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eddiernunson · 2 months

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Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

taglist for Waiting Room Problems: @skrzydlak @delicatechaos @ali-r3n @suckerz @cam-peggio @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @emxxblog @lilrubles @dandelionnfluff @babygirl229 @let-love-bleeds-red @kurdtbean

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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lovefrombegonia · 1 year

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Batfam hc: The reason Bruce doesn't get why Dick wanted to "stay away" from him after he reached his late teens or why Dick didn't wanna be in his shadow... it's coz Bruce just doesn't understand why any child would want to be away from their parents. Why would the child want to be away from his parents' embrace? Why?! He would never want to be away from Thomas and Martha if they were alive. He would always wanna be their little boy. He would always live under their protective, warm and safe shadow. He just doesn't understand. The truth is: He is still their, in crime alley, trying to stop those two bullets. He never truly got out of the crime alley. He probably never would...but that's ok with Bruce. Because he doesn't mind staying in the shadow of his dead parents.

Years later, Dick finally gets how and why Bruce is the way he is. He mourns for his father and protects him the best he can. Dick knows that even though he would never trade what he has with the family he found with Bruce and others surrounding him now...for anything else, including his beloved parents...he knows, that Bruce would chose Thomas and Martha over them in a heartbeat. And it hurts. It hurts him SO BAD. But he will endure this hurt. Because he also knows that Bruce loves him and his brothers and sisters and everyone else consisting of their mess of a family.

Maybe, that's why...when the timeline shenanigans happened, and Bruce was left at the night of tragedy when Martha and Thomas were shot dead in the past, Dick, in the present timeline, was ready...ready to disappear from the present life. And he could see the same fear but silent acceptance in his siblings' eyes too. They held each other tightly. Jason, Tim, Damian, Cassandra, Stephanie, and Duke...all of them, a small part of them were resenting Bruce but their selfless love for him wouldn't let them hate him. After all...how could you hate a lost child. They waited...with Oracle in their comms, her soothing voice telling them again and again how much she loved them all. That, no matter what, she would find a way to remember them all, and bring them back. Dick held Damian close to his chest the tightest. Small and brave Dami, so full of love despite his painful past. Dick wanted to say--

A burst of energy was felt behind him...empty space crackled to life. A portal opened. A man walked out. His cowl and cape soaked in rain.

Bruce broke down. He started crying and then he started laughing. Sorry for letting you down. Sorry for scaring you all. Sorry for letting mommy and papa die. Sorry for loving his present more than his past. He loves his parents. He always would. But he loves his children more. He loves them all. Bruce no longer wanted to stay in his parents' shadow. Now, he just wanted to become a home for his kids. What is a home? A home is a place, when you have nowhere else to go, they have to accept you. And home had no right to abandon those who looked his way for support. He has to be there. He has to be a home. He didn't want to be anything else atp.

Dick held Bruce as tightly as he held Damian. Damian kept say, "Baba, Baba!" while trying to hold back tears. Jason held Bruce's cape tightly, as if he would disappear. He was still in shock. Cassandra cradled Bruce's head in her arms. Stephanie had her arms around Bruce and Jason. Tim was wiping Bruce's tears even though he himself was crying. Duke held Bruce's shoulder. His hand was shaking. He didn't want to lose another father figure. The thought had crossed his mind what his life would be if Batman had disappeared. Would it be better or worse? He decided that he didn't care. In the end, he didn't want to lose Bruce from his life. All of them could hear Barbara's quiet whimpers. Bruce tried to hold all of them in embrace.

A child finally walked out of the crime alley.

#phew...that was LENGTHY for me.#amateur writer here #don't expect quality #only pure and raw emotions #batfamily #batfamily headcanons #headcanon #batdad #batkids #personal headcanon

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tornioduva · 3 months

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Dungeon meshi and body proportions

Ok, i'm feeling the rush i got from binging the manga this last week is starting to fade away, i'll be back to being a normal person soon i think. at least, that is before i find a new something for me to dive into uhuh.

Before that happens, i want to praise Ryoko Kui for one last think. The design of the characters!

For years i've expressed (maybe not so much online) my hate towards the "anime style", this homogenization of traits and beauty standards to an artificial degree, and the mass spread and consumption of it. yes, trends exist for a reason, this is not the first nor the last art current to be popular and i'm not the first detractor of one in history. I do think there is something uniquely harmful in this one though, and that is why i'm able to find the energy to be such a pretentious dipshit about it. That is a discussion for another day though.

All this to say that going through Dungeon Meshi and seiing these characters, plus (and in a way because of it) all the additional sketches of the daydream hour bonus sections, was such a breath of fresh air! (at least for what concerns japanese exported stories)

All i could say and praise in regard to character designs in general is perfectly expressed in this video, which i recommend you to watch if you want to hear my opinions (and the video author's too, uhuh):

youtube

I want to leave you though with at least one specific praise for me: Falin.

i've seen countless time people (online) just not understanding how people's body work, how much differences there can be and how proportions do distribute and affect the body. in anime I see a lot of short and tall people (mostly women girls) that share the same proportions despite their actual height, and that often leads to think "yeah, she is short" and than she's tall when around someone, or (most often) the contrary. same lenght of limbs, same head to body proportions, and little details like this.

Falin you can tell at a glance she is a tall woman before she's around anyone, even when she is standing near her brother who is taller than her.

Kui did her homework in studying bodies and variations, and, whether consciously or not, she differentiated her in body in subtle but fundamental ways: her head being slightly smaller than her body, the neck being fairly long, and her having somewhat broader shoulders.

I accept that there might be an element of suggestion at play here, considering also how she is dressed most of the time, but I really do think there is a direct effort at differentiation here.

This is the first time in a long time (in a series like this at least) where i've seen a woman carrying herself around others and the space around here kind of like a person like me, tall, would; at first i didn't think much of it, but then i saw her near other characters and....i don't know, i felt a warm, joyful feeling, seeing that i was right in recognizing that trait and being right.

I was especially happy in seeing her next to marcille. not so much for the height difference, but for how different they were in proportions and mannerism. A lesser manga i fear would have used marcille's body type and way of moving and interacting as the default for most other girls, but here she was uniquely herself!

Now, i could've used more extreme exemples to show how this author rocks in body types representations (while aknowledging there could've been even more diversification still), given there are far larger, taller and stranger women, but to me, nailing the little, most subtle details in such a chirurgical manner shows a greater level of mastery and comprehension. As such, Falin left me with a deeper fascination than most other characters.

Sorry for this wall of text, but i needed to let my happy thoughts go, so that i could be free again uhuh.

Feel free to tell me that i'm wrong, or that i should just accept anime media as is. i'm just really happy Dungeon meshi exists as is and i want Ryoko Kui to keep refining her craft, and drawing beautiful women and dwarves.

Plus, this was very much a stream of consciousness, i didn't go into technical details about what i think conveyed what i described, but if someone is interested, or does not get what i'm saying (while expressing it in a curious and gentle way, i won't respond to spiteful assholes), i'll be happy to make a follow up post in which i try to dissect this! For example, i didn't reread the whole manga to find examples of her, i just went to the wiki uhuh. in a follow up post maybe i'll try to go through chapters and pick more specific examples of her.

Anyway, have a good day!

#tornio #tornioduva #torniod #fantasy #torniotalk #dungeon meshi #delicious #delicious in dungeon #dungeon food #ryoko kui please keep drawing beautiful people #ryoko kui #my head is free now i think #falin i want to hug you #Youtube

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koolades-world · 3 months

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hello ^^

was wondering if youd be able to write something about the demon brothers (and maybe diavolo too) with mc whos a little dumb? as in they forget a lot of stuff (what day it is, where they put something only a few seconds ago, etc) and dont know a lot of things even if its obvious. theyre also a bit gullible and fall for fake news or scams a lot. basically a bimbo/himbo type of mc.

hi!! yeah sure thing!

actually went to google if there was a gender neutral version of bimbo himbo and apparently there actually is

presenting: thembo! haha I love this term

enjoy :)

Thembo/Himbo/Bimbo Mc

Lucifer

very protective of you

can't help but internally smile whenever you forget your train of thought or asks him what today's date is for the third time

if there's an unreliable news source that keeps finding it's way into your hands he sees personally that they mysteriously goes out of business

gotten surprisingly good at finding things you lost, like he'll just move one thing out of the way and what you're looking for will be there (big mom energy here)

Mammon

he's a himbo himself tbh

you're cut from the same cloth so you can be silly together

100% both of you will ask each other the time, check your D.D.D., and only leave that situation with what percent it's at so you have to check again and still don't have the time

you match each other's energy so well it's meant to be

Levi

he's not quite sure how to feel at first

he gets overwhelmed by the amount of questions you ask, but once you start asking questions about his games, you're instantly close

he doesn't mind repeating himself since you actually care about him

sometimes he forgets everything besides gaming so he gets it

Satan

if Mammon is your birds of a feather flock together, he's your opposite attract moment, even better than Lucifer

he always makes sure to let you know if something you've heard is fake or not and always makes it a lesson even though despite you listening, never seems to stick but that's ok he still loves you

however he loves how you embrace all of the things he loves even if you don't fully get it, like all the more complicated books he reads for fun

it's alright he has enough brains for the both of you lol

Asmo

sometimes he's very himbo so he has solutions to your problems

gives you a cute little invisible ink pen that activates when you stand or sit in spots you're in a lot to write on your arm with since regular ink isn't cute (solomon made it <3)

always asks you if you have everything before you leave the house with a checklist, and when you got home

please make sure to thank him!!

Beel

he also has the same oblivious nature, but he's more dense while you're more airhead

if you put your heads together (and with a little help from belphie) you can usually figure it out

will help you look for your D.D.D. while the both of you use the flashlight on your D.D.D.

ultimate duo fr

Belphie

he thinks you're so silly but tries to keep any playfully mean comments to a minimum

sometimes he can't help but poke fun at you but afterwards he always tells you he's sorry and tells you you're pretty

straight up puts tracking devices on important items that you handle everyday so that if you lose something, you can easily find it again, such as your toothbrush and textbooks

Diavolo

another sorta himbo, since he seems like he has no idea what he's doing but actually is very aware

if you lose something and really can't find it, no worries! he can just buy you a new one or have the Little D's search for it since they'll do anything to help you out

very understanding and sweet about it since he kinda gets it

the both of you can embrace this lifestyle together

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me mc

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mayfieldss · 3 months

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ok idk who this could be with, but fic idea: fake dating trope inspired by the song 'hate to be lame' by lizzy mcalpine and finneas... it has POTENTIAL.!!

Hate to be lame, but I might love you | Steve Harrington

BABE THIS CONCEPT IS SO </3 POTENTIAL INDEED!!! I'm gonna admit I went wayyy off track from the song and kind of just went feral with the concept of fake dating Steve.

"You're hands are sweaty."

"Yeah, well, so are yours."

"That's because my hand is covered in the sweat from your sweaty hand." your voice comes as a sharp whisper that only Steve can hear as you walk toward your friends not two days after your little agreement.

"Oh shut up."

"Why do we have to hold hands anyway?"

"Because that's what couples do, trust me I'm the expert." Steve nudges your side with his elbow, and you push back harder, making him flinch.

"Yeah, because you've had such successful past relationships." You're grumbling and acting more like a child as the regret sinks in. Why you'd agreed to this even to assist the romance between your two friends was beyond you. There were far easier ways to get the same result.

"That was a low blow." Steve sounds only slightly deflated but his energy returns as the rest of your friends begin to notice the intertwined fingers and the smiles you're sending them, that while fake, are convincing enough.

"Hey, this is new!" It's Dustin, always the first to voice an opinion, and he's eyeing the both of you as though he's Sherlock Holmes inspecting a fresh crime scene. "Is this a cute thing or a friend thing?" he's frowning, and you offer up an answer.

"Can't a friend thing be a cute thing also?"

"So it's a friend thing?" Dustin raises a brow and looks to Steve. For a second you swear they have some sort of silent and private conversation before Steve interjects with words that seem to startle the entire group surrounding you.

"No, it's not a friend thing." He moves his hand from yours, opting to drape his arm over your shoulder, making a show whilst you wipe your hand discreetly on your shorts.

"Surprise..??" the word comes strained from your lips and you are thankful for the fact that Steve is such a charmer. Whilst he's been more than a bad liar in the past he seems like a professional actor now, award-winning even as he sells your relationship to the group.

Your first kiss in his car one day after work, and first date at the small bakery down the street from your house. The way he'd been crushing on you since he saw you beat the hell out of some Demogorgons to defend the kids, and just how happy you were together. How he was so convincing you didn't know, but you almost found yourself believing him for parts of it, as if you didn't already know the truth. It was all fake, a ruse put together so that Steve could convince Robin and Nancy that he had in fact moved on. A perfectly crafted fake relationship so that Robin and Nancy could finally get together and feel guilt free.

"Well, I can't say I didn't see it coming." It's Dustin again, forever the speechmaker, and the smile on his lips is unbearably sweet. He's oblivious, it seems, and it occurs to you then that the little scheme you and Steve put together might have some negative impacts. Dustin cared about Steve in the way a little brother looks up to the older sibling, or perhaps the way a son looked up to a father, and maybe it wasn't so good for the boy to get attached to the idea of Steve finally finding some romantic peace. After all, it was nothing romantic of the sort, and whilst the game you had going wouldn't affect Dustin directly, it did seem that he was excited over the concept of you and Steve together.

Despite these thoughts, you find yourself moving an arm around Steve's waist, leaning into him as if it were real, because if you were doing this, you were sure as hell gonna do it right. Dustin smiles, somehow wider than before, before moving off to meet the other younger members of the group. Robin eyes the two of you from a distance, with something of a confused yet proud expression, and you hope that for whatever reason, she believes the show you're putting on.

When you feel Steve's breath against your ear, the shivers that run down your spine are barely controlled. "Good job." it's a whisper as he squeezes your shoulder, "I'm gonna go get us some drinks."

And with that, he walks away, leaving you to wonder how exactly this is going to work.

It goes well for the most part and soon you start to see changes in Robin and Nancy's behavior toward each other. They seem closer, more interested now that Robin's not afraid to make a move on the girl Steve had once been so hung up on.

But you can't deny that in private it has become somewhat awkward between you and Steve. Something changed over the past few weeks of pretending and you're not quite sure where it all went wrong, but the teasing relationship you'd once had was now evaporating before your eyes.

Steve currently had an arm over your shoulder as he sat beside you in the old bakery café where he had claimed you'd had your first kiss to the rest of the group. The old leather booth was supposedly filled with the fondest of memories for the both of you, though in truth you had never entered the place until today.

"You two really do make a hot couple." It's Robin leaning her elbows on the table from the booth across from you and Steve, Nancy at her side though they sit further apart.

"I second this," Nancy smiles, a wide and sweet expression that makes you really believe her. And suddenly you feel bad for lying to them both.

"Here," Before you can dwell on the feeling, Nancy's pulled out an old camera, one she was gifted by Jonathan back when they were something of a pair themselves. She still keeps it close, and she'd planned to use it for some journalism work later in the day, but it seems she's willing to waste some of the camera's potential now.

"Smile you two." She's peering into the camera, and instinctively you lean into Steve, smiling for the shot. But that doesn't seem to appease either Robin or the eldest Wheeler sibling, both of them scheming to create the best memories for you both.

"C'mon Steve," Robin instructs, "Give her a kiss for the camera." Steve does so hesitantly, pressing a short peck to your cheek and waiting for the camera to click, but nothing happens.

When he looks up he finds both Nancy and Robin chuckling before Nancy herself begins to speak. "Look, Steve, I know you're trying to be polite because, well, we used to be something—but I really don't mind if you two kiss. I'm happy for you both, and I assure you I've moved on." She spares a glance to Robin and it would have been sweet if you weren't panicking deep inside. You had yet to kiss Steve at all and the plan had been that you would never have to but now that your excuse seemed to be up in flames you weren't sure what to do, or say.

Steve didn't seem at all bothered, and maybe that should have concerned you more than it did, but honestly, you were grateful for the confidence he held when yours was nowhere to be found.

"Yeah, you're right. We didn't want to cause any drama with, you know," Steve gestures between himself and you, "Us."

"But that's the thing!" Nancy exclaims in a rather Robin-like fashion. (Perhaps the girl was rubbing off on her a little too much.) "I'm happy for you, and I really don't mind." She raises the camera again, a smile tugging at her lips as Robin shuffles a little closer to peak through the lens with her. "Do some cute couple shit for the camera. You may kiss your girlfriend." Robin says, and a nervous laugh escapes you as Steve locks his eyes with yours. it's a look that speaks,'You really wanna do this?' and 'We can back out now if you want.' all at once, but there's something else there that you can't quite decode.

You nod in response to his silent question, however, and it takes a moment before either of you can get up the guts to do anything at all. Steve leans in first, slow and steady, and you know he notices the breath that catches in your throat. His lips so close, his hair just barely brushing your forehead as he moves downward, his face inching ever closer to yours. But he stops, and it seems as if time itself does too, when Mike Wheeler bursts into the bakery, tall frame and skinny limps carrying him through the door and toward the booth at which the four of you sit.

"Nancy, god it took forever to find you! Mom's going crazy over dinner tonight and—" It all seems to fade off. Mike is still talking but you block him out, a ringing in your ears replacing his words as you wonder what could have happened had a few more seconds passed before the boys' arrival.

Either way, it would have meant nothing, because you don't like Steve like that, and you never will. Right?

Steve is sitting, brows furrowed beside you, staring at your figure as you watch Mike Wheeler ramble on about something Nancy needs to come home for. You don't seem to be listening and he doesn't blame you because honestly, he doesn't know if he is either, but he wonders what you are thinking about.

He's certainly thinking about things he shouldn't be.

But soon Nancy stands, and Robin follows suit and they say something that the both of you ignore. And they leave, as you wave them goodbye, and they say they'll be in touch. All of a sudden you're sat next to Steve, alone with a chocolate chip muffin between you.

"That was a close one don't you think?" It's you who says it and your voice startles Steve. You see him jump, and then adjust himself to sit like the cool high school heartthrob he had once been.

"Real close, sorry." the apology is genuine, and Steve pauses, looking around the bakery. "You wanna get out of here?"

You manage a nod, shuffling from the booth awkwardly. "Let's go."

"Did you want me to drop you home?" Steve's leaning on the side of his car as he watches you, waiting. He looks so different somehow, changed from the teenager you would sit next to in the chemistry lab. He hadn't spoken to you much at all back then, and you would do all the hard work for the passing grades, but now he seems....lost.

You suppose fighting interdimensional monsters can do that to a person. That kind of thing changes a perspective for sure, and the look in his eyes can be thrown down to such a concept.

"Sure," you go to say more, but decide against it as Steve moves around the car to open the passenger side door for you. The kind of thing you had yet to experience for a long time. When he gets behind the wheel he's focused, staring out the windshield.

"So, I'll drop you home." it's awkward, unsure and it's hard to find a response.

"Well, I don't know what else we're supposed to do."

Steve clears his throat, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "We could go to work—your work I mean, show off a little to the kid at the checkout. The one you have a crush on."

"He's literally the same age as us Steve. Stop calling him a kid." with your arms folded over your chest you watch Steve for a reaction, and he gives you one. His nose wrinkles up, turning to face you.

"He looks like a kid."

"He does not!" there's a laugh hidden behind your words, and Steve smiles, just a little. It's a nice thing to see.

"He has a babyface, he's got the smooth face of a baby."

"Like you're one to talk Harrington," you reach over, running a hand across his cheek. "You've got nothing on this face of yours."

Steve isn't nervous. He's not. The feeling of your skin on his, the warmth of your hand on his face has no effect on his heart rate. His heart beats this fast all the time. "I'll have you know that I've got a moustache coming in."

You pull back, buckling yourself into your seat. "That stubble on your upper lip doesn't count for shit Steve, don't give yourself a big head."

"Alright, well am I taking you home or what?" He wants to hide the grin on his lips, though he can't seem to put it away. It's stuck, the expression seemingly permanent. You're smiling too, and when you look over at him, his hands on the wheel and yours in your lap, it's all over.

"Let's go give babyface a run for his money."

It doesn't work out like it's supposed to, and as you walk into the store, out of uniform and entirely out of character, your confidence fades. "This was a bad idea." you mumble the words to Steve, who stands beside you, waiting to make a minor scene.

He looks down at you, peculiar frown pulling at his brows. "It's a great idea. Just making a little chaos, that's all." he doesn't sound like himself either, and in truth, his eyes are now scanning around the store, waiting for your target to show.

"Let's just go, Steve. It's dumb—this is dumb." before you can say anything more Steve's got his arm sliding softly around your waist, pulling you just that bit closer to his side. You don't flinch at the touch, the touch of a friend acting as though they're more. You should think more of it, feel more uncomfortable than you do, but you don't. You see your coworker approaching, apron over his regular uniform. You don't think you'd ever had a crush on him in the first place, despite what Steve had persisted, and even though the guy is cute, it doesn't seem to mean anything. Looking up at Steve is a struggle, and when you do you find his eyes still locked on the fated supermarket employee.

"Steve," muttering his name brings his eyes back to yours, and his gaze looks slightly different than it did before. "Let's get out of here."

"You sure?" the question hangs in the words, but something in him sounds relieved at the concept, as if all of a sudden this doesn't matter to him either. But he doesn't have a second to lead you away from the store before something else seems to enter the equation. Someone else.

"Hey, didn't expect to see you here." it's your coworker 'crush' standing before you with a strained grin. "It's your day off." He's says it in a way that suggests he's reminding you, in case you've forgotten. You don't miss the way his eyes flicker to Steve, and in particular, Steve's arm, still around your waist, his hand placed so convincingly as his fingers press affectionately into your side.

"Yeah, just came in to get some things." you smile back at the boy genuinely, as Steve buts into the conversation.

"Just some snacks...for date night." he's playing his part still, you realize, even if you weren't.

"Date night? You two are—I didn't see that coming." you think you must have imagined it, the deflated falter in your friends words. He didn't like you, he couldn't. He wouldn't. He was hardly a friend anyway, just the guy behind the checkout that you would wave and smile to during the work day. You couldn't possibly be hurting him with this, could you?

Steve squeezes you closer to his side, and it seems to be going a little too far. You're not sure if he does it just to get under the skin of the guy in front of you, or if he's trying to tell you something along the lines of "it's working."

You hope it's none of the above.

"Well, we should get going." diffusing the situation is all you can think to do, but now leaving isn't an option. If you don't exit the store with the so called 'snacks' you came in for, it might just mix things up further. You grab Steve by the hand, pulling him toward the candy aisle, sending your seemingly heartbroken coworker a sympathetic goodbye smile.

Once out of sight and snooping range, you give up the act. "Steve, this has to stop."

"What no, Nancy and Robin—they've just started connecting." Steve sounds disappointed, grasping for something to hold on to.

"There are other ways we can play matchmaker with them, but this...it's going too far. I can't do it." the way your eyes plead with Steve to end things, sends shivers across his spine. He feels the sting of your words as if it's all real, but of course it never was.

"So, we're breaking up?" he mumbles, trying not to let the words remind him of the familiar heartbreaks he's had before.

"Don't say it like that," there's a gentle laugh from your lips, soft, calmer than you were before. "That makes it sound like we were really a thing."

That cuts Steve deep. He can't help it, and his mind wanders to the feeling of your hand still holding his. He doesn't think you know that you're still doing it, so he squeezes your hand with his own, testing the waters. You let go.

You'd been Steve's fake girlfriend for over a month, and now suddenly, standing amongst bags of chocolate and sweets, you weren't anymore.

"So, just friends again?" You extend a hand as if to shake on the deal, and Steve accepts, though this time there is no affection in the way his hand holds yours.

"Friends." He confirms, and it really is over.

You don't let on to your friends directly that you'd split apart. Maybe due to the hopes that Robin and Nancy could make their own way a little faster whilst they were still under the impression of you and Steve in love. But you no longer hold hands in public, and you don't follow each other around like lost dogs.

It's weird, knowing that Steve isn't trailing behind you like he used to, and it's odd not having his car pull up in your driveway every day. You were so used to him surrounding you after the few months of being his partner in crime, that the distance from him has set up an ache in your heart.

Steve feels similarly, and the way the man goes about his days now are less interesting, and far less fun. Dustin caught on almost immediately, and despite the deal Steve made with you to never tell a soul in the group about your little agreement, he can't help but tell the young boy everything.

"So what you're saying is you never dated in the first place?" Dustin questions, Steve nodding.

"Yeah."

"But you think you might have fallen in love with her for real?"

Hearing Dustin say it out loud sends a pang of longing through Steve and he knows then that he most definitely has fallen head over heels for someone he was never supposed to love in the first place.

"Yeah. That sounds about right."

"Dude," Dustin has a grin on his lips and Steve can tell he's about to made fun of before it happens. "You are so lame. Honestly, can you just admit to yourself that you had a crush on her from the start? It was never fake to you, was it?" The kid is smart, and can see right through his older friend. He held no surprise when Steve told him the truth, because he found it quite obvious how Steve truly felt. It was why Steve's stories about how he fell in love with you felt so real to the group in the first place. Because they were the furthest thing from fake.

Steve doesn't respond, thinking it over. Dustin is right he realizes, and it's not surprising at all.

"You gotta tell her, man." Dustin speaks again, and Steve nods.

"Yeah. I know."

Two days later and Mike has invited everyone over, including the older kids, to spend the day together. It gives you Deja vu as you enter the house, having been to a similar hangout with Steve months before when you first introduced yourselves as a couple. Now you walk in alone, no sweaty hand to hold.

Steve's heart skips a beat when he sees you, and Dustin nudges him hard with his shoulder, as if Steve hasn't already been alerted of your presence. He thinks you look beautiful, but he always does. He realizes these things now. Now that he knows how he feels.

"Hey," Steve stands to greet you and you offer him a friendly smile back.

"Hey, Steve." It's still awkward between you, and has been ever since the fake breakup. Perhaps that's due to the fact you've both been avoiding each other like the plague since it happened.

"I need to talk to you about something later, is that okay?" He keeps his voice low, not wanting the others to hear about the private matters he wants to discuss. He can tell he's confusing you, but you agree thanks to his puppy dog eyes.

"Yeah, okay." Despite your agreeance, you plan to avoid Steve for the rest of the day, solely due to the fact you've begun to feel things that you shouldn't be. You were so used to being his friend, and seeing him as one, but now your thoughts have begun to linger on him more than they should, as do your eyes.

You can't help but admire the way he is with the kids, and the way his hands comb through his hair casually as if he doesn't know just how appealing it makes him. You focus a little too much on whether he's looking at you or not, and the sound of his laugh is too familiar now.

He was your friend, and whilst you'd promised he would stay that way, you weren't so sure you could keep it.

"Hey," Steve has caught you in the kitchen, going to get more soda for the party after a long day of avoidance. You'd hoped to spend a few minutes alone, and most of all, had hoped to keep evading him, but Steve had other plans.

You place the sodas on the counter, closing the fridge with caution. "It sure is hot today." You mumble in the hopes of keeping the conversation light. You know he's here to confront you about the distance you've been keeping from him. It can't be anything else.

"Yeah, it's summer." He feels bad about cornering you in the kitchen, but he knows this might be one of the only chances he has at asking you how you feel. Even with what Dustin had said, Steve doesn't know if he can bring himself to tell you what's been going on inside his head over the past couple of months, but he hopes you'll be willing to tell him what's been happening in yours.

"Are you okay?" even though you saw it coming, Steve's question still startles you.

You nod, though your voice involuntarily raises an octave. "Yeah, I'm fine. How are you?" You're not fine, and the lie is clear, but Steve is more than honest with you.

"I'm tired of us acting like we haven't fucked up our relationship." He leans against the counter in a kind of defeated gesture, weakening your resolve. "I don't want to keep fighting to be around you. I want you to feel comfortable around me again. Call me an idiot, a loser or something, like you used to."

"I can't." your whisper seems so loud in your own ears.

"I promise I'll call you pretentious and dramatic right back, just say it. Call me a name, make it how it used to be." there's a kind of desperation hidden within Steve's words, one you haven't heard before. One you doubt anyone has heard before. It stands in the silence, for your ears alone.

"You really want me to list all the shit I hate about you?" There's a shake to your voice, as if you're close to screaming or crying, but you're not sure which will come first.

"Well, I didn't say that—"

"I hate your stupid hair. Your teeth are too straight, and I don't like the way you talk to me, how your voice gets all soft and sweet. It's irritating when you smile because it makes me smile too, and you're laugh just—it just pisses me off." You stop for breath, sucking in the air as you focus on the boy in front of you. You've taken a few steps toward him with your words spoken, slow, and steady. "And I hate the fact you made me like you. I hate the way you're so unhateable to everyone around you, including me."

There's a small twitch of Steve's lips, and you can tell they want to pull upwards into the smile you just claimed to despise. He doesn't let them though, pushing himself back from the counter. "You wanna know what I hate about you?"

Your heart leaps into your throat but you don't show any sign of response, staring at him with as much blankness as you can muster.

"Absolutely everything, and nothing at all." He says it quietly. He doesn't need volume to get his point across. He's taken the steps needed to close the gap between you, and he's waiting for your approval. "In fact, I think I could love you, if you'll let me."

You let out a breath, somewhere between relief and excitement. "You're so lame, Harrington."

"You know you love it." he leans in closer, and you do the same, lips brushing against his.

"You know, I think I could love you too, if you'll let me of course." you allow yourself a grin at the sight of one on Steve's own lips, contagious as always.

"I think we could come to an arrangement." He's fucking with you, but you're too impatient to respond with anything but a kiss, gentle and sweet to his lips. You're not the first person to kiss Steve Harrington, but Steve thinks you might be the best.

"Come on, the others are waiting." You pick up the sodas left on the counter and push past Steve with the widest smile you've held in weeks, and Steve follows close behind.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu

STRANGER THINGS TAGLIST: @buckys2thicc @browneyes528

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months

Text

The Loudest Silence

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You become mute after seeing Sam die in season 2, and it’s something he and Dean have to figure out together when he comes back.

Dean should’ve left you behind. He should’ve gotten there sooner. He should’ve saved Sam. He shouldn’t have let you see your big brother die.

You were sitting by Sam’s bedside, and Dean didn’t have the heart to tear you away. It didn’t feel right, letting you sit there beside your dead brother, but it felt even more wrong to tell you you couldn’t.

You hadn’t spoken, not since it happened, and Dean didn’t have the energy to try to get you to speak. He didn’t feel much like talking now, either, although it seemed different than you. He was grieving; you looked haunted.

“Hey kid.” Dean turned his head to look at you as Bobby walked up to speak with you. Bobby had decided to leave, and Dean refused to go with him, but Dean wanted you to go. You didn’t belong here, you shouldn’t have had to see Sam die, and you shouldn’t be sitting by his body now. You would be better off with Bobby, but Dean needed time to himself.

“Kid, Dean’s gonna stay here for a little while, but I want you to come home with me, alright?”

Bobby got no response. You didn’t even take your eyes off of Sam to look at him.

“Hey.” You flinched as Bobby placed a hand on your shoulder, and finally your eyes met his. “You’re gonna come home with me, ok?” It wasn’t exactly a question; neither Bobby nor Dean was about to let you stay here, but Bobby didn’t exactly want to drag you either, so he was willing to take it slow.

You didn’t speak, but you nodded and stood, one hand coming up to latch onto Bobby’s jacket. He noticed, but didn’t comment.

Dean watched as your eyes lingered on Sam’s body as you followed Bobby outside. Just before the door closed behind you, your gaze shifted to Dean.

He would never be able to forget that haunted look in your eyes.

…

It had been two weeks. Sam had come back not long after his death, but it had been two weeks since you’d spoken.

Once Sam had figured out that he had actually died, he understood your response a bit better, but it was no less troublesome. If Sam was worried about your condition, Dean was beside himself.

As if your sudden silence wasn’t scary enough, you had also glued yourself to Sam. Everywhere he went, you were there, the corner of his jacket fisted in your hand as you shadowed him. Sam didn’t seem to mind at first, but as the days wore on, it became obvious that this may not be a temporary thing. Sam had begun trying to get Dean to help him force you into some healthy distance, but Dean had refused.

Sam didn’t understand, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to force you out of what made you feel safe. It was his fault that you felt this way, after all. He’d let Sam die, and it was his fault that you’d been there to see it. So no, he couldn’t hurt you even more.

“Hey kid,” Bobby said, and you looked up. “How’s about you come with me to the kitchen and we can fix some lunch?”

Bobby had been trying to coax you away from Sam for days, with no luck. Today didn’t seem to be any different as you shook your head, your body unconsciously leaning even closer to Sam as your fingers tightened around his hand.

“N/N,” Sam spoke very gently as he pried his hand carefully out of yours. “How about you go with Bobby, ok? I’ll be right here, won’t move a muscle, I promise.” As soon as his hand was out of yours, you’d moved your hand to his jacket, unwilling to let him put distance between you.

Dean watched the exchange silently, unwilling to participate but hoping that you would listen to the men.

You were quite a long moment, your gaze fixed on Sam as his eyes bore into yours, silently pleading for you to listen. Finally, your fingers went slack on Sam’s jacket, and you turned your attention to Bobby. You gave him a slight nod and held your hand out to him.

Bobby was most certainly not one for hand holding, but after this victory he’d make an exception for you. He closed his fingers around yours and led you into the next room.

“She’s getting better,” Dean said finally.

“It might go faster if you helped,” Sam grunted.

“I don’t want her to feel ganged up on.” Dean’s excuse was a lie, and they both knew it.

But neither man said a word.

…

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, breathing a sigh of relief when you finally fell asleep. He knew it could be a while before he got some time away from you, so he planned on using it wisely.

As soon as Dean stepped into the motel room, Sam practically cornered him.

“We have to talk,” Sam said.

“Alright…” Dean glanced at your sleeping form, then back at Sam. “Why can’t she hear it?”

“She doesn’t have to be a part of this. Dean, how could you do it?” Sam swallowed “how could you…how could sell your soul?”

“You know why.” Dean shook his head. “I wasn’t going to let you stay dead.”

“You can’t mess with death like that!”

“I already did, and we’re not going to change it by talking about it.”

“It’s not just me, you know,” Sam said. “She’s gonna have to watch you die.”

“You think I did this thinking it would hurt her?” Dean shook his head. “I did this for her! You’ve seen what she’s going through now, and that’s with you back! What do you think would’ve happened to her if you stayed dead!”

Both boys were so caught up in their argument that they didn’t see you slip out of bed.

“She could’ve gotten over it,” Sam continued. “But now we all have to go through this all over again, we-“

“I don’t care!” Dean ran a hand over his face, still not noticing as you stepped up behind Sam.

“Exactly!” Sam threw up his hands. “That’s the problem, Dean! You didn’t do this for her, you did it for you!”

“I-“

“No!” Sam interrupted. “No, just shut up!” Sam flinched when he felt your hand touch his arm, and turned to look down at you.

You were staring up at him, eyes wide.

“Not…not you,” Sam’s voice had gone surprisingly quiet, and his features softened into a melancholy expression. “Sweetheart, what I want from you is for you to talk again.”

Your mouth opened, like you were trying to speak, before slowly closing again. You launched yourself forwards, and Sam held you tightly in his arms as you began to cry against him.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know you’re hurting, kid. But I want you to come back to us. You haven’t been the same, and we miss you.”

His argument with Dean was far from over, but this was far more important.

Dean watched his siblings, and he struggled to reign in his emotions when he saw you, still struggling to try to speak. He knew you were trying, and he would never forgive himself for being the cause of it.

“Dean.”

Both brothers were alerted by the sound of your voice, though it was scratchy and near-silent. It was then that Dean noticed your hand, stretching out towards him.

“Hey baby,” he put on a smile for you. “I’m here.”

“Sam.”

Sam smiled when you reached up to play with his hair, the way you had when you were little.

“Hey, you ok?”

“Don’t fight.”

“Yeah, o-ok.” Both brothers knew that Sam’s words were just to appease you, but they were done fighting for the moment. “You feeling better?”

You gave a gesture that was half nod, half shrug, but it was enough.

“Yeah?” Sam smiled. “It-it’s good to hear your voice.”

You looked up at Sam, and his worry eased at seeing the smile on your face.

“I love you.”

Neither brother had to fake their smile at your words.

“Yeah, we love you too.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean and sam #dean winchester x you #supernatural dean #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #spn sam winchester #sam winchester x y/n

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yorshie · 8 months

Note

Hello, fellow raccoon here 🦝 If it’s not too much trouble, could you write about sharing a bed for the first time with the Bay!verse turtles?

Ah! Another raccoon! Thank you for the request, I had a lot of fun writing this one! I went with head canon style.

Bayverse x reader, SFW other than bedshare, set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25

Tags: @jackalope-in-a-storm @tmnt-tychou

MICHELANGELO

This sweet turtle got his nest all ready when he heard you were finally spending the night. Brought in your favorite snacks, hunted down all his extra pillows from around the Lair, and restocked his mini fridge in case you got thirsty.

So when the time finally came and you go drop your bag off in his room, there is not a free spot to be found. His bed is a mountain of pillows and blankets, the small coffee table shoved in front of his tv has everything from pizza, microwavable food, and what looks like three different flavors of cookies piled on top of it.

Not gonna lie, its a bit intimidating. You might even have faltered, if sunshine boi wasn't right behind you with your toiletry bags, happy go lucky energy rubbing off until it felt like the spotlight wasn't directly on you.

the rest of the night is spent in typical Mikey fashion, a.k.a. a game and movie marathon. His brothers occasionally wander past his open door to say hello and to see what the two of you are up to. They might have a bet running on how much Mikey smothers you and how long you'll allow it. Even Splinter is in on it, thought the old rat refrains from making an appearance so his youngest doesn't feel like he's doing something wrong. He wants to marry his sons off eventually, after all.

When you eventually get tired and it's time to delve into the towering abyss of pillows that have taken over his bed, Mikey's territorial side makes an appearance. The door gets shut and locked to avoid anyone that might think it's a good idea to pull a prank (none of his brothers would but Mikey is paranoid because he is the prankster), and he wastes no time diving in after you for some cuddles.

oh. ok, maybe there's too many pillows, because now he can't find you! He's lost his significant other! Cue a mini chase where most of his bounty ends up in the floor in his search. You are not getting out of cuddles. No amount of wiggling or hiding will save you.

the actual cuddling is quite nice. Mikey's warm and his bicep makes for an excellent pillow. He likes to lay face to face, with your head tucked under his chin, limbs entangled and churring up a storm that you knew would have his brothers wincing in second hand embarrassment if they ever heard all the turtley noises he made when it was just the two of you.

He definitely snores, though. And farts in his sleep. Fact of life, don't get mad, because we all do it sometimes, most of us just aren't a mutated turtle man with a noxious gut fueled by pizza and sour patch kids. Dutch oven him with his own farts as payback.

in the morning you'll definitely wake up first, though as soon as you start to move Mikey will be alert. Call it sixth sense, but all the turtles are hyper aware of their own personal spaces and who's in them. I hope you weren't planning on getting an early start that morning, because now that Mikey's awake he's ready to continue the movie that you getting sleepy paused the night before. While getting more cuddles and eating breakfast in bed, of course.

LEONARDO

he internally started creating lists as soon as you accepted his sleepover proposal. Panics a little and moved the date once to make sure his sheets are washed the day before. Everything in his space has to be perfectly so. If someone interupts his cleaning and prepping, they better expect to have their head bitten off. Will have a literal panic attack if you arrived early.

You, of course, notice nothing out of place when he presents his room for your inspection. Yes, you read that right. This turtle will practically sweat as he waits for your verdict on whether the nest is good enough. No, he doesn't realize what he's doing. If you pick up on it don't tell him or else he might start panicking again.

The two of you will actually not spend too much time besides sleeping in his room, most of your time will be hanging out in the main living area. This serves two purposes: as the eldest Leo wants you to get along with all his brothers, and two, the thought of his bothers coming by his room to say hi to you absolutely drives is reptile brain crazy. So you'll eat and hangout with everyone else, and try not to laugh at the subtle teasing you know your turtle is going through with the whispered jokes and laughter that seem to stop every time you turn around.

When it gets late enough and everyone starts peeling off to do their own thing, you'll have to let Leo know you are ready to go lay down. Hilarious if you think He's going to suggest it's time to head to bed to you, he's trying his hardest not to think of the words "you" and "nest - BED! he meant bed!" in the same sentence.

when you finish your nighttime routine and make your way back to Leo's room, don't be surprised to find him on a makeshift pallet on the floor. There is no way you couldn't have seen this coming, but don't worry, there's an easy fix. Simply get in his bed, close to the wall, and start shivering. Loudly. Ham it up. In no time flat you'll have a turtle sneaking up next to you to keep you warm, though at first he will be hesitant. Cuddling you in the privacy of his own room with the expectation of sleep is very different from just chilling with you.

despite Leo trying to be a gentleman during the beginning, leaving you a bit of space and trying his hardest not to crowd you, by an hour in he will be wrapped around you. As he slowly gets tipped closer and closer to the edge of sleep, the more loose he will become. And once he gives in and gets used to the cuddles, he will never want to stop.

He clicks and chirps in his sleep sometimes. You woke up thinking there was a baby bird or something in the room, only to discover the high pitched noises were coming from him, before he transitions into deeper churrs from his chest right in front of your eyes. If you keep very still and quiet he might not wake up, but he will be traumatized if he does and discovers he makes these noises

There is very little chance of you waking in the morning before Leo. This turtle gets up early, but maybe just for today he can slip back next to you, after morning training, just to feel close to you for a bit longer. When you wake up you could just spend the morning talking, he won't mind being lazy as long as it's with you

You'll most likely be the one making breakfast if the other brothers aren't up yet, as Leo is banned from making anything other than tea or using the strict guidelines Mikey placed next to the microwave. But, he is an excellent sous chef, and after you're both fed he will be quick to suggest an activity so the two of you can hang out longer. Just know he's already weighing his chances of getting you to spend the next night as well.

DONATELLO

Dee had about 50 reminders set in the days leading up to your first sleepover, and a mental list he was practically grappling with in between projects. Anytime he'd focus on what was coming up too much, the butterflies would start going haywire in his stomach and he was likely to drop whatever it is he's holding at the time

Needless to say, he was in a bit of a panic by the time you showed up. Technically speaking, logically speaking, he knew his bed and room where both clean. And he knew you liked spending time with him, so why the anxiety? Why the nerves? He's so nervous, he doesn't even realize you've arrived, moved around his habitual pacing to set your bag on his bed, and now you're simply watching him with fond curiosity.

He shrieks when he finally notices you. Practically has a heart attack and knocks over at least four stacks of meticulously arranged cds and various technological components. Eventually joins in your laughter after he's calmed down enough to see the humor in the situation.

Just this once, Donnie has cleared his timetable of various projects to focus soley on you. That isn't to say that before he's blown you off or ignored you, but by now you are well aware how hard he has to work to contain his wandering mind, al lthe little tips and tricks he uses to keep his focus on the here and now and not bouncing from idea to idea.

The two of you will not be spending too much time out in the main area. The time it takes the two of you to procure dinner is more than enough brotherly interaction for the tall turtle. Not to mention, it turns almost awkward as the other's try desperately to not make prolonged eye contact with anyone else. They learned a long time ago not to tease the brother that controls all their devices and the access to the wifi.

Once Donnie and you are comfortable back in his room, the true hang out will begin. You'll play rock-paper-scissors to pick a movie, Donnie always lets you win, but he gets to pick the music that plays in the background. If you want, he'll access his computer and set up the program to make the lights in his room dance to the beat. Curled up in his arms, it is the easiest place to fall asleep, surrounded by fluttering lights that mimic being underwater.

Donnie may not actually sleep, but he stays with you the entire night. If you wake at all it might be to the idle scratching of pen on paper as he writes, his hand moving in your hair or along your back, or to his soft breaths caught in a light doze, a soft churr rumbling in his chest. If you're also the type to burn the midnight oil, you both might stay up talking long enough that the morning slowly creeps up on you before you both pass out.

Splinter often stops by the Lab in the morning on his way to meditate, if only to wrap a blanket over his son's shoulders and move his glasses to a safe spot. It's an ingrained habit, so much so that it doesn't even register that you spent the night until he quietly opens the door. He takes on look at the two of you holding each other close, and turns away with a smile.

Dee can cook, but most likely he'll order from the diner one block above their preferred manhole cover, and the two of you will sneak out for eggs, bacon and pancakes before secreting it away in his room so you don't have to share.

RAPHAEL

If the two of you are close enough for a sleepover, Raph is going to be the calmest of his brothers about you being in his personal space. Sure, he'll clean up, make sure all his dirty clothes are in his hamper and all the drawers actually shut on his dresser, but don't expect much in the way of fanfare.

He doesn't care where you wanna hang out in the evening, as long as you're comfortable. If you're out in the Lair proper however, get ready for some brotherly jockeying. Mikey almost can't help teasing Raph about having a guest over for the night, but the bigger brother will take it in stride as long as its only Mikey. Donnie tends to stay out of the limelight when it comes to teasing, but you better hope Leo doesn't so much as raise an eye ridge in Raph's direction. To be fair, the blue turtle is likely only drawing attention to how soft for you Raph is, but the two of them earning a trip to the Ha'shi might put a bit of a damper on the sleepover.

Leo's right though, Raph is completely soft for you. You want something to eat? He'll go get it for you without even a huff. You want popcorn for the movie? He'll bring back soda as well. You ask how much he can bench? He'll toe the line between showing off and making sure he can actually handle the weight. You neck hurts from having to crane around him to watch the movie? He'll lay on the ground and let you splay across his shell. You blink at him and sleepily ask to be carried? You're already up in his arms before you can even finish the sentence.

When it comes time to sleep, Raph will insist you take the inside of the bed, close to the wall, but he's thought ahead and gotten you your own pillow so you don't have to share with him. Yes, technically its from Mikey's room, but don't worry he disinfected it with a shit-ton of Lysol and Frebreze and washed the cover. This doesn't mean he doesn't want to cuddle, but of all the things Raph understands in his life, the very first few are the difference in size between the two of you, just how much he weighs, and how strong he is. So he'll tuck you against the wall and lay out on his stomach in one of the few positions that makes it hard for him to tip over. There's just enough room between the lip of his shell and the mattress for you to slot yourself against him, and he'll take the opportunity to slide his arm around your waist and bury his snout in your hair.

He'll hold you there throughout the night, breath slow and even. If you wake, be prepared that any movement will rouse him. He can't exactly help it, and he tries not to make you feel guilty over it, but you can always make out the green shine of his eyes peering down to make sure you are ok before he drifts back off again.

This turtle churrs sometimes in his sleep, but it's not the cute or soothing churr of contentment. No, someone parked a diesel engine in his man and is revving it like he's driving up an inclined gravel mountain road. The only way to get him to stop is to poke the thin strip of skin along his side, repeatedly, until he snorts and shifts. 50/50 chance the shifting will stop the churring. If not, you'll have to repeat the process.

In the morning, he'll dip before you wake, and come back to the room with warm pastries and whatever he's seen you drink in the morning. If you want your breakfast right away however, you might have to bribe him with turtle smooches as he tries to steal back his spot and catch up on the cuddles he's missed being a good boyfriend. Yes, he's holding you hostage, unless you want to try climbing over him. You might succeed if you make him laugh.

At some point in the day, after breakfast and whatever morning routine you keep, Raph will ask you what you want to do. If you want to go home, decompress, he'll take you home, but if you want to stay again and hang out some more you'll get to see the sweetest, softest smile break across his face.

#bayverse tmnt fanfic #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt x reader #TMNT leonardo #TMNT raphael #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt donatello #bayverse donatello #bayverse leonardo #bayverse raphael #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse mikey x reader #bayverse leo x reader #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse donnie x reader #my writing requests

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