#who CARES if I have a concussion I'm LATE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solarmorrigan · 4 months

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I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things post s2 AU #stranger things #this one is a bit long just as a heads up; about 4.6k #is it good? I dunno but I had fun writing it and you guys seem interested so here we go!#eddiesteve #solar wrote

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kittievampire · 2 months

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Hear me out... You know how some people like to draw Leviathan with a long-ass, thicc tongue? How bout we see what dat tongue do? 😏😘

(love the writing, btw! Top tier Asmo and Levi content!)

HmMmMmMmmMmm I feel like Levi is an eater.

Lemme see what I have in my bag, My Dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

That Tongue Tho

Warnings: Cursing, Oral (fem!receiving), Dom!PussyDrunk!Leviathan x Sub!Fem!Reader, Overstim, Levi has a long ass tongue, Levi has a forked ass tongue, Snek Levi ftw

Enjoy~

"L-Levi!"

Your voice was high-pitched and slightly shaky, eyes spilling tears over your flushed cheeks as your head rested against the edge of his bed-tub. You moved your hips upwards in response to the nearly numbing pleasure that was Leviathan's service.

The Sin of Envy was currently feasting upon your sensitive, succulent little pussy right in his tub. With hardly any space, his legs had to rest in an awkward position, but once he got that first lick of your addictive essence, all rationale flew out the hardly-ever-opened window. He held your thighs in a vice grip, pushing them against either side of his face in hopes of suffocating while visciously eating you out. The stuttering, socially awkward otaku who seemed a bit prudish at first seemed long gone, by now. It's like he was getting intoxicated by you.

There was the way he held your thighs and abused cunt to his face as if he'd die without them, then there was the way his hips thrusted his pelvis into the blankets below the two of you for some kind of friction, then there was his tongue. His fucking tongue. Leviathan had snake-like features, this you knew, but the fact that he was hitting such deep spots within your cunny made you fucking keen.

"L-Levi I-I can't-" You tried to push his hand away, only for him to grab your wrist, purple scales beginning to form on his own. Through your fuzzy gaze, you looked down to see the demon stare you down, almost competitively. Something akin to a predator trying to scare off another predator from it's meal.

Slowly, he pulled his mouth away, and slid his long tongue out of you. "Let. Me. Eat." The next second, his demon form manifested, tail wrapping around your waist to keep you positioned as he began to mercilessly rub your puffy clit with his fingers. "I don't care if you cry. I don't care if you think you can't go on for any longer." He licked a fat stripe up your pussy. "I'm going to eat this filthy little pussy until I'm done."

Surprised by the, rather gluttonous and possessive, statements from the Avatar of Envy, you failed to immediately process his show of elongating his forked tongue as he released your hand from his grip. Your overstimulated, foggy brain realized just a moment too late what that meant for your used cunt. "Wa-" You nearly threw your head back against the edge of the tub when he shoved that thick muscle into your hole, which would've likely ended in a concussion and a massive vibe-kill for the both of you.

Leviathan's tongue traveled every inch of your soft, used walls. Deeper and deeper it traveled, and just when you think it can't go any deeper, he shoves more of it into your pussy. Your walls clenched tightly around the muscle as you whined, having felt your sixth orgasm underway. You were held tightly in place despite wanting to run away from the pleasure. Given no break, your body was forced to just take it like the good girl he wanted you to be for him.

The sin's eyes rolled back as he simultaneously ate you and humped the blankets beneath him, cock twitching in his pants with desire. His nails dug into your thighs to hold them in place as his own soft pillows as his tongue swirled deep inside of you, the wet slurping noises that escaped him making your face flush a darker shade of red.

Your legs began to twitch violently as you felt a knot begin to tighten within you, and your cunt started fluttering around his tongue as a numbing sensation traveled through your lower body. All of a sudden, it was just too fucking much. Then, you cried out in pleasure as you came hard. Your juices filled his mouth and overflowed from his lips to the blankets in the tub. Your body twitched as he continued to tongue fuck you through your high, and you let out a sigh of relief as he finally pulled away.

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, a mischievous smirk forming on his face. "My Henry," He cooed softly, gently rubbing one of his hands against the plush of your thigh.

"I'm not done yet. I wanna see just how deep inside of you my tongue can go. So be a good girl, keep your legs open, and take it."

Sorry this was a bit short. Hope you enjoyed it tho!

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me smut #leviathan smut #obey me levi smut #obey me leviathan

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steventhusiast · 5 months

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STWG daily prompt 7/12/23 (i'm late to this)

prompt: black eye

pairing/character(s): steddie

this is part 2, read part 1 here

"Yeah, I'm here. I got you, sweetheart."

Eddie's words bring about a lopsided smile to Steve's face, and then his eyes drift back to being closed. He doesn't look like he's asleep, but he's definitely not all there. Distantly, Eddie wonders what good shit they've got Steve on for him to not be sobbing in pain at every movement right now. His black eye is.. difficult to look at.

Once again, Eddie wonders what the fuck happened in the past forty eight hours. He turns to Buckley.

"What happened?" He asks, and Robin narrows her eyes and looks ready to attempt to interrogate him again, so he's quick to continue, "I- I know you have questions, but for now can you just accept that I'm here because I care about him?"

He hopes she ignores the way he's still absently rubbing his thumb in a back-and-forth motion over Steve's arm. Hopes that for now she can dismiss the casual intimacy, and not question why Eddie's one of Steve's emergency contacts. Not while Steve lacks the therewithal to make a decision about coming out or not.

Still looking suspicious, she nods once, and casts a glance to the other side of the room, where the two younger kids are sat together. Eddie follows her gaze to see the young girl is asleep, head resting on Dustin's arm, and Dustin has his eyes resolutely on the door, like he's waiting for a monster to burst through it. He doesn't look fully there.

"We were just finishing the closing duties at work and," Robin starts, and then pauses like she's going over the details in her head, "and there was a late shipment we had to put away in the freezers, but then a fire broke out and we got trapped."

Buckley is a lot of things, but a good liar isn't one of them. Even if she was a good liar, Eddie knows things that make that one sound implausible. Steve hasn't been missing for just one night. It's been two nights. What the fuck happened before the fire? And that's not even considering the logistics of Steve's injuries and how they happened.

"Don't bullshit me." Eddie says quietly, looking down at Steve again, "That makes no sense and you know it. Are you seriously telling me a fire give Steve a black eye and a concussion? These kids just happened to be there?"

His words have Robin looking incredibly nervous, and Dustin straightens a little where he's sat, looking to be actively listening for the first time since Eddie entered the room.

"You have to shut up, man. I don't know who you are, but it. Was. Just. A. Fire." Dustin says, eyes determined, but scared.

"I'm Eddie." Eddie pauses, considering a new possibility that frightens him even more than Steve's injuries, "Did you guys.. Did you get threatened? Whoever did this," he gestures at Steve's face, "are they making you stay quiet? I can help you. I know people."

Dustin sighs and goes back to watching the door, the frightened look in his eyes becoming something haunted. Robin bites her lip, and Steve cracks open his good eye to look at Eddie, tears welling up.

"They w're- Eds, you gotta j'st- leave it be." He tells him, and a tear slips out and down his face, no doubt causing the scratches on his face to sting.

"Stevie. Please. Who hurt you?" Eddie whispers, tears blurring his vision now as he truly takes in his boyfriend. He feels helpless, and he can't even provide comfort the way he wants to because it might not be safe. He doesn't know Robin, not truly. And he doesn't know the kids at all.

Steve makes the decision for him, lifting one shaking, weak hand to clumsily wipe away a tear that's escaped.

"'s okay, Teddy. L've you." He says, and Eddie hates himself a bit. Because Steve's trying to comfort him while he's laying in a hospital bed. Eddie raises his hand to cover Steve's where it still rests on his cheek, supporting and holding it there.

"I love you too." He whispers back after a harsh sniffle, and hears Robin beside him making a noise of understanding.

"Oh, you're his- right." She mumbles to herself, shooting Steve a look to which he gives her a slight smile of confirmation. Eddie raises his eyebrows at the implication. Steve had come out to her?

"Yeah. And if you have a problem with it, well. Like I said, I know people." He tells her, putting on his best bitchy smile as he slowly puts Steve's hand back to rest on the bed. He ignores Steve's noise of complaint to keep eye contact with Robin. He hopes he's being intimidating.

"No need for all that. I know Dorothy too." Robin replies, and Eddie just nods. Feels a bit of the fear inside him deflate.

And then Dustin asks a question, and the little girl at his side rouses from her sleep.

"Who the fuck's Dorothy?"

"Mutual friend." Robin answers, tone clipped.

"Okay. I don't know what I've just woken up to. Who's this wannabe-goth nerd?" The little girl asks, voice full of sass as she raises an eyebrow at Eddie.

How she went from dead asleep to awake-enough-to-roast-him in five seconds, Eddie doesn't know. He narrows his eyes at the insult anyway.

"Eddie Munson. Metalhead extraordinaire, for your information. And you? What's an eight year old doing here?"

"Erica Sinclair. And I'm eleven, you long haired freak."

Eddie gapes at her, and distantly hears Steve giggle. For now, cautiously, he thinks that maybe things will be okay. Eventually.

some people asked to be tagged or replied about wanting a part two so i'm tagging: @djohawke @imyelenasexual @y4r3luv @disrespectedgoatman @starxlark @f1inl3ey

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #stwgdailyprompt #dailydrabble #mywriting

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 months

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Oh the Assistant!Kara AU tho…so one night Lena actually gets Kara to leave earlier than her (sisters night maybe?) but as she’s leaving she hears something suspicious and heads back up to be just in time to save Lena from an assassin, and is consequently horrified because people are actually trying to kill Lena? Like, she’s used to hearing death threats again Cat but none ever materialized and the fact that these so and Lena so…casually resigned? to them? Enter supergirl mode lol.

Okay but what if Kara *isn't* there? Lena is assaulted in the parking lot or in the lobby on her way out, and Kara doesn't hear about it until she's called to the hospital for a ride home. Injuries are minor, but bandages are visible, and Lena is shaken.

Kara is livid.

"...and where was the security guard?!" She ends a long diatribe with a frustrated huff.

"I don't know."

Lena's voice is so soft in the confines of the elevator up to her apartment, it stops Kara in her tracks. She looks at her boss, who's leaning against the wall of the elevator looking rumpled and tired in a bloodstained blouse. The wisps of hair that have come loose from its style makes Lena look so young, and for the first time Kara realizes that her boss isn't all that old in the first place.

In fact, she doesn't seem much older than Kara herself.

And tonight, her empowered, forceful, kind boss is just a rattled young woman who was attacked alone in a freaking parking garage.

"Hey," Kara says softly. Taking a risk, she reaches out to rest her hand gently on Lena's arm. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." Lena's voice comes cold and harsh, shocking Kara before it almost immediately softens. "Just... if you're kind to me I might just burst into tears, and I really don't want to do that just yet."

"It's okay." Kara kicks herself. "Sorry. Right. I can be mean..."

"I don't need mean," Lena says with a small smile. "I just... I just want to be home."

Right on cue, the elevator dings open, and Lena manages to unlock the multiple deadbolts with shaking fingers. The apartment inside is massive, and Lena flips on every light as she moves inside, allowing Kara to trail in behind her. They come to a stop in the kitchen, where Lena reaches into the fridge for a carafe of filtered water. She pours herself a glass and takes a long gulp before speaking.

"Thank you for driving me. Is there anything I can get you before I head home?"

Kara shakes her head. "No, I'm good. I'll clear your schedule for tomorrow-- I heard what the doctor said about the concussion, and you really should rest."

Lena nods her gratitude. "Thank you."

Kara turns to leave, then thinks better of it and turns back. "Actually, do you mind if I stay here tonight?"

Taken aback, Lena's eyes widen. "I-- what?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's late, and it's a long way back to my place, and I shouldn't be driving when I'm so tired. They say it's as bad as driving drunk," she punctuates with a dramatic yawn. She doesn't care what excuse she throws out-- Lena's apartment is too dark and too big for Lena stay here alone tonight.

"I don't know, Kara... it wouldn't be appropriate."

"Please," Kara says, falling solemn. "For me. I'll sleep on the couch."

Lena looks at her for a long moment. Finally, she relents. "Don't be ridiculous," she sighs. "You can use the spare room."

And if Kara checks every nook and cranny of that spare room-- and every other unoccupied inch of the apartment-- for any hidden intruders before she goes to sleep, well.

Who could blame her?

#supercorp #assistant au #imagine the guilt #soft lena is the best lena #protective kara is the best kara #fight me

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

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Hi! Hope ur doing great! First of all, I really love your fics! I think you're really talented.

I have a request, if it's not too much trouble. I can't stop thinking about a Steve w/head trauma (so, maybe migraine prone, memory issues, etc) and a DM Eddie that still resents Steve from high school. Eddie doesn't know Steve struggles with the complications of his concussions, so he keeps judging him for it. Say, for example, Steve got a terrible migraine and couldn't pick the kids up from Dnd and Eddie thinks he's probably at a party and stood them up. Then Eddie finds out, maybe from Steve himself or a Party member or Steve's parents. (If you could somehow sneak in Steve's parents being good caring parents for one, it'd be really cool.) Eddie apologizes and they start getting closer. And, yeah, that's all. Thank you!!!

We know I love writing Steve with a migraine. Not to jinx anything, but it's been almost two weeks since I've had one myself so I'm sure the torture I put him through here will have instant karma and I will wake up with one. Is it realistic for Eddie to pretty much fall instantly in love with a man he hated the night before? No. Do I write realistic stories? No. Buckle up for the fastest burn you can possibly read today! - Mickala ❤️

----------------------------------------------------------------

Steve Harrington was late.

Not just a few minutes late, not like he maybe got held up at a light for an extra two minutes, not like he had to stop for gas.

He was 25 minutes late.

Eddie was pissed.

He didn’t mind hanging out with the kids longer, wouldn’t have even minded if he’d just been given a heads up that Steve would be late.

A phone call.

A fucking letter by pigeon.

Anything.

Dustin seemed worried, more than anyone else, though the later it got, the more Lucas and Will and Mike seemed to worry too.

And Eddie would maybe worry too, except he knew what was happening.

He knew because it’s all he ever expected of Steve.

Steve probably went to a party, thought he could make his rounds, maybe have a drink and sober up in time to come get the kids.

And then he probably got bribed into having another drink, maybe smoke a joint in the backyard of whatever rich kid’s house he was visiting, maybe have a shot with a group of kids who liked to spend their time bullying the very kids he was supposed to be picking up.

Maybe fuck a girl in a bedroom upstairs until he was too tired and just passed out on top of her.

He rolled his eyes at the thought.

“Maybe we could try to call his house again?” Lucas asked.

“He didn’t answer the first four times, why would he now?” Mike asked, though his eyes kept scanning the road into the trailer park, searching for headlights that wouldn’t appear.

And wasn’t that just the last straw for Eddie? Watching his favorite gremlins admire and respect someone who couldn’t even remember to pick them up? Watching them expect so much from a guy who peaked in high school, who didn’t care about them if it hindered his plans?

“You guys wait here,” he said, his hands shaking with anger.

“Where are you going?” Will asked.

“To call Robin. If anyone will know what’s up, she will,” he replied.

It was late, but not too late for a phone call between adults.

“Buckley residence, you’ve got Robin,” Robin answered the phone with a bored tone.

“Any clue why your best friend is 30 minutes late to pick the kids up from my house?” He tried not to sound angry at her, it wasn’t her fault.

But he couldn’t hide the fact that he didn’t understand what band nerd, lesbian, nice person Robin could possibly see in Steve.

Sure, he carted the kids around a lot, and had helped Wayne out with Eddie’s medical stuff after Vecna, but it felt like he did it out of guilt more than anything else.

“He’s never late,” she said, her tone sharp, defensive. “You sure he knew they needed rides?”

“Positive. I heard him yell to them when he dropped them off that he’d see them in three hours.”

Robin didn’t respond for a minute, and he almost thought the line went dead.

“Has Dustin tried the walkie?” She finally asked.

“Yeah. No answer.”

“Shit.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wanna fill me in here, Buckaroo?”

“Um. Can you bring the kids home? I gotta go check on him.”

Before he could respond, the dial tone let him know she was already gone.

“Fuck!” He yelled.

He hung up the phone and grit his teeth together.

The problem wasn’t taking the kids home, he really didn’t mind and had told them on multiple occasions that he could so they didn’t have to rely on Steve to do it.

The problem was that they had relied on Steve and he let them down.

He hated that he’d have to go out there and tell them that Steve wasn’t coming.

He hates Steve for the way he would have to watch their faces fall, for the way they’d ride to their homes in silence.

He hated Steve for the fact that he’d probably buy them all ice cream tomorrow to apologize and they’d all rely on him again.

All would be forgiven.

———————————-

The next morning, he tried calling Robin and got no answer.

He tried calling Dustin and got no answer, though he wasn’t as surprised by that since he’d already been considering going to the Sinclairs’ to spend the weekend since his mom was working.

He tried Steve’s house and got an answering machine. Twice.

He considered leaving a scathing message, but didn’t want to risk one of his parents hearing it and deleting it.

“Fuck it,” he said to himself before he grabbed his keys and decided to drive to Steve’s house.

He was a little surprised to actually see Steve’s car in the driveway, half expecting him to still be passed out at some stranger’s house.

Before he could ring the doorbell, the front door swung open and Robin’s wide eyes were silently begging him to stay quiet.

She looked exhausted, a little flustered, more stressed than he’d seen in a long time.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

Maybe Steve drank more than he should’ve, maybe he wasn’t actually home and she was trying to find him still.

“Come in but be quiet. He’s finally sleeping,” she said, already walking back into the house.

He followed, closing the door behind him and giving his surroundings a quick look.

Everything looked perfect as usual except for Robin’s shoes by the door and her backpack open on the floor by the couch.

The couch that Steve was currently passed out on, blankets almost completely covering his head, ice pack resting over his eyes.

Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“Hangover?” He whispered to Robin.

She looked at him confused.

“No? He hasn’t drank in nearly a year.”

If Eddie didn’t have more control over his body, his jaw would’ve dropped.

“Oh. Um. So is he sick?” Eddie tried to gather up his thoughts, glancing over at the sleeping form on the couch.

He noticed the curtains closed and no lights turned on, noticed the complete silence in the house except for the sound of a fan running in the corner.

“He gets migraines. I thought you knew,” she said.

Eddie shook his head.

“He’s had a lot of head trauma. Gets migraines that make it impossible to even sit up sometimes. I guess he was fighting it most of the day yesterday but after he dropped the kids off with you, he passed out in the shower and barely was able to crawl to his bed after. When you called me, I kind of assumed the worst, so I came straight here and saw him naked and shivering in bed, not able to get up to get dressed or even get the covers on. Got him dressed, got him water and meds, called his parents, tried to help him eat. He spent almost an hour throwing up after that. Then he cried because he forgot the kids. Memory problems happen with the head trauma, too. I couldn’t calm him down until about an hour ago.”

Eddie let himself feel the guilt he deserved for thinking the worst of Steve.

Steve didn’t deserve this. No one did.

“Does he need to go to the hospital?” Eddie whispered, his voice broken thinking about how Steve had been alone here, probably scared when he was curled up in his bed unable to move.

“No. His parents are on their way. If it’s not better tomorrow, they’ll probably take him to his neurologist,” Robin responded.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

A whimper came from the couch, causing Robin to tense and hold her breath.

Eddie looked over and waited to see if maybe Steve was completely awake or if he’d just made a noise in his sleep.

After a few seconds, Robin relaxed, and he felt a breath leave his body.

“How often does this happen?” he whispered as she went to grab a drink from the fridge.

“This bad? Once a month or so. He sometimes has some memory problems without the migraine, but luckily he snaps back quickly,” she shrugged, acted as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Eddie could see right through her.

“And you help him a lot?”

“Well, his parents travel a lot for work, and he can’t always call them or remember how to contact them when it’s this bad, so yeah. I tend to be the one to take care of him until they can get here,” she said.

Eddie chewed on a piece of his hair, glancing over towards the couch every few seconds.

He was surprised this hadn’t come up before.

He was even more surprised that none of the kids had mentioned this as a possibility last night.

“Why didn’t the kids mention it last night when I was pissed?” he finally asked.

“Steve doesn’t really tell anyone. Like, the kids know, but they’ve never actually seen it, and so I think they just kinda forget. He doesn’t wanna bother them with it.”

“That’s stupid, they care about h-”

The front door started to open and a woman peeked her head inside.

Robin ran over as quickly and quietly as she could and Eddie stood awkwardly behind the couch as a middle aged woman walked into the house.

A man followed a few seconds after, a bag in hand.

“Is he asleep?” the woman asked.

“Yeah,” Robin replied before explaining much of what she’d already told Eddie to them.

The Harringtons looked surprisingly put together for a couple who probably hadn’t slept all night and most likely had flown home from somewhere as quickly as they could. They also looked nothing like what Eddie expected.

Mr. Harrington was bald, age spots on his head giving away that he must have been quite a few years older than Mrs. Harrington. She had the same color hair as Steve, same voluminous style, cut just above the shoulders. They both wore glasses, and both of them were wearing business attire like they’d rushed back directly from a meeting.

“And who is this?” he heard Mr. Harrington ask, gesturing towards Eddie.

He walked over and put his hand out to shake, trying to remember the best manners he could.

“I’m Eddie, a friend of Steve’s.”

He could feel Robin staring at him, but didn’t turn towards her. Instead, he shook Mrs. Harrington’s hand and then offered to help with any other bags they have.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We can get them later. Since he’s asleep, we’re gonna go freshen up a bit and then you can head on home. Thank you for taking care of him, Robin. You know we appreciate you so much,” Mrs. Harrington said as she hugged her.

“It’s never a problem. Take your time,” she said.

“I’ll stay, Robin. You should go home and sleep,” Eddie offered before he could think about what he was offering.

“You’ll stay? With Steve?” Robin asked incredulously.

“Yeah. He seems pretty out of it so I’m sure he won’t even wake up before they’re done,” Eddie said, hopeful that he was right.

“Alright, my mom should be here in a few minutes anyway. She was bringing me a change of clothes in case I ended up staying today, so she can just bring me home,” Robin said hesitantly.

“Okay.”

The Harringtons nodded and walked upstairs without another word, most likely too tired to care much about who stayed with Steve as long as he was being looked after.

“Eddie, you don’t have to do this,” Robin said when they were gone.

“I know. But I’m the only one here who slept last night, I can handle it for a bit.”

“He can be…kind of a lot,” she sounded like she didn’t want to admit it, didn’t like saying something negative about him at all.

“It’s fine. If he’s in this much pain, then it’s understandable.”

Robin looked him over for a moment, something like understanding finally showing on her face. He didn’t know what she was understanding, but he was just grateful she didn’t seem to want to talk more.

She started zipping up her backpack, putting on her shoes, and whispering some basic instructions to Eddie in case Steve woke up.

“Replace the ice pack, don’t let him try to move off the couch by himself and only if he has to use the bathroom. The bucket at the end of the couch is if he gets sick. He needs water if you can try to help him drink some, and if he thinks he can stomach it, there’s some crackers on the coffee table. He’s due for more meds in two hours, but you probably won’t be here for that,” she rambled off.

Eddie nodded along, mentally making a to-do list.

“You’re sure you got it? He sometimes isn’t able to talk.”

Jesus Christ, how had he never noticed this? Was he that oblivious to what Steve was going through?

“I got it.”

He could hear a car pull into the driveway and Robin opened the door to leave.

“If you need me, call me. The Harringtons will probably be as quick as possible, but just in case,” she begged him.

“Okay.”

She left and closed the door behind her quietly, leaving Eddie staring at it for a minute.

He heard a small whimper from the couch and he rushed over, looking down at Steve.

The ice pack had fallen off his face, and his eyes were scrunched closed like he was still suffering even in his sleep.

Eddie leaned over to pick up the ice pack, ready to trade it out with a fresh one, when one of Steve’s eyes opened.

He froze and looked at him, hoping he would go back to sleep quickly.

“Eds?”

Shit.

He’d started calling him Eds in the hospital, always walking into his room with a bright smile and a ‘hey, Eds’ that had Eddie cracking a small smile.

He hadn’t heard it since then.

“Yeah?” he finally responded, trying to keep his voice as soft as possible.

He knew when Wayne got headaches, he was very sensitive to noise.

“Hurts,” Steve whimpered out.

Eddie’s heart shattered in his chest.

He walked closer to the couch and knelt down on his knees, placing a hand on Steve’s forehead.

“I know, Stevie. You wanna try to have a sip of water for me?” He whispered.

“No, hurts.”

“Might help,” Eddie tried to bribe him.

But Steve’s eyes were closed again, and even though he wasn’t asleep, he was making it very clear that he couldn’t quite handle keeping them open right now.

Eddie gently ran his fingers back and forth across his forehead, down his nose, along his temples, smiling as Steve’s wrinkles seemed to disappear, his face relaxing slowly.

“Go back to sleep, Stevie,” he whispered.

“Mhm,” Steve let out before he seemed to actually fall back asleep.

—------------------------------

Eddie didn’t move from his spot for nearly 45 minutes, even when his legs went numb and his hand started cramping.

Steve hadn’t so much as snored, so Eddie didn’t want to risk any movement waking him up.

“Would you like something to drink?” Mrs. Harrington asked him, startling him slightly.

“No, thank you,” Eddie responded as quietly as possible.

“Are you the Eddie from the hospital? The one he insisted on visiting every day?” she asked as she sat down on the coffee table right next to him.

“Um, yes ma’am,” he knew he sounded nervous.

“Oh, so you boys worked it all out? He promised he’d tell me if you said yes!” she smiled at him.

“Worked…what out?”

Her eyes widened.

“Your feelings! Steve told us he was going over to your house the day you got out of the hospital and telling you how he felt,” she explained, sounding somewhat unsure now.

Eddie felt like his stomach had dropped to the floor.

“He what?”

“Oh dear,” she said, wringing her hands in her lap. “I suppose I was wrong.”

Eddie saw Mr. Harrington walk into the kitchen from his spot on the floor, felt the tension in the air as Mrs. Harrington tried to change the subject quickly.

But he wasn’t going to stop thinking about what she meant.

Steve had had feelings for him? Like, more than a friend feelings?

Steve let out a small groan in his sleep, shifting his head a bit.

Eddie tried to shush him a bit, running his fingers gently through his hair, careful not to catch on any tangles.

He could feel Mrs. Harrington watching, but she didn’t say anything else until Steve seemed to calm again.

“You know, Steve came out to us in March. Said he’d met a guy who was worth the risk. We love him, we always will, but we were very worried. I think any parent worries when their child, even their grown ones, says they’re in love with someone. In this case, we didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you even liked men. And Steve here tends to fall fast and fall hard and forgets to wear a parachute before the jump.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, his head filled with the way she’d called his feelings love.

“But I think I see now that he didn’t need one. I think he had you jumping with him and you remembered the parachute for him.”

He turned to look at her, her fond smile pointed at them both as he continued to run his fingers through Steve’s hair.

She got up and went into the kitchen, leaving Eddie to think about what she said.

That’s all he did for a while.

—---------------------------------------

The next time Steve woke up, he was slightly more coherent, but still didn’t want to eat or drink.

Mrs. Harrington had gone to lay down for a nap while Mr. Harrington was finishing up something in his office. They both told him to come find them if Steve woke up and needed something.

At some point, Eddie had rested his head against Steve’s chest, listening to his heart beat loudly against his ear.

“Eddie?”

No, why Eddie again? Why not Eds?

“Hey, Stevie,” he lifted his head and spoke just above a whisper. “How about a few sips of water?”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. I’ll help.”

Robin had been kind enough to find a straw for the cup of water she’d gotten before she left, so Eddie just held it up close to Steve’s lips and told him to sip.

Steve did manage a few sips before he shook his head and started to turn away.

“It’s time for more meds. Wanna take them?” Eddie asked.

“Bed?”

“Um.”

“Carry me.”

Eddie let out a small laugh at the demanding tone in Steve’s voice.

Even through the pain, and exhaustion, and struggle of speaking, he sounded like a drama queen.

Eddie might love him.

“Won’t that hurt?”

“A little.”

“Then shouldn’t you stay here?”

“Wanna cuddle.”

Oh.

“Uh. With…your mom?”

“You.”

Eddie was going to pass out.

There was no way he’d be able to carry Steve up the stairs to his room and then cuddle with him, and pretend he wasn’t feeling the overwhelming urge to propose marriage.

These new feelings kicked in too fast for him to process and he knew cuddling wouldn’t help.

“Please?” Steve asked, his eyes squinting slightly from what little light was making it through the curtains.

“Okay, but don’t laugh when I get out of breath.”

Steve didn’t respond, or really do anything to acknowledge what Eddie said, but he was pretty sure Steve’s head hurt too much to laugh anyway so he took a chance.

He removed the blankets on top of him and managed to pick him up relatively easily.

The walk to the stairs wasn’t bad.

The walk up the stairs was rough for a couple reasons: One, Eddie was out of shape and Steve weighed roughly the same as him. Two, Steve kept whimpering in pain with every step.

When they finally reached his bedroom, Eddie was panting and Steve had a couple tears falling from his eyes.

“I sure hope the cuddling lives up to expectations after that,” Eddie tried to joke.

“Worth it,” Steve sighed.

He set Steve in his bed first, made sure the fan in the room was on and the curtains were shut, then got into his bed.

People dreamed for most of high school to be in this position, but Eddie hadn’t let himself picture it.

He wouldn’t have ever pictured this scenario anyway.

Steve was sweaty, almost like he was running a fever, but Eddie didn’t let that deter him from scooting closer and moving Steve into his arms.

They both fell asleep in minutes, Eddie’s fingers wrapped up in Steve’s hair.

—----------------------------------------

When Eddie woke again, it was pitch black in the room.

Steve was also awake.

“Stevie? You need something? Feeling any better?”

He didn’t answer for a minute, and Eddie considered running to get one of his parents, when he finally spoke up.

“A little. Thanks”

Eddie let out a breath and relaxed back against the pillows under him.

“You can go if you want,” Steve nearly whispered into the darkness.

Eddie tensed again as he looked over at Steve, who was playing with the blanket covering him in his hands, not looking at Eddie.

“And if I don’t want to?” Eddie asked, reaching a hand out to hold Steve’s.

“I know you hate me, so. You can go.”

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Eddie couldn’t let him think he hated him, even though up until this morning, he thought he did.

“Stevie, lay down and look at me.”

Steve, surprisingly, listened and Eddie felt a tug at his heart that Steve was willing to listen to him that easily.

Eddie cupped Steve’s jaw, gentle in case of any lingering migraine pains.

“I don’t hate you. I think I realized that maybe I had my own feelings wrong for a long time,” he admitted.

“What?”

“The best part of my days in the hospital were when you visited. Wayne used to make fun of me when you left for being stuck in the hospital for longer because I was lovesick. And when I got home and you didn’t come visit unless you were bringing the kids by, I just kinda thought it meant things were back to normal. King Steve didn’t need to be nice anymore, his charity case was safe and mostly healed,” Eddie stopped Steve from interrupting at that, scared to lose his train of thought. “So I went back to hating you. It’s easier to hate someone when your heart’s broken, ya know? And I just assumed you were the same Steve I thought you always were. But then I realized that you never really were the Steve I thought you were. And especially now, you’re a guy who deserves kindness and care and love. I’d really like the chance to give that to you.”

He felt Steve’s face getting wet and he brushed his thumbs back and forth to wipe away the tears falling.

“I was going to tell you the day you got out of the hospital,” Steve said, voice trembling.

“Tell me what?”

“That I loved you.”

The world stopped spinning, Eddie would bet money on it.

“You did?”

“I did.” Steve gulped. “I do.”

“You do?”

“You’re a hard person to fall out of love with, Munson.”

It was Eddie’s turn to cry, a few tears falling from his eyes onto the pillowcase below.

“So…”

“So?” Steve asked.

“Is the headache better? I’d really like to kiss you,” Eddie said.

“It’s good enough for a kiss. Might even work better than the meds,” Steve’s smirk could be seen even in the darkness.

Eddie didn’t need to wait for more permission than that.

He was gentle, of course. Just because his migraine had gotten better, didn’t mean he was ready to make out.

He gave him a couple soft pecks on the lips, smiling when he felt Steve smiling against him.

“I think you’re probably pretty easy to fall in love with, Harrington.”

“Yeah?” he asked, voice rough.

“Yeah, might be a new record for me.”

“I’ve been told it’s very sexy when I’m suffering through a migraine,” Steve joked.

“You have no idea,” Eddie joked back.

They stayed in bed all night, Steve eventually falling back asleep again.

Eddie stayed awake though, memorizing the shape of Steve’s body with his fingers, or at least what he could reach while he held him.

They could talk more tomorrow, when Steve’s migraine fully subsided.

But Eddie knew what he wanted now, and he’d never been so happy to be wrong about someone.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #ficlet #request #steve harrington has head trauma #hurt/comfort #getting together #angst with a happy ending

747 notes · View notes

farfromstrange · 3 months

Text

Halloween | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 5 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt hasn't been paying attention to you lately. So, on Halloween, you decide to try and get his attention in a way he can't refuse.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), Dom!Matt, choking, praise, degradation, unprotected p in v, no foreplay, slight orgasm control, mentions of oral sex, use of "good girl", Matt looks like a bore in the beginning, there is a stranger who can't take a hint, a very common Halloween costume, protective!Matt, cliché tropes

Word Count: 4.7k

A/n: This is... well, let's just say that you can tell that it was written a while back and then rewritten in parts by Me today because the smut lacked depth, BUT I do kind of like it. It's a Halloween fic, so apologies about that. For this, I got inspired when I bought my "I'm Not Daredevil" sweater in 2022. Plus some general horny thoughts during my first Kinktober on Tumblr that I didn't participate in (2022). I hope you like it anyway.

He hasn’t paid enough attention to you lately.

Between work and the nights spent protecting the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, he is hardly home. He tries to be, but he fails almost every time. The bed is starting to grow colder, and his scent lingers only half-heartedly in the atmosphere. You miss him. You miss his touch, his skin, his voice but most importantly, you miss the spark. It has been two weeks of Matt being slumped, but that is more than enough to drive you crazy.

When it gets colder outside, you need your boyfriend by your side, to hold you and cherish you like he usually would. You miss being desired by someone. You miss being the center of his world. Not that you want him to ignore his responsibilities forever, but just for a few hours, you want him to yourself wholeheartedly. Missing him when he isn’t gone is the worst feeling, and it often leads to tensions in your relationship.

Matt can be so selfless that it sometimes starts to look and feel like he is being selfish by going after what he deems to be right. He doesn’t realize it though, not until he is hit over the head with it and suffers a concussion.

As Halloween rolls around the corner, having an absent boyfriend grows into a problem you can no longer ignore. And you don’t want to, either.

Karen decided to throw a party, and she sent out invites to her closest friends months ago to make sure everyone could somehow fit it into their schedules. She has invited everyone she knows and encouraged those to bring their friends as plus ones. Costumes are mandatory.

Halloween used to be your favorite holiday, but this time, you aren’t even sure if you can make it to the party without getting pitiful glances because your plus one has to be busy—the plus one that Karen also invited separately because he is her colleague and friend.

Matt doesn’t seem to care much about Halloween, especially not this party. Even though it’s not only important to Karen but to you, he has expressed how much he doesn’t want to go because he can’t neglect his Daredevil duties for one night. Not right now.

When you reminded him a few weeks ago, he told you that the 31st of October is boring and overrated, kissed you, and then you both went to bed.

You decided that night that it was time to use a different set of weapons. If Matt knew, he would go crazy, but that is what you aim for. You want him to go crazy. Crazy for you.

The first step of your plan sounds easier than it is: convince him to come with you.

“You going to Karen’s party?” he asks you one evening before going out into the night.

You answer curtly, “Yeah.”

“Got a costume?”

“You know I do.”

His lips curl into a smirk. “Are you going to let me feel it? Or do you want me to guess?”

“I want you to come with me.” You help zip his Daredevil suit back up. “I want you to put the mask down and come with me. Karen invited the both of us,” you say. “She’s gonna be asking questions.”

If it’s the disappointed cadence of your voice or the fact that he’s curious about what you’re going to wear, you’re not sure, but when he suddenly agrees, you’re taken aback. “I’ll join you guys later,” he murmurs. “Right now–“

Your excitement falls flat again. “The city needs you. Yeah, I know.”

You’re starting to grow sick and tired of that sentence. He doesn’t deserve this. He is trying his best, and you act like a needy child. You’re angry while he is saving lives and making sure the streets are a little safer. But you stood by for weeks without complaining once that you felt a bit neglected. You always show him unwavering support. Even now, you want nothing more than for him to do what he needs to do, but you do so with a bitter aftertaste. And a lot of misplaced jealousy.

Not having him close is torture. You need him. Even dressed in protective red leather, he looks too hot to handle, and that makes you crave him even more.

You brush off the ache in your core and focus on getting him dressed for the night. You don’t want him to get hurt.

“You going to wear the costume?” you ask.

He cocks an eyebrow. “You mean the sweater that says ‘I’m not Daredevil?’”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, it’s a joke only the four of us will understand. It’s perfect!”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says, his unfocused eyes darting up toward the ceiling. “I just… How about I just put a suit on and say I’m James Bond?”

“Please?” You wrap your arms around his neck.

He sighs warily in response. “Will you tell me what your costume is?”

“No,” you answer plainly.

That’s the second part of your plan; wear the most revealing costume you could wear, and drive him crazy when he does appear at the party and hears you mingling. When he smells your bare skin, and when he realizes that you’re getting all the attention he should be giving you.

“Please,” he copies your pleading tone, lips pursed into a frustrated pout. The conflict in his eyes is not yet covered by the red mask.

He’s contemplating. For a moment, he considers staying. He wants to spend time with you; he wants to go to the party and have fun. You love Halloween and he would do anything to make you happy, but he can’t. The city is busier than usual. Louder. More intense. His ears can’t seem to catch a break. He tries to focus on you, to tune out the noise, but he fails miserably every damn time.

He doesn’t sleep, not much, and he barely eats anymore because he drowns himself in work so deeply that he forgets his basic needs. He just needs it all to stop. He has to go out to get some semblance of relief—to fight, to get his fists bloody, and come home exhausted enough to get a few hours of shut-eye before the cycle inevitably repeats itself.

It has been like this for weeks now. He is always overstimulated, always overworked; he can’t even kiss you sometimes because the thought alone burns his skin. It hurts that much.

He isn’t going to stop. You know that. You understand, but even the devil’s advocate grows tired sometimes.

You’re so tired of the distance. You are so tired of him not talking to you when something is bothering him, and you’re tired of having to pretend it doesn’t bother you.

Still, neither of you want to start the conversation. It’s a series of petty attempts to gain attention, a constant tiptoeing around each other until one of you caves.

You peck his lips. “You come to the party, you find out,” you say. “You don’t, I guess I’m showing all of this ass for nothing.”

His ears perk up. “You’re what?”

“Nothing,” you wave him off.

“No, what did you just say?”

“I said you should come to the party.”

“After that. Is it—I swear to God if you’re wearing something short…”

“Then what? You gonna drag me home and spank me?” You scoff, trying your best to hide the fact that this is exactly what you want him to do.

The silk of your dressing gown hits the floor. It’s time to play even dirtier than before. Your plan is made to be adaptable, after all.

Matt stops breathing. “This isn’t fair,” he growls.

You smirk. “You should go.”

“You’re torturing me, you know that?”

“You decided to go out tonight,” you counter.

“Because I have to.”

“Do you?”

He curses under his breath, “Fuck. Okay, whatever game you’re playing, sweetheart, I need you to stop.”

You’re nowhere near satisfied. In all of your naked glory, you take a step forward. “Or what?”

“Or,” he says, and his voice lowers barely above a dangerous whisper, “I’ll stuff your cunt with my fingers until you’re begging me to come. And then, just when you’re about to, I’ll pull away and leave you to take care of it yourself because I know you won’t be able to come without my help. That’s what I’m gonna do if you keep teasing me like that.”

Your jaw drops. You’ve got him right there, with his teeth buried in the hook, but he knows that if he lets the trap fall shut, you win. This isn’t just a desperate attempt at getting his attention anymore—you’ve got that now. This is turning into a game.

Matt smirks, hearing the uptick of your heartbeat. He thinks he’s so smart. Reaching out, he cups your bare pussy with his rough palm, eliciting a sweet moan out of your mouth that shoots right to his cock. “Already so fucking wet for me,” he purrs.

His touch feels like electroshocks shooting right into your bloodstream. It has been way too long, and you’re already burning for him before you can even fight back.

You want to beg him to keep going, but as quickly as he has put his hands on you, he retreats again.

Matt marvels at the feeling of your slick between his thick fingers. He takes a whiff. Your arousal is so prominent in the air that his face contorts in agony. And then, he slides the digit into his mouth. Your distinctive taste explodes on his taste buds, and he moans, “Delicious.”

The show he’s giving you is utterly erotic, and it takes everything in you not to drop to your knees and take his aching cock out of his suit.

Pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, he whispers, “I’ll see you later.”

He’s gone before you can protest.

He’s not the only one who has tricks up his sleeves though, and you’re more than ready to seek your revenge later tonight and finally get what you so deeply crave from him. He has to let go eventually, and he has to pay attention to you for longer than five minutes. You both need it.

Dressed in your costume and with a bottle of liquor, you make your way to Karen’s apartment. You’re determined to make this night last. Well, at least long enough for Matt to arrive, and then it’s showtime.

Your friend greets you with a welcoming hug. Her small living space is already crowded, and you make your way through toward the table with the drinks. You can feel several eyes on you. Without your coat on, the costume you’re wearing leaves little to the imagination. You wonder if Matt can smell you across the city, wherever he may be right now. Maybe he does, and maybe he can tell what the thought of him is doing to you. Maybe he can tell that this is exciting you and he will cut his patrol short tonight. But you know he isn’t paying attention to you. He only does so when he fears that you’re in danger.

“And who are you supposed to be?” a low voice asks beside you.

You turn to find a tall guy dressed as a werewolf approaching the punchbowl to your right.

“The tag said ‘slutty witch’,” you answer. “But I find the term a bit… problematic, so I’m a witch who likes to wear very short clothes on very cold days.”

He chuckles. Underneath his makeup and the fake fur, you can’t make out his features, but it’s not like you care anyway. “Well,” he says, “you’re a very beautiful witch.”

Oh, now he’s flirting with you.

Your plan for tonight includes mingling to draw attention to you and make Matt jealous when he gets here, not flirting with strangers. You would never do that to Matt. You also don’t feel the need to flirt with anyone who isn’t your boyfriend, even though the attention does make you blush for a moment— mostly out of discomfort.

You’re not interested in this man. Werewolves are only your type when they’re fictional, and even then you will always prefer your devil over hairy mythological creatures.

You take a sip of your drink. “I accept the compliment,” you say. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the man answers. He takes another step toward you. “Are you here alone?”

You take a step back. “Yes, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Playing hardball, huh?”

“No, actually, I’m just not interested.”

“Nah, I don’t believe that. Is it another guy? It’s a guy, right? It has to be a guy.”

You glare at him. “Why? Because you’re so hot and irresistible and can’t take no for an answer?” Your voice drips with sarcasm.

He leans toward you, and he’s getting dangerously close to your personal space. “You think I’m hot. You said it,” he says.

Thankfully, he turns around to pour himself a cup of punch before touching you against your will. You wouldn’t hesitate to snap his neck like a twig.

Your heart is pounding as the adrenaline mixes with fury in your veins. You forget about Matt and the fact that you dressed like this for him. He will appreciate it, and his opinion matters most to you. You just hope that this guy will leave it be so you can join your friends on the other side of the room.

“No offense, dude,” you tighten your grip around your cup, “but I think I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

Karen and Foggy are mingling somewhere, and you know that you’re definitely safe with them.

The werewolf smirks. “Can I come?”

Before you can tell him off, the very thing you thought wouldn’t happen happens.

“I believe the lady said she’s not interested,” Matt pipes up behind you.

So he was listening to you from across the city. His locked jaw is an indication that he is fuming inside. More than fuming. He’s about to explode.

Oh fuck.

He appears next to you, and one look at him makes you beam. He is wearing the red sweater with the big, white “I’m Not Daredevil” written on it. He even put on the antlers.

The werewolf takes a good look at him when he wraps his arm around your waist, and he finally retreats. “She’s all yours,” he says.

“Yeah, she is,” says Matt. You can’t see his eyes, but the rest of his face is expressive enough to give the other man a faint idea of what he is capable of. As innocent as he may look, he isn’t.

There’s a certain dominance he carries that could make any grown human being weak in their knees. You are the only one who would voluntarily do so and thank him, and beg him for more.

Once the werewolf has disappeared, Matt turns you toward him. His feral demeanor slips for just a moment. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. He cradles your face in his hand, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you once again find yourself on fire.

For you, he put the costume on. For you, he came. And everything you have been struggling with these past weeks while he was absent feels so stupid now because he has been trying from the start, you just didn’t want to see it because you were so upset and needy.

You nod weakly, leaning into his touch. “He was just…weird,” you murmur. Reaching out, you touch his sweater. “You’re wearing the costume.”

Matt shows the faintest hint of a smile before it completely fades from his face again.

“Yeah,” his answer is breathless. “But what the fuck are you wearing?” His hand slips from your waist to your exposed thighs with a low growl. A shiver ripples through him.

“A costume.”

He brushes over your ass, and there is hardly anything there to cover the fishnets you’re wearing. If he grips a little tighter, he will hold your flesh in his hands. Just a little lower and he will touch your wet cunt. Your scent is overwhelming, and the feeling of your skin in the crowded room makes all the lights in his brain go dark as they burst. He’s already so hard in his jeans.

“Was this your plan all along?” he asks. His grip on your cheek tightens, and the other hand grabs your ass. “Get me to come with you just to hear your thighs brush against each other? To smell how wet you are with barely any fabric covering your pussy? Did you want me to bend you over in front of everyone just so I’ll touch you? Are you that desperate?”

You’re in trouble. Big, big trouble—and it’s exactly what you wanted. To be fair, it stands in a slightly different light now, but it’s Halloween. Things always go differently than planned on Halloween.

You swallow thickly, fluttering your lashes at him as innocently as you can. “You’ve been so busy,” you confess, “and I just missed you. I missed you so much, baby. I had to do something to get your attention.”

He bares his teeth. Those gorgeous teeth behind those gorgeously plump lips. You can only imagine them on yours. You can only imagine what it will feel like to have him between your thighs now, wildly licking at your slick folds while thrusting his skilled fingers in and out of your cunt. God, you want that. You need it. The thought alone is enough to make your thighs clench, and you cross them. You’re positively dripping.

“Listen to me,” he demands, and his grip moves to your chin. “You’re going to finish that drink, alright? You’re gonna drink up, you’re gonna say goodbye to Foggy and Karen, and then we’re going to get out of here so I can fuck that feeling of inadequacy right out of that beautiful head of yours. Are we clear?”

You stare into your reflection in his glasses. The blood is rushing in your cheeks. You don’t trust your voice; all you can do is nod.

“Good girl.” His hand drops from your face.

You’re shaking. Your knees are weak, and your legs feel like jelly. You breathe and you live solely for him. He has a power over you that is almost embarrassing to admit to.

When you try to down the rest of your punch in one gulp, Matt stops you. By slowing you down, he’s teasing you. You suppose that you deserve it, but you’re not sure how much longer you can wait.

It takes an agonizing while for you to finish your drink, say goodbye to your friends, and call a cab. Matt keeps his hands to himself. It’s so unlike him, but it gives you an idea of what’s to come, and the anticipation is killing you.

The door to his apartment hasn’t even fully shut behind you when he flips you around and pushes you against the wall, chest first. He does it with such force that your palms burn upon landing. You gasp.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he rasps into your ear. “I put this costume on for you. To be nice. If I’d known you would make it your mission to make my dick hard in front of dozens of people, I would have fucked you before going out tonight.”

You know that he wouldn’t have, but the thought still sends shivers down your spine. Not a single coherent thought is left in your mind.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you break off into a moan.

Your tights are torn in two by his eager hands, and you moan when he pulls you back against his hard cock. You can feel his straining against your pants against your now bare skin. You want to reach out and touch him, but he won’t let you.

And then, his palm lands flat on your bare ass cheek. He doesn’t even bother to take the rest of the costume off.

“You didn’t mean to?” he asks. “Are you sure about that?”

You buck your hips. His dark chuckle grazes your ear.

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I meant to,” you cry out when his hand comes back down on your red ass cheek. It stings, but the pain shoots straight to your middle where it settles in your needy core. “And I don’t regret it.”

“That’s better.”

“Please.” You don’t know what you’re begging for, but this aching emptiness is driving you crazy. You need his cock, and it’s becoming pathetically obvious.

Matt gives your backside another slap before pressing you further against the wall. “Don’t ever doubt that you’re the most important thing in the world to me,” he says. “But slutty witch? You know what that does to me?”

You can’t help but smirk. “Yeah.”

He tears the underwear under your skirt in two.

“If you want to be a slutty witch,” he presses his lips to your ear, “then act like it.”

Without a warning, without preparation, he thrusts into you. Your lips part in a lustful moan.

Matt is relentless. One arm wraps around you, the other around your throat. He thrusts his hips upward, filling you to the brim with his cock. He pulls out just enough to move past your G-spot and directs the tip of his cock toward that spongy spot that makes you see stars.

His name tumbles from your lips like a mantra. Matt, Matt, Matt…

Your chest deflates. The corset of your costume is so tight, you can’t breathe. Your nipples ache underneath the fabric. They want to be free. They want to be touched.

“Matt,” you beg.

He doesn’t hesitate to open the ties at the front, pulling you free from the metal cage.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs. He tightens his grip, locking the oxygen in your windpipe. Skin slaps against skin, moans fill the air scented with the stench of sex and every time his cock penetrates your tight walls, he pushes you further to the edge of the precipice.

From around your waist, he moves his arm down and his hand to your pussy. He catches your clit with precision. His thrusts speed up. They hit deeper and harder, and your eyes roll back into your head.

Matt, Matt, Matt…

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he grunts. “Such a good little slutty witch for me, sweetheart. Push back against me.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You move your hips back to meet his thrusts. He lets out a moan of his own, digging his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

“That’s it.” He rubs in rapid circles over your clit. Your body is begging for a release.

The wall feels cold against your heated forehead. His fingers tighten around your throat again, causing you to clench around his cock. He twitches. You can feel every desperate drag of him inside of you, and he only keeps on giving you more, and more, and…

Your hand finds his against against the wall. The warning of your impending orgasm gets lost, but he doesn’t need verbal confirmation for something that he can feel every time he thrusts into the walls of your cunt that are hugging him so tightly, he is holding on by a thread.

As if to distract himself, Matt lands another harsh slap against your bottom. “Who do you belong to?” he asks, feeling the flesh jiggle under his touch.

You moan. “You, Matthew. Only you!”

Your screams of pleasure are music to his ears. He repeats the motion of his hand. You will have imprints on your skin tomorrow, and he will proudly feel them before you have to go to work. Leaving his mark on you is an exciting thought.

His balls tighten. He won’t last much longer if you keep squeezing him like that—if those thoughts keep popping into his head, and he barely manages to keep himself from coming right then and there, coming deep inside of you and fucking his cum into you until you#re overflowing.

The pain from the sloppy spanking—he isn’t capable of seriously hurting you—floods your system and your pussy at the same time, amplifying the lewd noise echoing in his otherwise silent apartment. With the added wetness, the circles he rubs over your clit with his calloused fingers become impossibly faster. The sensitive bundle of nerves starts to scream; you can barely take it anymore, but you need his permission to come. In this scene, at least. You must always wait for his permission when he punishes you like this.

You have a safe word for a reason, but you’re too blissed out to care. You love what he’s doing to you. You love how it feels, and you love how well the little pain he introduces you to every time mixes with the pleasure that consumes you whole.

He buries his nose in your neck. You smell of sweat, salt, and his shampoo. It makes you feel better, you told him. To him, it’s a sensory dream. You complete him, and your scent complements him in ways he doesn’t fully understand. All Matt knows is that it makes him feel good, and not just because he gets a little possessive sometimes. It’s a warmth that runs deeper than the words of the English language could describe.

Again, he flicks your clit. “I want you to come,” he finally says the five words you have been waiting for. “I want you to come all over my cock, and I want you to scream my name so this entire city knows who’s taking care of you.”

Your pussy clenches around him again, and with a shout, you come undone. Your legs shake as the coil in your lower stomach snaps, tearing down your walls. You spasm, and you cry out his name. No feeling could ever be as powerful as the orgasms that Matt manages to give you. They are like tsunamis, and they know no mercy. They are a force of nature that no one can control. You know it will happen, but you never know the force of it until it happens. And every time it does, you feel like you’re floating in a world far from home where only he, his godly hands, and his cock exist.

Matt fills you with his cum after a few more sloppy thrusts. He comes hard, and it doesn’t seem to stop for quite a while. He’s leaking onto your thighs at this point, but the stickiness is only another reminder of him, and it makes you feel warm inside.

With your breathing slowed to a more acceptable pace, you allow yourself to lean back against him. “Wow,” you mumble.

He catches some of his cum from the inside of your thigh. “Yeah,” he says. “Wow.”

You greedily open your mouth. The salty essence of him spreads over your tongue. He’s the only man whose taste you would carry with you proudly for days.

The kiss Matt delivers to your cheek is sweet.

“Did you like my—”

He cuts you off, “Yeah. Too much.”

“But it did work,” you say.

“You could’ve just talked to me.”

You look over your shoulder, you notice that he’s still wearing his costume, minus the glasses. His hazel eyes are full of hurt. Shame. Guilt.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think you’d listen.”

“I always listen,” he says. “Even when you think I don’t.”

You whimper at the loss of his cock when he pulls out. Matt doesn’t turn you around right away, and for a split second, you fear that this will turn into an argument.

Instead, he sweeps you up into his arms.

“Don’t disappear on me again,” the plea is whispered directly into his ear.

His hold on you tightens, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. “I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.” The sincerity in his voice lights the candle in your soul that threatened to go out.

You answer without missing a beat, “I love you too.”

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

Matt throws you down on the mattress. “Keep the costume.”

Halloween might just become his favorite holiday, after all.

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #no y/n #daredevil #daredevil x reader #charlie cox #from the vault

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kissofthemis · 10 months

Note

Hello, may I request headcanons for the NXX boys when they hear reader (who isn't mc) that usually only addresses them by their last name calls them by their first name for the first time, while giving a heartfelt compliment with the softest and sweetest expression?

Bonus if they're normally shy yet silly in general. Another bonus is if they did it without realizing it and immediately fluster when they realise what they did, and puff their cheeks when in denial when called out upon.

Thank you!

"Thank you so much! Luke, you're a lifesaver!"

A wave of relief washed over you as Luke repaired the final piece on your drawer. You still weren't sure how you'd ripped the cabinets clean off their hinges, but all that mattered was that your friend Mr. Pearce, antique repairer extraordinaire, had come to your rescue.

Mr. Pearce.

Luke Pearce.

You hadn't realized how casually his name had slipped out of your mouth until it was too late. "I... Um... Mr. Pearce! Thank you!"

Humbly you bowed your head. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you could only imagine how much you resembled a boiling lobster right about now. Cautiously, you tilted your chin up just enough to get a peek at the brunet's face, only to find...

That he looked just as flustered as you.

His gaze darted to the floor. "L-Luke..." He stumbled over his own name, and you could have sworn you saw him bite his tongue in his own embarrassed frustration. "Luke is fine. Great, actually." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Because... we're friends, aren't we?"

His eyes flickered back to you, aglow with the warmth of a fireplace but the intensity of a bonfire.

"At least, I've been trying to put down clues that show you I consider you a dear friend."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"You tend to these all by yourself? I can tell how much love you pour into your garden, Vyn!"

Awestruck by the vast array of flora and foliage before you, the words fluttered from your lips before you had a chance to truly think about them.

Of course, you meant what you said! When Dr. Richter had invited you to see a garden, you were excited at the prospect of going to fancy botanical gardens. When he mentioned it was his own personal garden, a healthy dose of curiosity sprouted alongside your eagerness to see his home. Now, upon seeing how beautiful his "humble" garden was, you were impressed and delighted.

But as a moment passed without any response from the gardener himself, you began to worry that you'd said something inappropriate. "Don't tell me, is Dr. Richter bad with prai--"

You clapped your hands over your mouth and began bowing rapidly, bobbing up and down and up and down.

"Dr. Vyn! I mean, Dr. Richter! I'm so sorry! That was super informal and super rude of me! Oh, Dr. Richter, I can't apologize enough!"

A gentle hand came to rest upon the top of your head, stopping you in your tracks.

"Now, while I'm qualified to treat them, I'd appreciate if you didn't give yourself a concussion from whipping your head up and down so many times." He chuckled softly as you rose to a full standing position again, then gave you a gentle pat.

"Raised them with love, you say?" he murmured. "I don't know if I'd put it that way. I'm simply following standard guidance and instructions for each and every species of flower." He pursed his lips for a second, then continued. "But if tending to flowers is anything like tending to people in need of tender love and care..." He turned to look at you, and his golden eyes glinted in the sunlight.

"Then I'm sure you have quite the green thumb yourself."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"This is the best grilling I've ever tasted in my life, Artem!"

You had barely spared a second to sing the attorney's praises before digging back into your meal.

When you'd fallen ill with the latest seasonal flu, you had messaged him as a courtesy to let him know you wouldn't be able to meet him this weekend as planned. You certainly hadn't expected the star of Themis Law Firm to offer to bring you some food. You were less prepared when he said he was going to cook it himself, asking for your favorite foods and flavors.

Least of all did you expect his food to be so delicious!

'Never judge a book by its cover,' you thought as you devoured another spoonful. 'I just didn't expect Mr. Wing of all people to have the time to learn to cook so well!'

You peeked up at him, concerned that he hadn't responded yet. He probably wasn't the type who received compliments often; he seemed like the type who intimidated others. Respected, but never appreciated in this way.

"Your cheeks are really red. Are you catching a fever from me?"

Wildfire had spread across his face, from the tips of his ears to the tip of his nose. If he got sick because he was taking care of you, you'd never forgive yourself!

"You... perhaps need more rest," is all that he said in response. "But..." He smiled gently at you.

"If a flu is what it takes for you to loosen up around me, I can't truthfully say that I'm upset about it."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"You designed this? Marius, you're a creative genius!"

Your jaw dropped as you absorbed the details in the painting before you. The effect was almost reminiscent of a stained glass window, with the way the colors and strokes created a mosaic image. You could easily see this hanging up in a museum or even a church.

But like a dog who received one treat and was desperate for more, the painter turned to you with big, pleading eyes and whimpered, "I couldn't hear that. Could you repeat it, please? For me?"

He wasn't usually this pathetic. "I said you're a creative genius!" You folded your arms over your chest. "Don't make me take back the genius part."

"No, no~ Before that."

Before that? What exactly had you said that brought this CEO to wag his tail so desperately?

Realization struck you like lightning and you spun away from him instantly. "Mr. von Hagen, it's very unprofessional to tease me like this!"

You could almost feel the mood shift as Marius deflated behind you. "Aww, you were being so friendly a minute ago," he whined. "Even calling me Marius~ Marmar~ Mariri~"

"I didn't use any stupid nicknames!" you protested, whirling to face him with flustered tears stinging your eyes. "You're such a pain in the neck, Marius!"

He perked up immediately. "Oh! There it is again! We are close, aren't we?" He leaned forward, the corners of his mouth turned up into a cheeky grin as he batted his eyelashes at you.

With a huff, you shifted your attention back to the painting. "On second thought, I think this is too abstract for the exhibition. I guess Pax can't host it after all."

"Whaaaat? Now that's just too cold!"

#tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #tot #tot x reader #gn!reader #artem wing #vyn richter #luke pearce #marius von hagen #Thank you for the ask!

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

Hi ❤️❤️❤️ could I please request Steve x reader who injured themselves by doing something stupid and he’s helping take care of them? (This is entirely selfish because I got a concussion over the weekend by drunkenly falling 💀 need a Steve to help me)

"You're mad at me," You blubber miserably, leaning your teary face on the shoulder of Steve's puffer vest, "I fell down, and you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you because you fell down," He scoffs, voice thick and grating from the effort of holding your weight up alongside his own as you trudge through the snow, "I'm cold and tired because you drank too much and tried walking home at one in the morning."

"You are mad at me," You gush, holding your head as he walks you to his car, "I knew it."

"Honey," Steve sighs, "I'm not. Okay? I'm worried about you. Let's go to the hospital, okay? We need to make sure you don't have a concussion."

Steve lowers you into the passenger's seat, leaning over to click your seatbelt into its latch. When he ducks back out of the car he plants a kiss to your forehead, just beside the small cut against your temple. He pointedly avoids the blood there, shutting the door behind him and circling around to the driver's side.

You're quiet on the drive, but he's not sure if it's because you're concussed or nervous. He takes his opportunity at a red light to ask you, turning to see your distant gaze locked onto his glove box.

"Hey," He grabs your hand where it sits on your thigh, "You okay? How's the head."

"'Hurts," You sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your free hand, "Are we almost there?"

"Yeah, almost." Steve nods, "You know I'm not mad at you, right?"

"You should be," You whine, "I told you you couldn't come 'cause tonight was girls' night, and then I made you come anyways when I fell! I'm sorry you had to get out of bed to come get me, Stevie."

"I'm sorry you fell," He squeezes your hand, "keeping his voice low and soft in case you've got a headache, "It's okay, honey, it happens. Remember when I got stuck under the deck?"

You do remember finding Steve sprawled out on his stomach half-underneath the deck behind his house. He'd been trying to retrieve a frisbee that a neighbor had flung into his yard, but it had skimmed the grass too fast and shot beneath the wood. Steve learned that day that his shoulders were just the right size to fit beneath the deck, but a little too small to get back out again.

You giggle a little at the memory, and he knows he's in the clear. On cue, the light turns green, and he only has to turn a few more corners until he's pulling up to the emergency care center.

When you wake it's with Steve's head on your stomach, and no memory of the night before. But you're breathing and so is Steve, so you think you'll be fine. He only wakes when you're provided some less-than-desirable hospital food, plain buttered toast that's burnt. Some of the black flecks fall from the plate and land in Steve's hair, and the way you run your fingers through his hair to get them out wakes him up.

"Morning, honey." He groans, stretching out his stiff back, "Sleep good?"

"I guess," You sigh, "I don't remember anything. What happened?"

"You got drunk and fell," He snickers, "I thought you had a concussion but it turns out you just needed a band-aid."

"Oh." You feel your cheeks heat up, "How late did you bring me here?"

"One AM," He sighs, playfully dramatic, "I think you need to play with my hair a lot more to make up for it."

"Actually," You grimace, setting the toast aside, "I wasn't playing with your hair, I was getting toast crumbs out of it. Let's just shower when we get home, I'll wash it for you instead."

"Toast- Toast crumbs?" Steve sits bolt upright, hands frantically combing through his hair, "My god, are you still drunk?"

"I'm sorry!" You laugh, a sheepish sound, "It's not my fault that the toast disintegrates. It's charred."

"I wake up at midnight to hunt down my wasted girlfriend," Steve grumbles, "I take her to the hospital 'cause she's got a cut on her head, and how does she repay me?"

"I'll make it up to you, I swear!" You gush, discarding the plate on the side table and cupping his cheeks in your hands. They're soft to the touch, and you yearn to smother them in sticky kisses while he tries not to giggle. You settle for a single smooch against his lips, "If you can get me out of here before noon, I'll wash your hair and fuck you in the shower, Stevie."

If he were a cartoon his eyes would have lit up in star-shapes. He nods, surging forwards to kiss you before his name is even off of your tongue, ignoring the way that his spit sticks to your chin from the sloppy aim.

"I'm gonna go get the nurse," He rushes to the door with the excitement of a starved man running for a free meal. He's halfway down the hallway when you hear, "Uh, excuse me, oh, hi! Uh, my girlfriend needs to release- be released!"

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one-shot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington hc #steve harrington hcs #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington dialogue #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fanfiction

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smartycvnt · 7 months

Text

Hung Up

Title: Hung Up Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader Prompt: 4. "You care for the people you love." R WC: 1139

The arena went silent as they all stared over to where Y/n had just been knocked down. Almost everybody looked absolutely shocked by the events that had transpired. Damian had charged at Seth, who moved out of the way at the last second, causing Damian to suicide dive into Y/n. That spot had been planned and worked over for weeks, but the arena's set up had been wrong, so Y/n hit the back of her head as she went down. There was a sickening crack, and Y/n thought for a moment that she was dead. She couldn't hear or feel a thing, but within a few moments, the feeling returned to her in waves of pain.

Damian looked down at Y/n in horror at what he had accidentally done to her. Finn and Dom came sprinting around to check on Y/n without crowding her. Seth had been the first by Y/n's side, holding her hand while the medics rushed down to ringside. Inside the ring, Rhea stood there screaming at the referee to count Y/n and Seth out of the match. Y/n watched curiously as Rhea seemed completely unbothered by the entire situation. She only seemed to want to get Damian his title shot against Seth without him having to use his cash in. Y/n was glad that she was already crying from the physical pain because she couldn't have explained the wave of tears from Rhea's behavior.

"Hey kid, you're doing great. They're going to take you to the hospital. Do you want me to ride with you?" Seth asked as he squeezed Y/n's hand. She turned her neck towards him and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. "Is it okay if I come with her?"

"Come on." Seth climbed into the ambulance alongside Y/n. He was determined not to leave her side as she went through all of the stupid tests and scans they needed before letting her go home. The verdict was a concussion, Y/n's first of her career. It wasn't good news, but Y/n was grateful that it wasn't a broken neck or anything along those lines. The concussion was bad, and she had to be monitored, but Y/n didn't mind getting the company. Several of her fellow superstars stopped by her hotel room to check up on her, but Rhea wasn't among them. In fact, Y/n had been checking her phone periodically throughout the night for a text or tweet or something from Rhea, only to come up with nothing.

Even Rhea's usual messages were absent while Y/n was stuck at home with an injury. Y/n was at Seth's side for a few backstage promos, but she wasn't cleared to go back into the ring for months. Y/n hated being stuck on the sidelines, but she hated Rhea ignoring her even more. It began to make more sense why Rhea had suddenly started paying attention to her whenever Y/n switched brands over to Raw with Seth. She had immediately sided up with her mentor and teacher as his right hand. Rhea had never cared about Y/n as a person, she just wanted to get one of her guys closer to his championship title. It was hard, but by the time that Y/n came back, she had accepted it as the truth.

"What has gotten into you lately?" Seth asked as he ran his hands along Y/n's arms to smooth out her sleeves. Y/n had learned long ago not to try and fight his dad instincts, but to instead just go along with them. It was sort of nice to have that figure in her life that had been missing for so long. There had been a time when she mistook his actions for romantic, and thankfully, Seth and Becky had never held it against her. Instead, they took her in as if she was one of their own.

"I'm tired of being the underdog. Tonight, I'm making Rhea feel like the underdog," Y/n answered. Seth took note of the intense look in her eye and recognized it as that of heartbreak. There was more to Y/n's issues with Rhea than she was letting on, but Seth was certain that it'd all come out in good time. He trusted that Y/n wouldn't hold it in until it destroyed her, she was smarter than that.

"Good luck out there," Seth said. Y/n went out without a cue to interrupt Rhea's championship match. There wasn't really anything that Y/n could actually do since Rhea was in a cage match, but just her presence proved to be a good enough distraction. Rhea let herself get caught off guard at the sight of Y/n after a few months of no contact at all. Y/n had gone dead on social media as she worked on bettering herself and creating her new gimmick. She was all about revenge and vendettas. She would right the wrongs that she felt had been committed against her, starting with taking away the title that Rhea had worked so hard to earn, which would go over as well as she expected it to.

"Hey! Hey! Why did you do that to me?" Rhea had chased Y/n down in the parking lot after the show. Y/n looked smug as she stared Rhea down. They had never been close to equals before, but now Rhea seemed smaller than ever. She had lost her title, and with that, a great deal of her confidence. "What the hell was that about? Now, I have to win my title back in a rematch."

"Man, that really sucks, but you can't expect them to take the title off of Liv that quickly, can you? I mean, you heard how pumped the crowd was. Hunter likes you, but he's not stupid enough to just pluck it out of her hands so quickly. It looks like you'll either have to run back to Raw or go to the end of the line," Y/n told her. Rhea growled in anger at the teasing undertone in Y/n's voice. "If you don't mind, I have a date with the new champion at the hotel."

"What if I would have needed you tonight? Don't you care about me anymore?" Rhea asked. "I thought you loved me."

"You care for the people you love. I'm just showing you the same love and care you showed for me when I got hurt." With that, Y/n was able to walk away from Rhea without a fight. She pulled her phone out as she went to shoot a text to Liv to confirm their meeting in the hotel bar when she got there.

#my writing #one shot #wwe x reader #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

Note

Ok!!!!! Two more fun ones for you!!!!

7 and 9

29 and 48

I think those will be fun pairings XD HEhehehe you did SO great on the last one. Take all the time you need ❤️ But your creations make me so happy!!!!!

(Do I need to mention who? ;D)

@dragonrider9905 Hi my dear. Thank you for submitting two requests in one. Here's the first one. So this is 7 and 9. I hope you like.

Love oo

I'm Sorry

Warning: Angst, hurt, fluff, kissing, being left behind, apologizing, I think that's it. If I miss any please let me know.

Italics: Flashback

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

You were at your wits end, if that had even been possible. Crosshair was being unbearable lately, all because he had gotten injured during a training exercise, and you may have had to yell at him until he actually got treatment. Then you had to yell at him to make sure it was taken care of properly, which of course he refused to actually come to your med bay to be treated.

So now you were storming down towards Clone Force 99’s barracks to have it out with the steely sniper.

You opened the door and saw Hunter lying down, nursing one of his migraines. You’d deal with him in a second as you looked around the room.

“He’s not here.” He finally offered as his arm was draped over his eyes, blocking out a bit more of the light.

You let out a sigh of contention, “When I get my hands on him …” you mumbled.

“Ha!” Hunter let out, “When you do, can I be there to watch?” He lifted his hand slightly.

“Sure” you moved over to him, your tone of voice calming down, “What’s wrong? Migraine?”

He nodded slowly, “There was a visiting guest today, and they had some strong cologne on.”

You shook your head, it stated very clearly when delegates came to Kamino, the facility was a scent free zone. “I’m sorry, shift over a little” you tapped his hips, so you could take a spot beside him. He shifted without a complaint, keeping his arm where he needed. “Let me see” you pulled out your datapad and scanner, waiting to scan his head.

Begrudgingly he let down his arm, letting you do your job.

“Well, at least it isn’t a concussion, or anything else.” You went into your med kit and pulled out the migraine medication for Hunter, “Let me see your neck.” You watched as he tilted his neck slowly, you cleaned it with sanitizer before pressing the hypospray into his neck. “Give it a few minutes, in the meantime, I’m going to get you a cool cloth. You should remove your armour, while I do that.”

You stood and headed to the boys fresher, doing your best not to look at the mess four guys usually made. You squeezed out the excess water from the washcloth and went back to sit beside Hunter. His armour now neatly stored, in the cubby under his cot. You gently pressed the cool cloth on his head, holding it there, his hand resting on top of yours.

“Better?” You asked as you gently rubbed his chest.

“You’re not as bad as everyone says you are.” Hunter quietly stated, as he smirked, his fingers gently caressing the back of your hand.

“Yes, I am” you smiled at him, knowing he couldn’t see it. His hand rested on your waist as he held you closer.

“Not to me.”

“That’s because you’re different”

He opened his eyes and looked at you smiling, “Am I now?”

You giggled as you leaned close and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, “You think I’m doing that with anyone else?”

“No. But it’s nice to hear that I’m special to you.”

“You are” you hand moved from his chest to caress his cheek.

“You are to me, too. I …” the words he wanted to say failed to come out, he simply smiled, as he leaned into your hand, “I like how you take care of me.”

“Good, now rest.”

You watched him close his eyes as he fell asleep while you did your best to help him ease the migraine away.

That was nearly four years ago, you lost contact with him, when he and his brothers escaped with Omega. Then Crosshair joined the Empire, and now here you were standing beside Rex and his brothers on their secret base, as Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker and Omega stood before you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you and Hunter locked eyes. Omega ran over to you wrapping her arms around you.

You didn’t hesitate to kneel and hold her close. “Hi sweetheart, it’s been too long.” You mumbled into her neck as you held her. Her tiny arms, keeping you close as she let tears slide down your cheek. Your eyes, still drifting back to Hunter without your permission. Once Omega was okay, you moved over to hug Wrecker, and Crosshair.

“I’m glad you made it out,” you whispered to him.

“Glad you’re still alive,” he mumbled back, despite the annoyances you both had with each other there was still a lot of respect and friendship.

You stood in front of Hunter, wanting to say more than time allotted. You simply hugged him and walked away. While Rex and Howzer explained the situation to Hunter and Crosshair, you spent time with Omega and Wrecker, and their new member, Batcher.

Hunter watched as you sat with Omega, laughing and teasing her, like it was old times. He had no idea you two had known each other back on Kamino, but there were so many ‘need to know’ and ‘confidential’ situations happening that even secrets had secrets.

He wanted to apologize, but how do you begin with, ‘I’m sorry, I left you behind.’ He shook his head focusing back on Rex and Crosshair’s discussion. He should pay attention to the situation at hand, he shouldn’t let his mind wander.

Yet, he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

“Just go talk to her,” Crosshair whispered.

“And say what?”

“Anything. Cause you’re no good here.”

Hunter nodded and headed towards you, tapping your shoulder lightly, “Mind if we talk?”

You looked from him to Omega and Wrecker, and back to his eyes, nodding. “Sure, come with me.” You stood and headed to an area you wouldn’t be disturbed or overheard, “What did you want to talk about?”

You crossed your arms, keeping yourself distant from him. You weren’t ready to deal with … whatever dealing with Hunter entailed.

“I’m sorry”

An apology? That wasn’t what you were expecting, as you slowly shifted your eyes to him. “Sorry?”

“For leaving you behind… I tried … I wanted to go back for you …”

You shook your head, “Don’t.” You offered sadly, “There’s no point reliving the past. Is there? I mean you had to do what was right for your family.”

“Cyare …”

You held up your hand at the term of endearment, “Don’t.” It seemed to be your favourite word of the day, and you’re not even sure why you were stopping him. Yes, it hurt when Crosshair told you they left the two of you behind. Yes, it hurt that Hunter didn’t even try to reach out to you. Yet, you knew why. You understood. You had understood then, you had even understood ten minutes ago, when you laid eyes on him. Yet, hearing him apologize somehow made all that understanding null and void, and your true hurt finally came to the surface.

“I understand, Hunter. I do. But … but it still hurts. And regardless of anything else, we have to get along now. Right?”

You looked into his eyes, just wanting to bury the feelings that were so easily resurfacing just being in his presence. He let out a sigh and nodded. You offered him your best smile, as you held out your hand, “Friends?”

“Friends,” he confirmed, shaking your hand.

“Great. Look on the bright side.”

“The bright side?”

“Yeah, at least we’re working together again, it’s just like old times.”

“Well not just like old times,” he clarified.

“No. Not just like old times.” You nodded and headed back to sit with Omega.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Text

A healer takes care of their stalker in a completely sane and normal way.

Yandere Stalker + Healer Reader Drabble

Summary: As the title says.

Warning: Violence and Injury, spit mentions, and themes of masochism.

They meet you at the batting cage - kust like your note said.

How their twisted heart flew seeing that little piece of paper tucked under your pillow. They always made an effort to act with caution, but it soon became apparent that you were fully aware of all activities taking place within your own home.

How could you not with all the love that they give? Words of endearment left on your bathroom wall. Fresh meals in your fridge. The best way into someone's heart is their stomach, and a greater way to know them better than anyone else is watching their every move. Considering you scheduled this encounter, you must be as enamored with them as they are obsessed with you.

That tiny heart at the end of your letter told them so.

You're alone in the field with they arrive. Muscles glimmering with sweat, eyes focus as you unleash heavy swing after swing into the unrelenting night. Your stalker came an hour early to arrange a surpise, but it seems you beat them to it. It didn't bring their spirits down by much. The rope could be used another time. You must still be in the middle of practice. They've never seen you on a team, but with your recent outings to this location you had to be searching. Your form has gotten well. Not to mention how intimating, yet graceful you look deep in focus. Everyone would look your way. Since you'll be married so, they wonder if they can get you to avoid seekingq depth this new found hobby.

Your arms fall to your sides as the door to the cage opens, hand relaxed around the metal handle. They make sure to shut the gate behind them.

"My love..."

"So... you're the person who's been stalking me?"

Your stalker tugs on the strings of their hoodie. Stalking is such a harsh word to use. How can one stalk the love of their life?

"I...Don't make such a harsh accusation, darling."

Your skin crawls. "Only reason you would be here now. Watching me sleep, harassing my neighbors...friends."

The devotion they've withheld bubbles over as they step towards you. "Everything I've ever done I do for you and our future, Dearest. I'm sorry for the way I've treated those we know, but they get too comfortable around you for my liking."

You let them talk, get closer - adding justification to what you are about to do. Your hand tightens around the bat's leather strap.

"Sweet angel, you're too perfect for your own good. I've tried before to stay away from you, but I struggle to breath if I am not by your side."

They draw closer. You can smell their clothes and the scent they wear. The same fragrance that has haunted your home and bed for months. Your other hand wraps around the bat, feet and shoulders squared.

"So yes, I have watch you, but I have never nor would ever caused you harm. I need you more than life itself. From your letter, you feel the same, no? Let's become one-"

They've crossed the line. Literally. Their fingers brush your elbow as their arms rise, feet planting on the mark you drew in the sand before they arrived. It's too late for them to realize yours were already clocked back and swinging forward as they dive for an embrace that would never could. There's the sharp whistle of metal flying through the air, followed by a hollow, wet thud - then silence.

"I had to buy a lock for my trashcan because of you."

Everything is dark. They can barely hear; muffled rants of your angelic voice grounding them in a gradually fading reality. The bat connected directly with their left temple, rattling their bludgeoned brain in their skull and leaving them concussed on the dirt floor. Their heart beats in tune with each gush of blood out of side of their head, hairline dyed a deep maroon.

"D-dar...."

Bleeding out, they still call to you. Still desperate for you - the person who's made an attempt on their life. Like most they feared the end, but if this was how it came they could see no exectioner they'd prefer. The memory of their battered body and crimson blood would forever been engraved in your memory. There was no honor creator than that. Scowling, you kick their hand off your shoe and drag themself onto their knees by their hair.

"I'm not going to kill you. Stay still."

Collecting a mass of fluid on your tongue, you spit in their face. The shot narrowly missing their eye and gets into the wound. They twitch, tongue drooping from their mouth from pain and the need to collect the excess drool mixed into the trickle of red down their cheek. A wave of relief overcomes them as your saliva mixes into their blood stream. The gash in their head closes in on itself and the brain numbing headache throbs to extinction. Its effect lingers and they stare up at you in puzzled awe.

What just happened?

"Don't say a word. You don't get to speak, or ask any questions. If you come near me again, I'll bash your brains in until there's nothing for me to fix."

You roughly drop them on the ground, gather your things, and leave. Your stalker stares up at the sky; love born anew and stronger than before. You let them live. You really are an angel. How ever would they leave you alone now?

#Healer reader #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere blurb #sub yandere #yandere x darling #yandere drabble

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

Note

Hewwo! So I was wondering if you could do some angsty headcanons of certain Pokemon accidentally hurting their Trainer Reader, who has been nothing but supportive, loving and caring for them?? Those certain Pokemon would be Koraidon, Iron Valiant and 2 more Pokemon of your choosing

Ough yeah I'm always up for angst-

The other two Pokemon will be Mimikyuu and Maushold!

........

Koraidon

After a gang of Maschiffs ran off with Koraidon's sandwich, the fighting/dragon type was understandably angry...especially with the leader Mabosstiff taunting them into a fight-

In which it got clobbered with Outrage. But even after that, Koraidon was still in a blind rage, staying in their Apex Build form.

You attempted to calm them down, but forgot that the attack still hadn't finished..

And they whipped around to slash you with their claws.

Your yell of pain made them snap out of it, and despite your attempts to hide the deep scratches they left, they shuddered as they realized what they've done.

They hurt you.

Just like.....

Suddenly Koraidon runs away, and you eventually track them down, finding them at the beach where you first met, curled up in the sand and back in their Limited Build.

By this point, your wounds were bandaged and you had casual clothes on, but seeing you and remembering what they did made them whimper with guilt.

They expected the worst, but you just sit down to comfort them, holding them as they push their head into your chest, trembling.

They feared that tey were becoming just like that other Koraidon--the one who killed an actual human.

Yet somehow you knew that's what they were thinking, as you reassure them they're not gonna turn out that way, and that you're gonna be alright.

To prove you still trusted them, you allow them to sniff and nuzzle you, while you stroked their feathers until they calmed down.

"Why don't I make you a brand new sandwich, Korai?" You offer with a smile, which seems to cheer them right up.

They briefly go into Apex mode....just to hug you gently against their throat sac, lifting you off your feet for a few seconds.

You just sigh and accept it.

Iron Valiant

Being programmed to be a merciless warrior, it's no surprise when your Iron Valiant sometimes defies your orders and throws themselves into danger.

But the problem is that they've been dealing with some internal conflict lately, especially when they learned Gardevoir and Gallade are your aces.

They don't know it yet, since it's such a foreign emotion to them, but they've been feeling...extreme jealousy.

They're overanalyzing the psychic types' interactions with you, wondering what made them so special...and why they can't be like them.

Being in-tune with your other Pokémon's emotions, Gardevoir and Gallade take notice of this during a picnic and decide to speak to their future counterpart privately. But Iron Valiant quickly got aggressive and began threatening them with their bladed weapon.

You witnessed this and tried standing between them and your psychic companions--

Only for them to accidentally strike you, knocking you out instantly.

This horrified Gardevoir and enraged Gallade, who went to fight IV while she did her best to heal you with Wish.

Eventually the robot did see you were unconscious, freezing for a moment as a new emotion was registered in them: Guilt.

That distraction allowed Gallade to gain the upper hand and knock them out.

The next day, you were released from the hospital, having suffered only a minor concussion and some bruises.

Upon arriving home to your worried Pokémon, you immediately asked where Iron Valiant was. Gallade didn't wanna tell you, but Gardevoir showed you to the backyard...where they stood rigidly, completely shutdown. Apparently they let their battery run dry all night as some sort of punishment.

After recharging them (with some help from Pawmi's Spark), they awaken with renewed guilt upon seeing you, kneeling down in apology.

But you convinced them to stand back up, instead embracing them and expressing your forgiveness.

"I know why you were angry...you just wanted to be like Gallade and Gardevoir. I've raised them since they were Ralts, so we do have a close connection. But don't ever think that I'll ignore you, IV. You're just as important to me, too."

Mimikyuu

After getting into a fight with a murder of Murkrow, your sweet little ghost/fairy's disguise was a lot worse for wear.

They try fixing it themselves, but even though you gave them a sewing needle...it just wasn't coming out right. Not the way they wanted it.

So much was wrong with it. The neck was still crooked, the ears were misaligned-

You didn't know how stressed they were until you hear their cries coming from an old pillowcases they were temporarily using for cover, and wanted to help them.

Unfortunately, yours was akin to an extremely stubborn child who didn't wanna share. And they freaked out when you tried taking their costume away, leading to them slapping your hand.

But in doing so accidentally jabbed you with the needle.

You winced in pain, although Mimikyuu quickly realized what they had done and panicked, dropping the tool and slipping further into the pillowcase, leaving their costume out in the open.

After plastering a bandaid on yourself, you got to work fixing it.

Mimikyuu never protested or said anything, feeling guilty for hurting you.

However, after some time you did feel the small, trembling lump hidden in the pillowcase curl up against your side. You patted it gently, humming a small song to help them calm down.

Once their costume was repaired, you presented it to them with a warm smile, and they...initially hesitated to take it.

You realized why, and closed your eyes so you didn't look at their true form, only opening them after the costume was on.

Looking down, you see them holding your hand and nuzzling where you had the cut, tears in their eyes.

"It's okay, Mimi." You coo. "I know you didn't mean it. I'll be okay..thank you for trusting me."

Maushold

They didn't hurt you directly...although they did feel responsible for the situation that injured you.

It all started when their two children began chasing some Hoppips who flew off when the wind picked up, while their parents rested during a picnic.

However, you were very observant and quickly noticed the little mice have gone missing, going to search for them so their parents didn't freak out.

You eventually found them being tormented by a Persian, who was circling around them menacingly.

Without thinking about your own safety, you just ran towards them and shouted at the feline Pokémon to get away, scooping up Maushold's children into your arms.

And you turned your back just as Persian lunged, attacking you with Fury Swipes, claws ripping through your shirt and scratching your skin.

They stung like hell, but you refused to let it harm either of the mice.

Fortunately, it didn't get a chance to attack again, as a flurry of Bullet Seeds caused it to flee.

You smiled as the rest of Maushold came to the rescue, reuniting them with their children.

But you didn't tell them about the attack until you went to Nurse Miriam and explained the situation as she treated your injuries.

To make a long story short...the parents were mad at their children for endangering you, though you gathered them all into your arms and hugged them closely.

"Don't be upset with them, they chased after some Hoppip and didn't know any better." You gently told the parents. "I can take a few scratches from a mean Persian if it means you're all safe."

As Tandemaus, they knew you were very loving and protective over them...but the fact you'd risk your life not only for them, but their kiddos? They teared up a little.

They feel very grateful having you as a trainer

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #koraidon #iron valiant #mimikyuu #maushold #trainer reader #platonic #hurt/comfort #angst #headcanons

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romanestuffsposts · 1 year

Note

Hey loves! 💖 I’m not sure if you already wrote something about the reader getting a concussion? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to write it 💓

Hi there love! 💜

Of course, I hope you like how I write it ❤️

Enjoy <3

****

Warnings : Hurt little reader, concussion, little reader fell down the stairs at night, angst, cries, worried daddies, reassuring, fluff, hospital (at bruce's), a litte bite of curse words (oops)

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : You were just thirsty..

****

Usually, you never wake up in the middle of the night. You're a heavy sleeper so it's not every night that you open an eye. Tonight it's different tho, you feel very thirsty, so thirsty that it woke you up so you decide to get up from bed and go in the kitchen to drink a glass of water.

You're feet quickly get cold at the cold floor of the house as you take small steps. You open your bedroom's door and step out, you wince when you realized that you forgot to take a light with you

Stupid dark night

You walk down the hallway with your hand on the wall beside you, it reassure you to have a touch on something. You fnally reach the stairs but you forget where they start. You could've easily switch on the light but with the dark surrending you, you don't know where it is and you just want to go back to bed so you don't lose a time.

You take a few steps forward, thinking the stairs are not that close but you understand that you're wrong when you miss a step.

Your Daddies wake up harshly at the loud noise coming from the hallway. They look at each other "someone broke in ?" Steve asks worried. Bucky makes his lips thin "I don't think it's that, we would hear it before they got upstairs" he says tanding up, followed by Steve "then what is it ?"

Bucky opens the door of their bedroom and light all the lamps of the house. They walk slowly but surely toward the stairs, they don't know what caused the noise so they need to e careful. Bucky is the first one to peer down the stairs but Steve doesn't have times to look that Bucky jumps down the stairs

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he mutters

Steve is quickly on his heels and they both kneel down beside you "what the hell happened ?" Steve panics as he looks down at you

"do you think I know what happened ? If you hadn't noticed Steve I was in bed with you when it happened" Bucky snaps as he grabs his phone. He had the reflex to take it with him before leaving the bedroom.

He quickly dial Bruce's number and hold the phone against his ears "Bruce!" he exhales when his friend answer "I know it's very late and i'm sorry but we need it you" he pauses "it's our little one, Bruce" he breathes.

"Perfect, thank you" he rushes before hanging up. He gets up under the stares of Steve "What did he said ?" he asks growing impatient with his husband "he's waiting for us" Bucky says running back to you with a warm coat. With Steve's helps, he succeed by putting the coat on your shoulders.

You're sleepy form breaks their heart, but they have to stay strong, for you and for them.

Steve carries you all the way to the car, he stays with you on the backseat of the car while Bucky drives faster than ever to Bruce's house.

At the first second, when the car stopped driving and is parked in front of Bruce's house, Bucky jumps out of the car following by Steve and you in his arms. It's like Bruce was watching through the window the whole time and immediately opened the door once he heard the car stopping. "What happened ," he asks as soon as the two men walked passed him to enter in the house

"she fell down the stairs" Bucky says following Bruce as he leads everyone in his cabinet. "lie her down" he orders at Steve who obeyed immediately. Bruce puts his gloves on and walks around the table to stand beside you. He starts by checking your heartbeats and your breathing under the eyes of your Daddies "when it happened ?"

"Five minutes before i call you" Bucky answers, his eyes glued on you and his hands tighten around the table. Bruce nods "Did she hits her head ?" he asks checking now your eyes and pupils "I don't know, we weren't there. When We arrived she was already passed out" Steve breathes out.

Bruce inhales and nods his head "I need to give her a brain scan. It can be nothing but I don't want to take the risk" he says walking to the scanner to prepare it. Bucky and Steve share a look before Bucky looks back at Bruce "what do you think it is ?"

"Maybe she didn't hit her head while falling and she just passed out from the fear but if she did hit her head, she can have a concussion, if it's a small one then it's not too bad, she'll have to stay here for a few days to make sure it stay small but if it's a big one, it's more worrying" He says walking back to the table where you are. He rolls the table to the scan and with the help of your Daddies, you're inside.

Steve takes a deep breath after hearing this while Bucky just keep staring at you. The only thing they can see is your feet who are the only thing who's out of the scan and your radios who start to show on screens. bruce takes a closer look at the pictures and nods his head while thinking "okay," he breathes "she has a concussion like I thought. It's probably when she fell, she hitted her head on stairs while falling and she passed out because of that. i want to keep her here for a few days, I have to make sure that it's not damaging her brain afterwards. I have to check when she eats, drinks, walks, and i need her here for the exams to check her brain too" he says eyeing the two huge men who are standing in front of him

"when will she woke up ?"

"In a bit"

----------------------------------------

You're cold, all your body is freezing as you're taking awareness of your surrender slowly. The only part of your body who is warm is your hands, they're almost sweaty from how hot it is.

You whimper as the headache starts to be feel and something beside you suddenly move "baby ?"

The hard part wich is opening your eyes seems a lot more easy after hearing the voice. Your beautiful and tired eyes meet blue ones "Hi there, babygirl" your Daddy smiles as his fingers slide in your hair "it's so good to see your beautiful eyes again, we missed you" your Papa says kissing the back of your hand

"How are you feeling, sweetie ?" a third voice is heard from the other side of your bed, you slowly turn your head to your left and sees your Daddies's friend standing beside you

" 'm tired" you murmur, your eyes are heavy and screaming at you to close them so you can rest to feel better. "It's okay, you had a sock on your head, you'll be tird for a few days" Bruce says checking your forehead for any kind of fever "do you have nauseas ?" he asks checking now your cheeks.

You shake your head and feel your Papa squeezing your hand "I know you're tired and want to sleep but can you do some things for me before ?" Bruce asks, pulling hi hands away from you. You whine and shake your head "tomorrow" you mumble

"Not tomorrow, little one" your Daddy says stroking your cheek "we need you to do it now, after that you'll have all the time you need and want to rest, with us beside you"

You groan but still nod. bruce smiles "perfect" he moves a little so now he isn't standing right beside you but is standing at your feet "lift your hands for me, please" he asks lifting his own hands.

You do as you're told

"Now i want you to touch your thumbs with each of your fingertips, just like this" he shows you how to do what he asks and you slowly do like him making your Daddies smiles "you're doing such a perfect job, sweetness" your Papa praises

"Now touch the tips of your nose with your index fingers, but the difficulty is that you have to keep your eyes on me. can you do that, please ?"

While keeping your eyes on Bruce, you slowly bring your fingertips to your nose. The three men smile as you succeed the demand

Bruce walks toward you and removes the sheets who were on top of you "I'll ask you now to stand up, just for one minutes"

You look at your Daddies who nod at you to do what is asked, you grab Bruce's hands and stand up from the bed, you gasp as your feet touch the cold floor of the room.

Once Bruce is sure that you're on your feet, he takes three steps back "Repeat what you just did? Touch your nose with your fingers while looking at me"

Doing it on your feet is more hard than laying and it took you more times to do it but you stayed calm and keep things slow and finally succeed like the first time

"Perfect," Bruce smiles "now imagine there's a line on the floor, I want you to walk on the line. Your toes have to touch your heel after each steps. You can only take five steps toward me and the five steps to go back at where you are now"

You inhale and look at your Daddies with pleading eyes, you just want to sleep. Your Daddy tilts his head "You're doing so good, beautiful, show us how good you're at those little exams" he encouraged you. You whimper and look back at Bruce "keep your eyes on me while doing it"

You almost lose your balance a few times but just like the others exams you did, you succeed. You're happy that you can lie back down now. You're ready to sleep but Bruce's voice keep you from doing so.

"I'll check your reflex now, that's the last things i'll do. After that i let you alone until tomorrow" he smiles and you nod. You sit up on the edge of the bed and he taps a little things on your knees making you cringe. Your Daddies chuckles at your face "weird, sin't it ?" Your Papa teases and you nod still grimacing

Bruce helps you back in the bed and take a pen, his hand rests on your ankle as he looks up at you "this one can tickle a bit" he says before sliding the pen on your right sole. You gasp and pull your foot toward you from reflex but the hold on your ankle prevent you from doing so

Bruce chuckles and lets go of your ankle "pretty ticklish, i see" he walks to the other side of the bed and grabs your other ankle "tell me about it" Your Daddy smirks looking down at you. You blush and look away making him chuckle. You gasp a second time and pull your foot to your chest just like the first time

"Alright, everything seems good for me" he says lookign at your Daddies. He looks down at you "I want you to stay in bed as much as you can, no tv, no screen, nothing who is bad for your head or your eyes. Do you understand me ?"

You nod your head, a little sad about the no tv rules. Bruce smiles at you "i let you rest now, call me if you need anything" he says looking at your Daddies "I'll be back later with pills she'll have to take but for now, it's not necessary"

You watch Bruce walking out of the room, leaving you alone with your Daddies "How are you feeling, little one ?" Your Daddy asks, sliding his fingers up and down your arm. You turn your head to look at him with a pouty expression, you make grabby hands at him and your Papa with a little whine coming out of your lips

Your Daddy slides under the cover while your Papa walks on the other side of the bed and sliding in the cover behind you "You did amazing today, baby. We're so proud of you!" your Daddy praises, kissing the tip of your nose

"You can rest now, sweetness. We'll be here by your side the whole time" Your Papa says kissing the back of your head

The only thing you wanted since you open your eyes... closing them with your Daddies's arms firmly around you.

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