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obsessivevoidkitten · 13 days

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Caught In His Web

Yandere Male Drider x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, painless/gentle noncon, venom, drugging, biting, light bondage, webbing, drider, spider-hybrid, oral sex, oviposition, dead animals wrapped in webbing, stalking, underwear sniffing, general yandere behavior. Word Count: 2.7k (A drider is technically an elf-spider formed as a punishment by Lolth, but this is just a human-spider hybrid with magic. Not technically a drider. But "spidertaur" just sounds off. Hope you enjoy, this was technically the first fic I started though I only resumed and finished it today)

You were an herbalist, you took plants and herbs from the wild fields, forests, and hills surrounding your small humble cottage. You expertly prepared the ingredients that you gathered and imbued them with the tiny bit of healing magic that you possessed. Magic in humans was very rare and your abilities and magical education were somewhat limited, but your potions, salves, ointments and remedies sold well enough in the town about six miles away on the other side of the forest.

Twice a month you made the journey there and back to sell your healing supplies. You made enough to survive on, and also enough to get you through the colder months when the healing plants you used did not grow. It was a modest life, but you were happy enough. Well, except for one thing... you were being followed...

At first, starting almost a year ago, you couldn’t get past the feeling that you were being watched from the shadows of the forest, occasionally you could swear you could catch glimpses of a large shape moving out of the corner of your eye or could hear something moving through the branches. You convinced yourself it was all in your imagination, or at least just some innocent woodland creature moving in the woods. For a month or so your denial was easy enough. You live by the forest, of course the animals must simply be getting more used to your non-threatening presence and getting a bit closer than they had previously. Everything was perfectly fine.

But then, about three months ago, things started to escalate. At first it was odd, but still explainable by the functions of nature. There were bundled up small dead animals bound in webbing left around in the places you most frequently gathered herbs and flowers. Okay, that is creepy, it must be some large spiders that are attracted to the birds and mice that are attracted to the insects drawn by the plants, perfectly normal and natural. You wish it would be perfectly normal and natural a bit farther away from you, but there was clearly nothing to worry about... except the fact that there are apparently a lot of spiders big enough to kill birds and mice in close proximity to you...

You could have dealt with the creepy large webs and the implied but unseen giant spiders, but then just a few days ago the bundles started being left on your porch for you to dispose of each morning. The webbed up animals were completely un-dessicated, killed and then just… left… A spider would not drop food for later in such an odd place. And what’s more the webbing now contained flowers woven into it, the flowers you most commonly used in your trade. No longer could you maintain any notions that the glimpses you saw from the forest, the noises you heard, and the web bundles were just coincidence.

The nearest humans lived too far away to keep up such a well maintained and menacing prank/threat, so you conclude that there must be some foul creature or malicious spirit that is stalking you. The past few days you were terrified and on the verge of freaking out, but you managed to maintain your calm composure. Besides, it has not escalated since then and today was the day that you went to the closest village to peddle your medical supplies, perhaps you could purchase some wards to protect yourself from spirits and talk to the local trappers, hunters, and elders to see if they know of anything dangerous lurking in the area.

You opened the door with a broom to sweep your doorstep, where you knew the web ball would be left. You shuddered as you swept it into the bushes and out of sight. So gross. You then went about your daily chores, and put the final touches on a last minute tincture. You put all your various vials, bottles, and other containers full of your merchandise into a large backpack that you put on before setting off on your way out the door and into the long path through the woods that would lead you to the village.

You started off at a brisk pace, there was no time to enjoy what would otherwise be a pleasant and leisurely stroll on a cool breezy day. You gripped the handle of the dagger in your belt tightly, in constant fear of what could potentially lurk just out of sight. You were paranoid and hyper fixated on watching the trees and path ahead for any possible signs of danger. So fixated that you completely neglected to watch where you were going. You did not notice a large bump in the path and tripped, you tried to get up but your ankle was sprained and you ended up flopping back over on your side.

This was bad, you were probably at least two miles into the forest unable to walk. Utterly helpless, with no more than a small dagger that in your inexperienced hands was mostly just for a false sense of security. But you couldn’t just lay here, you turned back towards the direction of your home and started ever so slowly dragging yourself.

You tried to do this as quietly as possible to not draw any attention to yourself, but you heard skittering and rustling in the bushes ahead of you.

Futilely, you hoped that it was just an animal or even the wind, but it wasn’t The being that had been lurking in the shadows and stoking your fears finally came forth.

A large drider came out of the trees. Like a centaur he was a creature that was human enough from the waist up but instead of a horse below that he was a giant white spider with black markings. From far enough away, and if the spider half were not in view, he could have easily been mistaken for a striking woman. His figure was slender and his hair was long and shimmered beautifully like silver in the rays of light that penetrated through the forest canopy.

But that is where the illusion ended for he had two fangs and four red eyes. He spoke in a cautious voice, as if trying to placate an animal that he feared may lash out.

“I’m Umzerth. I won’t hurt you, I promise.

You looked at him, trembling in dread and unable to take your eyes away as you scrambled backwards.

“Please no.” You repeated desperately in a frantic whisper.

The drider looked both concerned at your predicament and hurt by your reaction at seeing him.

“Please… darling… you’re hurt… just let me help you…”

“No, j-just stay back…”

“But your leg needs tending to my sweetling, I’ve never hurt you. I have proven I can take care of you by giving you all those plants you like. And food with them!”

“I am not interested in you taking care of me! Please just leave me alone… I have healing supplies with me…” Your voice faltered and it was clear that you were terrified of him.

Umzerth looked dejected, but he wasn’t going to give up. This was the first time he had properly met you and you were in pain. Surely you would accept him as your mate. He was so powerful and could take care of you. That’s what little humans wanted in a mate surely. He just had to calm you down and prove it.

The spider took a few tentative steps closer. You pulled your dagger from your belt and pointed it towards him. Your hand shook, more evidence of the fear coursing through you. He knew you’d never hold such a weapon to him if you were in your right mind. Maybe some of his venom would soothe you.

“Please put that away and let me help you sweetheart, my home is very close by. Your healing salves won’t work as fast as my methods will.”

You backed away a bit more, still holding up the dagger.

“I’ll take my chances.”

He moved with lightning speed and plucked the dagger from your hand, tossing it far away and out of sight. He spoke more forcefully.

“It would still take days to heal that foot. I can see the bruising from here. There are wild animals everywhere and I am not going to my beloved die out here because they were too damn stubborn.”

You cry out briefly as he bit down on your neck before an unnatural calm took your mind and your body went limp before fading into a relaxed sleep. His venom wasn’t at all deadly, not to humans, spiders, or driders. For a human it would merely give them a nice sleep. Which is exactly what you needed while he attended to your injury.

As you began stirring from your sleep you heard your name whispered. You woke to find your leg completely free of any pain, wrapped in silvery webbing. You could feel the thrum of magic within it. Much stronger than anything you could manage. Well… at least that proved he really wasn’t going to kill you.

“Are you feeling better, my little wild flower? I watched to make sure you slept well… I did take a break to catch you some food.”

The room you were in was unfamiliar, it looked to be a dwelling carved into stone. Likely at the base of the hills nearby. You were in a soft hammock made of silk. There was a wooden table next to you. Hand-carved. Umzerth apparently had grown accustomed to making his own furniture. Atop it lay a dead rat covered in webbing.

You recoiled at the sight.

“What’s wrong sweetling, it’s all predigested! You just have to bite and suck it out… don’t you like it?”

You didn’t say anything, but hopped up and bolted towards the exit. The ground was rough and cold on your bare feet, but you gave it no notice. You had to get away from this freak.

Umzerth caught you before you even reached the door.

“Let me go! I want to go home! Please!” You began sobbing and begging. Even if you were in no immediate danger he still frightened you. Thrust into a strange place with a terrifying creature and expected to eat… that… It was all too much.

“You ARE home my sweet flower!”

He caressed you oh so tenderly and claimed your lips with his own before setting you down on a cushioned chair that was far too small for him. Evidently he had prepared for your arrival for quite some time. Utterly disgusted with having been kissed by the monster, you wiped your lips.

“Are you upset with the food? Do humans not like that? I can learn to prepare human foods for you…”

He paced back and forth for a while with a nervous expression on his face, he wanted to make you happy and it was clear that you weren’t. How could he please you? He’d learn how to do that cooking thing he had watched humans do, but how could he make you like him more immediately?

Other than food that was to your liking hadn’t he provided everything a mate should? Shelter. Medical treatment.

Oh of course!

Sex!

You were being a whiny little human because you probably were desperate to copulate! He knew you were single since he had never seen another person at your dwelling, you probably hadn’t had a good dick like his in you in a long time, if ever.

You’d probably be all shy and bratty about it though. Natural first time jitters. He knew what would calm you down.

He scooped you up from the chair and, despite your struggles, gave your neck a little nip. Just a fraction of a full dose. You went limp again, but didn’t fall asleep this time. Your limbs felt too heavy and you felt really relaxed. You couldn’t muster the energy or will to fight anymore.

Umzerth gently placed you on a high stone shelf so that he was eye level with your crotch.

“I know just what you need to make you happy sweetling~”

You only groaned absently in response.

The drider gently peeled off your pants and underwear, taking it to his face and inhaling your scent deeply before placing it aside. The smell had him aroused in an instant. His erect cock poked out of a slit at his waist just below where his two halves met. Big and somewhat slimy.

He rubbed your soft thighs.

“Such a soft fragile thing.” He whispered.

He kissed up your thighs, occasionally giving them a careful nip, not enough to draw blood. He attended to you with a sloppy tongue and beneath the effects of his venom all you could feel was pleasure. You grinded into his face as you weakly stroked his hair, grabbing it harder when he brought you to climax.

He licked you clean as you shuddered.

“Ah, you fed me so well for worshiping at the altar between your thighs~”

You were even more relaxed now than when he had just bitten you, and just as powerless to resist. The spider picked you up carefully and shared another dominating kiss with you. This time sliding his tongue and brushing it against yours, smearing your taste buds with your very own flavor mixed with his saliva. A string of which connected your lips for a moment as he pulled away.

Then he held you as he positioned your body in front of his cock.

“Oh sweetling, you’ll look even prettier with a bellyful of my eggs~”

His words elicited just the smallest spark of worry in your envenomated mind, though it was quickly squashed when you felt his cock smear warm pre at your entrance. While holding you with one strong hand he slipped a finger in and out of you, slowly adding more one at a time.

Drooling and unable to articulate any thoughts, you moved back against his fingers.

At that he decided you were ready. He slipped his wet cock into you easily and with no pain at all, he had been very careful to make sure he pleasured his delicate flower.

He held you by your hips, gently rocking you back and forth along his shaft. You occasionally moaned softly. It felt so nice. So perfect. Like you were made just for this. Why had you been resisting again?

Umzerth started to go just a little harder, sure that his love could take it. With each thrust you let out a little gasp of pleasure. His cock fit itself into you beautifully, hitting every inch and making you feel full and sated in a way you never had before.

The fill of your shivering body as you had another climax pulled Umzerth over the edge with you. Powerful shudders racking the both of you in unison as his cock deposited small eggs deep inside you. Soft yet firm, they attached themselves to your insides. They would fertilize as they absorbed a bit of your DNA, then they’d fall out after a few days and then hatch a few weeks later.

Having deposited so many inside of his darling, your belly looked larger. He lay you in his web with him in the corner, rubbing your belly in awe. You smiled up at him and idly played with his soft hair.

“I’ll be back soon my love, I am going to get you something to eat.”

He wrapped you up in his webbing to keep you cozy before giving you a bit more venom to send you off into a short sleep. Then he covered the entrance to his den with his strongest webbing to make sure that you were completely safe while he was away. By the time you awoke he would have a good meal fit for any human. Then you would have nothing at all to be grumpy about.

This time he’d swipe a meal from the village, of course he’d leave them a gold coin in compensation since humans seemed to like those, and after that you could teach him!

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #my ocs #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere spidertaur #spidertaur x reader #yandere drider #drider x reader #My OCs #My OC Umzerth #yandere #male yandere

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ew-selfish-art · 8 months

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DCxDP AU: Danny and Damian are actually twins but were never raised together- Talia would divide her time between bases, spending time with them separately (but spending more time with Damian). Jason technically only met Danny in his time with the LoA.

It still a very tenuous truce that Jason has with his family when he finally joins them for breakfast after a late night of busting a drug ring. And sue him, he's never cared to look at the little one that closely when he's not pointing a knife in his direction. But then the little Bat Brat turned his face towards the ray of light streaming into the family room of the Manor and Jason caught a closer look to the… green color. Huh.

“Hey demon, when you died did you come back with those green eyes?” Jason calls out, and perhaps it’s a little antagonistic but something deeply unsettles the crime lord about this.

“Tt. I’ve always had green eyes Todd. Your observation skills remain dulled-“ Damian begins to berate him but Jason’s scowl deepens and he interrupts.

“No, they were definitely Bruce’s color blue when I met you with Talia- I punched your lights out because of it remember?” Jason supplies, looking perturbed and having a small child look equally perturbed back at him.

“You never met me in Nanda Parbat. And mother would have never allowed you to attack above your station and live.”

“Kid I literally have the scars from my punishment. My memory from that time after the pit might not be great or even good but I know, I know I punched your lights out.”

“No doubt you have been fooled by a clone then-“ Damian says but he looks upset.

“Talia called you Dami then, you’ve never let us call you that.” Jason supplies further, he was certain that Talia had introduced him as her son.

“I was never called such an informal name.” But Damian looks disturbed more than he looks like he wants to fight.

Eventually, after combing through their collective memory of Talia's where abouts and Damian's lack of interaction with Todd, it’s decided that they have to talk to Drake who was there the most recently. Neither wants to add the fact that he's also the most knowledgeable family member when it comes to the LoA now.

“Huh? Yeah, it looks like Talia kept ledgers dividing her time between two places- the journal reads like there is Dami as Damian but… maybe it’s Dami AND Damian…” Tim reviews the books he robbed them of with a fine tooth comb and suddenly this pattern of using the “nickname” and the “full name” start to show a “first child” and a “second child”.

Damian was clearly the favorite. The ‘Dami’ kid was sent away on a suicide mission pretty early in their lives, he would have left right after Todd did at the age of 8-ish. They all groaned at the cold trail following this assignment he failed to return from- it meant that they had to involve Bruce with a DNA search of the local areas the kid had been sent to across the globe. One of which, weirdly enough, was in Illinois.

…

“My name isn’t Daniel” Danny sighs at yet another event the Mansons brought him to with Vlad looking over his shoulder every five minutes.

Then the weird skinny kid who’s the big talk of the town approaches him with some guy built like a tank and says: “It’s Damian, isn’t it?”

Danny literally sinks through the floors, but in his attempts to run out the back door he’s stopped- By a guy that has Danny's own face and a very sharp looking knife pressed to Danny's throat.

In short- Danny introduced himself to the Fentons as “Dami” but they misheard him and called him Danny and fuck it, it’s close enough.

Now it turns out that their mother only planned on one surviving the artificial womb and gave them very different amounts of her time- so she just gave them the same name and reported it like she only had one child.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #damian wayne #demon twin au #danny and damian are twins

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lyjen · 29 days

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I Called

Summary: When (Y/n) goes out to do a business check on a Self Storage building, she ends up getting attacked. Due to a technical difficulty the radio of (Y/n) remains on, so everyone including her boyfriend and brother can hear what is happening.

Request by: @shauna-carsley

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: I was thinking of starting a taglist, so if you want to be tagged leave a comment or tell me in “Ask me a question”!

______

(Y/n) clicked her flashlight on as she pointed it towards the entrance of the self storage units. She stepped onto the concrete stairs and let her eyes investigate the garage door, which was still wide open in the middle of the night. Her eye fell on the door, which was held open by a small piece of wood, just enough to keep the door in its place. She slowly made her way off the concrete stairs, and approached the open door.

“Dispatch 442-L23 at Studio Self Storage, doing a business check” (Y/n) spoke over the radio. She grabbed her pistol out of her holster and let her right wrist rest on her left wrist so she would still be able to use her flashlight and gun at the same time. “Copy 442-L23” The voice of the dispatcher sounded through the radio, which was clipped to her uniform.

She took a deep breath, her stomach was filling itself with anxiety. Something that always happened when she would walk into a creepy building, without lights or backup. But that was something that gave her a kick, being a cop kinda felt like being on drugs. Yes, it could be intense, but whenever you let go of your feelings and dive right into the action it’d give her such a rush.

With her right foot, she kicked the metal door open and shone her flashlight together with the gun into the dark hallway of the storage unit building. Thanks to her flashlight, it revealed a staircase, the door she just walked through was probably an emergency exit, which was connected to the fire staircase.

(Y/n) shone her light towards the left, which revealed another door, with a small emergency light on. She stepped onto the metal staircase and made herself go through the door frame.

The small hallway she slowly walked through revealed a deep dark hall with countless small garage doors on the side.

Slowly but determined (Y/n) continued her steps into the storage unit building. As she turns to the right, footsteps of someone running are sounding through the space she’s in. There’s another hallway full with more storage units, but no one to be seen.

For one quick moment, she closes her eyes, trying to calm herself down. She can hear her own heart beating in her chest of adrenaline, the pounding sounds of her heart are racing through her eardrums. “You can do this.” she tries to encourage herself, inside her head so she wouldn’t give away her position.

Focussed on every step and breath she takes, she quietly walks further and further into the property. Checking every inch of the building, looking for any differences. The walls were full with small garage doors with locks.

When she entered another hallway, she pointed her flashlight to the right, as an unfamiliarity popped up into the sequence. There wasn’t a storage unit. She aimed the flashlight along with her gun at the unfamiliarity. There was some kind of little living area. There was a bed, a bike, a sleeping bag, and a construction lamp which was switched on.

Someone was living there. Maybe even hiding. (Y/n) was pretty sure it had to be connected to her case, as well as the running footsteps she heard about a minute ago.

Now it was time to call for backup.

(Y/n) locked her flashlight under her right armpit so she could radio dispatch. “Dispatch 442-L23, I’m gonna need backup and detectives dispatched to Studio Self Storage. I have a possible-” She couldn’t even finish her sentence or she felt a pair of hands pushing her into one wall she was standing next to. A loud groan fell from her lips as her body connected with the storage unit door.

She tries to push the person away with her strength but she gets pushed back into the door.

“442-L23, do you copy?”

The person behind her grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled it so her head was now looking up. A high pitched yelp leaves her mouth, and she receives a fist to the right side of her face. With a force her head was pulled back and pushed into the concrete wall.

“442-L23, please respond.”

Another scream came through the radio as her face hit the wall.

“Officer needs help. 442-L23 at Studio Self Storage”

(Y/n) gathers all her strength and pushes her body as hard as she can into the attacker’s body. The attacker stumbled back into the other wall behind him. She yanks her left elbow with a force, multiple times into the side of his body. But he roughly grabs her shoulder, pushes her to the side and pins her into the wall.

“All units, police and fire RA, clear channel two”

Evan closed the hatch of the truck as he put back the halligan and walked towards his team who were standing at the ambulance, putting the gurney into the back of it. “Switch to Tac channel 50. Officer on open mic in distress.” The voice of Maddie broke through the radio. “Needs assistance. 442-L23 at Studio Self Storage”

Evan just came to a stop, as he felt the back of Eddie’s hand harshly tapping against his chest. Evan’s eyes connected with his as he realized what his sister had just said through the radio. “Buck. Isn’t that…-” Eddie starts, “(Y/n)” Evan finishes his brother-in-law's sentence. Evan’s eyes grew wide, his stomach turned and his veins filled themselves with adrenaline.

“Take him to the hospital and everyone else, on the engine, now, let’s go! ” Bobby spoke over the scene. Before Bobby could even finish his order, Evan sprinted towards the engine, hopped in and threw one of the headphones onto his head. The rest of his team quickly jumped in too and they drove away with squealing tires.

Evan tries his best to remain calm, his foot starts tapping towards the metal floor of the fire engine. His elbows lean onto his thighs as he lets his head hang between his thighs and his fingers intertwine on the back of his head. Evan can feel his heart racing, like it was almost trying to break free from his chest. He was suffering in silence.

Meanwhile Eddie looked out of the window, watching buildings, houses and cars go by in a flash. The sound of his sister getting tortured was awful, it’s something you wouldn’t wish for your worst enemy to hear. Now and then Eddie would glance at Evan, seeing if he was doing okay, it was his best friend after all. Another yelp fell from his sister’s mouth through the headphones.

“Cap, they're telling us to switch to tac 50.” Chimney reminds Bobby. When Bobby reached out his hand, ready to switch the channel. Eddie’s voice sounded over the headphones. “No. Leave it on” Eddie takes a look at Evan who was still deadly focussed on the sound through the radio. Bobby looked over his shoulder as he shared looks between Evan and Eddie but nodded at his request.

Evan was torturing himself by listening to every single sound that came through his headset, but he had to listen to it. To let himself know that he’d be there any minute, any second to help her. He had to listen, so he wouldn’t get the feeling he’d leave her alone. He was with her, even if it was through the radio and she couldn’t hear a thing and was fighting for her life.

Evan knew (Y/n) was stubborn. She knew Evan was worried whenever she was on shift. He knew she was so stubborn, that she would sometimes not call for backup. She had pulled these kinds of stunts multiple times. They’ve had arguments over not calling for backup. But she would just say “But I'm okay! I’m here!” It was just a matter of time when it would go wrong. And today was the day he had feared the most.

“It’s insane! You’re insane! You know you needed to call for backup and you ignored it.” Evan paced through the room. “Yeah but, I’m still here! Alive and well!” (Y/n) said as she leaned against the kitchen counter. “That’s not the point. The point is, what if you got shot? Nobody would’ve known.”

Scenes from arguments that happened weeks ago, flashed through his mind. With every scream, every groan, every punch and push he heard, Evan closed his eyes even tighter.

Once again, the person grabs her hair and launches her into the concrete. (Y/n)’s body bounced against the concrete, she could taste the blood dripping from her lip. She tries to turn her body around so she could face the attacker and use her gun. But he pins her against the wall, as well as her right arm which she was holding her gun in. He punches her wrist against the concrete, due to the shocking pain of her wrist connecting with the concrete she lets go of her gun. Dropping it to the ground.

He grabs her arm and snaps it backwards. An ear deafening scream sounds through the building as she literally hears the bone snap. She feels how the bottom of the attacker’s shoe connected with the back of her knee as he kicked it. She lost balance on her right leg, so she tumbled to the ground and a loud cry fell from her lips.

Her body gets forced onto the ground by the power of his hands. (Y/n) falls face down onto the floor. In panic she starts touching the floor, looking for her gun with her only available hand that was working.

She could feel the man’s body standing over her, ready to throw another punch. But as soon as her hand found her gun, she turned around and pulled the trigger twice, not really thinking where she was aiming at.

A scream sounded through the storage unit halls. One bullet went into the guy’s leg and the other one went beside his ear. The attacker lost balance, fell down onto his left knee which was injured now and screamed from the top of his lungs. (Y/n) pushed herself up with her non injured hand as she put her gun back into her holster. (Y/n) wanted to stand up to her legs, but then she realized her right leg wasn’t doing what she wanted, it was twitching. So she had to crawl her way to the man’s body.

The man was so busy with his hearing and his gunshot wound to the leg, that he didn’t notice (Y/n) crawling to him. She pushed the man in his back with a force so he was now with his stomach to the ground. (Y/n) grabbed one of his hands and cuffed him to the closest pipeline she could find. He wasn’t going to get away with this. She chose to cuff him to the pipeline with one hand, because she didn’t have the power to hold him down on her own. Her right arm was broken and she dislocated her right knee.

Her world was spinning, all those hits to her head made her head feel fuzzy. As she cuffed him to the pipeline, (Y/n) tries to crawl as far away from him as she could. But after ten or twelve pushes towards the exit, she couldn’t find any more energy. She stopped crawling, and turned onto her back so she was facing the ceiling now. Trying to catch a proper breath, her vision started to reveal black and white spots. Her eyelids became heavier by the second, but she had to hold on. She had to stay awake, but it was difficult with the swellings that were appearing on her face.

It felt like they were on their way for hours, maybe even days before the truck finally pulled to a stop. The street was filled with police cars and blue and red lights colored the building walls. Evan threw off his headphones and jumped out of the door.

“Sir the building is not clear” he can hear an officer calling after him when he sprinted into the building. He had to know if she was okay, he knew his team would get the right tools and equipment with them when they would go inside.

With the flashlight attached to his chest on his jacket, he ran through every dark hallway, until he saw a crowded hallway filled with officers. That was it.

He didn’t run this time, he basically speed walked into the room. Evan’s eyes fell on the man who was cuffed to the pipeline, his eyes squinted at the bright light Evan’s chest was carrying. But the cops weren’t surrounding the man, they were surrounding someone else.

Evan could hear multiple footsteps entering the hall he was standing in. “Captain Nash, she’s here” one of the officers sounded when his eyes fell on the captain of the 118. The officers made room for the team to assess their colleague.

“Oh my god” Evan mumbled to himself as his eyes locked on his girlfriend’s body, lying down on the ground, completely beaten up. Evan dropped down to his knees, next to (Y/n) as he put his arms underneath her shoulder blades. He carefully removed some strands of hair from her face, which were sticking to the wounds. “(Y/n) Can you hear me?” his voice sounded broken.

“Can you hear me?” he repeated one more time, trying to get (Y/n) to open her eyes. Weakly, her eyelids parted, but the black eye she got made it difficult for her. “Buck?” she whispered. “Yeah baby I’m here! I’m here!” he panted, his heart was still racing so hard, it almost felt like he was having a heart attack.

A tear left both her eyes. “I.. I called. I c-called for b-backup.” She cried. “I know,” Evan said, as he bit his lip, trying to stay strong. “You did so good” he continued, and reeled her into his chest.

She cries as she lets her left hand slip onto his back, trying to get him even closer than he already was. It almost felt like she wanted to merge into him. Evan could feel the way she cried into his skin, the tears that dripped onto his navy blue shirt. The quiet huffs she let out, almost sounded like she was hyperventilating, the breaths were ticking his skin.

“You’re okay. You’re safe now” he breathed into her hair as he pressed a kiss onto the back of her head.

A hand fell onto Evan’s shoulder. “Buck, we need to check her.” Eddie’s voice spoke as he tightly squeezed his shoulder, an attempt to comfort him. Evan pulled back from the embrace and slowly helped her body get back on the ground again. He wasn’t going to leave her, so he moved from the side of (Y/n) to take place above her head, trying to keep her awake.

“I need the backboard and the gurney in here, cap” Hen tells Bobby. Bobby nods at her request and taps Chimney on the shoulder, as a sign to help him and get it.

Eddie knew the rules of standing back when you’re too personally involved in this. But he wanted to work on his sister. Especially after this incident, he had to let her know he would be there for her. Bobby knew telling him he couldn’t treat his sister wouldn’t stop him. He would do it anyway.

Eddie and Hen took place each on one side of (Y/n)’s body. Eddie carefully placed his gloved hand onto her cheek as he checked her pupils with the little light he got from the medic bag. “Pupils are equal and reactive” her brother spoke as he switched the light off and put it back into the bag.

Evan was holding both his hands beside (Y/n)’s head, as he felt a hand searching the back of his hand. (Y/n)’s left hand was searching his hand. Evan took her hand into his hands and pressed a kiss onto her skin.

Evan noticed the way she squeezed her eyes closed, she was in pain. “Hey! Hey! What’s wrong?” Evan asked as he let his eyes scan her body. “M-My leg.. my l-leg!” She whined. “(Y/n) I know it hurts, but you have to stay still okay?” Eddie tried to calm down his sister, as she started kicking with her left leg, while her right leg stayed perfectly still. Eddie grabbed a scissor out of the bag, Eddie’s eyes connected with Hen’s as if he was silently asking her if she was seeing this too. Hen nodded as he pointed at the right leg.

Eddie cut through the fabric until his eyes recognized a swelling around her knee, some bruising and her kneecap was visually out of its place. “A dislocated right knee” Eddie said as he looked at Hen. “(Y/n), your knee has been dislocated. The best thing to do for us is to splint it and get you to the hospi-” Hen didn’t even get the chance to give her advice as she yelled: “Pop it back in!”

“Are you sure?” Hen asked to double check her choice. She nodded with her eyes closed, still facing the ceiling of the building. “Do it.” Evan spoke as he squeezed her hand, and placed his other free hand onto her cheek.

“I’m sorry sis, this is gonna hurt. A lot.” Eddie says as he gets ready to grab her lower leg. Eddie closed his eyes for a second, to mentally prepare to hear his sister's ear deafening scream in real life. As if she hasn’t screamed enough today.

Carefully Eddie extended her leg, (Y/n) bit down on the inside of her cheeks trying not to scream, but the stinging pain in her leg was too painful. Her scream went through marrow and bone, it sounded like she was being tortured. She squeezed Evan’s hand so hard it turned blank. A pop sounded through the air as the knee popped back into its place.

She sobbed as she felt the shocking pain through her leg. Evan was trying to comfort her as her eyes kept streaming over her face. “You did so good..” he wiped one of her many tears away as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Right arm is most definitely broken, right closed fracture.” Eddie says when he took a closer look at her right arm. “Alright. Starting fluids” Hen’s voice spoke as she got an IV needle from the bag and searched for a vein on her left arm which Evan was holding, to put the needle in.

“Splinting the arm” Eddie grabbed a sam splint from the bag, and started to secure the splint to her arm. “Stay with us sis, we got you.” Eddie spoke as he could see her eyelids blink faster and faster, as she was going to pass out. Evan’s eyes shot at hers as he heard Eddie finish his sentence.

“We need to move her!” Eddie called out, as he could see Bobby and Chimney entering the hallway again with the gurney and a backboard.

“Hey hey! (Y/n) stay with me!” Evan said as he saw her beginning to fade away. “So..tired..” she mumbled, out of breath. “No, no, no! You have to stay awake, baby.” Evan spoke as he placed both of his hands on her cheeks, carefully so he wouldn’t hurt her.

Evan’s eyes scanned her body, there was nothing else visible. Without thinking, his hands went to her shirt. He pressed both hands onto one side and yanked her shirt open, she was now in only her bra, with her shirt to the sides. Eddie’s eyes shot at Evan’s spontaneous action.

Eddie’s eyes immediately saw a bruising underneath her chest. “She’s bleeding internally, it’s probably her spleen.” Eddie concluded, “Get that backboard over here! We need to move her!” Eddie called out. Chimney put the backboard down on the ground and with the four of them they slid (Y/n) onto the backboard and onto the gurney.

When they wheeled the gurney to the exit of the building, Evan constantly held her hand. He wasn’t letting her go, and she wasn’t planning on letting him go. He could see her eyes open and close from time to time.

They loaded the gurney into the ambulance, and without any hesitation Eddie and Buck both got in the back. The back doors closed and with two pats on the backdoor the ambulance started moving.

“Buck..” she mumbled, “I’m right here baby” Evan spoke as he squeezed her hand, to let her know he was there. “I’m sorry” she said with her eyes closed, but she weakly opened them. “Don’t be, this wasn’t your fault.” Evan pressed her hand to his lips once more, and she gave him a weak smile.

______

“(Y/n) I asked you a question.. are you still having nightmares?” doctor Frank asked (Y/n) as she was facing him. Her crutch she had, was leaning against the side of the couch she was sitting on. “No” she answered. Her knee was in a brace, it still hurt when she walked and she had the crutch to help her.

“We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell you’re lying” Frank said straight to the point. “Well, you see a little off today.. Did something happen recently?” She shook her head at the question of her therapist. “You’ve gone through a traumatizing event. It’s normal to have nightmares after that. So tell me about your most recent nightmare.”

She sighed. Why was she even talking to him right now? She just wanted to go back to work, but she knew she couldn’t. Not when her leg was torturing her like this. “I didn’t have a nightmare.” she held onto it.

Frank sighed, and grabbed the pen of his notebook to take some notes. (Y/n) rolled her eyes at Frank. “Okay. Yes, I did have a nightmare.” she sighed.

She started tapping her left leg against the floor. “What happened in the nightmare?” Frank asked further. “It’s.. the same thing. Over. and over again..The same scene, same attacker, same actions.” She spoke, her voice breaking some more whenever there came another word out of her mouth.

“And how does that make you feel?” Frank asks. “I.. I keep feeling like I can’t breathe. Like, I’m being pushed underwater. Suffocating.” She roughly wipes her tears with her left hand off her face.

“You know, I’ve made up hundreds of different kinds of scenarios in my head, what if my microphone wasn’t on, what if I never called for help, things like that.” (Y/n) admits. “And you never dream of those scenarios?”

She shook her head. “No.. Some days, I don’t even sleep, because I’m scared to fall asleep. Because I know what kind of dream I will have.”

“Even when Evan is next to you, you’ll still have the same dream?” Frank asks. (Y/n) nods. “It’s crazy, I don’t talk in my sleep. But after.. this.. I sometimes wake up screaming, and I terrify Evan.” she sobs. “He tells me it’s okay, it’s normal after what I’ve been through.” her voice continues.

In the back of her mind, she can hear her own scream, the way the attacker grabbed her and pushed her into the wall, the way he broke her arm. Everything is coming back to her now.

“But I’m sick and tired of scaring him to death, him telling me it’s okay to have those nightmares.” Tears are falling down her face, her sobs are uncontrollable and she could feel herself starting to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry.” she says as she stands up, puts her arm down into the holding area of the crutch and leaves the room.

She rushes out of the room, yanking open the door to the waiting area where her boyfriend was waiting for her to finish her appointment. She wasn’t able to drive herself, so Evan offered to drive her to her appointment.

Evan was scrolling down his phone as the door was opened and his girlfriend came rushing through it. “Woah woah! What happened?” Evan asks as he stood up from the chair he was sitting in and (Y/n) almost ran outside.

When she reached the outside air, she couldn’t breathe. It was almost like she was choking on her own air. Evan had followed her outside, he was standing in front of her putting at first both his hands on her upper arms, but as soon as he realized she was hyperventilating one of his hands was moving towards her cheek. “Remember what I said right? Deep, slow breaths.” he calmly said as he tried to get her along, so she could copy him. Her eyes were focussed on Evan. Slowly breathing in and out, she put her hand on his chest so she could focus on Evan’s heartbeat. Something that always would calm her down.

She’s had a few panic attacks these last weeks, Evan didn’t at first know what to do. But right now, he was an expert in calming her down. Evan placed the hand he had on her upper arm down over her hand which was placed onto his own chest.

“Good, good..” He says as her trembling breath finally was in the same pace as his. ”You want to tell me what happened in there?” he slowly asks. He could basically already guess what has happened in there, but he still wanted to hear it from her. “No..” she sighed. “That’s okay.” Evan whispered as he brushed some strands of hair behind her ear.

(Y/n) closed the distance between her and Evan, she put her head down onto his shoulder as he reeled her into his chest and placed one hand on her lower back, and the other one rubbed up and down over her spine.

“We’ll be alright..” Evan says as he presses a kiss down onto the top of her head.

Part 2 - Next >

#911 #911 fox #911 imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evanbuckley #imagine #911 abc

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m3talmunson · 1 year

Text

It started with babes. Babes is completely platonic right? Nothing out of the ordinary there. Eddie was known for being over dramatic, why would nicknames -or in this case, pet names- be any different?

Babes wasn't even that over the top, so why was Steve blushing like a school girl after it was said in passing?

Steve definitely knew why, although, he was going to pretend he didn't. But he knew, about himself, about Eddie. A couple months after spring break '86 Steve had a very enlightening talk with Robin about his feelings. Towards Munson. Those completely and totally platonic feelings.

And a couple weeks later, as though Eddie was so in tune with Steve's discovery, Eddie came out to Steve at a campfire with Robin and Nance. Those two had wandered off, Eddie made some comment about "Good for Robs," before realizing his mistake. That was, until Steve said "Yeah, good for Robs," and Eddie just had to ask.

"You know about her? Y'know..."

"What? Eddie? Of course! She's my best friend."

"And you're ok with it?" Eddie was kind of shocked. Great 'King' Steve wasn't going to sick the dogs on Hawkins Local Lesbian? And it seemed like he had known longer than Eddie?

"Yeah, when you survive hell and back enough it's pretty hard to hate anyone for being gay." Steve left off the part where he was also into guys. He knew Eddie was ok with that, clearly ok with Robin, but Eddie might not be ok with being the guy Steve was into.

"Oh. Well," Eddie didn't know if it was the couple beers he had downed, or his newfound safety with this big ol' group of misfits, but he was comfortable asking Steve, "What if I was like Robin too?"

"Are you?" Steve asked. He wasn't going to get his hopes up over hypotheticals, but he could admit he had feelings for the older boy. He wasn't sure what feelings to be honest,but he was figuring that out as he went. He just knew they were more than platonic.

"Well, technically I'm the opposite of Robin, y'know. Not attracted to women. But yeah, I am." Eddie stared into the camp fire, torn between hoping that it would eat him alive, or that it would simply stare back.

"Okay, thanks for trusting me." Steve responded, plain as day.

He had asked Robin, if someone were to come out to him (granted they were not just drugged by Russians), what would she have wanted to hear. And he finally got the chance to use it, seeing the way Eddie's shoulders dropped in relief.

"So you're like actually ok with it?"

"Like I said, been to hell and back with you, who you love doesn't mean a thing over that."

" Yeah," Eddie said,"But most straight guys don't like it when gay guys flirt relentlessly with them."

"We'll keep that one between us then, won't we?" Steve wasn't entirely ready to correct Eddie on the straight thing, so he just didn't acknowledge that part. He chose to ignore the blush rise on his face, blaming it internally on the heat of the fire.

He also tried to ignore that at that point, the nicknames picked up.

It started with babes. Then baby, which made Steve's brain flutter. Then sweetheart. Eddie only used that one when he wanted something, and yet Steve still loved it. Stevie was one of the fan favorites. Not really a pet name, but used just as lovingly as one. Sometimes Eddie held out the end, in a sing-song voice. Made Steve weak in the knees. Eddie knew what he was doing.

It was babe that made Steve do something about it. Eddie used sweetheart, baby, Stevie, around everyone. In front of the kids, on his various trips to Family Video (whether to buy or annoy, who knew). But babe. Babe was just for Steve and Steve alone.

So of course, the only logical order of events was for Steve to start using them back.

It started with babe, the obvious choice. Fight fire with fire, or whatever. The meaningless pet names ended with babes too.

Because after Eddie kissed Steve to shut him up, they suddenly had meaning.

#short n sweet cause ive been gone for too long #in more personal news! just got cast as one of my lifelong dream roles in theatre yesterday!#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #steddie blurb #steddie drabble #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #pet names

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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

could you do some drunk Eddie blurbs or oneshots? Thanks! I love your stuff btw

✶ ┄ DRUNK IN LOVE !

summary: "you're drunk, eds" / "yeah, super drunk. and in the morning, when i'm sober, you’ll still be beautiful… i’m just gonna be too chicken shit to tell you." pairing: best friend!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 3.8k warnings: talks of alcohol, getting drunk, and taking care of a super drunk eddie! barely proofread so pretend any typos are nonexistent <3 a/n: i'm learning it's next impossible for me to write blurbs. i get an idea for one and boom. it's nearly 4k words. thanks for the request, anon! hope you like it xoxo

( MASTERLIST )

Eddie didn’t realize until he was halfway through his fifth beer, that he probably should’ve stopped at his fourth.

He’d stumbled upon that finicky little fork in the road at the crux both drinks, a line he was toeing all night between blissfully tipsy and borderline obliterated. You can only really maneuver it if you’re smart about it, and in true Munson fashion, Eddie opted for the exact wrong decision.

It wasn’t like he’d ever prided himself on being a man of self-control. He was gluttonous to a fault, green and greedy at times, especially when there was free alcohol involved.

Eddie had been a grumpy little stick in the mud when you and him first got to Steve’s place. He didn’t feel like partying that night or sharing you with people he could barely stand. They were your friends, after all, not his. He only tolerated the bunch of them because you did. He spent the entire drive lamenting about how illegal it was — to be his best friend and have other people in your life you cared about the same way you cared about him.

“That’s obviously against the rules,” he joked.

You only scoffed in response. “Obviously.”

Undeterred by his complaints, you drug him halfway across Hawkins with you like a storm cloud on a leash.

When you arrived, he found that it wasn’t a party at all. It was just Steve and Robin drinking together on the couch while Nancy and Jonathan stirred around in the kitchen and scolded Argyle for rifling through all the cabinets.

Music spilled lowly from the radio, a platter of snacks were laid out on the coffee table, and everyone smiled at you when you walked in. It wasn’t nearly as loud or as overwhelming as he’d dreaded it might be on the drive over.

Didn��t mean he was any happier about it, though.

“I don’t know about this,” he cautioned in your ear from where he stood behind your shoulder, seeking a familiar refuge in you once all the greetings were done. “We talked to everyone, can’t we just, like… go? I don’t think I’m gonna have a good time here, babe.”

Babe, he calls you, a nickname that’s left half of Hawkins believing the two of you were really dating. You stopped blushing about it some years ago, when the novelty of it wore off and it ultimately replaced your actual name.

You shrugged, grasping for a reason to make him stay. “Steve said he had a keg.”

The big silver thing next to the kitchen island didn’t catch his eye until then. You peered up at him, finding a sudden sparkle in his gaze. His bushy brows bounced and his pink mouth fell soft agape at the sight of it. Something swelled in his heart then, a distant and boyish happiness.

“…I’m gonna try.”

He was pretty much a goner after that.

The beer was pretty stellar, but more than anything, the keg kept it cold. Eddie could barely drag himself away from the damn thing — the red solo cup hadn’t left his right hand all night. And when Steve let him handle the music, that was even better… Well, technically, he let you handle the music, but you sifted through his tapes and picked only what you knew Eddie would like — just like you always did.

Any other time, Eddie might’ve asked what the hell King Steve was doing with so many KISS cassettes, but he was already too drunk to think logically about anything by the time “Detroit Rock City” started playing. He stopped caring and let all the beer and music coursing through his system do all the work for him.

And while stumbling for his sixth refill with Robin, he concludes that he is, in fact, completely and utterly and unabashedly drunk. He’s still sober yet, enough to make such an admission to himself, but too far gone now to stop drinking.

He crouches slightly to bring the nozzle to the rim of his cup without much resistance. His tongue pokes through his tingling lips as he pours all of his concentration into aiming the beer into his plastic chalice and not completely toppling over onto the kitchen floor below him.

That’s when he spots you and Steve sitting on the couch, a little too close for his liking.

The brunette boy has his arms sprawled over the back of the sofa like he owns the place (Eddie’s too drink to remember he does, in fact, own the place) and your legs are delicately crossed and turned towards him, too enraptured in whatever conversation you were having to notice that your best friend had run off (you’d been trying to look after him all night, it wasn’t your fault he kept dodging you).

And it wasn’t his place to be jealous, he knew that. You didn’t belong to him. You could do whatever the hell you wanted to.

If he wasn’t so sloshed, he might’ve been able to recall that you don’t have a thing for Steve — that you’ve never had a thing for Steve, because you’ve spent your entire life in love with your best friend.

But you were too chicken shit to tell Eddie and Eddie was too oblivious to see any of it and it left the both of you in a permanent limbo of unsaid feelings.

So much so, that he once encouraged you to conquer the feat of King Steve one night, many moons ago. He thought he’d noticed the two of you being overtly touchy in the back of a dimly lit club.

Eddie was sober enough then to make fun of it all while still feeling every ounce of his misplaced jealousy as he playfully promised you that “you had his blessing to screw Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

You should’ve known you were screwed when you told him that you didn’t want to screw Steve because “you had your eyes on someone else,” and he completely missed the brave, longing look you shot his way.

Eddie spent the rest of the night pestering you endlessly about your crush, while you just sat there, red hot and embarrassed about the whole thing.

Now he’s the one feeling like a fool, watching his best friend make nice with the dowager king of Hawkins.

Being without you makes the distance feel somehow wider from where stands across the too big house, feeling like a stray puppy everyone adores but never actually choses.

Robin taps him on the shoulder to bring him from his stupor before he can waste the foaming beer rapidly filling his cup, though there was no stopping the drunken war path he goes on after.

You and Steve giggle to yourselves as you watch Nancy twirl drunkenly to the tune of the Joan Jett, louder when Jonathan fights to keep her from stumbling over herself. The boy leans over to you, whispering a joke only you can hear, and smiling when it makes you laugh.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie scolds when he stumbles up to the couch. “What’re you two love birds whisperin’ ‘bout over here, huh?”

The two of you blink up at the boy, surprised by his sudden visit and how much drunker he’d gotten since you spoke to him last.

He’s all flushed out, cheeks glowing red with the alcohol in his system, and slurring something fierce — the kind of drawled out garbles that only sound clear to the one that’s speaking.

“We were talking about you, Eds,” you smile without missing a beat. “Been missin’ you over here.”

Steve nods with a dumb, tight-lipped grin. “Yeah. You’ve been making friends with that keg instead of the rest of us, man—”

“Yeah, right,” the boy scoffs out a laugh with a bitter nod. He less than gracefully squeezes between your legs and the coffee table. “Scooch over, Harrington. Make some room. ’S too damn cuddly over here.”

With no choice but to comply, the two of you part.

“Scooch?” you hear Steve mutter under his breath with a faint laugh that has you giggling too. Eddie’s not drunk enough to miss the glance that both of you share, seemingly having some sort of silent conversation that’s left him, yet again, out of the loop.

He’s got a full on pout on his numbing face when he settles between you and Steve, losing his balance briefly before landing in a clumsy pile between the both of you. The beer in his freshly filled up cup sloshes over the rim and splashes into your lap. The alcohol stains the belly of your t-shirt, leaving it cold and clinging to your skin.

And it’s not as dramatic as the movies make it seem, where a guy spills a drink on a girl and something terribly melodramatic ensues. You weren’t trying to impress anybody, least of all with your outfit — hell, you’d probably stolen it from Eddie himself a lifetime or more ago. You don’t get angry or rush out of the room for a good cry.

Actually, you smile sweetly at him, with the realization that it was time for you and your way-too-drunk-to-function best friend to head home.

Eddie gets all sad about it anyway, though, because to him it really does feel all that dramatic. His face screws up like he’s just done something irreversible. His umber eyes glimmer at you with a particular sadness only a drunk person could possess.

“Shit, babe… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay, Eds—”

“No, it’s not okay. I’m sorry,” he slurs with the sloppy shake of his head. “Please don’t be mad at me, babe. I didn’t mean to.”

“No one’s mad at you, Eddie,” you affirm with a soft laugh, dabbing at the wet spot of your shirt with the bunch of napkins Jonathan (the only other half-sober person aside from you and Steve) haphazardly hands to you.

“I can give you another shirt, if you want,” Steve offers, already standing to retrieve it for you. “Might be too big but it’s—”

Eddie’s head snaps away from you and to the brunette boy. A cartoon-like anger coats his buzzing features. “Like hell you will, Harrington,” he tries to threaten, though the words come out half-jumbled together. “Won’t have my girl wearin’ your shit, Steven—”

You burn red hot at the new nickname, equal parts embarrassed and delighted as you stand from your position on the sofa. Suddenly eager to escape the situation, you reach for Eddie’s hand. “Alright, Eds. Let’s go.”

He accepts your touch without question, rising on swaying feet and forcing you to keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady.

He’s already forgotten what he just said. He has no idea that your heart’s just done a billion backflips for him. He focuses, instead, on the thought of a new adventure with you. “Ooh. Where we goin’ now?”

“I’m taking you back to the trailer, okay?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, suddenly displeased again. “Yeah, whatever… You wanna spend more time with King Steve, I see what you’re doin’—”

“I’m coming with you, Eds,” you laugh.

It’s like the switch flipped and he’s grinning all sloppy and stupid at you again. He tosses the smug look to the boy standing at his other side. “Suck it, Stevie—”

“Eddie!” you scold.

“You guys can just take the spare bedroom,” Steve offers despite Eddie’s teasing. “I don’t want you driving like this.”

“Oh, how fucking chivalrous,” your best friend grumbles under his breath.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” you press with brows furrowed in concern. “I don’t want to, you know, intrude or whatever. I’m good to drive—”

“No, it’s fine. Really. He should probably lie down anyway.”

“Yeah… Okay.”

“You know where it is, right?” he asks you and you nod

Eddie takes great offense to your affirmative answer.

“Wait, why do you know where it is?” he pouts down at you, figuring there’s something dirty hidden in the fact you’ve slept in your friend’s guest bedroom before. You shake your head and opt not to answer as you help him towards the stairs. “Why do you know where it is?”

“—Go upstairs, okay?” you shout over him, trying your best to stay patient. “I’ll check on you in a second.”

He lingers on the first stair and juts out his lip. His pointer fingers trails the intricate carvings in the wood of the banister while his glassy puppy dog eyes glimmer down at you. “…Promise?”

“Yes, Eddie. I promise.”

With that, he makes careful work climbing the stairs, hanging onto the railing for dear life as he goes. You watch attentively, prepared to rush to him if he stumbles, and able to breathe out a sigh of relief when he makes it to the top step.

You turn away from the hallway of the staircase and back to your friends, who — save for Steve and maybe Jonathan — haven’t yet bothered to acknowledge the situation.

Robin is rifling through Steve’s cabinets for food, Argyle’s at the keg pouring beer into his mouth straight from the nozzle, and Nancy hasn’t stopped dancing the entire time. You’re not even sure if she knows the song.

“I didn’t know you guys were dating,” Stevie remarks with a smile. “No wonder he was being so… like that.”

You shake your head and duck your gaze. “We’re not. Dating, I mean— he’s just, like, super drunk.”

“…Really?”

“Really,” you breathe out a laugh at the way your admission make this face twist in confusion.

“I’ve just— I’ve never heard a drunk person talk that way about someone they didn’t, you know… like.”

A part of you so desperately wants that to be true.

Eddie’s never been particularly shy about calling you babe or sweetheart or honey in front of people — sometimes he did it just to throw them off. But something about him getting jealous over a guy you’ve never liked, calling you his girl to bat the believed ‘affections’ away, has a foreign feeling swirling in your belly.

You force yourself to swallow your hopes down.

“Well, you’ve never met drunk Eddie,” you tell him with a shrug. “The freak’ll say just about anything.”

You make your way up to the guest bedroom and find Eddie slouched at the top step. He looks terribly sad, pouting with his elbows propped up on his knees and his hands on his chin. But he lights up like a christmas tree all over again at the sight of you.

“What are you doing, Eddie? You were supposed to be laying down,” you scold softly.

“I missed you,” he whines, gazing up at you with twinkling, red-rimmed eyes. “And I got lost… And then I forgot how to walk.”

You try your best to keep a straight face as you help him up again, trying to ignore the way your heart thrums like a hummingbird when he leans completely into your side.

You walk the staggering boy the short distance to Steve’s guest bedroom.

It’s as extravagant as the rest of the house, complete with large windows and expensive furniture and a thousand throw pillows on the freshly made bed. The entire room practically sparkles, there’s not a single crease in the bedsheets; it probably hasn’t been touched since the last time one of you spent the night there.

Eddie flops onto the bed when you urge him to sit down. He makes himself comfortable with ease, legs still hanging over the side as he throws his arms out, melting easily into the newly laundered blankets.

You navigate through the darkness, illuminated only by a subtle moonlight, to the seating area across the room. The newly granted privacy of the guest bedroom allows you to strip off your damp shirt. The wet spot sticks to your skin when you peel it off of you. The feeling makes you grimace.

You don’t think twice about being in your bra in front of Eddie — he’s not even looking at you now — and besides, he’s seen you in less. You’ve been friends for far too long to care. Being naked in front of each other stops meaning so much after accidentally catching each other changing a half a billion times.

Leaving your shirt in a crumpled pile on the arm of the couch, you make the silent decision to sleep there for the night. Many a bed has been shared between you and Eddie, but he’s going to need all the comfort he can get tonight — the hangover he’ll have tomorrow will feel like hell, no doubt.

You look across the dark room at Eddie and find he hasn’t moved an inch. “Take off your clothes, Eds. You’re not gonna be comfortable sleeping in jeans.”

“Mm,” he groans in the darkness, as though in protest, already half-asleep.

“You’re already gonna feel like shit in the morning, especially if you’re sleeping like that,” you advise with a soft laugh. “Come on, Eds. At least take off your shoes.”

“…Don’t know how,” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes at him, even though he can’t see you, even though you do it all for him anyway. It was second nature to you, taking care of Eddie, and you do it with an ease that makes his drunken little heart swell.

You start with his shoes, not having to untie them because they’re so loose on his feet. His jeans come next, a far bigger struggle because you do it with little help from the boy in the bed. His belt is strangely tricky and he claims his body feels too heavy to lift his hips for you.

But what he lacks in assistance, he makes up for in cheeky one-liners — “At least, take me out to dinner first, babe” and “If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you coulda just said" to name a few.

Once he’s clad in nothing but his Hellfire t-shirt, R2D2 patterned underwear, and hand-me-down socks that barely fit him, you maneuver him so he’s lying properly in bed.

You toss away all the pillows that are more for decoration than anything else, pull the covers down and over his body, and Eddie doesn’t do a single damn thing but watch.

He couldn’t do anything even if he wanted to because his heart is so far in his throat he can’t breathe.

You’re so unfamiliarly soft with him — sweet in your way than anyone will ever be to him in his lifetime, than anyone will ever be to anyone else.

The love you bathe him in half-sobers him and tosses him into a spiral of self-hatred. Why did it take getting drunk at Steve’s place to realize he’s been so head over heels for you he hasn’t stood up straight in years?

Drunken words sit impatiently on his tongue. He lacks the self-control to keep the hidden.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles tiredly.

Your hands almost immediately still where they bunch the covers up at his chest. Your eyes dart to his face and it takes everything in you not to duck away all over again, when you see the way he’s looking at you.

Eddie looks so soft, basked in a soft moonlight streaming in through parted sheer curtains.

His brown eyes twinkle with stars of their own. He gazes up at you like you put them there.

He doesn’t miss the shock that coats your features. Your eyes widen in surprise of his words at first, before your brows furrow and you shake your head to yourself in denial — like you’re not deserving of them. Like you’re not standing over him in your baggy jeans and five-year-old cotton bra after he spilt his beer all over you, taking care of him because he’s too drunk to take care of himself, doting on him like it’s second nature to you.

As far as Eddie’s concerned, there’s never been a sight more beautiful than this one.

“Stop,” you manage a laugh, still swallowing down that glimmer of hope that lingers on the back of your tongue. “You’re drunk, Eds.”

“Yeah. Super drunk,” he nods unabashedly. A distant smile hints at the corner of his lips as he gazes up at you like he’s trying to commit your features to memory — the angle of your nose, the shape of your jaw, the softness of your lips, and the way you’re looking down at him like you’re wondering if he’s real or not. “And in the morning, when I’m sober, you’ll still be beautiful… I’m just gonna be too chicken shit to tell you.”

You never thought Eddie would say something like this — not something so profound it makes your heart stop and especially not to you. You always dreamed that he might. And you had nightmares that it wouldn’t. That he would utter them to someone who wasn’t you.

But here he is now, loving on you and calling you pretty and hating himself for not being able to tell you that, and you don’t know what to do.

“…Okay,” is all you can say in response, nodding your head like an idiot. You force yourself to move on quickly, focusing instead on tucking him further into the unfamiliar bed.

It’s easier than concentrating on your racing heart that ticks like a time bomb seconds away from going off.

“Thanks for taking care of me, babe,” he murmurs quietly, blinking slow and heavy up at you. “I’m sorry… I know I don’t deserve it—”

“I’ll take care of you forever, Eds. You know that,” you interject without thinking. “And you don’t ever have to apologize to me.”

Eddie lets your words settle over him like the cozy blanket you cover him with. They bathe him like warm water, prickle his skin like they’re cleansing him.

The intent behind them means more than he could ever comprehend, half-drunk or sober still.

He rises abruptly, disrupting the cocoon you’d just tucked him into, as he works with disoriented hands to peel off his shirt. “What are you doing, Eds?” he hears you laugh when his head and arms get caught in the fabric.

You help him out of it anyway, tugging the cotton over him and gaping at him when he hands the bunched up t-shirt over to you.

“Here,” he offers like you’re supposed to know what to do with it.

“…What?”

“Want you to wear it… And to go downstairs so Steve will see you in it.”

You roll your eyes though a smile plasters itself on your mouth. You slip the thing over your head and pretend it's just to appease him. It isn’t the first time you’ve worn something of his, but this time feels so much different.

“Better?” you tease.

Eddie nods with a childlike happiness.

You’ve always been his, in your own special way, but wearing his shirt? It’s like you’re waving a big, brightly-colored flag — a lit up I’m with stupid sign with a flashing arrow pointed right at him. It makes him grin like an idiot.

“Now, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk in the morning. When you’re so hungover you wanna die,” you joke, still perched at his bedside.

Before you rise, you lean over and press a quick peck to the tip of his warm nose.

You want to do more than that, so much more than that, but you know that he’s still half-drunk — and that he might not mean a single word of this come sunrise.

You’ll revel in this softness now, either way it goes.

“And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful too.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #st oneshots #eddie spaghetti oneshot

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ethereal-night-fairy · 3 months

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Silver Tongues, like Bullets

Chapter 3

Werewolf!141 x Female Reader

So maybe you weren't the spy they thought you were..That just meant they had to find others reasons to keep you...

Warnings: MDNI, dark themes, manipulation, lying and gaslighting, drugging, humiliation, kidnapping, non-con touching, non-con looking, forced proximity, forced nudity, groping, manhandling, panty stealing, poly 141 taking care of reader, reader is bedridden for a while, she needs help with everything...and I mean everything, some religious themes, reader comes from a religious household, sorry if a missed any.

Happy valentine's day everyone I know technically valentine's day is almost over but better late than never. Comments and reblogs appreciated 💗

Silver Tongues like Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist

Words: 5.1k

-24/11/2023 11:00am

The cabin was pleasantly warm, the air carrying notes of burning cedar throughout the rooms. The fog had cleared up but no one was in the mood to leave the cabin. Even Soap decided to stay in, which was surprising. He’d be the first to take any chance to run in his wolf form. But since you left a little over an hour ago things didn't feel the same. The cabin felt colder, emptier, not as lively as before. Soap was gazing out the window from his place beside Simon who was on the laptop still going through your emails and social media trying to find information. They've both been mopey since your departure though Simon hid it pretty well. Price felt the same; he was much better at hiding it though. It was so odd how infatuated with you they had become. Yet the older two would never admit it…not yet anyways.

They received a call from Laswell in the early hours with an update. She hadn't found anything useful but she said she'd keep searching and call later. Price had caught Simon gazing at your sleeping form when he woke to take the call, though he had decided not to say anything to the brooding man. They all acted normal when you woke up, trying their best to get you to eat breakfast with them. But you were evasive and skittish, asking to leave as soon as possible. It seemed you had caught on that they drugged you. Your scared expression made Gaz and Soap heart ache since you didn't talk to them like you did yesterday. All they wanted to do was hold and cuddle you but it was too soon for that. Just as Gaz was about to make an excuse. Simon had chimed in and said that the hot chocolate was meant for him since he didn't like taking his pills straight. You looked surprised when he had spoken to you but accepted the lie without question. You really needed some common sense knocked into you…or fucked into you...preferably fucked into you…they'll get to it eventually. You still refused to eat breakfast though and waited patiently for them to be done.

The rest of the plan went smoothly enough. You seemed upset when the truck had ‘broken’ down but didn't make a fuss about it. Rather you just asked for directions to find your way home alone. Even accepted their lie about having no reception on their phones without even checking them. That’s when the real plan kicked in and Gaz grabbed a map insisting on taking you back to the hiking trails himself as an ‘apology’.

Since then Gaz has been keeping Price updated through sneaky texts sent here and there. And Soap only just quieted down trying to convince the other two men to keep you. It’s not that Simon and Price didn't want to keep you because they definitely did. Imagining you in their shared countryside home was an absolute dream come true. Thinking about coming home to your loving arms after a long mission would fix their souls. But kidnapping you wasn't the answer, it wouldn't exactly make you trust them now would it? It was better to do it the proper way. Though they had to leave soon they could always come back and try to court you properly. If the infatuation with you stays, that is. Price was still convinced that this reaction they were all feeling was because they haven't been around anyone but themselves and Laswell for a really long time. You were a change of pace, something new, something exciting, something for the boys to sink their teeth into. For now they all waited patiently for Laswell's call. When the *ping* rings out throughout the living room, everyone's head snaps to the phone sitting on the coffee table. Soap lunges for the phone first but before he can text Gaz for pictures Price takes it from him.

Gaz: Arrived at the lake. She's upset and crying thinking we both got lost even with a map. It's kinda cute ngl. Any updates?

Price: Not yet. Should be soon. Keep her calm.

Gaz: 👍🏽

The phone rings not a second later which Price immediately picks up

Laswell: Nothing was found John. She's just a civvie from a religious family. Nothing to be worried about. It's a small town where she lives in doubt anyone would believe her if she said anything. There's a couple recent facebook posts from her parents shunning her. Claiming she ran away to join a city cult or something. And a bunch of older ones just insulting her for her choice in career. Apparently they wanted her to marry a youth pastor but she had rejected him and gone to college instead which upset them. They've been quiet since she began depositing majority of her paychecks into their accounts but a fight broke out recently when she told them she accepted a job offer in London. Her story checks out she wasn't lying. I do feel kinda bad for her though. It seemed like they had kicked her out. Poor girl probably has nowhere to go even when she makes it back into town.

Price thanks Laswell before hanging up. This…this changes everything…Soap and Ghost are on him instantly but he just holds his hand up as he texts Gaz a new plan of action.

Price: Bring her back by whatever means. We're keeping her… (message not sent)

Price tries several times to send the message but it doesn't work. A cold sweat runs down Price's forehead as he forces himself to stay calm for the sake of his lovers. As their captain in situations like these they were relying on him. Dread and panic sets into the other two as they scramble to their phones trying to call Gaz but it never connects. Immediately Price tells Ghost to track Gaz’s chipped necklace on the laptop after 10 minutes of calls not going through. Soap is pacing the room ready to bolt into the forest any second now as Ghost works frantically to get the screen to load up. Price waits patiently with his hands clenched. This was like that sedative incident all over again. The fear, the pain, the looming destruction of their pack, of his lovers was something he never wanted to face again. He had promised himself he wouldn't let it happen again. That he wouldn't allow them to be taken away from him. He was second away from calling Laswell screaming at her that her intel was wrong that they had got his boy. But the screen finally loads up. They stare at it shocked, not really comprehending what it was showing them. It showed Gaz's location right at the cabin but he couldn't get back in such a short time unless he was running in wolf form. They all ran to go check the treeline to see what was chasing him. There's no way that they think they'll go down without a fight.

They all burst out the cabin door, almost taking it off the hinges. Their body's heating, muscles bulging ready to tear their clothes right off them. But they stand there in shock as Gaz breaks through the treeline not fully in wolf form but not entirely human either. His eyes were glowing amber as heat radiated off his defined muscle. His clothes were ripped where his muscles bulged too much but he was cradling something close to his chest.

They ran, meeting him halfway as he shifted back slowly. He collapsed onto the grass as he called out for help. As they got closer they realised he was drenched and he was holding your unconscious body. You looked paler than before, the colour completely drained from your lips. Your clothes were soaked through and clinging to your body. Your jacket was missing too.

Price is on Gaz in an instant helping him get up as Ghost takes your unconscious form from him bolting inside as Soap goes to get Gaz a towel. Everything was frantic for the next few minutes. They didn't have time to ask questions, they just went off instinct as they moved around getting things ready for a warm bath.

Price brought Gaz to your room as Ghost began stripping you of your wet clothes. You weren't responsive and your body was very cold which concerned the men. They needed to get you warmed up as soon as possible.

“Soap get the bath ready!”, Ghost shouted over his shoulder as he tried his best not to ogle as he peeled your bagging clothes off your beautiful body. Ghost threw your wet clothes and panties to the side as he took your soft body into his arms, instructing Soap to go put them out to dry. Price begins stripping Gaz as they reach the bathroom. He seemed to be in need of a warm bath too. The poor lad looked shaken. He'll wait before asking questions. Once everything was in order Gaz settled into the tub waiting for Ghost to lower your body onto his. Ghost did so though a bit reluctantly. He didn't seem to want to let you go.

Before you lost consciousness all you felt was the prickle of cold water entering your lungs. You watched as the blue liquid engulfed your vision as you felt yourself sinking deeper into the depths of the lake. Your limbs had locked up the second you touched the water. The cold penetrating through your clothing, freezing your skin over. Your last breath comes out in strained bubbles as you try in a last ditch effort to call for help. Was this how you were going to die? Was this the end of everything? You hadn't even had your first kiss yet…you hadn't even begun to experience life. Sad thoughts run through your head as your vision began to blur.

Your eyes are forced awake by the feeling of your body being submerged in liquid fire. The smell of pine and mint wafts through the humid air making your head spin. You open your teary eyes to find yourself in a tub. You watch someone leave the bathroom as two strong arms wrapped around your naked body. They massage your waist, running fingers up your sternum between your breasts. You try moving your mouth but your muscles are tense and sore. You feel your head spin from the whiplash in temperatures you're experiencing. You watch as someone gently tilts your head back as they run their sudsy fingers through your hair alleviating some of the pain you're feeling. Price meets your eyes with a gentle smile as Gaz holds your body closer to his. You feel the hard muscles of his chest on your back, as well as his toned arms wrapping around you to keep you warm. You try moving your mouth again but your body feels like lead. You tried desperately to tell them not to touch you so casually. That you needed to go home but nothing came out of your mouth apart from gentle moans and whimpers. They just shush and coo at you as your eyes become heavy with fatigue again, not before catching the end of some conversation Soap was having.

“Put her in my clothes.. they'll fit her the best…no I don't know where her panties went…I swear I don't have the-…”

Then everything fades into black as you let the warm fingers massaging your head lull you to sleep.

-25/11/2023 03:00am

The cabin was dead quiet as you finally managed to peel your eyes awake from your exhaustion. You feel your head pounding. Everything felt fuzzy as if you were in a dream. The prickly pain from hunger was gnawing away at your stomach causing you to stir from your fever induced sleep. The only sounds you hear is of the wind blowing through the trees and of wolves howling. Wolves? There shouldn't be wolves in this forest. You don't think they're native to the area. It reminds you of the fever dream you had when Gaz had rescued you. He looked like a beast but that couldn't be true…right? You were probably hallucinating since too much lake water entered your system. Nothing felt real, nothing felt tangible. You weren't even sure you were alive anymore.

You don't know how long you've been asleep for. But your body felt like a dead weight. You feel like your limbs are tied down but you know they aren't. It's just extremely difficult to move with the burning fever raging through your body. You felt hot and sticky, wanting to get this thick duvet of your body to let the sweat dry.

It seems like your prayers are answered as you hear the front door open and some feet shuffling in. You'll have to ask the men for some help, it doesn't seem like you'd be able to move properly any time soon. Hopefully their truck was fixed so they could drop you back home tomorrow. You were supposed to be at work today, you didn't want to leave a bad impression before you left for London in two weeks time. Maybe this was all a dream and you'll wake up in your own bed after this nightmare ends.

You hear someone enter your room but it was too dark to see. You try saying something but your throat is bone dry and it just comes out in croaks. The person just shushes you as they peel the duvet gently off your body. You enjoy the cold air for a second. Letting it dry your clammy skin. What you don't enjoy is their hands starting to roam your body as they peel away the shirt you're wearing. You whine as you protest to the best of your ability but they don't stop. It's only when the light flicks on that your blurry vision clears after a second. Your eyes meet with Soap who's stripping you like he's done it before and has no problem seeing you naked. He smiles and coos at you while you try to get him to stop. When Ghost walks in with a basin and wash cloth his eyes are unreadable and then you understand why they're stripping you.

But you don't want them touching you, you're able to clean yourself you try to say but nothing comes out. Why did they feel so comfortable with touching you however they wanted? They weren't like this when you first met them. You were already upset by the fact they had put you in a tub with Gaz without your permission. They were taking their hospitality too far. You just wanted to go home. You hoped your parents weren't too mad at you. Maybe they've sent someone looking for you by now. The situation with these men was proving to be dangerous. You had a horrible feeling that they were stalling for time. They could have just dropped you into town if the truck was fixed, if not they could've called emergency services somehow. But wasn't like you have the energy to argue with them.

You can't do much as you're stripped bare. Tears cloud your vision as you beg them to stop in your hoarse voice but it comes out intelligible. You watch as they coo at you carefully wiping your tears and sweat away. Soap is sitting beside your head whispering reassuring words as you cry from the humiliation of watching Ghost run the warm wet cloth over your underarms, body and mound. Making sure to pay extra attention to your folds as he cleans in between them. You squirm as you cry louder making your already hoarse voice worse.

“Come on hen.. thare’s nae need to cry like that..we just want tae help ye.” Soap wipes your tears away as he nuzzles into your neck while Ghost dries you. You watch as Ghost takes off the hoodie he's wearing to put on your naked body. The smell of his aftershave hits you instantly as he gathers you in his arms while carrying you towards the bathroom. You stop crying seeing no point in tiring yourself out but the sniffles are hard to control. Why were they doing this to you? He places you on the toilet, making sure to gather the hoodie above your waist so you don't end up soiling it. This is by far the most humiliating situation you've ever been in your life. You bend over trying to hide you private parts from their view. Yes you needed to pee but they could at least leave you so you could do your business. They didn't seem to take the hint even with you glaring at them.

But Soap took your slumping figure as indication of your fatigue and decided he'll help you sit straight while you do you business. You claw at his arms with your full strength not that you had much but you definitely left marks as you hear him hiss. He didn't seem angry though and Ghost just watched intensely as you tried to hold in your pee.

“It ok hen..just do your business we'll clean ye after…nae need tae worry…”

“You need to hurry love…the food will get cold if you keep refusing to pee…I know you don't like it here…we'll take you home once you're feeling better…”, Tears slip past your waterline again as you do as your told not being able to hold your bladder any longer. Your cheeks heat from mortification rather than your fever, as the two men encourage you while Ghost goes to grab some tissue and water to wipe you clean. God please let this be a dream…a very very bad dream.

-25/11/2023 08:00pm

When you awake this time it's to throw up again. It's dark still you don't if you've be asleep for a couple minutes or for many hours. It seems like you can't catch the sun anymore. You didn't like the dark. It made everything feel oppressive and sinister. You don't know what's wrong but any food smell causes your stomach to churn. And the second the smell of meat came through your door you were fighting to keep the bile at bay. You get up on shaky legs to go to the bathroom to throw up. Your stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out. When was the last time you ate? There’s only a chalky residue left on your tongue probably from the medication they gave you. But when did they give it to you? You can't remember anything. Your memories and nightmares were starting to blur together making everything feel like a drug induced hallucination.

Your muscles were sore and you weren't able to stay steady on your feet without the help from the wall as you walked along. You look down to find your clothes have changed again. Maybe you've just been hallucinating the bad encounters you've been having.

There's no way they would watch you pee or force you to take a bath with them right? Or constantly strip you to wipe away sweat right? You think you might have thrown up in your crying fits but you can't remember much. Yeah it was probably just an awful dream. There's no way they would have dealt with your tantrums and or cleaned up the mess you made. Men aren't like that. Your father certainly isn't. He never took care of your mother when she was sick. It was always you or your siblings. They probably just changed you and left you to rest with some painkillers. Even doing that was more than what most men would do so you should be thankful they were looking after you. But you wished they'd just get you home somehow. It must be some strong painkillers you can't seem to remember anything in too much detail. Like everything was blurring into one colour. You needed to cleanse your system before you pass out again.

You just about make it to the toilet bowl as your insides decide they don't want to stay inside anymore. Your stomach muscles strain and tense as your body tries to dispel the drugs you've been fed recently. The bitter taste of bile and something else was sour on your tongue. You don't even have a proper recollection of what happened in the last two days…

You feel a warm hand brush your hair out of your face as you continue to throw up. An odd feeling filled your chest… you were never taken care off like this before..It caused something warm to stir in your heart. Your head was still fuzzy so you didn't register someone holding water to your lips when you're done. It's like you're on autopilot. One second you're rinsing your mouth the next you're in bed with Gaz who's cradling your head to his chest. He coos and shushing you as he feeds you little pieces of bread with butter…At least it wasn't meat…your sure you'd throw up again if it was…

Your hazy vision catches sight of your clothing again. When did they change you? Were you hallucinating again? You silently eat your bread, not having the energy to argue anymore. Some sustenance was nice after everything that happened. It’s when the glass of water touches your lips you're met with a familiar chalky taste that makes you realise maybe you aren't hallucinating after all. But you don't get much time to dwell on it before sleep takes you.

-26/11/2023 12:00pm

For the first time in what feels like forever you see sunlight streaming through the curtains in the room. Your head felt too heavy and too light at the same time. Like you're fighting to keep your head up right but also felt like it was about to float away. Your head loses its battle as you stop trying to sit up. It was too much effort to try to move anymore and you needed to pee again…great…

You hear hushed sounds coming from outside the door just as you're about to call out for help. You try to make out words but your head's disoriented and your bladder is demanding your attention.

“There wa…search party se-…-ey found her jacket…unwanted attention….we need tae lea-…” you don't understand what they're saying but you try listening again but it's just a jumble of accents.

“...…the news rep-.... proclaimed drown-....no body fou-...-ght she's a spy…”, Spy? They thought you were a spy? Why would they think that?

“...we're taking her with us…”, your mind jolts when you hear those words. ‘We're taking her with us’…They were never going to let you go were they? Fear seeps into every fiber of your being. The fact you were drugged and unable to move was even worse. What were they going to do with you? Murder you? Torture you? Sell you off?

A sob leaves your mouth before you can stop it and the hushed voices come to abrupt stop. You hold your breath trying to keep yourself from crying, not wanting them to become suspicious of you. Soap is the first to walk in his eyes scanning the room before his eyes land on your weakened state. His eyes soften ever so slightly but he seemed on edge.

“What's wrong pretty girl…what do ye need?”, your mind races to come up with an excuse so it doesn't seem like you were crying because you heard them.

“B-bathroom”, you whisper through your tears. That seems to release the tension in his shoulders as he come to pick you up to take you to the toilet. When you pass the other men they give you gentle smiles as Soap helps you with your business. They make themselves scarce giving you some privacy. You didn't trust their gentle smiles. You knew what you heard, you weren't going to gaslight yourself into thinking these men had your best interest at heart. You needed to leave!

You watch as Soap cleans you, his arms were covered in claw marks more than likely your doing. He had a tendency to get too handy when ‘helping’. He seemed to be learning though since he cleans you quickly this time around. You still weren't happy about all the touching and cuddling you feel at night though. But at least you're knocked out for the majority of it. You didn't know how you were going to escape, you barely had any energy to support yourself. Just standing for a few minutes took all your energy out of you. Soap carries you back gently. You needed to get food in you if you planned on running away. It was best if you acted like nothing had changed. Like you were expecting them to drop you off home soon. Just until you figure out how you'd escape their clutches that is. You catch Soap arms just as he's about to leave after tucking you in.

“Food?”

“Awe bunny are ye hungry?”, you just give him a nod with pouty lips, hoping to gather some sympathy from him.

“Lunch isn't ready yet. Ah’ll get ye something tae munch on ok?” You give him a gentle smile as he leaves. You'll have to use your charm to get him to take you out for some fresh air tomorrow. It's the only chance at escape you'll get. God why did it have to be you? All you ever wanted was to work in the city. Was that so bad? Maybe if you were a better daughter things wouldn't have ended this way. Maybe if you didn't run out on your parents you wouldn't have gotten lost in the forest. Maybe if you had married that pastor you wouldn't be in this situation. But now wasn't the time to think God had forsaken you…You needed all the help you could get.

-29/11/2023 09:00am

“Bunny please eat something…you haven't touched your food since we brought you home…”, You weren't going to either, you were tired of getting drugged. God knows what they do to you when you're passed out.

“Luv come now…he even made your favourite breakfast…everything we do is because we care for you..”, Price chimes on his way to install bolted locks to some of the doors.

“I understand yer mad hen but we just wanna take care of ye…ye'll get used tae living here.. promise”, you give Soap a particularly nasty look as he follows Price to do some renovations. They were in a hurry since they had to leave soon.

You glare at Gaz like he's the source of all your misfortune. Like he's the reason everything has gone wrong in your life. You can't believe you ever found this man sweet or charming. You're tucked into the furthest corner of the sofa you could find with a cushion clutched to your chest for protection. It was one of those nice expensive ones too. God you hated these deranged rich bastards. Everything in this home felt like it was high quality. You wanted to kick yourself because all you could think about was all the nice pictures you could take…if you had your camera that is. It was the first nice camera you bought. You had worked so hard to save up for only for it to be drowned like your hopes and dreams.

You didn't like the fact the place was so warm and homey. For some deranged kidnappers you were expecting someplace easier to hate, somewhere that didn't have so much love and character put into the design aspect of the home.

When you had first woken up you found yourself in a very large bed surrounded by them in what you later found out to be Price's room. You hadn't realised they were in that kind of relationship. You didn't understand what they wanted from you. They reassured you they knew you weren't a spy and that they definitely weren't going murder or hurt you for information. Why did they take you then?

They all had large rooms with large beds to accommodate them all. All uniquely decorated to fit everyone's vastly different aesthetic. They tried convincing you to sleep in one of their beds last night but you insisted on the sofa. You all slept in the living room last night with some on the sofas and others on a large mattress on the floor. You can't believe they bothered to carry that huge thing just so they could sleep near you. You'd find it endearing if you weren't literally trying to escape your kidnappers.

They tried claiming the guest room needed to be renovated. That they'd make a comfortable space here for you. That they'd decorate however you like once they get back home from their new mission. Had they gone insane? What made them think you were upset about a damn room rather than the fact they had KIDNAPPED you. What made them think you'd be ok being kept against your will?

You had tried asking if it was because you found out their secret. You begged and promised that you wouldn't tell a living soul but they just chuckled saying they fell in love with you and just wanted to take care of you. They really were insane…You're stuck with a bunch of lunatics. You wished you had realised that sooner. Maybe you'd be safe at home by now or possibly packing for your move to London. God why you…

You wish they would just leave so you could try to escape or call for help. It wasn't going to be easy. The house was like a fortress. Heavily equipped with cameras and an advanced locking system. But you just needed to bide your time. You weren't going let someone else dictate your life anymore. You worked too hard to get here. You were sick of being a pushover. You're sure your parents would have declared you a missing person by now. Yeah everything will work out, you'll be home in no time. You'll figure out a way to get home. You continue to ignore Gaz as you watch the men with keen eyes while they carry tools and such to ‘your’ room. They must think you're an idiot if they believe they'll get the chance to lock you in that room without a fight…

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venus-haze · 14 days

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Power Play (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: So, you lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship. It happens all the time. Maybe not quite like this.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Crazy ass 80s Vought debauchery. I might be a little rusty, but it was fun getting back into writing readerfics after two months🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Power imbalance, cheating (Soldier Boy’s with Crimson Countess). Mentions of drug use. Soldier Boy is his own warning. Sexually explicit content involving elements of forced intox, semi-public sex, breeding kink.

You were dizzy. With Vought’s investor gala rapidly approaching, you spent the better part of your day camped out in your office, flipping back and forth through your rolodex to call and confirm catering, entertainment—you still couldn’t believe the board of directors actually approved Duran Duran’s booking fee—and transportation, off the top of your head. You already told Stan Edgar you were taking the following week off, which he had no qualms about—so long as the gala went off without a hitch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you were interrupted by a knock at your office door, which you’d left open in an effort to be available in the lead up to the event.

“Don’t tell me Edgar’s got you working tonight,” Soldier Boy said, walking in when he saw he had your attention.

“The most important night of the year is less than a week away and I still have a to-do list as long as your dick, so, yeah.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Must be pretty busy then.”

“How about you? Where’s Countess?” you asked.

Soldier Boy probably would have sought you out even if Crimson Countess were around, but from what you’d been hearing through Vought’s extensive grapevine, they were in yet another rough patch. Though, it seemed to you like their relationship was one long, extremely rough patch with some calm once in a blue moon. You weren’t afraid to admit to yourself that you ate up the gossip of their relationship like candy, especially when the other members of Payback—including Countess herself—would rant to Edgar about it. Since your office was right next to his, and most supes had little to no sense of subtlety, you could hear just about everything.

“She’s at one of those wildlife charity things, pandas or some bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “Bitched at me because I wouldn’t go. She won’t be back until Friday.”

“Soldier Boy, I can’t just—“

“Sure you can. I mean, I’m technically your boss too, aren’t I?” he asked. “So, I say there’s no harm in taking a ten, fifteen minute break. Relieve some stress.”

You sighed. It had been a while since you actually got up from your desk. “Alright. Fifteen minutes, tops.”

He grinned. “Now we’re talking. You keep that minibar stocked?”

“Pick your poison.”

“Whiskey?”

“Sure.”

At least, you were pretty sure. The minibar in your office served as a nice gesture for the variety of people who’d come into your office for meetings related to all of the aspects of event planning you were in charge of. Over the past few weeks, though, you’d been reaching for bottles of whatever you could find to relieve the stress. Powdered your nose every so often, but tried not to make that a habit—not that you blamed your coworkers who did. Working at Vought was brutal and demanding, but hell, who else got to work with superheroes? Especially handsome, smarmy assholes who knew just how to fuck the lingering thoughts of any deadline or event planning out of your mind if you played your cards right.

He handed you a shot glass. “What should we toast to?”

“To taking next week off.”

“Yeah? What’ve you got planned?”

You threw back your shot. “Nothing.”

“That’s no fun. How does a few days in Miami sound?”

You nearly scoffed. Of course he could make something like that happen on such short notice. For forty years running he was America’s superhero and Vought’s cash cow. After a night of schmoozing at the investor gala, he could very well clear out his schedule and fuck off for a week of sun, sand, and sex, too.

“I might need some convincing.”

“Then make yourself comfortable,” he said, walking back to the minibar to pour another shot for each of you. Almost comical, he’d have to drink the whole bottle and then some to feel the same way you did after two shots.

You glanced at the open door. “Someone might see.”

“Are you gonna make me repeat myself?”

Sparing the door one more glance, you worked at unbuttoning your blouse, tossing it aside. You shimmied out of your skirt and let it fall to the floor.

“Heels stay on,” he said, his back to you. “Everything else off. Everything.”

With a hesitant huff, you unhooked your bra and pulled off your panties, throwing them in his direction when he turned around with the shot glasses. You made yourself comfortable on top of your desk, pushing some of your belongings aside to accommodate you.

He whistled lowly as you quickly finished off the second shot he gave you. “Look at you sitting pretty for me.” His green eyes burned a hole through you, though your gaze was fixed on the prominent bulge in his pants. He brought his shot glass to your lips. “Drink up, sweetheart.”

And you did, forcing the alcohol down as your vision blurred with tears at the unrelenting burning in the back of your throat. Felt some whiskey dripping from the corners of your mouth when you drained the shot glass. He collected the excess from your lips with his thumb, sucking it clean as he kept his eyes locked with yours.

“See how much fun we have together?” he asked, leaning over you until you laid back on top of your desk. “Could do that all next week.”

He kissed you, hard and mean like you needed him to. Perfect teeth that caught your bottom lip between them for a moment before releasing. Whiskey on his tongue that went to your head even though you knew he could hardly feel it. Rough hands feeling up your breasts, giving your nipples a harsh tug that made you moan in his mouth.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice husky as he rubbed his fingers between your slick folds with tantalizingly slow strokes. “If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“What was that?”

You groaned in frustration. “Just fuck me already.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

His mouth was on yours again, nearly distracting you from the sound of a zipper, the your gut clenching in anticipation as he pulled his cock from his pants.

It’d been a while since you had to brace yourself to take him, but you were wet, and maybe a little more than tipsy, so your body gave little resistance when he slid his cock inside you. Though, if Soldier Boy were anything, it was a guy who took what he wanted anyway, giving you hardly a second to get used to the feeling of how his cock stretched your pussy before he was pounding into you with harsh, unforgiving thrusts that made you grip the edge of your desk.

Sometimes you forgot how strong he was. Hell, so did he, and there was little else you could do but lay there and take what he gave you. In all honesty, it was nice letting someone else take charge after having to hold it together all day. Let him fuck the stress out of you and replace it with all the aches and bruises that came with having sex with the strongest man on earth.

“Harder,” you forced out, pushing that damn rolodex onto the floor.

“I go any harder, I’m gonna break you in half, and I don’t wanna do that until I’ve got you locked away in a hotel room for a week.”

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“Whatever the fuck I want. Not like I don’t already.”

You moaned. “Soldier Boy—”

“I’m not pulling out, so you better be on the pill or say your damn prayers,” he growled, his hot breath kissing your skin. You were on the pill, but nevertheless your hips bucked at his words, pussy clenching around his cock. “Oh shit, you want that, don’t you?”

“Yes—oh my god!” you cried out, muscles cramping as your orgasm pulsed through you, pleasure stealing your breath, choking you gently enough to leave you dizzy. “Yesyesyes—fuck!” Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was going to explode in your chest, especially as he kept mercilessly pounding into you, chasing his own release.

He soon came with a groan, his cock twitching inside you as he bottomed out, practically knocking the wind out of you with a particularly hard thrust.

You felt empty and sticky when he pulled out, and you didn’t want to think about the poor soul who was gonna be cleaning the mess you and him left behind the following morning, because you sure as hell weren’t in any shape to clean up the cum that was leaking out of you and onto the floor.

You put your hands on your chest, trying to catch your breath as he stood over you. The guy hardly broke a sweat, and you felt like you just ran the New York City Marathon. Super stamina. God fucking bless America.

“Hey,” he said, waving his hand in front of your face. “You good?”

“Sure,” you managed to answer. “Except now I don’t know how I’m gonna walk out of here, let alone get home later.”

“The ride up to the 99th is quicker. And if you need more convincing about Miami—“

You pursed your lips, considering the work you still had left to do before you could reasonably call it a night. But you were tired, and admittedly drunk, and Soldier Boy was already hard again. “I might.”

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy the boys #the boys x reader #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys soldier boy #the boys imagine #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy smut #im a feminist i promise #but do you ever think about how that man could literally break you in half if he wanted to?

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covetyou · 3 months

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chaste

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x gn!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: chastity pollen (the opposite of sex pollen - our man can't fuck), mention of past drug use, masturbation, not phone sex but phone sex adjacent, brief mention of Dieter pissing (twice), cock and ball pain (not cock and ball torture), a brief thing with a glove that isn't sexy at all for anyone involved but it's there, the vaguest of dub-con for the ending (Dee sends you pictures of his dick that you didn't ask for/technically said no to but jerk off to anyway) word count: 2.6k summary: Off the back of a two week retreat to the middle of fuck knows where Dieter Bravo doesn't seem quite himself. You soon figure out why.

A/N: @sp00kymulderr reblogged this post and said someone needed to write a Dieter Chastity Pollen fic, so I did it.

Reader is entirely gender neutral, no mention of any hair, size, shape, genitals, holes, tits, nothin'.

Sorry to Joel and Tim for neglecting you, you were meant to be done this week but I hate your existence currently and Dieter brings me comfort.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

"Deiter, breakfast!"

Anyone would be fooled in thinking you were calling for a dog. No, Dieter was very much human. Most of the time.

You dump the takeout bag on the kitchen island and look around. He'd been back one day and the place was already more of a mess than when you left it yesterday. His robe was hung over the stair rail and an errant croc almost tripped you as you walked in. It was safe to say that Dieter Bravo was definitely home.

"Dieter!" You shout again, expecting to hear his feet stomping upstairs any moment.

Instead, a feeble croak comes from the other side of the couch. "I'm here."

Craning your neck, you look over the sofa to see Dieter laying there, arm flung over his face and totally, utterly nude.

"Jesus f-, Dee. Put some fucking clothes on."

"No point."

"You have an interview in an hour Dee, at least put a fucking shirt on. I brought you breakfast."

"What's the point in anything?"

You stop in your tracks. It's not that you weren't used to encountering an apathetic Dieter Bravo. It was pretty common actually, usually at the slightest inconvenience. But having just come back from a two week vacation to some pot head retreat, you assumed he'd be bouncing off the walls and easy to get on with. Easier, anyway. But, Dieter was miserable. Errant KitKat wrappers were on the floor around him and he was laying spread eagle, completely naked, on his couch.

You knew to tread carefully when he was like this, so putting the takeout bag back down as quietly as you can, you move to sit gingerly on the arm of the couch.

"What happened, Dee?" you say softly, moving a KitKat wrapper from near his face.

Dieter flings an arm out to the side and sighs dramatically. His face is still covered, but you can see he's pouting from over his arm.

"My life is ruined, that's what happened."

You'd lost count of the amount of times his life had been ruined by something or other, usually someone or something else that had fucked up or not gone to plan. Dieter Bravo never ruined his own life, of course. So, grateful that he can't see you, you pinch your nose and roll your eyes. At this rate, you were going to have to cancel on Variety. Again.

"Dieter, I know it feels that way, but I'm sure it's not that bad. We can fig- "

"It is that bad," he cuts in with a huff, suddenly hauling himself upright on the couch. "Just look."

You follow his dramatic gesture downward to where his cock hangs limply between his legs.

"That's your cock, Dee. It's always been there."

You'd seen it before. Many times in fact. Probably more often than most PAs had seen their employers genitals, to be honest. Seeing Dieter Bravo naked was one of those things that just happened. In the grand scheme of things, it was one of the most normal ways a person could ever see him. As it was, you'd seen him in far more compromising situations than sat on his couch with his dick out.

Looking at you with a strange kind of urgency in his eyes, he pleads with you. "But look at it."

Standing, you round the couch and look down at him with your hands on your hips.

It looks normal. You'd seen it enough to know that his foreskin wrinkled just like that, his balls sat soft just as they were, and his pubic hair was groomed just as it always was.

Except... it didn't move. Not a twitch or a flicker along the entire soft length. He was more flaccid than he had probably ever been and, for whatever reason, he was staying that way. You frown, letting your brows meet in the middle.

"See."

"What..." you trail off, trying to work out what the fuck was going on. You had seen him soft before, but usually within a few minutes of you talking, typically with him staring at your mouth as it moved, likely imagining you licking his balls or sucking his cock, he would begin to harden. In fact, simply stare at his dick for a few seconds and something was bound to happen. Dieter Bravo was so painfully easy to turn on it was almost endearing. And yet, he was still soft.

He slumps back, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars.

"It's been like this all week. I can't do anything with it."

"What do you mean you can't do anything?" you say in confusion. For all the things Dieter had tried to do with his cock over the years, he, and by proxy, you, had learnt of the many many things his cock could not do. Saying it couldn't do anything didn't really reveal much and was likely a typical Dieter exaggeration.

"Anything! I can't touch it, I can't fuck with it, I can't even make myself hard. It's just there. Useless."

"Your cock is not useless, Dee, I promis-"

"I have to piss sitting down."

"Oh."

A few simple words and the gravity of the situation suddenly hits you. Dieter was a man who took great joy in pissing. Sometimes you thought a little too much joy, but you weren't going to judge. There were weirder things he could be into. But one of those joys came in the form of being able to unzip his pants and piss just about anywhere he pleased. There were other things he liked doing with his cock too, but if he couldn't even stand to pee, you knew whatever was going on was a big deal.

You meet his eyes again, seeing how slumped and dejected he looks, and you don't know what to say. Usually you could find a solution for anything, but Dieter Bravo is the last person you expected to have cock troubles. Luckily for you, he can't keep his mouth shut for long, and after another big sigh, blinking back tears that you swear just might fall from his eyes, words spew out of his mouth in a stream of consciousness.

"I went on that fucking retreat, and they had this new strain, and I tried it, and ever since I've just been," he waves his hands desperately in the air, "like this."

"Wait -"

"And now what am I gonna do? What if I can never come again? Who the fuck even am I if I can't come again?"

"Dieter."

"I can feel it too. It's like my blood feels horny but my cock is the opposite of horny and I can't do anything about it -"

"Dee, slow down - "

"Even if I touch it it's like I'm getting fuckin' electrocuted. It's like ZAP straight to my cock and balls, through my fingers, down my arm. My cock is going to kill me."

He finally stops, taking a deep breath as he flops back again with a desperate whine. His cock flops with him, falling sideways to rest on his leg, and he looks at it with a dramatic sob. He couldn't even move it off of himself if he wanted to.

The couch dips when you sit next to him, kicking yet another KitKat wrapper away. Despite everything, his dick still looks normal. By rights, after the things he'd stuck it in, it had no right to look normal, almost pretty, but it did. Whatever had happened at that retreat, whatever god awful thing he smoked, he was lucky this was all he got. A week of forced celibacy was nothing. For most people, anyway.

Looking at you out of the side of his eyes you can see a glimmer of a question flick across his face. You already know what he's going to ask. "Dieter, no."

"Can you try touching it?"

"No."

"Please! Not even in a sexy way this time, just... just a little bit?" he looks at you with those stupid puppy dog eyes that would have just about anyone else giving in to him. You knew better, and he usually knew better than to use them on you. They were never going to work on you.

So, you don't know what possesses you when you nod, mumbling something about grabbing some gloves from the first aid box in the kitchen. When you return, Dieter is sat with his knees wide, looking at you expectantly. Snapping a glove around your wrist you crouch in front of him and move to reach out when he stops you.

"Just a little touch," he says with a waver in his voice. You can't imagine it. The poor man had probably gone back to his room with the weed haze still licking at his bones, peeling his clothes from his body before falling into bed. He would have reached down to give his little Dee a tug goodnight, only to be met with the shock of his life. You'd be terrified too if you were him.

"I'll go slow," you say, trying to reassure him as much as you could. In a few months time you'd laugh about this, if it all blew over quickly, but right now it was impossible to get the fearful look in his eyes out of your head.

Reaching out again, you get an inch from his cock. It still hasn't twitched or moved at all, even with the threat of your impending touch. You look up at Dieter, giving him a nod. "You ready?"

Taking a deep breath, he nods back at you.

As the tip of your gloved finger barely grazes the skin of his flaccid dick, his hips buck up and he throws himself back away from you.

"A-ah! Shitting fuck! Ouch."

You still, eyes wide and panicked. You didn't feel anything but Dieter very obviously did. He's curling in on himself, trying not to writhe with the pain of the sharp zap straight to his cock directly where you touched him.

"Did you feel that?" he says, from the ball he's curled himself into. You shake your head, biting your lips in concern. "Are you kidding me?! You touch me and I'm the one who gets zapped? How is any of this fair."

"I'm not the one who smoked some mystery weed, Dieter."

"I'm going to die."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am. My cock is going to fall off because I can't touch it, and I'm going to die cockless and alone."

"No. No, look, it'll be okay. We'll give it another week, and if things aren't back to normal we'll call a doctor, get it seen to," you pat him gently on the knee and watch as he feebly nods in agreement. "Alright. Let's get you dressed, okay? We'll put your dick away for now -"

"May as well put it away forever, never gonna need it again..."

"- for now, and get you ready for your interview."

Nodding with watery eyes, Dieter lets you bundle his robe around him and take him upstairs. He complains the entire time you're fixing his hair that his dick feels wrong in his boxers, whines when you finally sit him down in front of the camera and join the call. But, two minutes in and some particularly good questions later, the fake smile he'd plastered on turns real and his cock sits soft and forgotten between his legs. At least, for a little while.

It was going to be a long week.

Four days later, at 4:23am, you're awoken by the harsh ringing of your phone. Your eyes can't focus, but at this time it could only be one person.

You fumble for a second before swiping to accept the call, slapping the phone to the side of your face with an arm that doesn't seem to have woken up properly yet.

"I'm hard! My dick is hard," are the first words that come tumbling out of his mouth. Dieter sounds positively ecstatic, if a little breathless.

Stifling a yawn and rubbing your eyes you smile in relief at his words. "That's great, Dee."

"I woke up for a piss, and stood there, stood there, pissing. Didn't even realize at first - shit that's good - had to go back and touch it in the mirror to see. No zap!"

"No zap!" you try to say enthusiastically through another yawn, barely registering the wet rhythmic noise coming through the phone.

"I'm so happy I want to kiss it. I want to kiss my dick!"

"Please don't try to kiss it, Dee, your back isn't doing great as it is." You hear him sigh and mumble a soft God I've missed you so much and it confuses you for a moment until you realize he's not talking about you.

"Do you know how good this feels? I've never felt something this good in my life, I swear it. So - fuck - so good."

You are fully awake now, staring wide eyed at your bedroom ceiling. The wet noises are clear as day. "Are you... are you jerking off?"

"Well, yeah. Haven't stopped. Do you know how quick I got hard? I'm like a fucking rock, here, let me send you a picture." Putting you on speaker, you hear the phone clatter as Dieter fumbles with it.

"Dee, no, no look, it's okay. I don't need a picture. You enjoy yourself. I'll cancel your meetings for the day so you can have some alone time."

Dieter groans, mumbling softly to you down the speaker. "You're an angel."

"I'm your PA. It's my job. Goodnight, Dee," and you slump back asleep as soon as you hang up.

At 7am your alarm sounds, and you startle awake, fairly certain you'd had a dream about Dieter's cock. Scanning through your notifications on your way to the bathroom, you spot a series of messages from the man himself.

A slew of excitable texts, a few missed calls and, finally, pictures. You hadn't dreamed it at all and it seemed that Dieter Bravo's cock was finally hard, and you had all the proof of that right in front of you. First his dick clutched firmly in his hand, glistening red tip poking from between the fingers as he hunches over to get his smiling face in the frame to give you a thumbs up. He sent you a profile view picture too, hands free, and you can see just how hard he is by how stiffly his length juts out from between his hips.

Finally, and maybe most importantly, a short video. His hand moves quickly up and down his cock, stiff and engorged in his fist, voice coming through the speaker in loud pained groans. If you didn't know better, if you hadn't witnessed first hand what Dieter Bravo sounded like with his cock hurting, you'd swear he was in agony. A few seconds later and you watch his balls seem to swell and tighten before his tip twitches to life, spurting again and again and again all over his fist, trickling down his fingers, his balls and onto the sheet below as he comes seemingly endlessly.

"Oh shit, oh shiiit," he groans in the recording.

By the time he finishes, fist slowing to a stop around his length and his slit finally ceasing its erupting, cum coats just about everything in the frame.

And then he laughs. Dieter Bravo, cock in hand at 5am and covered in his own cum, laughs in disbelief as he is finally, blissfully able to come.

You shake your head as the recording cuts off and you climb into the shower, setting your phone out of the way in a nook opposite the flow of water. You hit play again.

And again.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #the bubble fanfiction #coveted fics

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hurtmyfavsthanks · 3 months

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Febuwhump Day 6: "You lied to me"

Content warning: hospital whump, (arguably) bad caretaker

“You lied to me.”

Those were the words Caretaker was greeted with when they entered Whumpee’s hospital room. They looked small and sickly in their bed, medical equipment seeming to engulf their thin frame. A sickly blush covered their face, looking almost like a rash on irritated skin. Their eyes were still glassy, but far more alert than when Caretaker had last seen them.

Caretaker hadn’t expected them to be awake yet. Let alone sitting upright in bed. Let alone glaring at Caretaker with so much venom that they nearly took a step back in shock.

:”Baby, what–”

“You said you’d never force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. You lied.”

“I–,” the denial died in Caretaker’s throat before it formed. Whumpee was right, technically. Caretaker had known they would refuse to go to the doctor. The only reason they’d gone before was because they’d been unconscious, and even then they’d demanded to be released as soon as possible. They would never willingly decide to go to the hospital.

Caretaker knew all that. And so when Whumpee, already struggling to recover from what they’d endured under Whumper, had fallen ill, Caretaker knew they’d never agree to see a doctor.

And so Caretaker hadn’t bothered asking.

It’d been easy to slip something into their food. They usually would’ve noticed it instantly, but illness had dulled their sharp mind and left them half delirious with fever. It’d been easy to bundle their limp, far too light body in a blanket and tuck them into the car. It’d been easy to ignore the look of betrayal in their half lidded eyes, and pretend their slurred objections were just incoherent mumblings.

Some part of them had hoped Whumpee wouldn’t remember it.

“I had no choice,” they said instead.

“You had no choice?” Whumpee laughed, humorless and unpleasant. “You drugged me and dragged me to the hospital. Who forced you to do that?”

“I had to, Whumpee. You weren’t getting better. You were sick, and injuries from–...from before–,” Caretaker hesitated, stuttering.

Whumpee did not. “From Whumper? You can say it. I’m not going to fall apart.”

Caretaker nodded, swallowing thickly. “You were already hurt, your body couldn’t handle illness alongside that. You may not remember but–,” the memory of the coughing fits that left Whumpee struggling to stay upright, the unfocused and cloudy eyes staring dully at nothing, the ever rising number on the thermometer, flashed through Caretaker’s mind. “--it was bad. I was worried you’d die. I just wanted to help you, and I knew you wouldn’t let me.”

“So it’s my fault now?,” Bitterness dripped from every word Whumpee spoke. They tried to lift themselves into a more upright position, arms shaking from the effort, and Caretaker had to resist the urge to rush over and help them. “It’s my fault I don’t get to make decisions for myself anymore?”

“I never said that.”

“You think you just have a right. Because you ‘care about me’, you have the right to ignore every single thing I want. Because you’re smarter, because you know better.”

“Just listen–”

“No, you listen,” the words came out in a growl. Whumpee’s hands gripped at the bedsheets, shaking. “Everyone’s always–always deciding shit for me! Treating me like I can’t be trusted anymore, like I’m some little kid who can’t think for themselves! Whumper thought the exact same thing, but it’s fine when you do it, right?!”

“Stop it.” the words came out more harshly than Caretaker had expected. Whumpee flinched back as if they’d been hit, falling silent. “Don’t compare me to them. I’m trying to help you, and you’re fighting me at every turn! We just got you back, and it’s like you’re trying to leave again,” the words spilled out of Caretaker, half angry, half pleading. “I’m not going to sit by and let you hurt yourself.”

The two fell into silence. For the briefest moment, a look of fear flash over Whumpee’s face. They shrank back, and in that instant the guilt Caretaker felt nearly sent them to their knees. Whumpee’s look of resentment returned only a moment later, but the anger that had fueled it seemed snuffed out. They wouldn’t look Caretaker in the eye.

The beeping of Whumpee’s heart monitor, insistent and far too fast, felt like a condemnation in Caretaker’s ears.

Caretaker let out a shuddering sigh, a hand coming up to rest in their hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Whumpee was silent for a long moment, not turning their gaze upward. When they finally spoke, their voice was quiet, drained of energy. “Just leave.”

“Please, just let me explain–,”

“Please. Don’t make me beg.”

“I’m sorry.”

Whumpee didn’t respond. They didn’t look up when Caretaker left.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 6 #caretaker #whumpee #defiant whumpee #stubborn whumpee #bad caretaker #for their own good #betrayal whump #my stuff #recovery whump #whumplr #whump

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allfearstofallto · 3 months

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The Sweetest Spoil of War

Yandere! Demon King Kirishima x Fem! Reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis: a war ended with an unwilling marriage. The fighting ceases, but at the cost of your hand.

TW: Forced marriage, NSFW implications, size difference, mentions for Dub/Non Con, virgin! Reader, yandere/obsessive themes

AN: another one that has been sitting in the drafts for years!! But I finally finished this first part. Hopefully I'll have the second, more smutty part written up soon!!

A brush of blush across the cheeks. A swatch of color on the lower lip. Many swipes of a comb through your hair. The tightening of your bodice fixed your posture, and you were adorned with heavy jewels and rings. All the while, a celebration was happening outside.

It wasn’t a celebration you could see, you weren’t allowed to move a muscle, couldn’t even turn your head to look out the window, in fear that you may disrupt the many people who were spending their time making you beautiful. But it was one you could hear. As the maids picked and prodded at every part of your body, cleaning you here, applying makeup there, covering this, uncovering that, you listened to the happiness of the people. Your people. Well, technically not your people any more.

They popped fireworks and sang songs. Their cheers grew louder and louder as the minutes went by, as you got more and more dolled up. Street vendors loudly advertised their wares and you could hear children playing in the streets again. It was probably the first time they’d left their house in months, it was probably the first time it was safe enough to do so, they had every right to celebrate. But at what cost?

If they knew the price that was paid for their safety, the price they paid for freedom from the war, the war that they were losing, would they still cheer? Would they still dance and sing? Would the celebration still continue?

The price was you, of course. The second daughter of the King of the land and the gem of the nation, or so you were called. Good deeds came like second nature to you, they were as easy for you as breathing. The way you donated and volunteered was like nothing the royal family had seen. Your kindness was a tall tale spread around like wildfire and marriage proposals were in abundance for you. You were like a tourist attraction. Rather than coming to visit your country for sights, people would visit to meet you, as if you were some sort of celebrity.

Your nation was small, but what it lacked in land, it made up for in stocks and trade. It was a modest business that made more than enough money. But greed is a drug, one that your father was heavily addicted to. Expanding was a bad option, you always told him so, but your words fell on deaf ears, and as the farmers marched further and further upon land that wasn’t theirs, the true owners of it fought back.

For a year, your father insisted that the war with the rival nation could be won. You always wondered why he thought that. The land that he’d intruded on belonged to none other than the demon king himself, a man feared but rarely ever seen. His endeavors were like horror stories spread across the nation, and your tiny little country didn’t even have an official army. Rather, there were a few patriotic men who were sent off to fight first. There wasn’t much of them left to bury when they returned. Then who left was decided by draft. The first men were a warning for what was to come and everyone knew that. Moral dwindled when people began running away from their own country, rather than fighting for it.

Negotiations started when the supply chain got cut off by the demon king’s army and with a nation as small as yours, no other kingdoms were offering help. The talks were started through letters at first. Your father sat at his desk, lips in a tight grimace as he read the sheet of paper over and over again before writing his response in return. Things went on this way for months, the writing back and forth as war raged on right outside your door. Until the day he showed up.

You didn’t think that the demon king himself would come, but you watched out from your front door as the carriage pulled into the town. It was large and ornate, covered in shiny stones and what appeared to be bone as well. It was a mixture of the high class of the aristocrats and the barbarian ways of life of the demons. The hoofs of the horses clopped down the road and the carriage swayed ever so slightly side to side. The windows were covered so you couldn’t see him, but you knew he was in there.

The driver of the carriage himself was also a demon. A burly blond one with piercing, blood red eyes and horns like a ram. When he snarled at one of your citizens, you could see his teeth. They were sharp like the heads of arrows, like they could bite through the flesh of a mere human at any time. It made your skin run cold as you realized that all demons shared the same few traits, long nails, horns, and sharp teeth. You could only imagine what those natural advantages were doing against the measly weapons the army was given.

You could already feel your palms sweating as the carriage stopped in front of your castle. The entire family had to come out to greet guests, as were the rules, but all you wanted to do was slink back into your room and pray that the war would end naturally. And you weren’t the only one silently wishing to leave. You spared a glance out of your peripheral to the rest of the family and saw that they too stood stiffly, or did everything they could to avoid eye contact with the large carriage that casted an almost laughably ginormous shadow over your family.

The blond boy pulled at the reins of the horses, stopping them in front of the castle, before stepping down from his seat in front of the carriage. Even for a demon, his face was easy to read. He didn’t want to be here, and he most definitely didn’t want to have to be cordial. You could see the hatred for your father in his eyes, the way he wanted to just lunge at him and end things in this very spot, but he didn’t.

“His Highness, King Kirishima Ejiro,” he said almost sarcastically. Then he opened the door to the carriage behind him.

Big didn’t even begin to describe the man. He was humongous. Not only was he tall, but he was also thick with muscles and hands that looked like they could crush your skull with ease. You looked at him and you saw a demon. His hair was long and spiky, and unlike the companion he’d brought along who had curled horns, he stood straight up, only adding to his monstrous height.

The suit he was wearing was still adorned with demon-like paraphilia, bones and bottles filled with what you could only assume were potions. His scarred hands were covered in rings and the sly smile he gave your family showed you enough of his teeth to prove to you that you’d rather die than go near his mouth.

You didn’t know where to look, you could barely even think as he stood before you. His eyes weren’t red like his subordinate, rather, his were a beady, inky black color that scanned across your family. They were taking in every single sorrowful and fearful face, until they landed on you.

You felt your heart stop beating completely when he looked at you. Your breathing became shaky and you felt yourself about to lose consciousness from his gaze alone. Why was he still looking at you? The rest of the family only got a glance, but you, it seemed like he had to forcefully peel his own eyes away from you.

“You have a lovely family,” he said. His voice was deep, yet booming, it felt like your ankles were shaking, just from hearing him speak. If not for the fact that he scared the life out of you, you would’ve scoffed at him. A beautiful family that he was going to ignore when negotiations started. But maybe that was for the better.

He was led inside, following behind your father who was shaking in his boots. He had to duck to get through the door and his footsteps on the tile floor sounded more thunder cracking inside the walls of your home. He looked around with a strange look on his face, one that seemed almost enthusiastic, but that couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be happy while he was in enemy territory, not while he could easily be killed.

And that was the plan at first. Lure him in and have the army raid the palace, he’d be powerless since he expressed through his letters that he’d only be bringing one guard. Your father thought he was stupid or naive, but casting eyes upon him showed you that one guard was enough. Anything else would’ve been overkill.

They were in talks for what felt like a few mere moments and he was coming back down the stairs with a smile on his face. You’d long since hidden in your room to keep from having to entertain the blond demon that was sitting in your living room, but curiosity made you peek your head out when you head the door to the office open. Your father was aggressively shaking the demon king's hand, but you could see the horror in his face. There was sweat pooling on his forehead and he looked like he would throw up at any moment. You later found out why he looked that way.

At the dinner table that very night he announced that the war would be ending and the supply lines would open back up. There was a unanimous cheer from the family as you and your siblings argued over who would get to tell the people of the nation that they were free to roam the streets again. You were so ignorant. The way your father looked at you should’ve told you enough. It should’ve told you that the war wasn’t going to end with a trade or an apology, it was going to end with a wedding.

The fireworks continued to boom and crackle as they filled the night sky, while a little more blush was applied to your cheek. No one else in your family knew, they thought you were getting married to some commoner who you’d fallen in love with. Only you and your father knew the truth, and resent didn’t even begin to describe what you felt for him.

Your dress was too heavy, your hair was uncomfortable, you had to stand a certain way, or makeup would get on your collar and the entire look would be ruined. You looked beautiful, that’s what they said to you, but could they not see the hurt on your face? Or the fear? If they saw, they didn’t care, and you were guided down the stairs.

Past the home that you grew up in, the walls lined with family portraits, and your family themselves waiting for you at the bottom of the steps. Your mother was crying, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. When she found out the truth, she’d be crying for real. They were going to find out eventually, you knew they would, you just wished you could see the aftermath of it.

A carriage was waiting for you, one of your family’s own. Normally in an aristocratic wedding, the carriage from the family of the groom would be sent to pick up the bride, but the story your father spewed gave an explanation. The man you loved was too poor to even afford his own carriage, but love doesn’t know money. You scoffed, but held your tongue. If it were for the sake of your family and your country, you’d go along with it.

You would ride your family’s carriage into the forest, about halfways to the demon king’s palace, then you would switch into one of his. That way, your family wouldn’t catch on, that way, they didn’t have to watch in horror as you were given away to a demon, even though your father knew that they wouldn’t allow something like this, but he did it anyway.

It was an unpleasant ride. People rarely ever traversed through the forest so the carriage shook and jolted. You were getting farther and farther away from the noises of celebration, farther and farther away from your people. If only for one night, you would like to celebrate too, the war was a horror that you were living in as well after all.

You pressed your lips together to keep from crying. You’d already cried enough and you truly didn’t know him or how he’d respond to your tears. You spent hours sitting in that chair getting ready for him, what if he were the type to get angry if just one thing was off? If your make up was smudged or your eyes puffy, would he kill you where he stood? You held it in and pretended to be strong.

The carriage stopped and your door was opened, the second he did. The driver gave you a knowing look as he offered you his hand to help you step down. His fingers were cold, that’s all you could think about as you looked over to see the new carriage that you’d be riding in. The same one that had pulled the demon king into your family’s palace. Your heart sank as you realized that he might be in there. You weren’t ready to meet him up close, not yet.

The blond demon was here again, standing at the side of the carriage. Horses from the demon kingdom always felt much larger. Like they were eight foot tall monsters and not animals. You couldn’t believe you were focusing on the horses, you were trying to look at anything, anything, that would keep you from having to get into that carriage. But he was already opening the door and the carriage from your nation had already turned and pulled away, not even waiting for the transaction to be completed.

That felt like the final straw. Being left behind by one of your own and stuck with a demon. A demon who was obviously sick of waiting for you and who looked like he was just going to force you inside himself.

“The king doesn’t like waiting,” he said, gesturing towards the door. With a meek nod, you walked towards it. Dead leaves crunched beneath your feet and the sound of an owl made the entire ordeal more ominous.

You looked to the demon, then back to the carriage door. He didn’t expect you to go in by yourself, did he? Even in your home nation, the gentleman would offer the lady a hand and help boost her up the step, a boost that was much needed, since demons were naturally taller and the step was too high for you to even reach on your own.

“What is it now?” he grumbled, eyes having already practically rolled into the back of his head.

The step seemed as if it came up to your waist in height, yet he asked you what you needed. “I obviously can’t get up there by myself,” you spat, holding your hand out for his help. You’d never felt the skin of a demon before and honestly, you didn’t want to now, but there was no other choice. The deal had already been made.

He didn’t even pass a glance at your hand, stepping closer to you, he placed his large palms around your waist and hoisted you up with little effort. You tried not to squirm in his hold, afraid that he might drop you. Even for a moment, you were so high up, before you were placed into the carriage, with the door being slammed shut in your face.

The carriage began to move before you were even fully seated and you were thrown back. If this was the way the demon kingdom treated their royalty, you could only imagine what was going to happen to you. But you tried not to dwell on it. Your chest was already tight with fear and sweat was beginning to bead on your forehead.

This was it, you thought to yourself, even as you gazed out the window, all you could think was that this would be the end of you. All alone, all by yourself. You wondered what your siblings were doing, what your mother was doing, if anyone was even thinking about you at all, of if the celebration was just too much for them to care.

The carriage swayed and thumped against the ground for what felt like hours. The pretty dress you were in had grown a bit damp from your sweat and you tried to fan yourself. You were nervous. Hot and nervous and all you could do was listen to the hooves of the horses as they hit the ground and wait for your eventual marriage.

Then everything stopped. Of course the carriage driver demon was rough with this as well and you were thrown off of the seat and onto the plush floor of the vehicle. You barely had a moment to catch your breath and regain your bearings before the door swung open quickly, making the whole carriage shake from the force.

Still on the floor, still a bit sweaty, with fearful eyes, you came face to face with the demon king. His teeth were once again what you noticed, those big, sharp teeth that were held in a mouth that was grinning at you cheerfully. He looked overjoyed to see you, even in your crumpled up, terrified state.

“By the gods,” he whispered quietly while still looking at you all over. It seemed like his eyes couldn't focus on one place. Your face, your hair, the swell of your breast, the small of your waist, from your heel clad feet, to your hair that was put into an ornate updo, he couldn't get enough, “You're even more beautiful the second time around.”

You were shivering. God you were shivering like you were freezing. Your stomach was in your ass and your heart felt like it was going to leap from your chest. All that time, all the time you spent being picked and prodded at in that chair, being made to look good for him, all that time and it just now hit you what was happening to you. It started before you could even think to stop yourself and while he looked you over like you were a gift from heaven itself, you began to cry.

Tears ran down your pretty cheeks, smearing your makeup in their wake and you started to hic and sob. You had no control over it and the way his smile fell when you began to weep, made you cry even harder. You were going to die by this demon's hands. You were going to die because your father, the coward that he was, sold you off.

Kirishima turned to look at his subordinate, his face a mix of emotions. So quickly, you could barely see it, he grabbed the blond male by the collar of his shirt and lifted him, “I thought I told you to make sure she was taken care off,” he growled those words between those closed sharp teeth.

“I did,” the blond male muttered back. His tone, his attitude, even the way he was looking at the demon king was disrespectful. He didn't seem the least bit afraid or even bothered by the fact that he was being scolded. If anything, he looked annoyed.

“Then why is she crying, Kastuki?” He spoke the words slowly before dropping the man back down onto the ground. He landed with a thud, but didn't protest, “I've told you about your driving. Humans are fragile! They can't handle something like that!”

He merely scoffed and rose from the ground, “Then do it yourself next time.”

Kirishima opened his mouth to speak, but stopped before he said anything. Instead, he focused on your trembling form, still sitting on the carriage floor, “Are you alright, darling?”

He tried his hardest to be gentle with his voice, to be quieter so not to scare you. He reached a hand out to you, but you flinched away from it. You didn't know what to say or even what to do. A part of you felt like the second you left this carriage, it would all be real, you'd really be engaged to this demon, you'd really be with him for the rest of your life.

He tilted his head at you, trying to give you a reassuring smile to the best of his ability, “I'm sorry if Katsuki scared you, but I promise nothing will hurt you.” He reached into the carriage and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you closer to the door with ease, it was like you weighed nothing to him, “but we should really get you inside the castle and into something more comfortable.”

Your body was tense and you tried to think of what to do. A way out of this. How would you be able to run away from a demon, in the whole nation of demons? Would you even be able to go home? Would you getting away make a war start?

You couldn't even think about it to yourself, couldn't even respond before you were picked up by him and held against his firm chest. He was so much bigger than you, so much taller, being in his arms made it feel like you were fifty feet above the ground and all you could do was shiver.

He carried you into the castle. It looked nothing like your own home. It was more worn down, but somehow it was bigger. The tallest tower looked like it was piercing the clouds and the windows were the size of the doors you had back home. You sniffled and sobbed the whole time you were carried up the stairs, and when he finally reached out to open the front door, you finally managed to say something.

“P-please,” you managed to stutter out between your pathetic little hics.

“Oh, so she can speak,” he replied back a little too happily, “and here I was thinking you were mute. That wouldn't have bothered me though, you're still gorgeous.”

More tears ran down your face as you tried to regulate breathing, to get more words out, to hopefully beg for return home before the marriage was consummated, “My father…he…he made a mistake. I didn't want this,”

He kept walking into the castle as you spoke, the sound of his feet hitting the floor echoed off the walls. You were brought to a day room where he sat you down on a rather large couch, so big your feet just barely managed to touch the ground. He kneeled in front of you while you sat and cupped your cheek in one of his large hands, the more he touched you, the harder you seemed to cry, soaking his thick fingers with tears. He knew you were scared of him, but he just couldn't stay away.

“I know you didn't want this,” he cooed, his breath hitting your face, “I wanted this.”

Before you could speak, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was wet and suffocating and all you could do was sit there limply as he engulfed your mouth with his, tasting every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

He tasted of meat and alcohol, typical dishes for demons who were celebrating and his grip on you was firm. His hand had slithered down from your cheek to your shoulder, then to your waist. You couldn't pull away if you wanted to. Your strength and size was nothing compared to him, just one of his hands was almost enough to completely hold your back. You'd hurt yourself more if you fought back.

When he pulled back, you were panting, breathless. Your first kiss and it was so brutish and even worse than that, it was taken by a demon. Your eyes were still wet with tears and lips moist with saliva, but he was looking at you so longingly. The way you makeup was running from the sweat and tears, your hair disheveled from the kiss, the way your chest was rising and falling, he thought you were more enticing now than ever before.

“Such beauty doesn't exist amongst the demons,” he whispered against your lips, threatening to kiss you again, “I could've slaughtered everyone in that tiny, little kingdom, you know, and I was planning on it. Until I saw you.”

He traced up your back to where the buttons for your dress began. You could feel him fiddling with them, trying to get them to pull apart, but his fingers were too big and his nails too sharp. As more time went by with him unable to access your body, he grew frustrated until he just ripped the dress apart in the back. The fabric gave way easily to him. It was probably no harder than ripping paper.

“Your father didn't hesitate when I asked for you,” his hand was warm, almost hot, against your bare back as he kept ripping the fabric away, “a part of me was angry about that. His own daughter, his blood. He gave you away so easily. But I was also ecstatic. Even if you don't want me, I want you. I know how you feel about me, how I as a demon scare you…” the dress was pulled forward, over your shoulders, but he stopped there, “The war may be over on paper, but if you ask for it, I can kill him.”

You gasped, “Why would I want that? Why would anyone want that?” You were shouting and you didn't know why. Maybe it was because of how scared you were. Or how easily he mentioned killing someone. Or how a part of you actually wanted it. A small voice in your head wasn't upset about the idea of him killing your father for putting you in this predicament, and that scared you.

“He gave you away,” he stated plainly, “You have every right to be angry. Angry at him for giving you away,” he pulled the dress down so that it was sitting around your waist. His tongue, that large, hot tongue licked down from your neck to your now exposed breast, making your breath hitch, “and angry at me for taking you.”

“You could still give me back,” You begged quickly, hoping that maybe if he was showing some empathy, some care for what you were feeling, he would let you go.

He shook his head and gave you a knowing look, “I wish I could, but I know how you humans work.” He didn't hesitate to reach his hand up beneath the ripped fabric and tulle that was once the skirt of your dress, “you wouldn't be wed again anyways, not after what I'm gonna do to you.”

Your sobs grew even louder at the words. Despite your abstinence, you knew the implications of those words, you knew what he meant. Despite your lack of experience, you knew why he was spreading your legs and easing his body between them, you knew why he was ripping away at your bloomers, exposing your wet core to the cool air.

“I told myself I'd wait till the night of our wedding, but I fear myself slipping with need for you,” this “need” made itself known when he began to grind his hips against you, the fabric of his pants spreading your lips and rubbing directly against your clit, “They sent you here looking like this, and I'm supposed to contain myself?” he bit his lips with those sharp teeth of his, gripping the fabric of the couch so hard that he was ripping holes in it.

“I won't take you without your permission,” he stated, but he was still grinding his clothed cock against you,like his mouth and his body were two completely different entities. He was speaking one thing, but actively doing the opposite.

You whimpered as you felt him, your eyes just leaking tears. You couldn't speak a word, your labored breathing wouldn't let you. Your chest was heaving as you tried to open your mouth, with only sobs and pleads coming out. Instead you just shook your head, praying that that would be enough of him to stop.

Despite your begging he still pressed his lips to yours once more in another passionate kiss. This time he felt even more roughr than the last. Was this a game for him? You thought to yourself. Did he get off on watching you beg and plead, just to take you anyways.

But he stopped nonetheless and pulled away. It seemed like he was straining to even do that, the way he was looking back at you like he could pounce on you again. He let out a shaking, sigh and clenched his fist together before stepping back and finally giving you space away from his large form and body heat.

“The wedding will be held in three days,” he said with a forced smile. He picked up a blanket from the other couch and tossed it over you, covering your modesty. You held onto that blanket as if it were your life line, hiding your nude body behind it as you shivered and looked at him, “I can guarantee I'll stop now, but I'm not so sure about then.”

And with that, he was gone. He closed the door to the day room, leaving you alone in this large demonic mansion with only the ticking of a clock as your company. You were too afraid to move, too afraid of what was to come next. You didn't know where he wanted you to go or even if he wanted you to move at all.

But you did know what he wanted from you, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

#my hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere my hero #yandere my hero academia x reader #yandere kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #yandere kirishima x reader #yandere my hero x reader #yandere x reader

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yandere-sins · 1 day

Note

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

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You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days.

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice.

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle.

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his��favorite patient in every one of his words.

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all.

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind.

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it.

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears.

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it.

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity?

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world.

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though.

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!"

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal.

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted.

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here.

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy.

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

#yandere doctor #yandere!doctor #yandere therapist #yandere!therapist #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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stevieharringtonwifeguy · 1 year

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yknow we do a lot of like stevie realising she's transfem bc of a dare or like robin telling her about queer stuff and having a 'you can do that?' moment, but now im thinking of stevie who figures it out entirely on her own and doesn't know how to tell anyone. like she doesn't fully have the words and even with robin it's like. one thing to be gay but gender stuff is a whole other level and she has no idea where she stands on that

but like, stevie who used to play with his mothers makeup as a child, whose parents would laugh at his antics until he got too old to be so childish, time to act like a Real Boy. and every time he's supposed to act like One Of The Boys he thinks of how it felt when his mom would do his hair for him and comment on how alike they looked, and how much better that felt, and he knows that isn't normal, and he has to be normal

but after the upside down that really seems to matter less. nothings fucking normal anymore, why should steve be? so she starts branching out a little. breaks into her mothers closet again, tries on all the clothes she left behind when she went on her latest trip. slowly amasses a decent collection of makeup by going to several different stores over the course of months with the excuse of 'oh my mom/girlfriend sent me to pick up x'. she doesn't do the Whole Deal often, in case nancy comes over or later in case the kids suddenly ask her to drive them somewhere. doesn't do anything that can't be removed in like three seconds. and she's definitely never telling anyone about this. she doesn't know anyone who would understand.

after starcourt, she wonders about telling robin sometimes. like sure, stevie doesn't like men but she's still like. some kind of queer. robins the only other queer person she knows (and yeah, robin turning her down bc she was only into girls did sort of hurt, but it wasn't robins fault bc she didn't know, and also it turned out stevie just didn't understand what actual friendship felt like so it was for the best anyway), so if she can't tell robin who can she tell?

but something always stops her. robins technically never done anything that makes stevie think she'd be mean about it, but there's something like imposter syndrome keeping her mouth closed. like she's not the right kind of queer. like robins being queer the good and honest way and stevies just being some kind of freak. and yeah, she knows it's dumb to think like that and robin would call her a dingus if she said it out loud, but it sits pretty heavy in her heart

so it's not until after vecna, when stevies on the eddie shift in the hospital and eddie says, while high on possibly every drug in the world, 'man i spent all that time trying to grow my tits and bats ate an entire boob in under five minutes' and stevie goes ??? what???? and eddie, still too high to self-censor, makes some comment like yeah they weren't huge but that black market estrogen i got was finally working its magic, definitely had like an a-cup. rest in peace. and stevies like why were you growing boobs?? 'bc girls are supposed to have boobs, man, keep up'

and eddie passes out again like five seconds later, but stevie just sits there watching her snore with her heart about to beat out of her chest because. holy shit. she's not the only one. eddie might understand, might be able to help her, if she was able to grow her own boobs. stevie would love to grow her own boobs. she'd stuffed some socks down a bra once and they looked lumpy as hell but even just the suggestion of a bust had almost brought her to tears.

and suddenly, looking at the sleeping form of the first person stevie has ever met that she's ever had this so intrinsic thing in common with, everything doesn't seem so scary

#steddie #transfem steve harrington #transfem eddie munson #platonic stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #t4t steddie

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chestharrington · 2 years

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Adult Education || Part Two

Summary: Weeks into your newfound routine with Steve, you decide to shake things up a bit. It'll be fun and casual, right?

Couple: Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader (GN Pronouns)

Category: Smut/Fluff

Content Warning: graphic smut, slight voyeurism, fingering, handjobs, awkward depictions of visiting a sex shop, slight drug use

Word Count: 7.5k

Requests: Open!

Robin was extremely tired of your bullshit. Both of you. The giggly calls to Family Video— “Hey Robin! Can you put Steve on the phone?”— and the way neither of you was very subtle about your “secret” meetups. She wasn’t even sure they were supposed to be secret anymore.

And Steve was almost worse. He’d spilled everything to Robin, and he still tried to act like what was happening between the two of you “wasn’t a big deal.” Which was dumb, because it very clearly was to him.

And you… she couldn’t quite read you. Sure, you seemed to like whatever was going on between the two of you, or you wouldn’t have giggly, super long phone calls with Steve on the days you weren’t following him around like a lost puppy. Those days were maybe the most insufferable. The inside jokes, the banter. She just wanted to know if you two were an item so she could stop feeling so left out.

She swirled a fork through her lunch, which had been poorly reheated over break. With a glance towards Steve, whose head was glumly rested in his hands, she spoke up. “No call from your sweetie pie?” She teased.

“Nah,” Steve sighed, before catching Robin’s underlying meaning. He furrowed his brows, annoyed. “Don’t say anything.”

“I will be saying something, Harrington, because I am sick of you two dancing around your obvious attraction to one another!” She said finally, pushing her lunch away. “How do you think this is all gonna turn out, smart guy?”

He sighed, and she could tell he was thinking about it— really thinking about it. It almost made her feel bad for pressing the matter.

“What if this is the closest I’ll ever get to being with them?” He finally asked with an alarming amount of earnestness. Robin sighed, her lips turning down into a frown. Oh, Steve. “Like, I could technically tell them ‘Hey, by the way, I want to kiss you and take you out on dates and make sweet, sweet love to you pretty much every waking moment,’ but I could scare them away. I could lose them so easily.” He sighed, looking like he wished he could shove all those words right back inside. “Anyways, if this is the only way I can be with them, I’ll take it.”

Robin sighed. “You’re selling yourself short, Steven. Ten bucks says when they walk in this door later today, they go straight to you.”

———

You walked into the video store like you belonged there, much to Keith’s chagrin.

“No.” The word escaped him firmly. “No, you’re leaving. You can’t just treat this store like some sort of hang-out spot.”

You pouted, leaning against the doorframe. “Keith,” you whined. “C’mon, man, I’m here for an actual rental this time.” He looked at you pointedly, so you made a show of heading for the science fiction section. “See! A New Hope.” You held it up and approached the counter. “That’s all I wanted.”

He looked at you skeptically, brow raised. “And, uh, I wanted to simply invite Robin and Steve to join in on my family movie night, but, uh, I can always go to Video Village and rent from there.” You raised a brow, testing him, and he sighed.

“They’re on break out back. Rent first, talk after.”

You sighed, slapping a few bills on the counter. He seemed to take his sweet time counting the money and distributing change. You tapped your foot impatiently until he finally slid the VHS and change over the counter. “Alright, knock yourself out.”

You grinned, grabbed your tape, and dashed past him into the back rooms where the rear exit was. As soon as the heavy door slammed open, you heard panicked coughing and whispered curses. You grinned, shutting the door behind you.

“It’s not Keith, don’t worry,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the very pungent smell of pot. “Knock yourselves out.” Steve pulled you into his side, taking a quick hit before passing the joint to Robin. He turned his head to blow out the smoke, then looked down at you through half-lidded eyes. “Hey,” he said with a dopey grin. “Took you long enough.”

You sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I’m house-sitting for the nice little old couple next door. And I’m a total professional, so I had to water a few plants and get some mail before I could come see my favorite people.”

Robin coughed unceremoniously, fanning the air around her face. “Keith see you?” She took a long pull and exhaled with a contented sigh, too stoned to care if Keith knew they were smoking in the alleyway.

“Yeah,” you replied with an eye roll. “Weird fucker hates me. I had to rent a tape or I wouldn’t have been allowed in.” You held up the VHS to drive home your point and she giggled.

“Aww, you rented Star Wars to see me?” Steve said with a wide smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with an eye roll. “Don’t let it get to your head.” Your cheeks felt warm as both Robin and Steve’s gazes fixed on you, like an ant under a magnifying glass.

You felt your cheeks burn hotter as you mumbled the reason you really showed up. “Oh, and, uh, my parents want to invite you both for dinner and a movie tomorrow, so, like… come over after you get off, okay?”

The words came out rushed and jumbled. There were only so many times you could make excuses about sleeping over at Robin’s or bring up something funny Steve had said before your parents wanted to insert themselves in the middle. The offer to host them seemed less like a friendly invitation and more like an order.

“Sweet!” Robin said with a giddy smile. “Your parents’ cooking is bomb. Like, that time I came over to study and your dad made us omelets? Oh my god, is he making omelets again?”

“I think it’s, uh, pasta tomorrow,” you replied, which seemed to please Robin more, if possible. You turned to Steve with a furrow in your brows, watching him take a pull from the joint with keen fascination. He had a pretty mouth. He caught you looking after he’d exhaled, his mouth quirking up in a half-smile.

You stammered. “Is— uh— is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, yeah sounds good.” His gaze was intense. No breaking eye contact, no shifting his eyes, just… looking at you. “Is that good for you?”

“The pasta?” You asked with a tilt of your head. He nodded. “Yeah, Steve, pasta’s good for me too.” He smiled wide before pressing his lips to the top of your head. He was so warm, not just physically, which was usually true, but in his entire being. You just felt good when you were with him.

Robin’s watch beeped loudly and she sighed, taking the joint back from Steve so she could have the last hit. “Break’s over dingus. I’ll see ya inside.” She dropped it on the ground and stubbed it out with her oxfords before reaching in her bag and spraying some sort of cheap perfume all over herself. You frowned at the overwhelming smell of what could’ve been your nana’s old perfume wafting your direction as she left.

Alone with Steve, you felt the intensity of his closeness practically double. “Uh, I had a good time last night,” you said softly. “I think that old guy was right. Pleasure Olympics might just be in my top three.”

Steve laughed so hard his shoulders shook and you smiled up at him. “God. Never bring up that old guy ever again. What’s the point of guys that old watching porn? Half the time their dicks don’t work anyway.”

You groaned, nudging him with your shoulder. “Ew, Steve. You should have some empathy. That could totally be you someday.”

He shook his head incredibly insistently, like he’d seen into the future already. “No, because my dick is going to work forever, obviously.” He wrinkled his nose at his own words like he wished he could take them back immediately. “On that note, I need to go act sober and rent some movies to people.”

You grabbed his arm before he turned to go, keeping him near you. “Come over after your shift? I wanna check this place out and I’m too nervous to go alone.”

He nodded quickly, a smile spreading across his features. “Yes!” He said eagerly. He coughed, cleared his throat, and amended his tone. “I mean— Yeah, okay. Sounds good, I’ll, uh… I’ll pick you up?”

You nodded, chewing your lip to contain your excitement. “Yeah, it’s a date, Stevie. You’ll love it, I promise.”

He looked like he wanted to melt as he nodded, smiling sweetly down at you. “I uh…” He trailed off, blinking a few times. With one hand, he gestured vaguely to the metal back door of Family Video. “Videotapes.”

You giggled, trying your best to fight a grin as you nodded. “Yep. Go get ‘em big guy. I’ll see you later, alright?”

He nodded, turned directly into the door, swore under his breath, and slipped back inside.

———

At precisely three fifteen in the afternoon, Steve was outside of your house, practically vibrating in his seat with anticipation. He watched you walk out the front door, turn to wave to your father, who was seeing you off, and hurry towards the passenger seat.

“Hey, Stevie,” you greeted as you slid into the car, smiling over at him. “Ready to go?”

“I, uh, I don’t even know where we’re going,” he said, almost nervously.

You patted his arm and grinned. “Get on the highway going eastbound and take the third exit, alright? Trust me on this.” He nodded and peeled off, his tires screeching against the suburban asphalt. You sighed, leaning back against the seat. His car always smelled like his cologne, and you happily took a deep breath as you turned to look at him.

He didn’t notice for a while, until he caught you out of the corner of his eye. At a stop sign, he furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve liked hanging with you lately, that’s all.”

“Me too,” he replied. “Like, we were friends before and that was cool and everything, but now—“ He was cut off by the car behind him honking repeatedly, urging him to just go already. “Shit.”

You looked at him expectantly. “But now…?” You trailed off, hoping he’d pick up where he left off.

“I guess now things are just better.” You nodded, turned on the stereo, and put your feet on the dash.

Better was the perfect way to describe it. You were still both… you, but you were more than that. Never in your entire life had you felt more comfortable being vulnerable with someone. You liked that every free moment, you were both jumping at the chance to be together.

How long had it been since you’d had that?

The rest of the car ride was brief— your destination wasn’t exactly far. You told him when to exit, and directed him into the parking lot. He swallowed as he parked, looking up at the sign that placed a shadow on his car.

Lion’s Den: XXX Movies, Toys for Lovers, And More!

“No,” he said firmly, meeting your gaze. “I’m not… no way.”

You put on your prettiest smile and leaned across the center console. “C’mon, Steve, I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but… I mean, what if someone recognizes me inside?” His pretty brown eyes were wide, his lips turned into a nervous frown. You wanted to just squeeze his face with your hand, for some reason. You decided not to think about that too much.

“We’re three exits outside of Hawkins, and if anyone recognizes you, they’ll have to explain why they’re here too, right?” You smiled victoriously. “Can’t call you out for being a pervert when they’re one themselves.”

“What did you need here again?” He asked as he got out of the car, finding it incredibly impossible to tell you no.

You shrugged, slamming the car door. “Just felt like exploring with my best pal, Steve Harrington. Who knows, we might find something fun.”

He walked right on your heels as you entered the store, waving an awkward greeting to the man behind the counter as he followed you within. The walls were lined with sexy everything. Lingerie, books, movies, toys. You didn’t really know where to start.

“Lingerie first?” You asked, nodding towards the racks and racks of lace, velvet, and silk. He nodded wordlessly, his cheeks a burning red. You had to chew on your lip to keep from laughing— it was just too adorable.

He stood respectfully beside you as you flipped through the rack, holding up the occasional teddy or babydoll gown for his appraisal. He just blinked a few times, opened and closed his mouth, then nodded. It was like that for each and everything you showed him.

“Steve, you’re not really being a big help,” you chided with a playful grin.

“I can hardly think right now,” he mumbled, running his fingers over white silk on the rack. It felt so soft that he wanted to buy it for you then and there just so he could imagine you wearing it. “Is it hot in here?” He tugged at his collar and cleared his throat a few times. “I’m really hot right now.”

“Hey, breathe, okay?” You said, holding onto his arm. He really was burning up under your touch. “No one else is here except the guy behind the counter, and I’m sure he’s seen crazier stuff than two twenty-somethings browsing the wares.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I can be cool about this.” He swallowed as you turned back to the shelves and grabbed a pale blue babydoll with lace around the edges. You turned to face him and held it up to yourself, raising a brow.

“What do you think?”

He wanted to pass out. He could imagine you in it so easily— how the silk would feel on your skin, the way the lace would fall around your thighs and tits. He could especially imagine peeling it off of you, how warm it would be from touching you. He felt his dick twitch, trapped uncomfortably in his tight jeans. God, he wished he’d had some sort of notice so he could’ve worn some sweats or something. Or, actually, that probably would’ve been worse for him.

“I think you should buy that one,” he said quickly. He grabbed the soft white teddy and pushed it towards you. “And this one too.” You smiled prettily up at him, and he wanted to propose marriage or eternal love on the spot. He’d follow you anywhere— into certain danger, into hell, or even into a sleazy sex shop.

And then came the toys. His mouth felt dry as he watched you peering at the shelves, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips. Some of them were big… and lifelike. You took one in your hands and he wanted to whimper. Your painted nails wrapped around the silicon, not even making it all the way around. Your hand looked so fucking small.

And you giggled, a bright, pretty sound and he wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. Become one more stain that the store’s patrons had left. “This is ridiculous,” you muttered, wielding it like a gun toward him. He made himself laugh, but it was clearly forced. You replaced it on the shelf and went back to browsing.

“Yeah, super ridiculous,” he said, his mouth feeling even drier. They really should’ve had water stations around places like this. “Uh, what about that one?” He pointed towards the top shelf and you laughed, reaching on your tiptoes to bring it down.

“Steve,” you said with disbelief. “This would kill me.”

“What?” He asked, brows furrowed. “No, that’s literally just like mine and I’ve never killed anyone.”

“Stevie, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but your dick is not the size of my forearm,” you said. You placed the toy against yourself and the tip hit above your navel. “See. That wouldn’t even feel good.” You hopped to place it right back on the shelf and began perusing again.

He wanted to scoff, or something and defend his ego, but it was useless. You’d literally seen what he was packing, and while you were impressed, you weren’t a liar. You gasped victoriously and turned to face him, holding a smaller, but still above-average dildo.

“This is about where you’re at, right?” You asked rhetorically. Because, y’know… you knew. You held it right where you’d held the other and nodded approvingly. “See, this isn’t going to bruise my organs or anything, but it would still feel good.”

Steve nodded, biting down on his tongue until he feared he would bleed. There was no way you didn’t realize what you were doing. “So that’s like… the ideal?”

You looked at him pointedly. “Don’t fish for compliments, Stevie,” you said as you brought the box for that toy down, turning it over in your hands. “Anyways, I think I might actually buy this one.” You paused, meeting his gaze curiously. “That’s not weird or anything, right? Since I kind of compared this one to you.”

He swallowed. He wanted to say that it wasn’t weird and that actually made him want you to buy it more and that he wanted to watch you use it. But instead, he just shook his head. “Not weird,” he said weakly. That was the best he could do.

You smiled, holding your wares in your arms as you continued to browse. He followed you closely, placing his chin on top of your head when you came to a stop at some of the tapes.

“See anything you like, Steve?” You asked, turning your head to peer back at him.

Yes. Yes. You’re literally right in front of me. He didn’t know what to say or how to explain that he was so hard he couldn’t even focus on the VHS tapes, despite them having tons of naked girls on the cover. All he could think about was you.

The door swung open, startling him, and he pressed himself into you, trying to hide his obvious boner from the new shoppers. You froze, unable to ignore the feeling of him hard against your back.

Oh. It wasn’t like you weren’t hoping it would happen, but you figured he might be able to contain himself until you were in the car so you could park somewhere and get off together. But he was desperate behind you, a shaky moan escaping him as you shifted where you stood.

“Steve,” you said softly, covering his hands where they gripped your hips. “If you trust me, I’ll take care of you.”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice weak in the back of his throat.

You shoved the toy and lingerie onto a shelf that you completely intended to return to later and grabbed his hand, guiding him into the back of the store. In the hall by the bathrooms, there was another room, completely dark and lined with booths.

“What are we—?” He was cut off by you opening the door and nodding him inside. It was like a cheap school bathroom stall, except there was a TV that took quarters. “Oh.”

“Got change?” You asked, patting his wallet in his pocket. He was so lucky that he tucked himself to the other side or he might have cum then and there. He nodded, grabbing his wallet nervously as he took out at least two dollars worth of quarters to feed into the machine. “Alright, pick your movie, Stevie.”

Your hands slipped under his shirt, feeling the hot skin beneath, tracing each dip and curve along his abdomen and sides. He gave a shaky breath. With eager hands, he pressed a random button. He didn’t give a shit about dirty movies when you had your hands on his body.

Moans filled the small space as the movie clips played, but you took your time feeling him. Your fingers brushed over his chest, nails combing through the thatch of hair there. You sighed contentedly, breath hot against his back.

“This okay?” You asked softly, moving your hands back down his body. “I know it’s against our rules, but—

“Fuck, fuck, it’s okay. It’s so okay,” he gasped, his hands balled into fists, pressed above his head on the wall to keep him upright and from crumbling beneath your touch.

A string of curses escaped his lips as your fingers found his belt and made quick work of it. The buckle jingled as it slipped free of one of the loops, forgotten as you unbuttoned and unzipped him.

He was warm beneath your touch, almost on fire. You pushed his briefs down just enough to free his cock, relishing in the gratified moan he released as you took him into your hand.

You stood on your tiptoes, nuzzling against his neck to press a soft kiss there. His skin tasted of sweat and cologne. “This feel okay?” You asked, slicking up his length with the precum that was practically leaking from him. He nodded, his breath heavy and coming in pants. “Good. I want it to feel good for you Stevie.”

Your free hand wandered beneath his shirt, nails raking along warm, damp skin. You would be lying if you said you weren’t hot yourself— sweat beading at the back of your neck.

He thrust into your hand, desperate and needy. You soothed him with a kiss to the back of his neck, whispering against his skin. “Shhh… I’ve got you.” You pressed another open-mouthed kiss to his neck, letting your teeth graze him. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

He cried out as your thumb swept across the head of his dick, not even caring if anyone else was listening despite feeling so shy earlier. You were good. So good that he wanted to simultaneously thank and kill whoever you’d touched before to be so fucking good at jerking him off.

This was Steve Harrington, king of the hook-up, founder of skull rock— and he was terrified he was going to cum after hardly any action at all. He just wanted you so bad. The mere act of you touching him set every cell in his body aflame.

“You’re so good, Steve,” you said softly, remembering how he’d reacted to your praise that first night. Now was as good a time as any to put that detail to the test. “So big, can barely fit my hand around you. See how little my hand is compared to your cock?”

He swore breathily. He’d never heard you talk like that once.

“So big and so pretty for me. The prettiest guy I’ve ever seen.” You pressed another kiss to his neck. “Cum for me, Stevie. I wanna feel you cum while I’m touching you.

He was done for. With a string of moans, he came hard, ropes of pearly white painting the walls of the booth. It was gross if you thought about it, but you were too hung up on his pretty moans and the feel of him twitching in your hands to care. He thrust shallowly into your grip as you guided him through his finish, groaning at the way you squeezed him slightly before letting go.

“God, that was hot,” you said with a grin, meeting his gaze as he turned around, blushing deeply as he tucked himself back into his pants. “Was that all okay?”

He nodded, chest still heaving. “It was great.”

You grinned. “Great,” you echoed. “I should go clean up.” You held up your hand, glazed with his cum, and he grimaced, clearly apologetic.

“God, I’m sorry, that’s—“

“Steve, it’s fine. I told you I thought it was hot, and I wasn’t kidding,” you said firmly. “Stay here while I clean up, then we’ll do our walk of shame together.” You paused, glancing around the booth. “Actually, you might want to wash your hands too.”

———

Back on the highway, Steve’s knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the wheel. You toyed with the plastic handles on the little black bag in your lap, the crinkling sound drowning out Wham on the radio.

“Where are we gonna park?” Steve asked suddenly, turning to glance in your direction.

“Park?” You asked, a furrow between your brows. “Why are we parking?”

An awkward laugh slipped past his lips. “Uh, because you didn’t cum.” His expression was earnest— the sweetest puppy-dog eyes you’d ever seen. It was sweet that he wanted you to experience as much pleasure as you did. But your silence on the matter made his cheeks turn pink with sheepishness. “You bought that fake dick so I thought you wanted to… I dunno… use it, I guess?”

At his words, your mouth dropped open in realization. “Oh,” you replied. An uncomfortable laugh escaped you. “No… Stevie, I’m not going to fuck myself with a sex toy in your car.”

“Oh… I mean… yeah that, uh, makes sense.” He paused. “Do you want to like… fuck yourself with it somewhere else? I think there’s a blanket in my trunk if you want to go to Skull Rock, or—“

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t want a public indecency charge.”

He nodded, trying to stay nonchalant. “Yeah. Duh. Of course.” He set his mouth in a firm line, and you figured it was his way of stopping himself from saying anything else. “Yeah, just forget I asked.”

You sighed as he turned up the radio, humming along to the Beastie Boys. It was obvious that he was dejected from the way his brows furrowed, the corners of his mouth twitching downward.

“It wasn’t a no, Steve,” you said gently, putting a hand on his arm. “It’s a ‘not in public.’”

He perked up, eyes wide with surprise as he met your gaze, taking in the sight of your growing smile. “It’s— It’s not a no?”

You shook your head firmly. “Can you swing by mine tonight? Late?”

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.”

———

Steve parked in front of your neighbor’s house, knowing that they were gone and wouldn’t mind. There was a skip in his step as he made his way along the lawn, already seeing dim light glowing from your window. He stopped just shy of the glass, peering in at the sight of you standing in front of the mirror, running your hands along your body. Blue silk covered your skin, the lace hem stopping just barely below your ass.

His breath caught in his throat as he watched your hands wander over your tits, nails dimpling skin and lace. You smiled at your own reflection, then slipped the straps off, allowing the gown to pool at your feet.

“Holy shit.” The words slipped out without him actually meaning to say them as he looked at your naked body in the dim lamplight. He felt his length twitch with need, desire stirring within.

The curves of your body twisted as you stretched, arms reaching above your head, elongating your spine. The fall of your shoulders told him you had sighed as you turned, picking up the white silk teddy he’d chosen from where it laid against the bed.

If anyone were to walk by, they would’ve thought he was a peeping tom or something. Fuck. That’s exactly what he was doing.

You slipped on the teddy slowly, observing your body from each side with a furrow in your brow. Your hands smoothed out the fabric carefully, and he swallowed hard.

The white fabric was thin and skimpy— he could see everything he wanted to through it. And even though you were just naked, the sight of you in sheer lingerie was even more erotic.

You smiled at your reflection before you turned, laying down on the bed, your knee bent just slightly. The lamplight cast a pretty glow over your skin as you tossed your head back, your hands wandering along your breasts, then between your legs.

His cock pulsed in his jeans, uncomfortably tight for the second time that day, all because of you. He couldn’t help but let his hands brush over the obvious bulge he was sporting. A shaky groan escaped him before he thought better of it. You paused, but seemed to brush off the noise as the wind.

He couldn’t help himself. Watching you through the glass— the unhurried, lazy way you sought pleasure—was enough to make him feel like a live wire. He rubbed his denim-clad length, swallowing as you threw your head back against the pillows, arching your back slightly. He squeezed, the pressure so good but not near enough.

He popped the button of his jeans, unzipping just enough to fit his hand. He moaned at the feel of his hand around his cock, chest heaving with restraint. You sat up suddenly at the noise, turning to the window.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly zipping and adjusting his pants. “Shit.”

“Stevie?” Your voice was muffled by the glass, but he made it out clear as day. You hopped off the bed and leaned against the sill, the silk blousing enough that he could see straight through to your tits. He swallowed hard, tearing his gaze from the fucking incredible sight to meet your eyes. “You been there long?”

You made quick work of the window, tugging it up to allow him in. He peered at you from outside, his eyes wide and sheepish. “Uh, no,” he said quickly. “Not long.”

You grinned, nodding for him to come inside. “Alright, pervert,” you teased. “Get in here quick before someone calls the cops.”

He practically leaped over the window-sill, landing with a soft thud on your carpeted floor. You laughed at his eagerness and tugged the window back down, drawing the curtains quickly.

“So…” you said, settling back on the bed, lying on your side to face him. “Any reason you stayed out there spying instead of coming inside?”

His face fell, a frown pulling at his lips. “You’re right. It was wrong and gross of me to just stand out there and watch you, but you just looked so pretty trying on your new stuff, and then you were on the bed and your hands started moving and—“

“Were you touching yourself?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. “While you were peeping through my windows, that is.”

He made a soft noise, right in the back of his throat, something between a whimper and a whine. “Yeah. Fuck, that was so wrong of me to do. I’m really sorry.”

“Steve, I’m fucking with you,” you said quickly, worried he might actually take it to heart. “I heard your car door slam, so I put on a little show.”

He groaned, leaning his head back until it banged on the window-sill. “You’re such an asshole.” He shook his head and looked at you expectantly. “So are you going to keep going, or not?”

A surprised laugh escaped you at his tone, and you couldn’t help but relish in his desire. In the past few weeks, your confidence had skyrocketed— you had never felt more confident in your own skin until Steve treated you like something worth worshipping.

With a wink in his direction, you turned onto your back, spreading your legs slightly to fit your hand. His eyes followed your hands, but your eyes were glued on him. Gently, you let your hands wander along the silk, dancing along each dip and curve in your figure.

“Tell me what to do,” you said, meeting his darkened gaze. He swallowed, eyes trailing up and down your body.

It was a few moments before he spoke up, wetting his lips with his tongue before he finally told you what he wanted. “Take your clothes off,” he said finally, his voice more confident and firm than you expected. Heat burned in your cheeks at the ferocity of his gaze, the desire within it. You moved to brush the straps off your shoulders, but he shook his head. “Not like that. Slow.”

A shiver ran through you, and you nodded, standing from the bed to remove it properly. Slowly, you brushed the first strap off your shoulder, letting it fall to your elbow, exposing your breast. Already puckered from the cool air through the thin fabric, it felt sensitive so bare.

Steve sat forward as you let the second strap fall, leaving you naked from the waist up. A low noise came from the back of his throat, and you gave a shaky exhale. You turned, facing away from him as you brought your hands to the waistband, bending as you dragged the fabric to the floor, where it pooled at your feet.

“Fuck. You’re incredible,” he said as you turned back around, crossing your arms across your belly sheepishly. “Back on the bed now. I wanna watch you touch yourself.”

“Jesus, okay,” you said softly, lying back against your pillows. “Do you want to get up here? Have a closer look?”

It was like asking a fish if it wanted to swim. Or a dog if it wanted the juiciest, most expensive steak in the world. He simply had no choice in the matter— every single one of his cells was screaming yes. He sat at the foot of your bed, watching you keenly as your hands began to trace along your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

A shaky sigh escaped you as your fingertips brushed along your thighs, making you part them slightly to fit your hand. At the first brush of your fingers against your clit, you gasped, your breath coming in shaky bursts.

You’d been pent up since the sex shop, since you’d actually touched Steve. And having him just watch while you pleasured yourself was so much more intense than anything you’d done with him before.

It would be stupid to deny that you cared about him anymore— it was just a fact of your existence, same as your eye color or the shade of your hair. You liked him. Maybe even loved him, if you really thought about it. He was simply your favorite person in the world.

“You can do more than that,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking into a grin. You swallowed hard, fingers dipping towards your center. “Tell me what you’re feeling, sweetheart.”

“I’m so wet,” you gasped, closing your eyes as your head fell back against the pillow. It was too intense to keep looking at him, not with everything you were feeling then. “Just wanna be filled up so bad.”

A soft hum escaped him, making your cheeks heat up. “With what?”

“Fingers.” You barely managed the two syllables as you pushed two digits into yourself, a choked sob escaping your lips as you fucked yourself with them deeper.

“You sure?” He asked, and you could almost hear his smug grin. You were impossibly wet, you could hear the obscene noise of your fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. And, god, you needed more. “‘Cause if you want something I can go get it.”

Oh. Smug bastard. You swallowed down your pride and nodded, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “Please,” you said simply, cheeks burning.

He raised a brow, glancing around your room. “Want something specific… or dealer’s choice? I’ve got my eye on a pretty sick-looking candle on your dresser. Like from Debbie Does Dallas. You remember that one from two weeks ago, don’t you?”

You kicked him lightly with your foot as he burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him smiling. God, you had it bad. “Go get the toy dipshit,” you said, with a pointed look. “It’s in the back of my underwear drawer.”

He grinned victoriously, hopping from the bed to rifle through your dresser while you watched. While he snooped, you continued to pump your fingers in and out of yourself slowly, relishing in the sensation of being filled, even if it wasn’t as much as you wanted. He held up a pair of pink panties with an embroidered cherry on the front grinning wildly.

“These are cute,” he said as he tucked them into his back pocket. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t ignore the heat that burned in your belly at the thought of him having them. A soft, aha, sounded from his lips and he turned, holding the dildo casually in his grip.

Your mouth practically watered at the sight, your cunt spamming around your fingers, desperate for more. “Is this what you wanted?” He asked, raising a brow. You nodded and he smirked. “Yeah? The same toy you compared to my dick?” You nodded again, chewing on your lip.

He sat back on the bed, not handing over the toy just yet. “You gonna think about me while you use it?” He looked at you curiously, and you felt the line of questioning tipping further away from just dirty talk.

“Yeah,” you said weakly. “I’m gonna think about you, Stevie. Please let me have it.”

His face lit up at your words, eyes brightening with the telltale signs of an idea forming. You felt your breath shudder in anticipation.

“I’ll let you have it,” he said plainly. “I’ll give it to you if you’re good and let me.”

Wait… you sat up on your elbows, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. “You want to… use it on me?” You swallowed. Hard. He nodded and your heart skipped enough beats to make you genuinely concerned. “O-okay.”

“You sure?” He asked, his voice softer.

“Mhmm,” you replied, offering a small smile. “I trust you.” You paused, feeling suddenly shy. “How are we gonna do this?”

He paused, brows furrowing as he considered his options. God, you wanted to know every thought running through his head. “I’ll sit behind you, you lean back on my chest, that way I can just reach around and… y’know.”

You nodded, sitting up so he could slide into place behind him. He settled comfortably behind you, wrapping one arm around your belly to ease you against him. It felt strange to be so naked while he was fully dressed, but not enough to really mind. You laid back against him, spreading your legs to allow him access.

Knowing him, you figured he’d just go in with the dildo and just ram you with it a few times, but you were sorely mistaken. The toy was discarded to the side for the moment, his fingers moving between your legs to rub your clit, eliciting contented moans from you.

Your hips buck into the sensation, grinding in thoughtless, subconscious movements to get more pressure out of his touch. His tongue clicked, chiding you for your impatience, but he didn’t do anything to stop you. You figured he liked knowing you wanted more.

“What fingers do you use when you touch yourself,” he asked, breath warm against your ear.

“Huh?” You asked, almost breathless, too riled up to think clearly.

He held up his hand, wiggling his fingers jokingly for a moment. “Ring-middle, or pointer-middle?” He asked, flexing them in turn. “I have a preference, I just wanna see if you do too.”

Smug fucker. “I don’t really think about it,” you answered honestly. “Ring-middle, I think.”

“Excellent choice,” he said, and you could practically hear his grin. You sighed, leaning further back against him as his hand settled back between your legs. Your cunt was practically pulsing as he let his fingers wander, dipping into the wetness pooled at your entrance before returning to your clit, circling gently. “You want my fingers?”

You nodded wordlessly, yeah thrown back against his shoulders as he teased your entrance, making you whimper. His lack of action told you one thing— he wanted you to say it. “Please, Steve,” you practically whined. “I want your fingers so bad.”

You hadn’t ever really thought about how his hands would feel until that moment, when his middle finger breached your entrance and pushed deep within you. It felt like heaven, but you needed more. You rocked against his fingers, encouraging him deeper, or to move, or to use one more. You didn’t really know what you wanted, just that you wanted something.

“So fucking needy,” he mumbled against your hair. “It’s cute.”

“Sh-shut up,” you said, voice catching as he pushed another finger within you. Ring-middle. Fucking incredible choice. The sounds his fingers made as they fucked you were obscene. You hadn’t even known your body could do what he was making it do. “I want more, Stevie. Please.”

“Yeah?” He asked, removing his soaked fingers to toy with your clit. “You want me to fuck you with the fake dick you bought? Hm?”

“Steve,” you said, feeling embarrassed for no discernible reason. He laughed lightly into your hair and you burned inside. “Steve I want you to fuck me with it so bad. I really want it.”

“Yeah? You think it’s gonna feel like I would?” He asked, letting the toy run along your slit so it was coated in your wetness. Each brush of the silicon against your clit made you gasp.

“Almost,” you said, exhaling a shaky breath as he pushed the toy in barely an inch. “It won’t feel as good.”

“No, it won’t,” he said, using his other hand to tease your clit as he pushed the toy in slowly, so you felt each and every passing inch. “But it’ll feel good for now, won’t it?”

As soon as the toy bottomed out, filling you completely, you gasped, nodding desperately. “Yes. It feels so good.”

“Yeah?” His teeth grazed your ear as he spoke, his words low as he fucked you with the toy. “You like feeling stuffed with cock, hm? Does it feel good to be so full?” You nodded, beyond words at that point. His fingers moved faster on your clit as he thrust the dildo shallowly, just like you needed. You felt deliciously full, and each touch on your clit made your veins feel like fire.

“Fuck,” you gasped, nails clinging to his thighs on either side of you. “Fuck, Steve, I’m so close. You’re gonna make me cum. Please make me cum. I want it so bad.”

He kept up the same rhythm, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. You felt like crying from the pleasure that he so easily drew out of you, and he was touching you like he was fluent in the language your body spoke. You came suddenly, crying out a mix of obscenities and his name, grinding against the toy and his fingers, desperate for more of that delicious feeling.

The feeling of him slipping the toy from your cunt was strange— you suddenly felt so incomplete. You felt sensitive all over to the slightest touch, shivering as the chill in the room suddenly became apparent.

“That was—“ You sighed happily, feeling drowsy and sated with the pleasure coursing through you. “So good. Never understood a reputation more than in this moment.” Your eyes were heavy as you blinked, turning to face him.

You wanted to press your lips to his, kiss him until you were desperate for breath. You shivered. “Can you grab me pajamas?” You asked softly. He nodded, slipping from behind you to rifle through your dresser again.

He turned, holding up a blue button-up pajama set for your appraisal. When you nodded, he shut the drawer and returned, grabbing the cherry print panties he’d stashed earlier.

“See, I’m not a pervert, I just think ahead,” he said with a grin. You slipped them on and let him help you pull the pajama shirt over your head.

“I still kind of think you’re a pervert, Steve,” you replied as you awkwardly tugged on the pajama pants. You turned to face him, peering down at the bulge in his jeans. “You, uh, want some help with that?”

He brushed you off with a wave of his hand, pulling off his shirt and jeans before climbing into bed. “Nah, you’re tired. Just c’mere.”

You didn’t question Steve wanting to stay the night. You didn’t find it presumptuous or overbearing. The sight of Steve looking up at you from your quilted blankets, his brown eyes so inviting, made your heart melt. You grinned and slipped beneath the covers, reaching over to turn off the lamp before you cuddled against his side.

He was warm, and he was in your bed. And you were almost entirely certain you loved him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #my writing

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