might be a crop top, but Steve can’t tell with the way Eddie’s guitar is covering his midriff, hands flying over the frets, showing off silver rings glimmering under the stage lights including the one that Steve helped Dustin pick out for him as a celebratory gift. But as Steve’s eyes trace over Eddie’s bare arms and the stark black tattoos, he’s led to wild curls perfectly framing Eddie’s face which stares down at the cords, mouth parted in an ‘o’ shape and eyebrows knitted together in concentration in a way that makes Steve feel weak in the knees.

And Steve’s suddenly hit with the question: Why didn’t anyone tell him that Eddie was hot???

He snatches the magazine off the rack before he can even really think about it, and tries not to think of what the moms will say about him when he leaves.

Maybe they’ll stop assuming he has a girlfriend at home at least.

During his drive home, he can’t help but think about the magazine laying between the loaf of bread and carton of ice cream that were packed together by the newest bag boy - which the ladies have a lot to say about, but Steve can’t think of anything besides that damn picture.

Once he’s back at the apartment, he puts the groceries away at an alarmingly fast rate, before making his way to the couch and laying back with the magazine in his hands.

It’s nice to see Eddie on the front cover of a magazine without it being attached to some weird scandal that Eddie had nothing to do with. Usually it’s an ill timed photo because he always happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this time…

Steve let’s out a deep breath and flips through the magazine, hoping that there’s some type of interview with more pictures that he can secretly stare at and panic about later.

There’s a bunch of boring looking articles and ads until he spots a page with bright red lettering and a number of pictures. Steve can’t help but wet his lips when he opens the page to find a picture of Eddie smiling at something off camera, looking totally different from the front cover. He just looks like… Eddie.

Yet, Steve finds his heart racing even harder at this picture, missing those dimples and that glimmer of mischief in Eddie’s eyes that’s usually directed at him. And Steve suddenly wonders what or who Eddie's looking at, feeling a bloom of jealousy in his chest.

He glances away from the picture and scans the page for another one. He smiles when he sees Eddie with the rest of his band mates, leaning heavily on Jeff while pulling his signature expression, nearly elbowing Jeff in the ribs to do his devil horns.

Steve laughs at Jeff’s face scowling down at him while Gareth and Frank cackle beside them. He wonders when they’ll be back in town.

Wait.

Steve dog ears the page before running up to his calendar where Robin had written “Dustin’s favorite day ever” on the upcoming Friday.

“Oh no,” Steve mutters to himself. That’s way too damn soon for Eddie to come home after Steve’s realization. He needs to give him at least two weeks to panic and process.

Okay, if Eddie was there with him, the panicking and processing would probably happen in two hours- no, minutes- maybe even seconds. But giving Steve two days is not the right amount of time. That’s just enough time for Steve to really start and settle into the panic. But hey, maybe he can dedicate the next twenty-four hours to panicking and the twenty-four hours after that to processing. Right?

Absolutely. He can do this.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"Robin, I can't do this."

Robin rolls her eyes at him. "I can't believe one picture wrecked you."

"It's not my fault! It's the damn photographer and whoever put that picture on the front cover," Steve complains, running a hand through his hair. "They're the ones who made me think of him like that."

"Uh huh."

Steve glances over at Robin who looks completely engrossed in painting her nails a deep purple color that looks black from where Steve is standing. He glances at himself in the mirror, nervously styling his hair before picking up the magazine from where it has made a permanent home on the coffee table. He flops down on the couch next to Robin who yelps and groans, "You made me smudge my nail polish!"

"We have more important things to worry about than the state of your nail polish."

Robin carefully cleans around the edge of her nail, stained with the dark color before turning to Steve. "Yes, the sudden realization that Eddie is hot is very important to me."

"You know what I mean," Steve sighs, leaning back against the couch as he opens the magazine to his favorite picture of Eddie in this edition. He looks at it for a moment, immediately closing it when he realizes he's smiling.

Robin blows on her nails and frowns before glancing back at Steve. "Okay. He's going to be here in less than an hour. How can I help you? Although, I really don't think you'll need my help at all."

"What do you mean?" Steve asks, a pinch forming between his brows.

Robin gives him a look. "You're going to act weird around him. He's going to eventually pick up on it. And then you're going to confess all these feelings you're having and then..." Robin has a sudden look of realization and immediate disappointment. "Then, I'm going to have to find somewhere else to stay tonight since you told Eddie he could stay here on the couch, which is not going to happen after your little confession."

"He's going to leave?" Steve asks quickly in confusion and slight panic.

Robin huffs, "No, he's going to be staying in your bed. And I really do not want to hear that."

Steve frowns. "You don't even know if he thinks I'm hot."

A look passes over Robin's face, first humor, then a bit of confusion, disbelief, and, once again, disappointment. "Steve," she asks, grabbing his hand, eyes staring hard into his. "This whole time you've had the magazine, you never read the interview?" Robin asks as if it's the most important question she's ever asked him.

"Why would I read it?" Steve asks with a shake of his head. When Robin's jaw drops, he gets the sudden message that he is definitely missing something. He snatches up the magazine and flips it open, somehow not getting to the interview right away although he was sure that he opened it to that page so much that it permanently creased the spine.

Just as he gets to it. There's a loud, persistent knock on the door.

Steve's and Robin's eyes meet in a panic. "Hide the magazine," Robin all but hisses as she makes it to the door raising her voice to say, "We have neighbors! Keep it down, dingus!"

Steve looks around, wondering if he can shove the magazine under the couch, but he knows Eddie would somehow see it in his antics. When he spots the stack of magazines on their side table, he rushes to put the magazine right in the middle of them. Hiding in plain sight. Perfect.

He stands up as soon as the door swings open, trying not to look guilty and failing miserably, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he realizes it's only Dustin. "Henderson," he says with a goofy smile launching into their handshake and ending it with a quick laugh, knocking off Dustin's hat to ruffle his hair.

When Dustin starts complaining about his hat being on the floor, Steve bends down to pick it up, only for a pale, ring-clad hand to grab onto it at the same time Steve does.

Steve glances up and locks eyes with Eddie. His heart starts to pound at an alarming rate as he takes in the familiar deep brown irises, moving on to take in the slight blush on Eddie's cheeks alongside a wide smile. "Steeeve Harrington," Eddie drawls out, the way he does when he hasn't seen him in a while.

"Munson," Steve says with a nod, a wide smile tugging at his lips that he tries to push down, as he always does when it comes to Eddie as if pretending not to care. The same way he does when he's trying to get someone to like him...

Oh.

Shit, he doesn't just think he's hot. He likes him. Hell, he's liked him for a long time even. And now he has even less time to panic about that.

Steve glances up, finding that Eddie has stood up, hat still between their hands as he stares down confusedly at Steve. He offers a hand, and Steve takes it, easily being pulled up into his space. He lingers close to Eddie, eyes dipping down to his lips, realizing how much he wants- needs this.

He glances up at Eddie, finding his pupils blown wide and his brow furrowed. And Steve finally feels that electricity that he's been searching months- no, years for.

"Am I getting my hat back?" Dustin asks, clearly annoyed.

Steve and Eddie both shove the hat over at the same time, eyes reluctantly leaving each other, only for Steve to see Robin giving him an unimpressed look. He can practically see her trying to figure out who she's going to call to spend the night with.

Steve glances back at Eddie and rushes out, "It's- uh, good to see you again."

Eddie grabs a strand of hair and pulls it in front of his face, kicking nothing as he says, "You miss me, Steve?"

Steve shakes his head automatically, "No." He turns to Dustin and asks him when the others are getting there, but his question is answered when the door opens behind them again.

"Do you guys knock?" Robin asks, stealing the words out of Steve's mouth.

"Do you guys lock your door?" Mike snarks back.

Steve sighs and moves to Robin's side, watching as the kids all greet Eddie excitedly. "Why don't they greet us like that?" Steve quietly bitches.

"Because we're not famous and gone all the time," Robin answers with a frown. "By the way, tonight is going totally as I planned."

Steve rolls his eyes. "No, it is not. I have been acting completely normally around him."

"Yeah, because you two have the tendency to eye fuck each other for an uncomfortable amount of time." Robin pauses and considers what she said. "Actually, I take that back. You two are acting completely normal."

"Since when do we-"

"Hey," Eddie says, successfully cutting Steve off, "When the pizzas get here, I'm paying."

Robin nudges Steve in the side after a few seconds pass, and Steve can't help but stare at the man instead of processing anything he said. "Hmm?"

"I'm paying for the pizza you all ordered," Eddie says, brows still furrowed. "Are you okay?"

Steve nods and crosses his arms. "Yes, it's just that we didn't order any pizza."

"But Dustin said..." Eddie trails off and glances at the kids. "Those little shits."

"Someone needs to give them a stern talking to."

Eddie raises his brows. "Are you shirking your co-parenting duties while I'm away?"

Steve huffs out a laugh. "Don't worry, I'm keeping your sheep in line."

Eddie offers him a big smile and leans in to say, "Sorry, I can't be here often, sweetheart."

Steve shoves him away with a roll of his eyes, ignoring the way his heart flutters at the nickname. "Go do your part and entertain them."

"And pay for the food!" Eddie reminds him yet again, walking toward the group, eyes not leaving Steve.

"My hero," Steve says, taking a page from Eddie's book of dramatics by crossing his hands over his heart and fluttering his lashes.

Eddie stops in his tracks, looking over him before shaking his head and going to the table where everyone is setting up.

"That was painful to witness," Robin says, scaring the shit out of Steve. She crosses her arms. "Did you really forget I was here?" When Steve doesn't respond, she walks away, muttering, "Unbelievable."

Steve runs a hand through his hair, willing his heart to slow down before he has to sit through this long-ass campaign - that he secretly really enjoys, but no one except Robin will ever know.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few hours later, Steve finds himself giving the kids hugs as they rush out his door, nearly missing their curfew. When they make their way to Eddie, he whispers to Robin, "See, the night didn't go as planned at all."

Robin raises her eyebrows at him and whispers back, "Yeah, you're not going to act weird at all when you two are alone."

Steve gives her a panicked look. "What do you mean- you're not leaving are you?"

Robin throws her hands up in a shrug as she backs up into her room, leaving the door open as she very obviously packs an overnight bag. Steve wonders if there is any way to stop her without alerting Eddie.

"What's Buckley doing?" Eddie asks, startling Steve. Eddie reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay? You've been on edge all night."

Steve nods automatically. "Yeah, I'm fine." And yeah, he is fine. And he has not been on edge at all because that would mean that Robin is right.

Speak of the devil... "I'm heading out tonight! You two have fun," Robin says with a salute. "I'll see you tomorrow." Before Steve or Eddie can stop her, she's already out the door, leaving them entirely alone. Steve doesn't even remember when the kids all left.

"I'm guessing you know what that's about," Eddie says, eyebrows disappearing under his bangs as he stares at the door.

"No idea," Steve replies, making his way back to the dining area to clean up the remaining mess the teens made, and really he was going to have to give them another lecture about cleaning up after themselves.

"Steve," Eddie says softly.

Steve hums in response but doesn't dare to look his way as he stacks up various empty plastic cups.

"Steve," Eddie tries again.

And Steve knows that tone. Knows that if he fully engages, Eddie will want to have a serious conversation which is not something they often do. So he just keeps cleaning until there's nothing left to do except brush imaginary crumbs off the table.

"Steve," Eddie says, voice impossibly close to him.

Steve takes a deep breath and turns to him, heart skipping a beat when he finds Eddie hovering in his space.

"What's going on?" Eddie asks gently.

Steve shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "Nothing." He quickly moves away from Eddie, grabbing a napkin off one of the kitchen counters and tossing it into the trash on his way to the living room.

"Why are you acting weird?"

"I'm not," Steve says, resting his hands on his hips in the same way he does when the kids start to annoy him.

Eddie raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, staring but not saying anything.

Steve stares back, jutting his hip out in a show of how adamant he is about his answer.

After a few tense seconds pass by, Eddie slowly walks closer to him, and Steve fights for his eyes to not flicker down to his lips. When Eddie is within arms reach, he leans forward. "Steve, what is wrong?"

Steve shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes betray him and flicker to the stack of magazines beside the couch. He tries to keep his features carefully blank, but he sees the moment Eddie realizes there is something significant about that glance.

Before Steve can stop him, Eddie is diving down to the magazines, snatching up the whole stack in his arms. Steve moves forward to grab them, only to realize his error when Eddie scoots back and smiles wildly. "This is it, isn't it? What, did you hide a filthy magazine inside here or something?"

"Eddie..." Steve warns, standing above him, hands still on his hips.

Eddie smiles before turning his eyes to the stack and leafing through them. Steve moves down quickly, knocking the magazines out of his hands as he practically straddles Eddie. He stares down at him, eyes wide, about to move back when he notices Eddie's eyes resting on his stomach.

Steve glances down between them only to see the image of Eddie on the front cover staring back at him.

"Shit, I didn't know they released that yet," Eddie says, laying fully back, hands dragging over his face. He lets them rest there before spreading his fingers to ask, "You read the interview, didn't you?"

"No," Steve says honestly.

Eddie frowns and props himself up on his elbows. "When did you get this?"

"Wednesday." And curse his damn mouth for rambling without his permission.

"You got this two days ago but haven't read the interview?" Eddie's expression shifts from fearful to cocky. "Steve Harrington, did you buy this just to stare at me?"

"No," Steve says, crossing his arms.

Eddie sits up fully, and Steve becomes very aware of the way he's still sitting on top of Eddie's thighs. "Did you get all flustered about this?" Eddie asks, holding up the magazine teasingly.

Steve's eyes flicker to the front cover again, and his lips suddenly feel very dry. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. He glances back at Eddie and shrugs. "You look fine."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

"Has anyone ever told you you need to get your ego in check?"

Eddie smirks at him. "Why would I need to do that when I know Steeeeve Harrington bought the magazine with my face on it?"

"Stop saying my name like that," Steve says, leaning forward trying to be menacing, but only satisfying Eddie by getting closer to him.

"Why? Steeev-" Eddie's cut off when Steve suddenly moves forward and kisses him, hands flying up into his curls to pull him closer.

Steve stills before pulling back, searching Eddie's eyes.

"You...?" Eddie asks before raking a hand through his hair. "You actually bought it to stare at me?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You already knew that since I'm 'such a bad liar,'" Steve says adding air quotes.

"I was hoping you were. Christ, Steve, this?" Eddie asks, holding up the magazine.

Steve runs a hand through his hair. "You look hot!"

"Christ," Eddie says again, this time dropping the magazine to pull Steve into another kiss. He breaks it to mumble, "I can't believe you haven't read the damn interview." His hands run through Steve's hair messing up the strands before he pulls back suddenly. "Wait."

"Yeah?" Steve asks as Eddie's eyes practically glaze over in panic.

Eddie's chest heaves for a second before he says, "Fuck, you bought it because you thought I'm hot not because... fuck." He looks away from Steve and stares down at the magazine as if it personally offended him.

"Huh?" Steve asks, knees starting to ache on the hardwood floor. He climbs off of Eddie with a groan, but Eddie must take it wrong because he almost immediately stands up.

"Sorry, it's stupid," Eddie says with a humorless laugh. "Hey, do you think Buckley will be upset if I take her bed for the night? It's been a long day, and I'm about ready to clonk out."

Steve can feel his face morph into an expression of bewilderment. "Eddie, what?"

Eddie shakes his head. "Yeah, you're right. Dumb idea. Robin would kill me. I'll take the couch like usual."

Steve carefully stands and steps into Eddie's space, but Eddie sidesteps him easily. He watches as he flops down on the couch, refusing to look at him.

Steve's eyes settle back on the magazine, reaching down to grab it to find whatever the hell is in that interview.

"Steve, please don't."

Steve ignores Eddie the same way he ignored him, opening the magazine to the same page his eyes have landed on several times before. His eyes settle on the image of Eddie before moving to the words, skimming before he finds his own name staring back at him. He backtracks, looking at the question and answer.

Do you guys have any sources of inspiration?

Jeff: Oh, Eddie sure does.

Frank: He has what you might call a muse back at home.

Eddie: Please shut up.

Gareth: A beautiful muse with the most beautiful hair you've ever seen.

Eddie: Please stop talking about Stevie.

Jeff: He's just shy when it comes to his little crush.

Eddie: Next question, please.

Steve glances up at Eddie who sits red-faced on the couch. He clears his throat. "They told me they would cut it out entirely, but then they reached out later saying it was too good not to publish, but they did me the favor of changing your name to something more feminine so they didn't out me. Still fucked though. I'm sorry you got pulled into this mess."

Steve looks back at the magazine and then at Eddie. "Is it true?"

Eddie groans and lays back on the couch dramatically. "Please don't make me answer that. I've gotten enough shit from the guys, and I know you don't feel that way about me. It's okay that you only find me hot, I'll take what I can."

It hits Steve all at once what Eddie's sudden dramatics are about. "Oh my god. Eddie, I like you, too!"

Eddie's head pops up. "What?"

Steve turns the magazine to him and points at the picture of Eddie laughing. "This is what I've been so flustered and weird about. Yes, the front cover made me realize that, hey, I find you really attractive. But I've been staring at this picture for way longer, and I didn't know why until you got here tonight. And it hit me that I like you. I think I have for a long time, but I just didn't connect the dots before."

"You like me?" Eddie echos, dumbfounded.

Steve laughs. "Yes, I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't have feelings for you."

"That's a fucking relief," Eddie says, scrambling off the couch and racing to pull Steve into another kiss.

Steve smiles into the kiss, pulling Eddie as close to him as possible as Eddie attempts to do the same.

"I'm going to give that photographer the biggest tip ever," Eddie says breaking the kiss for a moment only to kiss him again.

Steve smiles so wide that he can barely kiss Eddie back. When they break away, Steve says, "I'm going to have to buy another."

"Why?"

"I have to get the front picture and the interview framed," Steve says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course," Eddie says with a laugh before wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him in close. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too," Steve replies.

They hold each other for a while, not willing to break the moment until a sudden thought has Steve groaning.

"What?" Eddie asks, pulling back to look at him.

"Robin was right."

Eddie smiles. "When is she not?"

"Never," Steve answers simply.

They stand in each other's arms just happy to be so close, taking each other in as if it's for the first time. Steve wonders what to tell the Wednesday regulars and how they'd respond if he introduced Eddie to them. He thinks back to Lisa's comments about how the group should just date each other and how Sarah had responded with a little too much enthusiasm, and Steve thinks things will be just fine.

"What are you thinking about?"

Steve shakes his head with a smile. "What are you doing this Wednesday?" he asks, making a mental note to add two frames, another magazine, and Robin's favorite ice cream to the list.

"Anything you want," Eddie replies easily.

And with that, Steve finds himself looking forward to his Wednesday afternoon even more than usual.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #robin buckley

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