#I just wanted to toss this dumb little idea out there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jadeylovesmarvelxo · 6 months ago

Text

Eddie gets beaten on by Jason and his crew and Reader (who has a crush on him) sees him limping to his van and she walks over to him and helps him into the van, drives him home and then does her best to patch him up and help him, maybe ending with a sweet kiss? Request by @somethingvicked

Mentions of violence, blood. Little bits of angst sprinkled with fluff and a speechless Eddie. mdni.

Eddie x fem!reader.

🖤

Not canon compliant because Jason is alive in this for story purposes, Vecna is gone for good though. Bye bye you grinchy ass looking bitch 💁‍♀️

🖤

The first hit came before Eddie could even dodge it. Jason's fist hits his face with precision, then another blow to his stomach doubles Eddie over.

"We all know you killed Chrissy and the others, you freak, I don't give a shit what the chief of police said, you did it" Jason's face is red with fury, lost in a haze of violence. One of his friends holds Eddie's arms around his back, so he can't defend himself.

Which is when Eddie has the extremely dumb idea to use his head to smash into Carver's nose. It works in the fact that it sends him stumbling back...doesn't help the pain he's already feeling though, the force of the hit sends another wave of agony through him.

Fuck, did he actually break his nose on Carver's face?

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, he did not survive almost getting eaten alive by demobats to get killed by Jason and his friends. Jason stumbles to his feet and the grip on his shoulders tightens courtesy of David and Liam.

"Tell me what you did to her, Munson! Say it, you fucking asshole" Jason screams at him, Eddie wants to tell him everything, everything that went down during Spring Break, the Demobats, The Upside Down, Vecna. All of it.

But he can't. Nda's were signed and let's be real, Jason wouldn't believe him even if Eddie did tell the truth. He was still trying to wrap his head around it himself. "I didn't hurt her man. I didn't hurt any of them I swear it" Eddie chokes out. His ribs are aching and he's sure his bandages have come loose.

There's another thump that catches him off guard, hits the sensitive spots where the bats tore into him and he's blinking back tears of pain.

He expects another blow to knock him off his feet but when he looks up Jason's fist is cocked and he's in position to hit Eddie again but the hit doesn't come. Instead, Jason's face crumples in pain and he drops his hand, within seconds Eddie is tossed unceremoniously onto the floor and Jason and his friends are gone.

What the fuck?

He doesn't know how he does it but he manages to drag his ass up into a standing position and limps all the way to his van, tries to calm his racing heart and figures a smoke might settle his nerves.

His fingers are shaking as he tries to light up, then he almost drops it when a soft voice comes out of nowhere.

"Are you okay?"

🖤

You saw Eddie limping to his van just as you were ready to bike home. Even from where you were you could see the blood on his shirt. Jason and his friends must have caught up to him, you have no doubt about it.

Everyone knew what happened at Spring Break, at least with the murders. How Eddie was blamed then cleared, Hawkins finding the real culprit Henry Creel, a deranged serial killer.

To be honest you never believed that Eddie had anything to do with the murders in the first place, there were rumours about the state of the bodies, bones broken and twisted in ways that couldn't be natural, eyeballs sunken in and jaws broken. It was the stuff of nightmares.

Some idiots thought that Eddie was a vessel for satan and that's what Dungeons and Dragons was about, a satanic ritual. It was ridiculous. Your friend's cousin played D&D and it was just a fantasy game. Nothing satanic about it.

Without thinking you head over to Eddie. Maybe you could help? You were a whiz with first aid and he looked like he needed patched up and like he could use a friend. Quietly you approach him as he tries to light his cigarette, his hands are shaking so you reach out to steady them.

"You okay?" He peers up at you, big brown eyes wide and kinda like a deer in headlights, he really was beautiful. Normally being this close to someone you had a crush on for almost the whole school year would be mortifying but you were more worried about his injuries than your racing heart right now.

"Hi Eddie" you murmur and he's still gawking at you but accepts your help to light the cigarette, watches you curiously as he takes the first drag.

"Uh hi sweetheart" you and Eddie talked a few times, every time you did he would have a cheeky smile (all dimples) and a cute nickname for you. It did not help with your crush one bit, even though he probably called everybody some sort of nickname, it still made your heart skip a beat.

"Carver did a number on you" you wince as you take in the cuts and bruises on his arm, the blood on his face "I can drive you home, take a look at the injuries?" He nods and tosses you his keys.

You help Eddie into the van as best as you can then head inside. He gives you directions to head to his trailer and you get him there and inside with minimal fuss.

"Okay, you'll need to take your shirt off" you murmur as Eddie points you in the direction of a first aid kit. Eddie grins, "Trying to get me naked or something princess?" he teases and you do your best to hide how flustered you are.

It wasn't your fault, his eyes were so pretty and the way his voice deepened at the end of the sentence gave you butterflies. Shit. This was so not the time.

You locate the first aid kit and get out new bandages, wipes and plasters, scissors and painkillers.

When you head back into Eddie's room he's propped up on the bed. He's shirtless, tattoos on full display and from your vantage point you can see some scars where his bandages have fallen off, silvery scars that look a lot like bite marks...

Eddie looks nervous which is rare for him so you don't comment on the scars, you're curious though but don't want to push. "Do they still hurt?" you ask quietly and his smile dims just a bit.

"A little, not as bad as when it first happened though, fucking bats" he curses then his gaze widens as it meets yours. Bats?

"Bats?" you probe gently and make sure that his bandages are secure again, from the small peeks that you can see, the bite marks are healing but still red, some are healed or are silvery scars. It looks like he was mauled, the thought makes your hands shake.

He sighs, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you princess" your heart skips a beat again but you ignore that, still curious what he means.

"Yeah? Try me. Any person in this stupid town can see that it's cursed or something isn't right" Eddie bites his lips and he looks like he wants to tell you, he really does.

"I wish I could sweetheart but it's uh complicated, nda's and cover-ups and shit" Oh. Well shit. "But yeah bats, big bats, not cute ones either but ugly little shits with super sharp teeth and claws. I can let you know that much"

You're stunned but then some of the things that you've heard Dustin say to Jason and other people who don't believe that Eddie's innocent come back to you.

"He's not a murderer. He's a hero. You stupid assholes don't deserve what he did for you"

So Eddie was protecting the town? Dustin too and maybe other people were involved? You smile and begin to clean up Eddie's cuts. "Hmm, Dustin's right then" Eddie looks confused and you lean forward to clean the blood on his nose.

"Oh yeah? What did the little butthead say?" he asks with a fond expression, you giggle at his tone. Like Dustin is his little brother or something, it's sweet. It's sweet how he looks after people in Hellfire Club, and it pisses you off that people just think he's a freak and don't look past their stupid prejudices to see how good Eddie is.

"That you're a hero. I believe that Eddie Munson, then again I've always thought you were a hero" it's Eddie's turn to be speechless as he gawks at you.

"You think I'm a hero?" he looks like he can't believe that anyone would ever think that about him and it hurts your heart so much.

"Well yeah, anyone who takes lost sheep under their wing and protects them like you do? Or risks his life for a town that can't see past their own stupid prejudices to see what's really happening? Yeah, I think you're a hero Eddie" your speech is impassioned and a bit of a rant so you're breathless, eyes sparkling at the end of it.

Once again Eddie is speechless but not for the reasons you think. "You're beautiful" he murmurs awed and you're flustered once again. Damn it.

"Maybe the hero gets the girl?" he asks softly and there goes your traitor heart again. Does he mean you? Or some other girl maybe. The thought hurts your heart but you plaster a smile on your face.

"I'm not sure any girl could resist those pretty eyes Eddie" a faint blush coats his cheeks at your compliment and he fakes a swoon, smiles at you all dimples and cuteness.

"Flattery works with me princess, not only am I a hero but I also have pretty eyes" you giggle at his overdramatic gestures.

He's all patched up now so he puts his shirt back in and a funny tension hangs in the air. "So, uh would you like to hang out again? when I'm not all beat up and shit. Maybe Friday?" Oh. You beam and nod feeling shy all of a sudden.

"Like a date?" you ask hopefully and he's still blushing faintly. It's so cute and you're sure tonight you're going to be squealing over every interaction the two of you had.

"Yeah, a date princess, he moves closer and the way he's looking at you is sending your heart into overdrive. "can, can I kiss you?" He asks and you nod, wanting nothing more than to press your lips against his plush pink ones.

He strokes your cheek and then his lips meet yours, it starts off gentle and hesitant, then it deepens and you gasp pulling him closer. You both come away a little bit dazed and you giggle as he flops dramatically on the bed.

"Now that was some kiss sweetheart, he beams at the sound of your giggles, when you sober up you bite your lip and decide to tell him a secret.

"I never thought you'd notice me" you say it quietly but he still hears it and gapes like you've truly stunned him this time.

"Seeing your pretty smile dragged me out of bed most days sweetheart, even more than d&d but that's our little secret" he winks and you make a zipping motion. Before you leave Eddie pulls you into another kiss then another.

Okay, so maybe you could be a little late to return your movie at Family Video if it meant kissing Eddie some more.

🖤💌

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader

572 notes · View notes

catcze · 1 year ago

Text

⠀「 Kisses to chase away the nightmares 」

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

[ Reader wakes up from a nightmare. Lots and lots of comfort ensues. ]

Aight. Had a Day™️ at work so this is what we're eating today

You sit up with a gasp, eyes wide and feeling lightheaded. The blanket is crushed to your chest, the hands that grip it shaking like a leaf. Each breath that leaves you is gasping and every inhale is no better— ragged gulps of air that practically sting your lungs with each mouthful that you swallow down. You're borderline frantic, eyes trying desperately to blink away the haze in your mind. You shiver.

Too cold. The air is too cold.

But that's something, isn't it? That you can feel the cold. That you can feel the scratch of the sheets under you, that you can hear the whirr of the air conditioning. It means that you're awake. That this is real. Not a dream.

That's the first thought that brings you even the slightest of comfort, that makes your racing heart calm just a little. Barely.

But your head is stuffed with cotton. The world feels muted, as if you've got water stuck in your ear. Your hands are still shaking. You look around— the bed is cold aside from where you've been laying down.

"Babe?" you call out quietly, in case he's nearby. No response. You swallow. Your heart is aching and thrumming in your chest, pushing you forward to find him right now. To ask for a hug. A kiss. Comfort. Anything.

You toss the sheets off, shivering when the cold air licks you and just manage to remember to put on your slippers before you head out the bedroom door.

Even so late at night, you find him in his office, eyes scanning over a sheet of paper with a thoughtful frown on his face.

You hesitate just beyond the crack in the door, peeking into the light of his office from the shadows of the hallway. Unsureness takes a hold of you, squeezing you painfully until you feel wrung-out and like this was just a stupid idea.

He's busy. Clearly he is. And it must be important too, if he's up so late fretting about it. You shift on your feet, swallowing, about to close the door back up.

This was a stupid idea, you think, deflating. You can just... bury yourself under the blankets. Maybe watch some animal videos. Hope that you fall asleep before he finishes and wonders why you're still up so late at night.

"You've been standing in the doorway for five minutes," he suddenly says, gentle but all-too-loud in the dead of the night. You freeze.

When you look back at him from behind the doorframe, he's already dropped his pen and paper back on the desk. All his focus is on you, and there's a worried crease to his brow.

He notes the shaky way you stand, how you worry the inside of your cheek. No doubt he can see the way you fiddle with the edge of your (his) sleeping shirt, too.

"What's wrong?" he asks, already getting out of his seat. His worry propels him forward, making him reach you at the doorway before you can even step foot inside the office.

You look away. "It's nothing. It's dumb, now that I think of it."

He clicks his tongue in disagreement, his hand reaching for yours and weaving your fingers together. "Try me, honey."

"... I had a nightmare."

There's a gentle squeeze on your hand, encouragement to keep going.

You take a breath. "I... can't remember what it was about. I just know I felt sick when I woke up. And I didn't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone."

He hums, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. "I don't want you to be alone, either," he says softly, and your heart practically melts.

"Do you want to try to go back to sleep?" he asks. "I can accompany you." You can already see him reaching for the lightswitch with his other hand, but you shake your head.

"I don't want to pull you away from your work—" he opens his mouth to protest, the I'm just about finished, anyway undoubtedly on the tip of his tongue. "And I don't think i can fall asleep yet either," you admit. "Can I just... stay with you for now?"

He smiles at you, small and sweet. "If that's what you want, who am I to say no?"

With ease, he tugs you back towards his desk, making sure to close the door behind you. You expect him to pull out a chair for you or to lift you and deposit you on the edge of his deks, but instead he sits back down in his seat and gracefully sweeps you off your feet to place you in his lap. All you can do is gasp in surprise, head a little too fogged up to really register it until your legs are swung over one of the armrests and your head is tucked below his chin.

"This wasn't really what I was expecting," you laugh, and he stares at you questioningly.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Mm, no. Didn't say that." As if to prove a point, you lean further into his chest, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of his body heat like a cat napping in the sun. You can feel the rumble of his chuckle under your ear.

His arm snakes around your middle, holding you to him, and a kiss is pressed to the crown of your head. Despite your earlier claims, your eyelids are growing traitorously heavy and your limbs are becoming more sluggish by the second. It must be how warm he is, you think. Well, either that or you just instinctively know that you're safe in his arms.

"Feel free to fall asleep," he murmurs, just low enough for you to catch. "I'll carry you back if you do."

You try not to yawn, burying your face in his chest. "Mmkay. You better not draw on my face or something while I'm asleep."

He has to hold back a laugh— it's good to see you joking around. Good to feel the tremble in your body lessen with each passing second. Good to feel you fitted up against him like a perfect puzzle piece.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

You yawn again, bigger this time and more insistent. The edges of your vision grows darker, sleep claiming you sooner than you thought. "Thanks," you manage to say just before you begin to drift off. "Love you."

He hums, rubbing a hand over your back, soothing you further as your breaths even out.

"Of course," he says quietly. Softly. "I love you too. Sleep well, dearest."

[ — Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Ayato, Diluc, Cyno, Kaveh, Albedo, Zhongli ]

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

#astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #diluc x reader #cyno x reader #kaveh x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader

1K notes · View notes

xanaxspritz · 6 months ago

Text

【"ＧＡＭＥ　ＳＥＴ　ＭＡＴＣＨ!"】

an: i've been cooking up this for a while. this is 100% inspired by challengers and i took my time with it. i hope y'all enjoy!!! :D

cw: porn without plot, m/m/f threesome, afab!reader, spitroasting, cum swallowing, creampies, throatfucking, cunniligus, gojo talking you through it, satosugo, slight overstimulation, college athletes!au

word count: 1.2k

"'toru, this is a dumb idea."

"first one to get her number gets to keep her."

"that's if she even comes."

the boys lay in their beds. satoru laying upside down scrolling through his phone, and suguru lounging, cigarette in hand. asking the hottest girl in D1 tennis to come to their hotel room was a delusional, but bold move. you didn't seem impressed by the invitation, or the obvious flirting that the two were laying heavy on you. but satoru insisted on asking away and here they are, staying up late, an hour past the time that was agreed upon.

"satoru, i'm getting tired," suguru complains.

"you're free to go to sleep. i didn't want to share anyways," he smirks.

a soft knock, rapping three times rings throughout the room. the two exchange glances, and then rush to open the door.

suguru greets you first, smooth and suave, asking about your day and brings you inside the room. satoru follows, hurriedly tossing the scattered clothes on the floor into the closet. you sit on one of the beds, satoru and suguru standing awkwardly above you.

"well," you began. "you invited me over for a reason."

they stare at you intensely for a beat, then immediately sit themselves on either side of you.

"is this a thing you guys do often?" you ask with amusement.

"no," they both say in unison.

satoru cleared his throat., "we just thought..."

"that you were really cute" suguru finished.

you smiled. having two hot guys begging to fuck you was not on your bucket list. but here you were, sandwiched between the top two male players in D1 tennis.

the sexual tension was thick and slightly awkward. they were clearly waiting for you to make a move first.

you start with suguru, placing a small peck on his soft lips, tasting a hint of tobacco. he kisses back, but with more force. satoru watches before nibbling on your neck, leaving kisses up and down your collarbone. you turned your attention to satoru to kiss him. he meets your lips passionately, hungrily swirling his tongue around yours. backing into suguru's arms you the stiff bulge forming in his pants, hands roaming underneath your shirt.

you pulled away, leaving the two to look at you as if you were a piece of delicious cake waiting to be eaten. you stared back.

"kiss," you say.

they hesitate for a moment, before their lips crash into one other's. it was evident enough from the kissed that they really liked each other. you sat back and enjoyed the view for a moment before joining in.

things got hot and heavy quick. not even 5 minutes later you were on your back, panties off, with suguru between your legs and satoru making love to your tits.

"I've been waiting so long for this," suguru whispered into your thighs, before diving into your slick arousal, his finger lazily circling your clit, sending a shiver down your entire body. gojo nibbled and licked on each on of your erect nubs, pulling off of each tit with a loud audible pop.

"ah-god! that feels so good," you cried.

"just like that, baby girl," breathed satoru. "he''s good at that isn't?" nudging his heads towards suguru. "but I've been dying to eat that sweet little pussy, my turn."

suguru looked up in annoyance, reluctancy switching places with satoru. you pawed at suguru's boxers impatiently, eager to get his cock out.

it was big (no surprise there) with a slight curve to the left. you spat on your hand before working his shaft that was hanging above your face, suckling on each testicle hovering over you. suguru moaned, putting his cock into your warm plush mouth, groaning at the way his your lips wrapped around his cock.

while suguru was much more sensual, satoru lapped at your pussy like he was dying of thirst. his tongue flicked your now swollen and used clit, his long, slender fingers pumping in and out of your walls.

you whimpered around suguru's dick which in turn made him fuck your face harder. "she has an amazing mouth, 'toru," said suguru.

"oh? well these lips are really good too," replied satoru muffled in your pussy. you start to squirm from overstimulation of your tired-out clit, but satoru firmly held down your thighs "ah ah don't runaway from me now baby girl. " eyes rolled back in complete bliss, you wondered if it was possible to die of too many orgasms within 24 hours.

"I think she's dying to get fucked," smirked surguru.

"I call dibs. i texted her first."

"no, i definitely wanted her first. you just like to bandwagon."

"not true!"

you giggled and fought to roll your eyes. how typical for them to bicker while you were getting ravaged during a threesome. you flipped yourself over from your back, sliding suguru's cock out of your mouth. you looked up at him with wide doe eyes.

"fuck me please?" you asked. "I kissed you first, its only fair."

suguru chuckled, kissing your forehead, "don't worry 'toru, you'll get turn soon."

satoru pouted between your legs, but eased you over to your knees in doggy position, your pussy prepped and primed for a good fucking. taking suguru's place, he stroked his hard length before holding your head down to take him full.

you couldn't see what was happening behind you. all you could feel was suguru's tip rubbing against your hole, and then letting out a cry you didn't know you were holding in when he pushed in. it felt like he was ripping you wide open with his thick cock, but you eventually found a good rhythm- deep full slow strokes going in and out of your wet cunt.

your moans were muffled by satoru's cock, and with every hard thrust from surguru you took satoru's dick even deeper down your throat, gagging leaving you gasping for air.

"so hot," murmured satoru, pulling your up in a ponytail "she feel good?" he asked suguru.

"mhmm, just divine," he groaned. "so fucking tight. fuck, i don't wanna to pull out."

"then don't," satoru egged him on. "cream inside that pussy, fill her up."

suguru's thrusts became quicker, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. from hazy eyes you watched satoru stroke himself, a trail of spittle connecting your lips to his cockhead.

"that's right, I bet you'd love that huh baby girl? you want his hot cum deep inside you hmm? maybe i should fuck his cum out you..."

"y-yes! I want it inside m-me..."

"give it to her suguru, cum inside her."

"I-im cumming 'toru!" suguru grips your hips as his white hot load fills you up deep inside, at the same time you see sprouts of white liquid dripping down satoru's fist. he rubs the remaining cum on his cocked on your lips, letting you lick his cum-covered fingers clean.

you feel suguru pull out of you, pulling back on his boxers. satoru spreads out on the bed, his softening cock out proudly. and then there was you. what were you suppose to do after a threesome anyway?

"come cuddle with us suguru," satoru smiled, motioning you to come closer next to him. he threw an arm behind your head, while suguru laid on your other side, pulling an arm around your waist. you felt warm and fuzzy.

you don't know how you guys managed, but the three of you slept peacefully and snug on the single queen bed. you may have won the women's championship, but the real award was this night spent together.

#jjk smut #satosugu #satosugu x reader #gojo saturo #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #geto suguru #suguru x reader #gojo smut #geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen geto #jujutsu kaisen gojo #my work

567 notes · View notes

tearsofcalamity · 6 months ago

Note

ok read it. i am now unbelievably horny that was so good!!!! i just loove the idea of reader being barely awake, seeing aven Existing and going i need that twink destroyed Yesterday.

now bear w me cause while aven was going through the 5 stages of grief in that quest i was going through the infinite stages of horny and Thinking: i want soft sex w him really really bad he'd be my angel my pretty boy my golden little star! but the mf would be SUCH a tease! like he'd love you being gentle but after a while he'd start asking to "please, go rougher" and that he can "handle it" you'd go "no, baby, i want to love you softly" and he shuts up. and then you think he's given up but suddenly he is. all. over. you every second of everyday. he's not letting you do any work, his hand is on your thigh whenever you sit down next to him, he's whispering in your ear abt how good your dick (strap lol) makes him feel while yall are in public. just doing everything in his power to rile you up, so you will finally fuck the brains out of him. and when you finally snap and grab him by the arm and toss him on the bed all rough & furious he is Overjoyed, crazy fucking smile on his face. too bad your plans include taking him apart slowly and painfully, denying his release again and again while calling him all the sweet names under the sun before finally giving him what he's been begging for<3

LORD... LORD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL ... !!!!!

no listen to me. he's so pent up and eager to have you just bend him in half and fuck him to the point where he's sobbing, he's so confident he can take it just fine. not that he minds you being so gentle with him, it still feels incredible, but he wants to feel what it's like to have your gaze dark with hunger on him as you fuck him into the sheets til he can't even breathe through his sobs.

but hear me out. aventurine can NOT take it. he's soooo sure of himself, doing all that teasing. playing footsie at fancy restaurants where you could easily get caught were he to go further, standing behind you to subtly rut against your back and pant right into your ear about how good it feels, begging you to just palm him just a lil bit, he promises he won't cum yet! no one will notice, he swears!

once you get him on the bed, he's so fucking excited, he can't believe he's actually got you all to himself and he can just tell by the look in your eyes you've got a rough night planned for him. but then you're switching between rough and soft, pinning him down while you jerk him without mercy and bring him to the edge over and over and over. he tries to hold out but he's sobbing and sniveling by the end of it, apologizing for riling you up and being bad in public. he just wants to hear you praise him, have your strap in him, but you won't give him what he wants.

eventually avennie's tears win you over, but you're not going to be gentle tonight. promise him he can cum with you inside him and then just absolutely pound him into the mattress until he's seeing stars. he's choking on every moan, and once you start throwing the petnames into the mix again, he's spurting out his load pathetically onto the sheets.

call him angel, darling, sweetheart, pretty boy, lovely, and don't forget to tell him how good he's being, of course. but don't stop when he cums. he had been begging you all day to be rough with him, to fuck him dumb, right? so don't stop when he finishes, instead, double down and overstimulate him until the pillow he's clutching onto is half-soaked with his tears and drool, until you have to hold his hips upright in order to keep fucking into him and nailing his achey prostate. maybe start jerking him here too, watch him wail into the pillow and thrust his hips back for more pleasure in spite of the overwhelming sensations he's going through...

I can't tell you whether this is gonna make him get more frisky in public to get the same ass ramming next time or if he's going to accept going back to the soft lovin you laved on him before. maybe both

#sub aventurine #aventurine x reader #sub hsr #hsr x reader #aventurine smut #hsr smut #anon #“I need that twink destroyed yesterday” you are so real #he's so fuckable #so... face-shoved-in-pillowable #you get me?#katze's secret corner #katze works n/sfw #n/sfw

467 notes · View notes

megalony · 8 months ago

Text

Too Stimulating

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, based on a few anon requests and is my first imagine writing neurodivergent reader. I hope you will all like it, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread@musicistheway@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@luula@missdreamofendless@bradleybeachbabe@woderfulkawaii@amberpanda99@daggersquadphantom@marvel-and-chicago-fan@angryknightstatesmantrash@minjix@lyjen@kmc1989@itsmytimetoodream@noonenuts@hiireadstuff@ashie-babie@classyunknownlover@jayyeahthatsme@sp1ritssz@dumb-fawkin-bitch@oliverstarksbae@gimatida@heart-35@supernaturalstilinski@stefansalvatoresgf@kyky9103@wutheringhearts2275@gay4hotmilfs@itshamleth@chaoticnosleepinfluencer@gs29@wh0reforsmutstuff@mel-vaz@natashamea18@chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena@targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19@marvelmenarebeautiful@gillybear17 @zoeybennett

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: When Buck finds his girlfriend in the middle of a car crash, he helps her through a meltdown when everything gets too overwhelming. (autistic reader)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Can't sleep?"

Evan didn't bother to open his eyes. He inched himself closer until his chest was almost touching (Y/n)'s back. His arm was already draped loosely around her waist with his hand on her lower chest and his thumb dragging up and down her bare skin.

He knew drawing patterns or doing something as simple as gliding his thumb across (Y/n)'s skin in a repetitive manner could help calm her down at night. He thought it would have done the opposite at first, that it would have given (Y/n) something to focus on and keep her awake. But instead, the touch calmed her down and stopped her mind from hyper-focusing on different things.

She had much more sensitive hearing than Evan. (Y/n) could hear the lightest drizzle of rain tapping on the bedroom window. She could hear the boiler clicking on during the night or the A/C buzzing in the background. Little noises stole her attention and kept her awake.

But Evan couldn't hear anything tonight, he couldn't hear any little sound that might be keeping (Y/n) awake. Meaning it was something else gnawing at her mind, preventing her from shutting down.

"Sorry," (Y/n) muttered into the pillow while she moved her hand down to hold Evan's wrist that was looped over her waist.

"Why, what's up, baby?"

Evan kissed the back of (Y/n)'s head and moved to glide his hand up and down her chest rather than just his thumb.

It was normal for Evan to feel (Y/n) fidgeting during the night. He could tell precisely when she fell asleep- if she fell asleep before him- because she suddenly went still. While she was awake, Evan felt her toes curling and her foot twitching back and forth in bed. It was like she had nervous tension and her muscles were tightening. (Y/n) didn't know she was doing it most of the time, it was either or foot or her leg that started to move and she had to always be moving. Constantly.

She would toss and turn to get comfy, sometimes Evan realised she was humming and she didn't know it. Or she had one hand beneath the pillow and started tapping the headboard.

"Don't know," (Y/n) didn't know what the problem was, she just couldn't seem to get settled.

"Got an idea?"

She could hear the gruff tone to Evan's voice that was laced with sleep and it made her stomach flutter with adrenaline. He knew her like the back of his hand. And when (Y/n) didn't answer, she felt Evan chuckle into her hair and she all but whimpered when his hand left her skin.

He reached out and skimmed his fingers along the edge of the bedside table until he found (Y/n)'s phone. He murmured "Make a note," into her hair and held her phone out to her.

They both knew that if (Y/n) put the lamp on and tried to write down her idea, she wouldn't be happy in the morning. She would want to stay awake right now and write out a more detailed plan of whatever idea she had gotten, whether it was for something to create or something to write. And if she made a rough, sketchy note in a notebook and realised in the morning that it looked horrid and rushed, (Y/n) would either stop using the notebook altogether or rip the page out.

Whereas if she jotted down the note in her phone, it wouldn't look sketchy or scruffy and typos didn't matter in a little word document.

Evan wasn't bothered by the dim light of her phone; after ten o'clock at night, her phone automatically went on night mode where the brightness turned down and the colour changed to a damp shade of yellow. The background colour was yellow to try and ease her mind and help her settle. (Y/n) wasn't sure if it worked or not but she was too used to it now to dare turn it off.

When the brightness suddenly disappeared, Evan presumed (Y/n) had finished whatever note she had written down, but he knew the idea would still be floating around in her head.

"Alright baby, spin round for me."

"Hm?"

A squeak bubbled past (Y/n)'s lips when Evan hooked his arm around her waist and rolled her over while he inched backwards. He turned her until she was laid on her left side so she was facing him and he pressed a wet kiss to her temple.

"Doodle, send us both to sleep, baby." Evan spoke against her temple and dragged his hand up and down her back. He made sure there was an air of space between them so (Y/n) could start to doodle.

Evan had a variety of tattoos and (Y/n) loved each and every one of them, but what she loved even more was to trace them with her fingertips. She loved going over the lines like she was drawing them herself. It grounded her and gave her something to focus on and a lot of the time, it took so much of (Y/n)'s attention that she forgot where she was or what she was doing. And at night, it soothed (Y/n) enough for her to drift off to sleep.

When she was having a meltdown, tracing his tattoos helped, especially the circular band around his right forearm. (Y/n) would trace and draw that line thousands of times to focus and ground herself back to reality.

Evan found himself smiling when (Y/n) shimmied down until her head was tucked beneath his chin and her lips merged with his collar bone. He continued to glide his hand up and down her back while he felt (Y/n)'s fingertip trace the line of cursive writing just beneath his collar bone near his shoulder.

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to see the ink littering Evan's skin and she was almost annoyed that she couldn't properly see the little bird outlined on his other shoulder. She liked tracing that one, but Evan was laid on his right shoulder.

(Y/n) settled for the writing, it was much easier to focus on and if she felt like she didn't draw the cursive loops just right, she restarted and began again.

Evan could still feel (Y/n)'s feet tapping, but it was different this time. The muscle in the back of her thigh wasn't tightening and twitching like a wild rabbit. Her foot wasn't bashing down into the mattress and giving him a drumbeat coursing through his blood. It was just her toes continuously curling back and forth while her foot glided softly along the mattress.

It was such a soft, lulling movement that Evan had to focus to actually feel that she was still moving, and that was a good sign.

The feeling of (Y/n)'s lips on his skin made Evan shiver and the pad of her finger causing goosebumps and pins and needles in his skin made Evan smile against the top of her head.

"G'night, baby."

***

I want to go home! I want to get out the car! I want Evan!

(Y/n) could feel herself bubbling up in her seat like a pot on a stove about to boil over. There was a scream clawing its way up her chest, ready to errupt the moment one more thing set her off. Every part of her began to shake and her head bowed down with her chin tucked deep into her chest to try and see if it would make her feel any better or feel any sense of control.

One minute (Y/n) was on her way home from work and the next, she was in a crash. A speeding car flew past (Y/n)'s car in the outside lane and either couldn't break in time or wasn't paying enough attention. They crashed into another car and there wasn't enough time or space for (Y/n) to break before she collided with them.

(Y/n), along with four other cars, collided when they all tried to break and swerve out the way. And (Y/n) was relieved other people were around to call for help. She had never had to call 911 before and she knew she wouldn't be able to calm herself down enough to have a conversation that wasn't her screaming down the line.

She wanted to get out the car. She wanted to get out and leave and find someone that could help her, but she knew the rules. She remembered Evan going through what she should do if she was ever hurt in a crash.

If she was injured, it was best to stay in the car and wait for help unless the car was on fire or the situation was a dire emergency.

She was hurt.

Her chest hurt, she was sure a few ribs were fractured or broken. Her left knee has bashed into the gearbox and the dashboard had crumpled in the collision. It would take a lot of effort to wrangle her leg away from where it was boxed in and she didn't want to do that alone.

Something didn't feel right with her left wrist either but whenever (Y/n) looked down at it, she gagged and looked away. It was twice the size it should be, felt as hard as a car tyre overfilled with air and her fingers were trembling.

Her body was shaking, her nerves were going haywire and the adrenaline made it hard to focus on one thing in particular.

Heat prickled along the back of (Y/n)'s neck and flooded her skin up to her wrists. Blood didn't seem to want to circulate through to her hands that were numb and on fire from panic. When she started to get anxious, she lost the feeling in her hands and they went cold and numb, blood went to the vital organs and forgot about her hands and feet.

Coiling her arms up to her chest, (Y/n) pressed her palms forcefully against the sides of her neck and scratched her nails into the skin at the base of her head. Despite the agony that crackled through her wrist, (Y/n) continued to dig her nails into her skin and she tilted her head forward, begging herself not to scream or act out.

She had to wait for help. She had to wait. She didn't want to wait. She wanted out.

Where would she go? She was on a bridge, a motorway flooded with cars that were going to be backed up for miles. There was nowhere for (Y/n) to escape to and she wasn't sure how far she would get. She just wanted to go home and be somewhere safe. She would consider Maddie's house a safe place right now. She just wanted to be somewhere familiar with someone she was comfortable with.

But she was alone, trapped, hurt, and extremely overwhelmed.

She could smell the petrol, oil and burnt embers floating through the air, rolling into the car along with smoke that had been building up gradually since the moment they all crashed. And (Y/n) could feel her body trembling back and forth in the seat that felt cold against her unusually heated skin.

(Y/n) could feel each ragged breath that bubbled past her lips. Her throat was aching, her chest was rising and falling rapidly and her heart was beating wildly out of her chest.

When she realised she was focusing and counting each breath, her eyes snapped closed and her arms pinned over her ears. But that just made it worse. She could now hear each breath she took as if her ears had popped the wrong way and she had been submerged underwater.

A horrid, choking scream flew past (Y/n)'s lips before she dropped her arms and slammed her body back into the chair. Her head hit the headrest and bounced back with such force that it seemed to shake her brain and her eyes lost focus for a second or two.

Reaching her right hand out, (Y/n) curled her fingers into a fist and slammed her knuckles against the roof, but it didn't make an impact. All it did was make a dent in the padded roof and it seemed to infuriate (Y/n) even more.

Her hand moved down slightly and she bashed her fist into the top of the door, earning a successful jolt that shivered all the way down to her elbow and up to her shoulder. The top of the door was made of metal. Another scream vibrated past her lips along with a howling sob as tears fell down her face like acid rain and her hand battered against the door as fast and harshly as she could.

Why couldn't everyone else just be quiet?

Why did they have to scream? Why did they have to stomp their feet against the concrete like ogres breaking through the ground? Why was someone's car horn blaring out, why hadn't they turned it off already? Was the sirens she heard the sound of an ambulance, the sound of a fire truck or the noise a police car made?

Everyone needed to be quiet so (Y/n) could focus. She was going to get herself out this car if everyone continued to overwhelm her.

It was like rage bubbling up inside of her, desperate to be let out in any way she could. It was worse than when the tv froze and she couldn't finish watching a movie she was desperate to see. This was worse than being in a stranger's home and wanting to go back to her safe space. This was so much worse than being in a crowded restaurant with too many people and no means of escape.

This was worse than just a simple pain that (Y/n) couldn't control or deflect. She couldn't take all the pain away by hurting herself in another area. She couldn't smash her forehead against the wall or chomp down on her hand or punch the wardrobe and deflect the agony she felt.

Deflecting the pain didn't stop all the noises or the horrid smells or take her out of the car that felt like she was stuffed into a cramped little box she couldn't escape from.

Deflecting did nothing to take her out of this situation and it didn't alert anyone that she needed help. But it gave (Y/n) something to do, something to focus on and a sense of pain that showed herself she had some sense of control and the pain in her mind and deep within her bones was now exuded somewhere else in her body.

"I want out!"

***

"Buck, get me the jaws!"

"Copy." Evan hollered back while he pushed his helmet further back on his head and turned around. He placed his hand on the young man's shoulder who was standing in front of him and silently pointed him towards Hen who would take him to the paramedics waiting on standby.

Evan turned away from the now empty car and once the driver was safely with Hen, he moved in the direction of the truck that was parked on the hard shoulder. He didn't get more than three feet before he noticed something familiar.

(Y/n)'s car. That was her car; her number plate. She was involved in this mess.

His hands reached out and clamped down on Chimney's shoulders before the medic had chance to turn in the other direction or take another breath. "Get Cap the jaws." Evan hissed in his ear and gave him a nudge towards the truck before he weaved around him and bolted.

He couldn't help Bobby get someone out of the pick up truck that was wedged into the middle railing. He had to go and get his girlfriend out.

Evan could see the car jolting to one side before he got near it. (Y/n) was moving about inside, she was definitely doing something. He rounded the side of the car and planted his left hand down on the roof so he could lean over and look through the window.

As quickly as anything, Evan curled his hand around the door handle and wrenched the door open. He stumbled backwards when (Y/n) leaned along with the door she had just been pummelling her fist into.

"Baby- baby, it's me." He tore off his gloves and tossed them down on the floor while he crouched down beside the car.

He cringed, bracing his hands on either side of the door when (Y/n) screamed. It wasn't the kind of screaming Evan was used to. She didn't usually scream so raw and violently like that even when he witnessed her having a meltdown. He hadn't seen this kind of extreme meltdown in a while.

His eyes managed to catch a glimpse of (Y/n)'s right hand that had been smashing into the door before he opened it. Her knuckles were starting to swell. They were split open, splattered with dried and fresh blood and her whole hand was shaking.

"Baby-"

Whatever he was about to say got cut off by another scream. This time, it was a deeper, more guttural scream before (Y/n) slammed her head forward into the steering wheel.

Evan jolted back on the heel of his boots as he felt his stomach tightening and his lips clamped together.

She hadn't done that in a while.

When she did it a second time, Evan leaned over with his left hand on the back of her chair. He pressed the back of his right hand against the steering wheel and braced himself, waiting for her to do it again. He could see the surprise blister across her face when she smashed her head forward and collided with his palm instead.

Her eyes were closed. She hadn't expected Evan to do that. He'd done it before; when she started to hit the wall and bash her temple into the wall, Evan put his hand in the way. He would much rather have (Y/n) let out her frustrations this way where she caused less pain and harm to herself.

Evan boxed and trained at the gym and in his line of work, a sore hand and a few bruised knuckles was nothing to him.

After a few seconds ticked by, Evan dared to rest his other hand on her shoulder and see if she would be alright with his touch or not. She didn't shy away and she didn't scream; he took that as a good sign.

"Baby, can I get you out the car, please? I'll see if you're hurt, then I can get you out of here."

He kept his hand on the steering wheel as a precaution but he was fairly sure (Y/n) had stopped hitting his hand now. She was breathing so harshly he worried her heart was going to give out, it sounded like she had burst a lung. Her lips were dry and chapped, her throat was tense and raw and her chest was violently heaving to try and catch back her lost oxygen.

Evan gently reached out for her hands and uncurled them from the steering wheel so he could rest them on his thighs and take a look.

Her right hand was battered, but he was sure she hadn't damaged or broken her knuckles. Her left hand, however, looked like her wrist had been fractured.

He glided his fingertips slowly up her arms, taking his time so he didn't overwhelm her. When he tried to touch and assess her chest, she whimpered and pushed back in the seat. And when he trailed his hands down her legs, he realised why she was so distraught. Her left leg was wedged under the steering wheel where the bonnet had crumpled down on her leg.

"Let's get you sorted out." He trailed his hands over to her left leg and tried to assess whether she had busted up heer knee or broken any bones.

He didn't want to leave (Y/n) and he didn't want to ask someone to bring him a pair of jaws to cut through the bonnet. (Y/n) was distressed enough. He slammed his hand up into the bonnet to try and dent it enough to wiggle (Y/n)'s leg free. And he reached down to shuffle her chair back to see if that would make a difference.

If he had a few more seconds, just another minute, and Evan would have loosened the bonnet enough to get her leg free without any pain or aggravation.

A blaring siren caught them both off guard.

Evan cringed; he recognised the sound. It was a police car turning up and knowing their luck, it might even be Athena. But the noise was distinct and loud and it cut right through them both.

(Y/n)'s ears were finely tuned and direct, high pitch noises physically hurt her. The siren was no exception. As soon as it started to blare, (Y/n) jumped back in her seat and screamed.

Evan wasn't sure whether she meant to drag and lift her leg up or whether it was out of instinct. Either way, (Y/n)'s upper thigh cut against the broken plastic and chunks of metal in the bonnet and her leg was prized free. Blood splattered down her thigh but she didn't care. She could barely feel the new sensation over the ringing in her ears and the pain that was pulsing through every inch of her skin.

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s body and she flung herself to the right, scrambling onto her hands and knees on the floor. Partially landing on Evan's thigh, sending him down on his backside, not that he cared.

She wasn't sure where she was trying to go. All (Y/n) knew was that she needed to get out of that car and get away from all the noises, but being out in the open only made it worse.

She could hear raised voices; people directing others away from the cars, telling them where the paramedics were. A strong voice cutting through the air asking for assistance. Sirens wailing in three different tones from three different vehicles. Crying. Harsh breathing. Loud footsteps made with the same heels as Evan's work boots.

Five feet away from the car left (Y/n) hobbling in the middle of the road and she didn't know which direction to go or whereabouts she needed to move to. Every angle was blocked. There was no escape. She couldn't leave. She wasn't safe.

Her weight dropped down until she was knelt on the tarmac that cut through her knees like blistering hot coals digging into her skin. The heel of her shoes dug into her bum and her stomach clenched as she coiled over on herself.

Her body began to rock back and forth while her chin smashed down into her chest and her hands smothered her face. Every breath fanned against her palms and made her lips hot and sweaty like they were melting and it made (Y/n) scream.

"Shh, alright baby, it's okay." As quick as anything, Evan shed his jacket and scrambled over towards (Y/n). He stayed on his knees in front of her and reached his arms out for her.

He pinned his elbows into her sides, pressed their knees together and curled his palms over her ears. He tucked his chest into his thighs and merged their temples together so she could see him and hear his voice over the loudness of the rest of the world.

"You're okay. You're with me, baby girl and you're safe. Just focus on me, nothing else."

He repeated those words over and over like a mantra until his voice drowned out everything else and (Y/n) stopped screaming. He felt her rock back and forth but with him knelt in front of her, he couldn't move along with her without accidentally headbutting her in the process.

So he slowly let go of her and wrapped an arm around her waist so he could shimmy her over to him.

(Y/n) stayed loose and moveable, allowing Evan to pull her onto his lap so her back was pressed into his chest.

"Help." Was the only word (Y/n) could manage and she squeezed Evan's wrists and tugged until he realised what she wanted. She didn't have to voice it for Evan to understand; it was one of the things she loved about him.

She could feel his lips smothering the top of her head and his hands went straight back to covering her ears. He breathed into her hair and started to hum while his elbows dug into her sides and he felt (Y/n) reach up to keep hold of his wrists. She was trying to ground herself to him. Sitting on his lap wasn't enough, she had to hold onto him to know he was still here, keeping her safe.

Her breathing started to become deeper rather than shallow or breathless screams.

She snapped her eyes closed and pushed back into Evan's chest so she didn't slide off his lap as he began rocking them back and forth. It was as if they were sat together in a rocking chair in the middle of the blocked-off road.

"There we go, that's my girl, hm? You're okay, you're safe."

Evan continued to rock back and forth. He'd never done anything like this before he met (Y/n), but whenever she shut down like this, she dropped to the floor. She would curl up as small as she could or sit or kneel on the floor. Sometimes she looked like she was praising the carpet with how she dragged her hands along it, but he knew she had to recalibrate herself.

Now, if ever she went down to the floor, Evan would kneel down with her. He would hold her in bed and start to sway and rock back and forth. He would do all of her coping mechanisms with her so she wasn't alone and knew he was trying to help.

"Buck… how are we doing over here?" Eddie looked over at him with a mixture of perplexity and a hint of recognition in his eyes. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but it was a somewhat familiar sight.

He didn't get too close, he could see Evan had a handle on this situation and he didn't want to get involved and make things worse or upset whoever Evan was cradling in his arms.

"Do you need the ambulance?" He pointed behind him to the 118 ambulance that Chimney had backed up. There weren't that many casualties here and dispatch had sent quite a few ambulances to the scene just to be on the safe side.

"Yeah I- I need it but you have to turn the lights off."

"What?"

"The lights are way too stimulating, it will overwhelm her. Can you turn them off, please?"

Evan had seen (Y/n) drive when ambulances had been passing. The sirens made her flinch and start to stim when she pulled over and she had to close her eyes when the lights passed.

The ambulance had flashing blue and moonlight white lights blinking on and off continuously and someone had left the lights flashing on the ambulance. They were far too stimulating and if (Y/n) looked over there she would immediately close her eyes and freeze up.

Some movies were too bright for (Y/n) to watch, especially children's films that had a blast of rainbow colours glittering the screen. Movies like those gave (Y/n) headaches and blinding lights sent her into a sensory overload. Some people could handle those sort of stimulants, some people were classed as hyposensitive where they enjoyed loud noises and bright lights and lots of people and rides and thrills.

(Y/n) was hypersensitive, she couldn't handle the noises or the lights or too many people overwhelming her or crowding round and getting in her face.

"I'll turn them off, do you need the gurney bringing out?"

"No, I'll bring her over."

Eddie sprinted off into a jog to turn the lights off while Evan dared to let go of (Y/n)'s ears and he moved his hands down her sides to hold her hips. She kept hold of his wrists and leaned her head back on his shoulder while he continued to rock them back and forth.

"Baby, we're gonna go in the ambulance and go to the emergency room, alright? I'm not gonna leave you at any point, I promise. You'll be safe with me. Can I get you up?"

The moment (Y/n) nodded, Evan gave her hips a squeeze and pulled her up with him while he slowly pushed up to his feet. He waited for (Y/n) to make the first move, to show him whether she was okay to walk ahead to the ambulance. Or whether she was in too much pain or too overwhelmed to walk.

When she turned in his arms and smothered her face in his chest, Evan could feel her panting breaths and the tremble that overtook her body. She didn't want to walk. She didn't want to move. If they stayed still for a few more seconds, Evan just knew (Y/n) would drop down to the floor again because she wasn't settled or calm or okay at all.

"Alright baby, it's alright." His hands moved to the back of her thighs and he hoisted her up in one fell swoop. He hooked her legs around his torso and moved one hand to her upper back to keep her steady against him.

(Y/n) tucked her face into Evan's neck so tightly she could barely breathe and she began kissing his neck and making popping sounds against his skin. It was an unusual stim that Evan felt interested in because he somehow liked the sensation against his neck.

He smoothed his hand up and down her back while he made a beeline for the ambulance where the lights had finally been turned off.

Once he climbed up into the ambulance, Evan carefully sat (Y/n) down on the gurney. He had a gut feeling she wouldn't lay down on it and he was right. She perched on the side of the gurney with her legs hanging over the edge and her hands clinging to the side so she didn't fall off.

She began to rock back and forth while Evan sat down on the gurney next to her and Eddie sat in front of them.

"Baby, this is Eddie, can he take a look at you?"

Eddie waited patiently until (Y/n) gave a cut nod and he held out a stethoscope so she knew what he was going to do. She stopped rocking and sat up straight. He noticed her eyes focused on his chin and he wondered whether she was staring at his jacket; she was clearly focusing on something so she didn't have to look him in the eye.

He leaned over and pressed the stethoscope to her chest and then to her back to listen to her breathing.

"Can I check your blood pressure?"

Her lips rolled together but she nodded and held out her right arm since her left wrist was swollen and shaking.

Eddie smiled softly when (Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned her head onto Evan's shoulder while Eddie slipped the cuff up her arm so it was near her shoulder. He started to squeeze the air and watched the band tighten around her arm, but his eyes kept glancing down to her hand.

She stimmed in a similar way to Chris. Eddie could see (Y/n)'s thumbs on both hands were pressed against the back of her index finger right near her knuckle. And her index fingers were curled into her palm while the rest of her fingers were left out straight. He knew it was a sensation she must feel calming but whenever Chris used to stim, he would curl his fingers in rather strange ways that would hurt anyone else. But Chris was used to it in the way he figured (Y/n) must be too.

"Do you want me to assess your leg, or you can wait for a nurse if you want." Eddie didn't want to push any boundaries.

He knew a little of (Y/n) from what Evan had told him and Eddie didn't want overwhelm her or make her feel uneasy. If she didn't want him to try and patch her up at all, he would gladly sit and hand her over to a nurse when they got to the hospital.

"Please." If Evan trusted Eddie, then (Y/n) would rather have him help her than a stranger at the hospital.

A wave of relief washed through Evan when he heard (Y/n) quietly click her tongue against the roof of her mouth. That was a stim he recognised. That was one of her usual stims that she did hundreds of times throughout the day. If (Y/n) was doing that, it meant she was starting to settle and calm down.

(Y/n) stayed as still as she could manage, despite her right foot tapping against the metal bar on the bottom of the gurney.

Her eyes watched with intrigue as Eddie got out a small pair of scissors and carefully cut through her leggings so he could rip the material and see the extent of her wound.

It wasn't too deep. A vertical gash right in the centre of her thigh that was oozing and trickling blood down across her knee and squelching beneath her on the gurney. (Y/n) sucked in a deep breath and made a quiet noise when Eddie poured some saline over the wound and started to swab and clear away the blood.

His touch was delicate and precise and he didn't even look up at her as he worked, he kept his eyes focused on her leg so (Y/n) didn't have to avoid eye contact with him. She reached out and started to draw aimless patterns on Evan's thigh to distract herself while Eddie put suture strips across the wound to tape it together. It wasn't deep enough for proper stitches so little medical tapes were enough. And he stuck a large rectangle plaster patch on her thigh to keep it clean.

"You're all done… let's get you inside, you'll need an X-ray and probably some bloods taken."

When Evan got up, he waited for (Y/n) so he knew whether to walk in front of her or behind her. She curled her right hand around Evan's bicep and tucked her face into his arm and when she closed her eyes as they got out the ambulance, Evan smiled. He moved his right hand to cup the back of her head and smothered his lips into her hair.

He felt Eddie hovering beside them and the three of them headed into the emergency room and followed a nurse who beckoned them over when she noticed the uniform.

The moment they got into the empty cubicle, (Y/n) seized up. Her body went stiff beside Evan and she clung to him tighter until she was practically meshing her face into his arm. She didn't want to sit down. She didn't want to be in here. She wanted to go home.

Two nurses walked into the room with them and closed the door to give them some privacy.

When one of them began to ask questions, (Y/n)'s name and date of birth and all her details, Evan answered. Whenever (Y/n) went to the doctors, she never usually said what was wrong or answered them. Whoever went with her to her appointments usually spoke for her and this was no exception. Evan didn't mind. He would always speak for her when she couldn't.

"If you'd like to sit down, I'll take a look at your wrist."

"No." (Y/n) shrunk back into Evan's side when the nurse tried to approach her. But when she looked to the left, she realised Eddie was still in the room. He was leant up against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. "I- please?" She gingerly moved her damaged wrist in Eddie's direction until he understood what she was asking.

She would rather have Eddie help her than someone else. He didn't ask questions. He didn't pester her. He didn't force her to maintain eye contact. He asked and waited before he assessed her and his touch was gentle. Evan trusted him, so (Y/n) would trust him.

The soft smile on Eddie's face told (Y/n) he wasn't annoyed at her request and when the nurse moved out the way, Eddie walked over to her. He didn't ask or move her towards the bed. He simply stood at her side and held her hand in his left hand so his right hand could press down her hand and over her wrist.

"I'd say it's fractured an inch below the wrist. She needs an X-ray, and if she needs a cast, you need to note in her file that she needs a removeable cast. Do not give her a pot cast."

The stern, authoritative look on Eddie's face told the nurse not to argue with him. He knew either way, whether (Y/n)'s wrist was broken or fractured, she would need a cast. And he knew a pot would drive her inside and send her into a meltdown. She wouldn't be able to take a pot cast off or move her hand or bend her wrist.

But if she had a strapped, removeable cast, they came with metal rods on either side so it would keep her wrist and arm in place. And she could take it off for an hour or so each day to get a wash or stim or get dressed. And she would be able to stim better with a foam cast.

"We'll go and get an X-ray booked, and I'll find a kit so you can take her bloods."

Surprise flooded Evan's face as he looked between (Y/n) and Eddie. The nurse was handing this over to Eddie. Clearly they could see (Y/n) wasn't going to cooperate for anyone else.

"I uh, I guess you'll have to stay with us for a while." Evan's smile was sympathetic. Bobby would allow Evan to have the rest of the day off, but he would want the team to get back in the truck and head back to the station as they were all still on shift. But Eddie had seemingly been hijacked for a while longer.

He could see in Eddie's smile that he didn't mind. He would rather stay here and make sure they were both alright than go back on shift worrying about them. And if he could be of any help to (Y/n) he would gladly stick around.

"I guess so."

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #eddie diaz #bobby nash

576 notes · View notes

urdreamydoodles · 25 days ago

Note

If you want to do another dog request, would you write for the x-men, especially Logan, with a reader who crochets little hats and sweaters for Mr Pickles??? I love Mr Pickles so much I wanna make lil clothes for him..

X-Men x Fem!Reader & Reader's Dog

You crochet little clothes for Mr. Pickles

As you sit on the couch, happily crocheting little outfits for your beloved dog, Mr. Pickles, your X-Man partner can't help but be charmed by your creativity and dedication.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Wanda Maximoff & Laura Kinney

As you sit on the couch, happily crocheting little outfits for your beloved dog, Mr. Pickles, your X-Man partner can't help but be charmed by your creativity and dedication.

Thank you for summoning Mr. Pickles. Hope you like it!

Logan Howlett

- Logan was the first to notice your tiny, not-so-bright dog, Mr. Pickles, wandering around the mansion looking somewhat confused in a bright yellow crochet sweater you’d made. The sight was enough to make even him chuckle. He’d never admit it, but the image of a clumsy little dog dressed up in various sweaters quickly became a highlight of his day. It wasn’t long before he found himself looking forward to the next outfit you’d make for Mr. Pickles.

- While Logan has a gruff exterior, he found himself strangely attached to Mr. Pickles. Maybe it was because the dog reminded him of himself—a little rough around the edges, not the sharpest tool in the shed, but loyal and oddly charming in his own way. He’d occasionally give Mr. Pickles a head pat, muttering something like, “You’re not so bad, ya dumb mutt,” when no one else was around.

- You’d sit on the couch with yarn strewn all around, focused on your latest crochet project, while Logan lounged nearby, pretending to read the paper. In reality, he’d be glancing over at you, watching the way your hands worked the yarn with such patience. It amazed him, really—how you could pour so much love and care into every little stitch for a dog that didn’t even realize how special he was.

- Logan would grumble whenever you asked him to help dress Mr. Pickles in one of his new outfits, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous it was. But you knew he secretly enjoyed it. He’d even hold the dog steady as you adjusted the hat or sweater, giving Mr. Pickles a scratch behind the ears when he inevitably wobbled. Once, Logan gruffly insisted the dog “needed a tougher look” and dared you to crochet a tiny “biker jacket.”

- On cold nights, you’d find Logan sitting with Mr. Pickles curled up in his lap, the dog snug in one of your creations. Logan claimed it was just to keep the “little guy” warm, but you knew better. The image of Logan cradling your dopey, sweater-clad dog melted your heart, especially when he’d absentmindedly scratch Mr. Pickles’ head with such surprising gentleness.

- One evening, after a long mission, Logan came back bruised and tired. As he sank into the couch, you handed him Mr. Pickles, already dressed in a new sweater. Logan sighed but pulled the dog onto his lap, letting out a soft chuckle as he noticed the tiny “X” you’d crocheted into the sweater’s design. In that moment, he realized he had somehow found a strange, unexpected family—with you, and even the clueless little dog in his arms.

Remy LeBeau

- Remy was absolutely charmed from the moment he saw you holding Mr. Pickles, dressed in a lopsided little sweater with paw prints. He thought it was hilarious that a beautiful, intelligent woman like you had such a goofy, clueless pet, and he was quick to dub Mr. Pickles “le petit clown.” It wasn’t long before he’d started slipping Mr. Pickles treats behind your back, delighting in the way the dog would eagerly follow him around, tail wagging.

- Remy loved to watch you crochet. He’d lean against the doorway with a lazy grin, watching your fingers work and occasionally tossing out ideas. “How ‘bout a lil’ beret for monsieur Pickles?” he’d tease, putting on his best Parisian accent. To his surprise, you actually made one, and he proudly took a photo of Mr. Pickles with the tiny hat tilted jauntily on his head.

- Whenever you were sitting with yarn and needles, Remy would slide in beside you, offering to “help.” Of course, his idea of helping usually involved trying to distract you with sweet talk or playful kisses, but you’d just laugh and shoo him away. Secretly, he adored how absorbed you got in your work, finding it impossibly endearing. Sometimes, he’d end up tangled in yarn as you playfully scolded him for making a mess.

- Remy was quick to make Mr. Pickles part of his card tricks, “borrowing” your dog to entertain the younger mutants at the mansion. He’d let Mr. Pickles “pick a card” or have him wear a little cape while he “levitated” the dog with one hand (though Mr. Pickles seemed entirely oblivious to the attention). It became a running gag, with the kids eagerly waiting for the next “Remy and Mr. Pickles” show.

- One night, you made Mr. Pickles a special Mardi Gras-inspired sweater, complete with beads and tiny feathers. Remy laughed so hard he nearly fell over, declaring Mr. Pickles the “king of carnival.” He insisted on taking Mr. Pickles to his favorite bar in New Orleans the next time you visited, already picturing the laughs and adoration the little guy would get from everyone.

- When he thought you weren’t looking, Remy would scoop up Mr. Pickles and let him sit on his lap, scratching his head and muttering in French about how “tres stupide” yet lovable the dog was. And every time, you’d catch Remy smiling down at Mr. Pickles with genuine affection. Despite his smooth-talking charm, Remy found a sense of comfort in the goofy little dog, and he’d often look at you with a soft smile, knowing he’d found a family in both of you.

Kurt Wagner

- Kurt was delighted when he first met Mr. Pickles. He adored animals and immediately took to the little, clueless dog, finding him adorable in every way. When you told him about your hobby of crocheting little hats and sweaters for Mr. Pickles, Kurt was enchanted and insisted that you show him each new creation. It became a tradition for you to reveal the latest outfit to Kurt first, always greeted by his delighted laughter.

- Kurt would teleport around the mansion, carrying Mr. Pickles in his arms and showing off the latest sweater to everyone he could find. The sight of the fuzzy, sweater-clad dog disappearing and reappearing in a puff of smoke quickly became a running joke among the residents. And every time, Kurt would look at you with that infectious smile, proud to share the joy your little creations brought.

- You’d sit beside Kurt, working on your crochet as he watched with rapt attention, sometimes leaning over to give suggestions. He’d throw out ideas for elaborate costumes—“Maybe a pirate hat and tiny eye patch next time?”—and you’d humor him, laughing at his excitement. The more whimsical the idea, the more Kurt loved it, especially when you actually went through with it and made Mr. Pickles a tiny pirate outfit.

- Mr. Pickles quickly became attached to Kurt, often following him around and waiting expectantly for him to teleport them both to some new corner of the mansion. Kurt would always oblige, chuckling as Mr. Pickles looked around in a daze, probably wondering how he got there. Kurt joked that Mr. Pickles was his “faithful sidekick,” and you’d laugh, happy to see Kurt so genuinely joyful with his new furry friend.

- One winter evening, Kurt sat beside you on the couch, admiring Mr. Pickles in his new holiday sweater. With a sudden burst of excitement, he suggested that you crochet matching scarves for the three of you. You were touched by the idea, and after you made the scarves, Kurt proudly wore his everywhere, beaming whenever someone noticed the matching set. It became a special little bond between the three of you, something that made Kurt’s heart feel incredibly full.

- When Kurt was feeling down, he’d often teleport to wherever Mr. Pickles was, seeking out the dog’s clueless yet comforting presence. He’d sit beside Mr. Pickles, scratching his ears, feeling an unexpected peace in the dog’s simple joy. With you nearby, working on your next crochet project, Kurt felt a happiness he’d never thought possible—a sense of family, love, and laughter all wrapped into one.

Scott Summers

- Scott was a bit surprised when he first saw Mr. Pickles, your tiny, rather dim-witted dog, wandering around the mansion in a sweater you’d crocheted. He had to admit, it was a funny sight seeing such a serious, no-nonsense guy like him dealing with a dog in a pastel sweater. But, for you, he tried to be supportive and even gave Mr. Pickles a gentle pat on the head, which only made you love him more.

- At first, Scott was skeptical about all the little outfits. He didn’t quite understand why Mr. Pickles needed a new sweater every week, but he never said a word against it. He’d just watch you work with an amused smile, occasionally muttering things like, “He’s not even going to know what he’s wearing,” and you’d laugh, nudging him to let go of his practical side.

- Slowly, Scott started getting attached to Mr. Pickles. The dog’s clumsiness and clueless charm made Scott chuckle, and over time, he found himself looking forward to your “fashion shows” for the dog. You’d call him over whenever you finished a new outfit, and he’d come watch, nodding in approval and making silly, serious comments like, “That’s a very dignified look for him.”

- Scott found himself frequently carrying Mr. Pickles around the mansion, especially if the little guy was dressed in a sweater Scott deemed particularly cute. He’d mutter about “proper care” and “not wanting the dog to get cold,” but you could tell he secretly enjoyed being Mr. Pickles’ unofficial guardian. It became almost a ritual for you two, with Scott taking the dog out for “patrols” around the grounds as you watched with a fond smile.

- During one particularly cold winter, you surprised Scott with a matching set of scarves for him and Mr. Pickles. He laughed in disbelief, shaking his head, but he wore it with pride, and even went out of his way to take a picture with Mr. Pickles. He sent it to you with a small message: “Don’t tell anyone.” You never did—but you kept that picture as one of your fondest memories.

- When you were crocheting, Scott would sit nearby, reading or working, casting frequent glances your way. He loved watching you work so diligently for such a silly, endearing purpose. It softened his heart in ways he never anticipated. And on days when his responsibilities felt heavy, he’d look down at the silly, clueless Mr. Pickles, cozy in his latest sweater, and feel just a bit lighter.

Erik Lehnsherr

- Erik raised an eyebrow the first time he saw Mr. Pickles toddling about the mansion in one of your crochet creations. He made no attempt to hide his bemusement, giving you a slightly amused look as if to say, “Really?” But it was clear that he found the whole thing endearing, even if he’d never admit it aloud.

- Over time, Erik grew fond of Mr. Pickles in his own way. There was something oddly relaxing about the little dog, with his clueless stare and innocent charm. Erik would occasionally sit in silence with the dog beside him, stroking Mr. Pickles’ head as if the small, simple presence helped calm the storm inside him. He began calling the dog “mein kleiner Trottel” (my little fool), which made you smile every time.

- Your crochet habit amused Erik to no end. He’d tease you lightly as he watched you work, remarking on how you were “spending time creating garments for a creature who won’t even notice.” But he loved the way your face lit up when you finished a new piece, and he’d always watch you present the latest sweater to Mr. Pickles, his eyes softening as he observed your joy.

- Erik would secretly play a small part in your crochet projects, “assisting” in his own way by lifting the yarn rolls with his powers to make them easier for you to reach. He’d do it silently, as if it was a simple, practical thing, but you both knew it was his way of spending time with you, of supporting your passion without breaking his tough exterior.

- Mr. Pickles became Erik’s companion in the quiet hours when the mansion was still. Erik would often hold the dog on his lap, absentmindedly petting him while he thought or read. The little creature’s simple presence and warmth grounded him, and he started referring to Mr. Pickles as “a noble soul.” When you heard him say it, you couldn’t help but laugh, which Erik took in stride with an amused smile.

- One night, you surprised Erik by crocheting a tiny helmet that resembled his iconic headgear for Mr. Pickles. At first, Erik looked at it with a mix of horror and amusement, muttering about how you’d made his dog look “ridiculous.” But you caught him smiling as he placed it on Mr. Pickles’ head, shaking his own as he watched the little dog toddle around with his new “crown.” For a moment, Erik looked at you with a softness few people ever saw, realizing how much happiness you brought into his life.

Charles Xavier

- Charles was utterly charmed by Mr. Pickles from the start. He found the dog’s dimwitted nature incredibly endearing, and he loved that you’d taken it upon yourself to crochet sweaters and hats for him. The sight of Mr. Pickles waddling around in a tiny, handmade sweater was enough to make Charles laugh out loud, something he hadn’t done nearly enough lately.

- Charles would often join you as you crocheted, pulling up a chair beside you and admiring your handiwork. He’d sit quietly, asking about your process or sharing stories from his past as you worked. The calm, domestic rhythm of it all—of you creating something, of him simply being there beside you—felt more comforting than he’d ever imagined.

- Occasionally, Charles would insist on holding Mr. Pickles as you tried a new hat or sweater on him, laughing softly as the little dog wriggled and blinked in confusion. Charles found the whole process incredibly sweet, and he never missed a chance to compliment your skill. “Another masterpiece,” he’d say with a warm smile, and you’d always feel a rush of pride at his approval.

- Charles would use his telepathy to communicate with Mr. Pickles in subtle ways, giving the little dog gentle nudges to behave or come to him. The little creature’s simple mind and warm affection brought Charles a rare kind of peace. He’d often sit with Mr. Pickles curled up beside him as he worked, knowing that even a small comfort could make a difference in his day.

- Once, you made a small “professor” sweater for Mr. Pickles, complete with elbow patches. Charles was delighted, genuinely touched by the gesture. He took it upon himself to take Mr. Pickles to his next class, introducing him as the “assistant professor” for the day. The students got a kick out of it, and for the first time in a while, Charles felt the lightness of simply being happy.

- In quiet moments, Charles would hold Mr. Pickles close, resting a gentle hand on his small frame as he pondered the challenges he faced. Sometimes, he’d murmur to the dog, sharing thoughts he couldn’t share with anyone else, and he’d feel a strange sense of relief knowing you’d brought Mr. Pickles into his life. Charles knew he’d found a rare gift in both you and your small, slightly dim-witted companion, feeling a renewed strength in your shared happiness.

Jean Grey

- Jean was instantly in love with Mr. Pickles the moment she met him. His little quirks and clueless gaze made her laugh, and she was endlessly entertained by his antics. Watching him prance around in your crochet sweaters always brought a smile to her face, and she’d often kneel down to shower him with affection, whispering sweetly, “Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” as he squirmed in delight.

- Jean loved how much care and creativity you put into crocheting for Mr. Pickles. She’d watch you work with admiration, asking about your patterns and colors, fully invested in the process. Sometimes she’d even lend a hand, helping you choose yarns or holding Mr. Pickles still while you adjusted his latest outfit. The two of you bonding over your little “fashion shows” for him became a cherished ritual that made her feel close to you.

- She would telekinetically lift the yarn, guiding it back to you whenever it rolled away, making sure you didn’t miss a beat. Jean even experimented with telepathically nudging Mr. Pickles when he seemed particularly clueless, gently encouraging him to stay put when you tried on a new hat or sweater. The simple joy you two shared while fussing over Mr. Pickles helped her relax in ways nothing else could.

- One night, you surprised Jean with a red-and-gold sweater for Mr. Pickles, inspired by her Phoenix costume. Her eyes lit up with joy, and she laughed, a hand covering her mouth as she took in the adorable sight of Mr. Pickles strutting around like a “mini Phoenix.” She hugged you, whispering, “You’re amazing,” and you felt warmth bloom in your chest at her genuine appreciation.

- Sometimes, during quiet evenings, Jean would sit with you on the sofa as you crocheted. She loved the calm intimacy of those moments, watching your hands move in steady rhythm, occasionally reaching over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. Mr. Pickles would curl up between you both, his clueless gaze softened with comfort. Jean treasured these times, the simple joy of being with you both grounding her.

- When things got hard, and Jean was struggling with the intensity of her powers, she found peace with you and Mr. Pickles by her side. She’d hold Mr. Pickles in her arms, letting his silly antics pull her out of her dark thoughts, and you would be right there, holding her hand. Those small, quiet moments made her feel like everything was going to be okay—like no matter how heavy her powers weighed on her, she’d always have this little family with you.

Wanda Maximoff

- Wanda was instantly taken by Mr. Pickles and his innocent, somewhat dim-witted charm. She found it adorable how such a small, simple creature could bring so much joy, and she was delighted by the little outfits you crocheted for him. Watching him toddle around the mansion in colorful sweaters brought a lightness to her heart, something she often craved amidst the weight of her powers.

- She would watch you crochet with quiet fascination, sometimes reaching out to help untangle yarn with a touch of her magic. She loved seeing your creativity come to life, and she’d often tell you how proud she was of your dedication, even if it was for something as simple as dog sweaters. Wanda appreciated the gentleness of it, the way you brought a piece of yourself into every stitch.

- Wanda developed a unique bond with Mr. Pickles, often using her magic to create small illusions to entertain him. She’d cast little sparkles or floating shapes in the air, watching him try to chase them with his clumsy, happy steps. Seeing his joy was infectious, and she’d laugh with you as you both watched him tumble around in his latest outfit, eyes wide with fascination.

- When you made a tiny, crimson-and-black sweater inspired by her own costume, Wanda was incredibly touched. She looked down at Mr. Pickles, who was proudly (if cluelessly) wearing his new attire, and then up at you with a wide smile. Pulling you close, she whispered, “Thank you. You’re always so thoughtful.” In that moment, she felt so grateful for the warmth and creativity you brought into her life.

- During quiet moments, Wanda would sit with you on the couch as you crocheted, watching you with soft eyes and occasionally reaching out to run her fingers through your hair. She loved how peaceful you both felt together, with Mr. Pickles nestled between you, wearing his latest creation. She treasured these moments, feeling the weight of her responsibilities melt away as you all relaxed as a little family.

- On days when Wanda felt the burden of her powers bearing down on her, she’d find solace in your presence and the little world you’d created with Mr. Pickles. Watching you fuss over the dog or crochet something new gave her a sense of normalcy and peace that her life often lacked. She’d hold Mr. Pickles close, drawing strength from his silly, happy presence, and feel that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright as long as she had you by her side.

Laura Kinney

- Laura was a little skeptical when she first met Mr. Pickles, your small, not-so-bright dog. But his harmless, clueless nature quickly won her over. Watching him stumble around the mansion in one of your crocheted sweaters always managed to bring a rare smile to her face. She might try to act tough, but you knew she secretly found him adorable, especially when he looked up at her with those big, innocent eyes.

- Though she didn’t quite understand your obsession with crocheting new outfits for Mr. Pickles, Laura respected your dedication. Sometimes she’d sit nearby as you worked, quietly observing the way your fingers moved with such focus. She wouldn’t say much, but you could feel her silent appreciation for the love and effort you put into each creation.

- Over time, Laura grew attached to Mr. Pickles, even if she tried to hide it. She would carry him around when no one was looking, giving him little pats and murmuring soft words to him, though she’d deny it if anyone asked. Seeing her gentle side emerge around him made you love her even more, knowing that Mr. Pickles brought out a softer, more vulnerable side of her.

- You made a tiny black leather jacket for Mr. Pickles as a tribute to Laura, and her reaction was priceless. She tried to look unamused, raising an eyebrow and muttering, “Really?” But you caught the slight smirk tugging at her lips as she took in the sight of the dog prancing around in his little “X-23” outfit. She even let you take a picture of the two of them together, though she claimed it was “just for you.”

- Laura was fiercely protective of both you and Mr. Pickles. Whenever the dog got himself into trouble, she’d scoop him up, muttering about how he “wouldn’t last a second without us.” Her bond with Mr. Pickles became something you both cherished, a symbol of her softer side. And watching her take care of him, guiding him with a firm but gentle hand, always warmed your heart.

- Despite her tough exterior, Laura found a sense of peace in the little family you’d created with Mr. Pickles. She’d sometimes watch you as you crocheted, content to just be by your side in those quiet moments. Having Mr. Pickles around brought her a sense of calm and belonging, reminding her that she didn’t always have to fight—she could also be part of something soft, something warm, something that felt like home.

209 notes · View notes

bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months ago

Text

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter III

It's late, and the last thing I expect to find at my nightly workout is my little bro, dressed up like a personal trainer. He looks ridiculous in that cheesy uniform, not to mention the light pouring out of his skull and the smile stamped into his face! I guess the little idiot signed up for Moonlight™: that was one helluva mistake!

"Good evening, sir," my brother speaks as if we hadn't grown up together, "Is there any way I can aid your fitness journey tonight?"

Hearing Ryan call me 'sir' brings a devious grin to my own face. I've bullied this kid for years, and now he's kissing my ass like well-trained puppy. Thanks to Moonlight™, my annoying little bro is just a mind controlled employee who doesn't realize his brother's here, let alone embarrassing him! I wish I could get my entire family implanted with these little Moonlight™ things. Messing with them would be hilarious!

"Oh yeah," I sneer, "And what's string bean gonna do for a guy like me?"

"Well, sir, as a personal trainer here at Planet Fitness, I'll gladly demonstrate how to use the machines, spot patrons with heavy-lifting, and return equipment when finished."

God, he sounds even more annoying than usual! "You really think a someone like you could spot me?" I scoff and bring my bicep to his face, flexing it inches away from his perpetually open eyes.

"Actually, sir, this body can lift 260 lbs on the bench press without injury. The load you have is well-enough below to ensure that I may be of service. Still sir, the weight you're lifting is a very respectable amount," Ryan's smile beamed at me, but mine fell.

"Whatever, I'll be fine," I retort, "Just stand over there and mop up my sweat when I'm done."

"Yes, sir."

My little brother takes a step back as I get ready to lift. As stupid as he looks, standing there waiting on me to finish, he also looks pretty fit. His company polo might be sweaty and gross, but it's tight against his improving physique. He's clearly been lifting a lot while he's been working here, but his gains should not count if Moonlight™ is the one actually working out that pathetic little body! The only way he could bulk up was by becoming a fucking puppet! Talk about sad!

"Fuck!" I grunt, tossing the barbell back as I finish. I did a few extra sets to prove a point and now my arms are on fire. "Towel!" I snap.

"Yes, sir," Ryan rushes over and wipes the sweat off my brow. I just laugh in his face.

"I think I got some sweat on my sneakers too," I jab, "You can wipe them off and then put twenty more pounds on the bar."

"Of course, sir."

My brother gets on his knees with the towel, giving my sneakers a cursory buff. I don't know what personal trainer has shoe-shining in his job description, but I've heard these Moonlight™ employees can be pretty pliant. Apparently, you can make them do quite a bit with the loopholes in their programming. Maybe I can get Ryan here to do something even more embarrassing than polishing his big bro's shoes!

The next week, I worked out every night.

Turns out, bullying my little bro was great motivation to go to the gym! When I saw him during the day, I never mentioned the fact that I knew; didn't want to scare him off. At night, I had every opportunity to take out my frustrations on him. If he pissed me off during the day, I could boss him around at the gym, ordering him to follow me around and wipe down every piece of equipment. I could call him whatever names I wanted and yell at him as loudly as I pleased; he had to just stand there with the best customer service smile and say "yes, sir."

Playing around with Ryan was fun, but it wasn't until I went out for a drink that I ran into my second brother. I guess he had the same idea to get hired with Moonlight™...

"Can I fix you a drink, sir?" my brother, the middle child, yells over the club's EDM.

"What the hell?" I shout, "Ryan's dumb enough to Moonlight™, but I didn't think you were!"

Sam just stares back with the same flashlight eyes and widely stretched lips. Of course his programming won't let him do anything outside of bartending! He's probably not even conscious in there! Ryan was always a bit of an impulsive twerp, so I wasn't surprised to see him Moonlighting™, but Sam is different. He'd said he'd never put his body to work at night. Something about the behavior of Moonlighters™ always rubbed him the wrong way...I guess he changed his mind.

"A round of beers," I tell him, warily gesturing to the back corner, "For me and our crew."

Sam's glowing stare looks over my shoulder and sees our friends, the guys we both hang out with, "Yes, sir. I'll have it right out for you."

I return to our pals, anxious for my brother to follow. Sam is only a year younger than myself, so we run around with the same crowd, yet he didn't recognize any of our buds. Now he's about to serve them like a fucking waiter. My catatonic brother is about to walk into the most humiliating situation of his life. I just get to sit back and watch!

"Sam?" one of them asks a moment later.

"Here are your beers, sir," my brother plucks the bottles off his tray and sets them out for each of his friends, completely oblivious to their stunned reactions, "Is there anything else I can get any of you?"

"Holy crap, dude!" another pal turns to me, "Since when did your brother start Moonlight? He looks like a total idiot!"

Sam doesn't seem to register the insult.

"I don't know man," I laugh, "Tonight, I guess."

"Fetch us some napkins," one guy quips with an amused flick of his hand.

"Right away, sir." Sam answers a little too promptly, and whisks away.

"Right away, sir, Ha!" the guy repeats with a mock salute, "We've gotta mess with him!"

Sam returns, obediently passing out napkins, but I'm finding it harder to meet his gaze while he's grinning so manically. This situation is starting to feel more awkward than hilarious. These guys will never let him live this down!

"Sam, get over here and give this paying customer a sloppy BJ!"

My brother stiffens, and for a second a jolt of fear runs down my spine, terrified that Moonlight™ will actually make him comply. Pranks are all good and fun, but I do not want to see my brother about to blow another dude!

"I apologize, sir," he finally resumes, "That is not part of my responsibilities as bartender."

Thank God.

"Then get something to clean this up," he laughs wildly, "You spilled my beer!" Our friend then pours half his drink on the crotch of his jeans, staring at Sam with the amused eyes of a drunk fool. This guy always gets weird after a few drinks. I don't know why we still bring him along. Normally, we just ignore him.

"Of course, sir," Sam answers attentively.

For the next ten minutes, I sit in silent horror as my brother returns with a rag, proceeding to get on his knees and wipe down another man's crotch with painful dedication. Of course, our friends are all howling with laughter at this point, taking video evidence that they can embarrass Sam with later.

It feels like a lifetime, but Sam finally stands up, "I hope I cleaned that up well enough for you, sir."

The guy feels at his wet jeans, saying, "I don't know if that's good enough, bitch."

"I'm sorry, sir, let me try ag-"

"No! It's my turn," someone else cuts in, pushing his way to the front, "You spilled some on my ass that needs cleaned up!"

The gang loses it, doubling over with laughter as Sam prepares to spend the next ten minutes wiping down another guy's ass, but I've had enough, "No! We're done here, thank you. Go close our tab," I bark.

"Yes, sir," Sam turns on his heel. His dumb obedience is more disturbing than entertaining at this point.

Our friends all give me a hard time for sending him away, but I'm not having it. Maybe I'm not drunk enough, but they're enjoying this a lot more than I am. At this point, I'm ready to call it a night and go home, so I say my goodbyes and head for the exit.

The walk home isn't a far one, but I pass a few notable places on the way: one being my dad's dark office building. Our old man has been working late nights there lately. In the dimly lit lobby, I recognize someone...

"Dad?" I gasp.

"Good evening, sir," my father says to me without any note of familiarity in his voice.

"Wait, you're moonlighting too?" it comes out as more of an accusation, but at this point I'm fed up with finding family members secretly working random mind-controlled night jobs.

"I am a security guard employed through the Moonlight™ corporation," his gravelly voice sounds foreign, delivering these programmed prompts, "If you'd like, sir, I can help you apply for a Moonlight™ position, and you can start making the most of your sleeping hours too!"

"Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea, dad?" I ask, knowing this stupid security guard persona isn't capable of answering.

"He didn't."

The voice of someone else in the room sends shivers down my spine. I whip around, and see a gangly, middle-aged man stepping forward.

"Jeff?"

"Hi, Jamie," my uncle says, sauntering up to his far taller brother and resting an arm on his shoulder. My dad's attentive posture doesn't waver. He just keeps on acting like the perfect sentry for the building and the perfect armrest for his brother.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on!?"

He sniffles and sighs like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Yes, I suppose this charade of mine was doomed to be found out sooner or later. I put your father in the Moonlight™ database. He was just wasting his sleeping hours at home in his bed, and he'd always refuse to let me sign him up, so I did it in secret. He makes a great guard. Right Tom?"

Uncle Jeff claps my dad on the back, prompting him to announce a proud, "Yes, sir!"

"See," my uncle turns back to me, "No harm done. Your old man gets paid to stand around in his sleep. Its harmless!"

"But he doesn't know!" I yell, seething at my uncle's sheer abuse of his place in the company, "This has to be illegal, and are you just pocketing Dad, Ryan, and Sam's salaries?"

He rolls his eyes, "I am right now, but the four of you don't even make that much."

"Did you just say the four of us?" I grunt.

"Oops," he holds a hand to his forehead and curses under his breath.

"AM I FUCKING MOONLIGHTING WHILE I SLEEP TOO?" I am screaming at this point, "You're fucked up!" I bark. Angrily, I stomp towards my uncle, but my father takes a firm step planting himself between me and the man. His steady palm is holding the baton at his belt, making me nervous. Is my dad about to beat me up for this creep?

"Excuse me, sir," my dad smiles at my uncle, "Would you like me to escort this man out of the building?"

"That won't be necessary," my uncle says, "I'll just trigger his Moonlight™ shift to start now. You can go back to standing in the corner"

"Yes, sir," my security guard father answers placidly, returning to his attentive stance.

"You wouldn't," I snarl.

"Oh, trust me, I will. As I understand it, overriding a subject's body while awake means you'll be fully conscious. I'll work on something to make you forget this whole incident later."

He presses a few buttons on an ipad, and suddenly my vision is engulfed in a purple haze. My back straightens, my muscles relax, and I feel my face contorts into a giant smile. Suddenly, my entire body seems to be gone from my grasp, and I'm constrained to a tiny space in my head while something else takes over.

"Enjoy your shift," my uncle snickers with a glare.

"Thank you, sir. I will," I feel my voice pushed out of my throat with an excited tone that isn't mine. Before I know it, my legs are carrying me away from my uncle, leaving him with my father, to march down the dark street...

"Here's your order, sir," my voice has the trademarked Moonlight™ eagerness in it as I reach out the window and hand over the meal.

"Fuck off, sleep-freak!" the teen in the driver's seat flips me off, making his immature friends cackle as they speed off. I can't do anything but smile and watch as they weave away. They have no idea I'm actually conscious in here.

After being forced to leave my uncle, I found myself striding into a fast food restaurant through its backdoor. I could instantly tell the place wasnt anywhere I'd eat at because the dumpster smelled like soggy fries and old meat. The kitchen was a fluorescent-lit pit, with a thick feeling of oil hanging in the air. I could barely take in the surroundings before I was changing out of my clothes by some lockers. I was horrified that Moonlight™ was making me fucking strip, but before long my hands were pulling on new clothes: a uniform. The polo felt like it'd been sitting at the bottom of the locker since the last shift, drying in sweat, and the pants were sticky with something unidentifiable. I was mortified to be pulling on a fucking hairnet and apron, but I had no choice.

"Blondie's here early," a smoker's voice purred from behind me. I had a bad feeling he'd been standing there for a while, watching.

"Hello boss," my voice answers, apparently recognizing the overweight, unshaved creep, "I'm ready to start my shift, sir! Where am I needed today?"

I watched as the man licked his stubbly lips, his beady eyes crawling all over me. Without any shame, his sweaty palm groped the growing bulge in his khakis. He was obviously happy to see me, and he probably thought I couldn't actually see him! I guess, every fucking night that my uncle's made me work in my sleep, I've been under the supervision of THIS pervert!?

"Get to the fryer," his scratchy throat moaned, "You know I want you to get nice and sweaty for later."

"Yes, sir. I'll be sure to work up a sweat for you," I answer, confused and disturbed by my response. The cheer in my voice did not match the overwhelming gloom I felt when the man slapped my ass. His hand lingered on my rear for too long, but I couldn't even frown.

Since then, I've been boiling fries and flipping burgers. Every so often I have to hand an order out the window, but my heart races every time I do. Three orders ago, the customer threw their soda back at my coworker, he's a fairly average guy in his thirties, and he was dowsed in Coca-Cola. It didn't keep Moonlight™'s programming from working: he just kept manning the grill, smiling, eyes glowing, and hair dripping with cherry flavored juice.

"Ouch!" at least, that's what I want to say. The oil sizzles and pops, and a few drops of hot grease splatter onto my arm, but I don’t flinch. The control won’t let me.

Suddenly I feel someone leaning in behind me. My spine shivers as my manager says, "It's closing time, Blondie. I'll send everyone home so you and I can clean up like usual." He whispers it in my ear, with his flabby arms wrapped around me like we're fucking lovers! I wish I could vomit!

"Sounds good, boss," I find myself saying.

One by one, the manager dismisses each of my moonlighting coworkers. I can't help but feel jealous as they strip out of their uniforms by the door. It isn't just that they get to leave; they also have the luxury of not knowing what's going on. They're all asleep. I'd give anything to at least be unaware of whatever this fucking pervert is about to do!

My body is preoccupied with whatever shit needs to be done for closing, wiping down the tables, taking out the trash, and more.

"Mop time," the manager suddenly announces, holding the raggedy thing out expectantly.

"Yes, sir," my voice answers, and I drop what I'm doing to accept the mop. The crotch of his pants is unzipped, but my bodies already turned away from him, turning all my attention to swab the tiles floor.

"You're doing it wrong again, Blondie," he purrs slowly, "I'm gonna have to help you like usual."

"Thank you, sir," my voice sounds grateful, but I am anything but. The pervert presses his rotund body against my back and holds my muscular arms with his own chubby ones. I can feel his penis poking into me below his gut, but my body accepts his touch like he's just a boss helping out an employee.

I guess this asshole found a loophole in Moonlight™'s fucking programming. He's going to touch me all he wants under the guise of demonstrating the right way to mop.

The creep spends the next ten minutes guiding my arms back and forth. "Fuck, you're bubble butt feels even better than usual, Blondie," he breathes in my ear. If I had control of my muscles, he wouldn't stand a chance, but right now, they're putty in my boss's arms. Meanwhile, his waist gets busy dry humping his chode into my rear end. "I'm so glad a jock like you was dumb enough to try Moonlight!" he grunts, his tongue dangerously close to my ear. I can only thank God that he can't take my pants off! After several painful minutes of him spitting more disgusting comments onto my cheek, his arms drop mine and plant themselves on my chest. His hands sloppily grope my pecs and pinch my nipples. I've never felt more pathetic. The man makes one final exclamation, "FUUUCK!" and I can tell he has finally gotten off.

"Thanks for the help, boss," I find myself saying.

With heavy breaths, he staggers back. The sudden open air on my back makes me realize just how hot and sweaty that slob was, and I can feel the slimy remnants of his balls slipping down my back and legs.

"Good job as always, Blondie," he breathes heavily with satisfaction.

"Thank you, sir," I answer. My voice hasn't lost its awful chipper quality, and my face is still stuck in a smile like I hadn't just been taken advantage of.

"Finish mopping up, and then you can lock up and clock out," he winks as if we shared some inside joke. I hate that all he sees is my smile.

"Yes, sir," I answer, but the creep has already waddled out of the building and slammed the door shut.

The sudden silence is unbearable. It makes the monotonous task of mopping the sticky floors all the more unpleasant. What's worse is that I can't pause to wash the manager's cum off my back. It soaks into my pants as I work, trapped in my own body. At least I know why these pants are so sticky. Honestly, I hope Uncle Jeff will wipe my memory...

#gay mind control #humiliated slave #blue collar worker #male mind control #moonlight

191 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request a little somno something with obsessive best friend!Neil? 🩷

OH FUUUUCK YES

warnings: DARK NONCON SMUT 18+ ONLY, alcohol consumption/extreme inebriation, incel/'nice guy' neil

You stumbled in and fell onto his couch the second he opened the door, and he'd just laughed and asked if you wanted to get in his bed instead. He worried it sounded dirtier than he meant it-- not that he would mind at all if you wanted him to get in bed with you-- but you just hummed and mumbled something into his throw pillow about how you were comfy where you were already.

He sighed and sat next to you, putting a blanket over you as you fluttered your eyes shut. "Love you..." you whispered softly, and he smiled a little as his heart skipped.

"I love you too," he breathed, wondering if any of your shitty boyfriends had ever taken care of you this well when you got too drunk. You met most of your boyfriends by getting too drunk, so Neil was glad to have you safe back here at his place where nobody would do anything to you.

But he hadn't gotten up yet. He was still sitting beside you, his hand still resting on your shoulder where he'd placed the top of the blanket.

"You know, you really shouldn't drink so much..." he sighed, petting some hair out of your face as you stilled. It was sort of instinctive-- yet made his heart race-- to run his hand down lower, tickling your back and tracing your spine as he sighed. "Somebody could... get the wrong idea..."

He checked your face again, making sure you were out cold, before gingerly taking the blanket off of you again. Your dress was way, too short, he'd tried to warn you not to wear it, but you insisted on looking hot; you really should've known better, showing off your legs like that... Neil had always been obsessed with your legs, and he bit his lip when he saw how the dress had ridden up to basically just under your ass.

Tossing the blanket away, he hummed as he rubbed his hand up and down your legs, constantly checking your face nervously in case you woke up or stirred. Even if you did, you were too weak to stop him... fuck, why did that make his cock throb?

He started to open his jeans already, even though his heart raced with anxiety and shame at what he was about to do. She's passed out, she won't know the difference anyways, he thought to himself as he climbed up on the couch with you, pulling his cock out of his boxers with a little sigh. He stroked himself with one hand as he gently pushed up your dress with the other, groaning at the sight of your ass hardly covered by the lacy panties. You were obviously trying to get laid tonight, no doubt about it-- so wasn't he just giving you what you wanted?

He had to let go of his erection to tug the thin fabric down with both hands, smirking as the way your ass jiggled a bit, but then nearly gasping as he revealed the cute little pussy underneath. "F-fuck, baby," he praised with a sigh, leaning back to try to get a better view, carefully spreading your lips apart with two fingers so he could see your holes. "Fuck! That's a gorgeous pussy, wow..."

Of course you were perfect everywhere, it was just his luck: the most amazing, sexy, incredible best friend who teased him in the most infuriating ways. You'd do all these things that turned him on, trying to act innocent-- asking for his opinion on outfits, falling asleep on his shoulder during movie nights, laughing at his dumb jokes-- and then you'd turn around and fuck some jerk you met at a bar. When he gathered the nerve to say something flirty to you, you'd always giggle and push him away, saying something dismissively that always broke his heart: like "shut up, Neil, you're my best friend" or, even worse, "ew, stop, you're like my brother."

He fucking hated when you said that; it made him feel like he was cursed to have you so close but never have you, you know? But tonight, he felt like a lifetime of bad luck was paying off in the best karma ever: you were here, and you were his to play with however he wanted.

He spit into his hand and smeared it over himself, sighing as he looked down at you looking so peaceful and sweet under him. "So pretty," he cooed as he nudged your legs apart with his knees and slid inside you, "and fuck, so tight..."

He groaned deeply, watching in awe at the way your hole eagerly accepted him, swallowing up every inch that he gave it until you were stretched and filled to the brim.

"Oh my god," he gasped, taking a moment just to bask in the feeling, "fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last very long. I can already tell."

He held onto the couch tightly as he started to move, but then realized he should take the chance to touch you instead and put a hand on your hip. It helped, actually, because it kept you from rocking forward too much from his thrusts and kept his cock going as deep as possible every time.

He groaned proudly as he moved faster, squeezing your hip and keeping his eyes trained on your sweet face. "That's it," he praised, "take it, baby-- take my fucking cock."

He loved not having to impress you, or please you, or make you come-- he could just treat you like his own personal toy, your pussy basically just a fleshlight for him... if fleshlights were hot and sticky and felt like absolute fucking heaven.

Your walls tightened on him for a moment, and he moaned loudly. "So good," he choked out, shutting his eyes with pleasure briefly. "So good, baby, feels so good on my cock-- fucking perfect."

He gasped as he heard you whimper a little, and opened his eyes to look down at you. You were stirring just a bit, but your eyes were still shut. "N-Neil?" you groaned out groggily, and he should've stopped moving-- but he couldn't, he honestly couldn't. He was already so close and you were so adorable all helpless like this and he just needed to come so bad...

"Shh," he soothed, though it came out a little stuttered as his hips moved faster, slapping against your ass with the most amazing, filthy sound. "Shh, it's okay, just rest..."

"Neil," you said again, making him bear his teeth and flex his cock. He wanted to blurt it out right then and there-- yeah, baby, it's me, that's my cock inside you-- but he managed to stop himself, laying down on top of you instead as he pet your head and gave you rougher, deeper thrusts.

"Don't wake up, baby," he groaned, "I'm right here. It's okay. You can just go back to sleep."

"What... what's going on?" you asked, barely managing to open your eyes for a second... he loved the way you fought it, trying so hard to wake up, but your body was so happy to relent even if your mind resisted. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," he hissed again, "j-just stay still, I'm so close. Fuck, I'm so close-- I'm almost done, please--"

You whimpered, trying to struggle under him, and he moaned louder as it made your walls squeeze him again. "Neil, please..."

"Fuck," he grunted, "say my name again, baby-- I wanna hear you say it when I come inside you."

#dark!neil lewis x reader #dark!neil lewis smut #neil lewis dark fic #WELP.#this.

1K notes · View notes

grapementos · 1 year ago

Text

walk away as the door slams

aged up bakugo x reader

cw: heavily! toxic relationships, emotionally abusive (gaslighting, etc.), angst.

pt 2 here.

bakugo isn't the same person he was in high school. he grew into a top five hero and opened his own agency, only to be brutally torn apart by the tabloids.

scandal after scandal, you watched him crack. like glass, he grew more and more fragile each time he was made out to be a monster, an asshole, a douchebag--whatever other name was thrown out there.

each time, you were there to comfort him and stand by his side against every rumor and generalization. still, it scared you as you watched his resolve weaken. it was as if he didn't see the point in being a hero anymore.

then came the headline, the article that had him hanging up his gauntlets in exchange for civilian life. the article had an incriminating photo of him holding up his hand to a child. of course, it was taken out of context; bakugo had merely been guiding the child away from the rubble of the building near them.

however, the media ate it up, and bakugo decided that being a hero wasn't worth the false allegations. he announced his resignation the same day and rid the entire house of hero news.

it broke your heart to see him give up his dream, so you'd tried and failed time and time again to talk him out of it. you even invited midoriya and kirishima to persuade him to become a hero again, but his mind was made.

he'd since picked up a new, low-brow job that kept him out of the public eye. with that, unfortunately, came stress regarding bills, grocery shopping, and necessary budget cuts. it was a huge adjustment, one that led to frequent arguments.

you worked from home, so you were able to keep it clean and cook meals for the most part. you tried so hard to keep your home a place where the two of you could coexist happily, but he always came home with an unfulfilled look in his eyes.

truth be told, you were exhausted, but bringing it up just made bakugo frustrated, so you avoided the subject. instead, you'd ask him about work, only to be brushed off.

it hurt.

"katsuki," you called from your spot at the table, finishing up some work, "what do you want to eat tonight?"

"dunno." he grunted, walking out of your shared bedroom.

"right. so helpful." you sighed, looking at your laptop once more, "do you have a general idea? or do you want to cook?"

"i just got home from an 8-hour shift." he looked at you like you were dumb, eyes narrowed, "can you lay off with the million questions?"

"it's a simple question. i need to know if i have to defrost anything." you shut your laptop a little harder than necessary, "i work too, you know."

he laughed bitterly but didn't say anything.

"what?" you demanded, hands on your hips.

"oh, nothing. just thought it was funny, is all."

"what's so damn funny?"

"you, sitting on a laptop all day. 'working'," he used air-quotes, opening the cupboards.

"really? you wanna go there?" you closed the cupboard he was looking in, cheeks flushed with frustration.

he stared at you, jaw clenched, "can you move?"

"can you stop being so damn mean?"

"god, i'm not being mean." he shook his head and opted for digging through the fridge instead, "y'just being too damn sensitive."

you took in a deep breath, red hot anger beginning to boil up in your gut and through your hands all the way down to your fingers.

"stop digging through the fridge when i'm trying to talk to you, please."

he didn't even spare you a glance, pulling out the last cold water bottle.

"katuski." you demanded, louder.

"my god, what?" he slammed the fridge closed, leaning back on the counter, "as if i don't get nagged enough by my boss."

"i'm not nagging you. i'm," you stammered, trying not to escalate the situation into an argument, "i'm trying to see what you want for dinner. that's all."

"just make whatever. i'm not hungry anyways." he tossed the plastic bottle into the trash, plopping down at the table.

you rubbed your temples, trying so hard to maintain your calm, "okay."

the two of you were sat across each other at the kitchen table. you ate something quick you'd whipped up, finally breaking the silence, "they're considering me for a promotion. it's a pretty significant payraise, and i think i--"

"god, are you fuckin' kidding me?" he interrupted, eyes suddenly aflame.

"what?" you cocked your head, confused at his sudden irritation.

"you just love rubbing that shit in my face, huh? you're always talking about how you get paid more than i do, how work is so great, and now this? great job, breadwinner."

"katsuki, we're partners, we both contribute to this household no matter what. i'm not the... breadwinner." you insisted, pain blooming in your chest, "i thought you'd be happy for me."

"like you were so happy for me to quit that hero gig? so you can get all the glory of supporting us?"

"is that really what you think?" you stood, not able to control the flames of anger licking at your chest, "katsuki, you know damn well i gave my all trying to talk you into staying a hero."

"bullshit. you just wanted it to look that way." he stood too, hands planted firmly on the table, "because that's what you do. you pretend you care, and then just soak up all the glory for it."

you clenched your jaw, "not everyone cares for glory as much as you do. i don't know why you think that, but i know you loved being a hero, and i supported that because i love you."

"do you? or did you only get with me to be the partner of a hero?" he spat, eyes narrow and downright venomous, "poor partner of dynamight, they must go through so much to endure his anger issues. poor fuckin' you, right? poor y/n."

your lower lip quivered, the back of your eyes burning, and he laughed. he laughed.

"what? you're gonna cry, really?" he scoffed, shaking his head, "fine, fuckin' cry. that's all you seem to know how to do."

you inhaled sharply through your nose, eyes trained steadily on him, "fuck you." you whispered, hands balled into fists by your side.

"say it louder." he challenged, "maybe it'll actually do something."

"fuck you, bakugo katsuki." tears fell freely down your cheeks, but you weren't sad. you were pissed.

you walked around the table and jabbed your finger in his chest, "i have done so much for you. so goddamn much. i have stood by you, i have disproved every bad thing the media had to say, i've supported you, and-" your voice wobbled, "it's never fucking enough. nothing is ever enough for you. someone is always after you, someone is always praying on your downfall, because everything's about katsuki, right?"

he was stunned silent, leaning back away from you. his face was conflicted, eyes wide with surprise.

"well news-fucking-flash, the world doesn't revolve around you. and neither do i," you dropped your hand, wiping at your cheeks, "so i'm done. i'm done fighting for us, because you have never once tried for me."

"y/n--"

"y'know, katsuki." you paused on your way to the bedroom, "i think they were right about you. you are a douchebag. an asshole. a monster."

2K notes · View notes

steveseddie · 8 months ago

Text

shootin’ hoops

steddie | rated: t | cw: none | 4,6k | tags: eddie munson lives, but his clumsy ass gets hurt, worried steve, minor injuries, sharing clothes, first kiss

for my stficbingo prompt: “‘m just tired.”

click here to read on ao3

***

Eddie has always known basketball is evil.

Over the years, he’s been smacked in the back of the head by plenty of basketballs, or smacked elsewhere by the dumb jocks that play the game. Only a few weeks ago, he was being chased by Jason Carver and his band of basketball-playing goons.

So, basketball. Evil.

Eddie knew this, and somehow, he still agreed to “shoot hoops” with Steve Harrington.

Him! Eddie Munson! Agreeing to play the stupid game where you toss balls into laundry baskets! All because of his stupid crush on a boy.

If any of his friends could see him now, they would kick him out of the band and dethrone him as their Hellfire leader.

Well, no. First, they would laugh at Eddie- currently starfished on the Harringtons’ basketball court having knocking himself out after the ball he threw missed the hoop completely, slammed against the board and bounced back straight into Eddie’s face.

Then and only then, after laughing themselves into a coughing fit at Eddie’s expense, would they kick him out and dethrone him. Can’t have your fearless leader succumbing to forced conformity or whatever.

Luckily for Eddie, there’s no one here to witness how the mighty have fallen.

Well. No one but Steve, the guy he’s pretty sure he’s in love with which is fucking great.

When he agreed to play, after Steve pleaded, pouted and hit Eddie with those deadly puppy eyes, he told himself it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d get to ogle Steve in his tiny little shorts, trick Steve into putting his hands on him to show him the right way to throw a ball and maybe even score a goal and shit and get a proud grin from Steve, maybe even a high five or a hug.

But all Eddie has managed so far is to sweat through his clothes (Steve’s clothes actually- a pair of basketball shorts and an old Hawkins High swim meet shirt because the long sleeve and the ripped jeans Eddie showed up in weren’t basketball appropriate) and embarrass himself by getting hit square in the face by an evil basketball, probably giving himself a concussion in the process.

Because- fucking ouch! His head is pounding right now.

Through the ringing in his ears, he hears Steve’s sneakers squeak against the court as he jogs towards him. “Eddie, Jesus Christ!” He gasps, dropping to his knees next to him. “Fuck, man, are you okay?”

Eddie groans when he hears the concern in Steve’s voice. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Eddie knows he’s flushing bright red and it’s not because of the midday sun beating down on them.

“Eddie, come on. Talk to me, man,” Steve urges, slightly shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Just leave me here to die,” Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes tightly shut, partly because moving his face hurts, but also because he doesn’t want to look at Steve right now.

Steve huffs, shaking Eddie’s shoulder a little more insistently. “Nope, no way. I didn’t drag your ass back from the Upside Down to let you die here. Sit up, come on.”

He tugs on Eddie’s arm, leaving him no choice but to sit up. Eddie hugs his knees against his chest, still not opening his eyes. He feels one of Steve’s hands settle on his back, holding him up in that position.

“Good, that’s good,” Steve encourages, rubbing his hand up and down Eddie’s back. Because of that touch, Eddie can feel the flush spreading all the way up to his ears. He squeezes his eyes even tighter, even if it makes his face hurt, but Steve isn’t having it. “Now open your eyes for me.”

Eddie shakes his head, which is a terrible idea because it sends flashes of pain through his head, all the way down to his neck.

“Come on, Eds, let me look at you,” Steve purrs in a sweet voice that settles deep in Eddie’s lower stomach. Then Steve’s other hand cups his cheek, gently turning his face towards him. “Please,” he says, stroking his thumb over Eddie’s cheek.

And if there’s one thing that today proved is that Eddie can’t say no to a pleading Steve. It’s what got him in this mess in the first place.

So his eyes flutter open. He has to blink a few times to get rid of the blurriness at the edges of his vision but even then it’s hard to miss Steve’s big, worried eyes when they’re right in front of him.

“There he is,” Steve exhales softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a relieved half-smile. “Hi.”

“H-hey,” Eddie stammers out. His cheeks burn even brighter when he realizes how close their faces are. Steve’s hand rubbing Eddie’s back soothingly while the other one is still cupping his jaw certainly don’t help.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie scoffs. “Oh, I’m great! Just wishing the Upside Down would open up and swallow me whole so I can like, die of embarrassment there,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Steve makes an exasperated noise, either because he didn’t get a real answer to his question or because it’s too soon for Eddie to be joking about dying in the Upside Down. Eddie sighs, waving a hand through the air dismissively. “I’m fine, man, just hurt.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“My dignity.”

This time the joke does land and it makes Steve snicker. “Since when do you have any?”

“Ouch. Kicking a man while he’s down, Harrington? Shame on you,” Eddie says with a laugh, which is quickly followed by a wince. “Shit, okay, maybe my dignity isn’t the only thing hurting. My whole head is fucking pounding, I think I hit it against the ground after the ball knocked me down.”

Steve’s face pulls into a frown and the hand that was on Eddie’s back moves to the back of his head. “You’re not bleeding, thank God, but you could still have a concussion.”

“Of fucking course,” Eddie mutters, resting his head on his knees.

“We can get you something cold or I can drive you to the ER if you’d rather get checked out.”

Eddie starts to shake his head and gets dizzy so he aborts the movement, raising his hand to wave Steve off instead. “No, no ER. Some frozen peas will do the trick, good sir.”

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Okay, but if you start talking nonsense, I’m taking you there. I don’t care if you don’t want me to or not.”

Eddie gives him a lazy smirk. “How will you know I’m talking nonsense because of the concussion and not because I’m, you know, me.”

“I know your kind of nonsense, Munson,” he says with a snort. The words sound almost fond to Eddie’s ears. “Now, let’s get you inside. I’m gonna help you up. Slowly, okay? You might feel dizzy or even like you’re going to throw up so- careful.”

Eddie squints at Steve. “You sure know a shitload about concussions, Harrington.”

Steve makes a face. “That’s because I’ve had like, three. And surprisingly enough only one of them was Upside Down related.”

“Damn, dude.”

“Yeah, but at least you know I’ll take good care of you.” Steve shrugs. “Okay, come on.”

He stands up in one swift movement and offers both of his hands to Eddie, who grabs them and lets himself be pulled to his feet. As soon as he stands, his vision goes black and he sways forward. He would’ve face-planted if Steve didn’t catch him by his elbows.

“Woah, I got you,” he tells him, breath ghosting over Eddie’s face.

“Just need a minute,” Eddie mumbles, squeezing his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

“Take your time,” Steve says, rubbing his thumbs over Eddie’s forearms, which only makes him feel more dizzy.

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s face is right there again and he gets lost in his hazel eyes for a few more seconds before he feels ready to move. “Okay, I’m good.”

Steve nods, letting go of his arms but staying close to Eddie as he starts walking towards the house, just in case. They walk past the evil basketball and Eddie glares at it. He thinks about kicking it, just to give it a taste of its own medicine, but knowing his luck, the ball would probably bounce against the wall and hit Eddie again, so he just ignores it.

In the kitchen, Steve heads for the freezer while Eddie flops down on a chair and folds his arms over the table, letting his head rest over them.

He jumps when he suddenly feels something cold press against the back of his head. “Motherfucker!” When he looks up, Steve is giving him a sheepish smile and holding a bag of frozen peas in his hand. “Dick,” Eddie says, snatching the peas from his hand and pressing them against the back of his head. He still flinches, but at least he’s prepared this time.

“Is that better?”

Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. The cold helps with the throbbing, but his head still feels like it was put through the wringer.

“Do you think you’ll be okay if I take a quick shower?” Steve asks. Eddie glances at him, who’s eyeing him back warily and biting his lip, probably worried about leaving him unsupervised.

“I think I’ll live, man,” Eddie says with a snort.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” He stands up to leave but hesitates. “Call if you need anything.”

Eddie can’t help it, he smirks up at him. “You’re gonna come to my rescue dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel? I might call you just to see that.”

Steve’s cheeks flare the brightest Eddie’s ever seen. “Never mind, you can die,” he says with no heat at all before turning around and leaving Eddie alone in the kitchen.

This time when Eddie laughs it doesn’t make his head hurt nearly as much, which means that the frozen peas might be helping. He presses the bag against his face next, trying to dull the throbbing there as well. He sits there at the kitchen table, moving the frozen peas back and forth from his face to the back of his head until he starts getting tired and his eyelids start feeling a little heavy.

He drops his head on his arms again and instantly starts to doze off. Eddie knows he shouldn’t, not if he has a concussion, but he’s tired, and taking a nap right now sounds so good-

But just as he’s about to, Steve’s voice drags him away from the brink of sleep. “Eddie, hey, Eds.”

Eddie burrows further into his arms, trying to ignore Steve who shakes his shoulder a little frantically. “Eddie?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie mutters, twisting his head to the side, towards Steve, but keeping his eyes closed. “‘m just tired. Want to take a nap.”

“Uh, yeah, no. No sleeping while concussed,” Steve says in that bitchy tone of his. “Eds, come on.” When Eddie doesn’t respond, Steve nearly growls. “Eddie Munson, I will drag your ass to the ER if you don’t open your eyes right now.”

“Fuck, you’re bossy,” Eddie huffs, but he opens his eyes, giving Steve a look that’s supposed to say happy?

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, sorry for not wanting you to die on me again.”

It’s probably not Steve’s intention, but Eddie immediately feels bad. He might not remember a lot of what happened after the hell bats attacked him, but he knows that at some point his heart stopped beating from all the blood he lost and Steve had to perform CPR on him to bring him back. And unlike Eddie, he probably remembers everything about it. It’s not fair that Eddie is making him relive that kind of worry right now.

So he forces his head up, blinking his eyes a few times so they adjust and apologizes. “Sorry.”

Steve’s face softens almost immediately and he waves Eddie off with a shake of his head. Droplets of water hit Eddie’s face and he notices that Steve’s hair is wet, water steadily dripping to the floor from the few strands that hang over his eyes. Eddie has seen Steve after a shower before but he always dries and styles his hair before coming out of the bathroom which means he skipped his hair routine today, probably so he wouldn’t have to leave Eddie alone longer than necessary.

“How’s the head?” Steve asks, brushing his hair back with a hand.

“Hurts but the peas are helping. Or they were. I don’t know where they are now.” Eddie frowns when he realizes he can no longer feel them against the back of his head, they must have fallen to the floor when he started to doze off. Oh well. “How was the shower?”

Steve snorts. “Quick,” he says. “Do you wanna take one?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “I want to but there’s a big chance that I will fall in the shower and crack my head open if I do.”

He almost wants to risk it just to get rid of some of the sweat, but then he thinks about falling in the shower and Steve barging in to help him while he’s naked on the floor and quickly changes his mind. There’s only so much embarrassment he can take in a day.

Steve nods in understanding. “Maybe later then.” He jerks his head toward the door that leads to the living room. “Do you want to move to the couch? Just because you can’t take a nap doesn’t mean you can’t be comfortable.”

“Sure, man.”

When Steve stands up, Eddie’s eyes end up at the same level as his shirt. Which, thanks to the familiar Black Sabbath logo, Eddie realizes is actually his.

“Is that my shirt?” Eddie asks even if he knows the answer. Steve would never own a Black Sabbath shirt, not to mention Eddie remembers turning his room upside down looking for his the other day only to give up when he couldn’t find it- because it was at Steve’s house apparently.

Steve looks down at himself and his eyes widen like he’s only realizing now that he’s wearing it.

“Oh, um, yeah, you left it here the other day. I washed it and left it in my closet to like, give it back to you, but I guess I accidentally grabbed it just now,” Steve explains, running his hand through his hair a few times.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, big eyes staring up at Steve in his goddamned shirt.

“Do you- do you want it back?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, man. It looks better on you.” And it’s true- Steve looks good in Eddie’s clothes. “Besides, it’s only fair,” he adds, gesturing down at himself, still wearing Steve’s swim meet shirt and old basketball shorts.

Steve chuckles, ducking his head and saying a little shyly, “Well, those look good on you too.”

Eddie twirls some hair around his finger and tugs it in front of his face to hide his blush. He’s ridiculously bad at accepting compliments, especially when they come from Steve.“

“Okay,” Steve says, remembering why he stood up in the first place. “Come on, to the couch.”

Standing up doesn’t make Eddie as dizzy this time and he manages to stay on his feet without Steve’s help. Slowly, he drags his feet to the living room and then flops down on the couch, tilting sideways until his head comes in contact with the cushions.

“No sleeping,” Steve grumbles when he sees Eddie’s eyes start to slip shut.

“I’m not!” Eddie says, his eyes flying open and finding Steve raising an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I am, but you gotta help me stay awake, man. Put on a movie or something.”

With a frown, Steve says, “I don’t think you should be staring at screens or any bright lights right now.” Then he perks up. “Wait, I have an idea!”

And then, without explaining any further, he leaves.

In his absence, Eddie sighs and burrows his head deeper into the cushions, but before he can even think of taking a nap, Steve comes back.

“I think I might be having like a concussion-induced hallucination because there’s no way that you, Steve Harrington, actually own a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring,” Eddie says when he sees the worn paperback that Steve is holding in his hand.

Steve glances down at it. “It’s actually Dustin’s, man. Kid gave it to me forever ago, but I never read it. It’s not really my thing, but it’s yours.”

“It most definitely is, Stevie boy,” Eddie says, “but I don’t think reading will help my head any more than staring into a screen.”

“You won’t be reading, Eds. I’ll read to you,” Steve says with a shrug. “Now, lift your head.”

Eddie pushes himself from his lying down position so Steve can sit next to him, but before he can sit upright, Steve tsks and pushes his head back down so it’s resting on his lap, the right side of his face coming in contact with the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants.

Eddie is too stunned to protest or move, but he does subtly pinch himself, a little suspicious that he might’ve slipped into some kind of concussion dream.

With one of his hands, Steve holds the book open and the other finds its way to Eddie’s hair. He’d tied it up in a bun when they started playing, but it’s mostly undone by now. Steve carefully tugs on his hair tie, freeing the rest, so he can run his fingers through the curls.

It sends shivers down Eddie’s spine, makes him feel like he’s going to melt through the couch and into a puddle on the floor. He can’t stop the whiny noise that slips through his lips.

Steve’s hand freezes. “Did I hurt you?

Embarrassed, Eddie just shakes his head no.

“So this is okay?” Steve asks, scratching his scalp. Eddie just nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth some other embarrassing noise will slip out.

Eddie can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Good.”

After that, Steve clears his throat and starts reading.

Eddie quickly realizes that Steve didn’t think his plan through- he heavily underestimated how soothing his voice is, how comfortable his thigh is and how good his hand feels in Eddie’s hair.

Within minutes, Eddie feels himself starting to doze off again, but before he can, Steve jostles his thigh, the movement waking Eddie up.

“Hey, talk to me so I know you didn’t die.”

Eddie groans, pinching Steve’s leg. “I hate you.”

Steve chuckles softly. “That’ll do.”

After that Eddie starts to focus on the words that Steve is reading and it makes it a little easier to stay awake, mostly because he can’t help but correct Steve when he starts butchering the names of the characters and locations in ways that Eddie can’t begin to comprehend. It’s not until a snigger slips past Steve’s lips when Eddie tells him that it’s “Bilbo, Steve! Not Bobbin!” that Eddie realizes he must be doing it on purpose so that Eddie will talk to him.

After a while, Eddie stops feeling sleepy and his head stops hurting as much so, instead of just correcting Steve’s pronunciation, he offers commentary about the book here and there and quotes the book as Steve reads it, which earns him a fond nerd and a playful tug on his hair.

After a few chapters, Steve complains about his voice getting tired, but Eddie isn’t having it, he wants to listen to Steve read some more.

“You owe me, man,” Eddie says.

Steve snorts. “Me? I’m nursing you back to health, why do I owe you?”

“Because you made me play with you!”

Eddie can hear Steve’s eye roll. “I didn’t, you could’ve easily said no, Eddie.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort because the idea of him saying no to Steve is completely ridiculous. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he blurts out, “Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on.”

Silence falls over them. Steve drops the book on the couch. His other hand freezes in Eddie’s hair.

“What?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie realizes what he just said and his whole body goes rigid. Oh shit, oh fuck.

“Nothing,” he says meekly.

“No, you said-”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did, Eddie,” Steve says, annoyed. Annoyed at him. Eddie bites down on a whimper- this is his worst nightmare, the thing that stopped him in his tracks every time he so much as considered telling Steve how he felt. Suddenly, he can’t keep his head on Steve’s thigh, he can’t bear to have his fingers in his hair. Eddie sits up abruptly, his vision swims, he feels sick.

“I, I have a concussion, I don’t know what I’m saying,” Eddie mutters, sitting on the far end of the couch, away from Steve.

“Eddie-”

“Steve, please just- Ignore it, please,” Eddie pleads, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands coming up to cover his face.

“I can’t ignore it-”

Of course he can’t. Your friend having a crush on you isn’t something you can just ignore. God, Eddie really fucked up.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his palms against his eyes until they hurt.

The couch dips as Steve moves- is he leaving? Eddie’s heart falls as he wonders, but a moment later, Steve is sitting right next to him, their thighs touching and their arms brushing.

“Eddie, I don’t want to ignore it,” Steve says, and his voice is unbearably soft. He doesn’t sound annoyed anymore, maybe he wasn’t annoyed at all, maybe there’s some truth to what people say about Eddie being dramatic.

“Why?” Eddie asks warily, but God help him, also slightly hopeful.

Steve scoots even closer, bumping their shoulders together. “The guy I’ve liked for weeks just said he has a crush on me, why would I want to ignore that?”

The words have Eddie whipping his head back to stare at Steve so fast that he goes dizzy. His face pulls into a grimace. “Shit.”

“You okay?”

Eddie waves him off. “Did you just say you like me? Because if you didn’t, maybe I do need to go to the ER because I’m hearing things,” he says, his wide eyes blinking at Steve.

He gives Eddie a sweet smile. “I did say that. I do like you.”

His eyes go even wider. “Holy shit.”

“Do you like me?” Steve asks, a little shy. “Or was that just the concussion talking?”

A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “No, nope, definitely me. Maybe the concussion made me say it, and for a moment there I thought I fucked up, but I meant it, Steve, I like you so much that I ignored everything I stand for to fucking shoot hoops with you. I don’t even care that I got a concussion because of it!”

Instead of smiling like Eddie expects him to, Steve seems troubled. Eddie wonders if maybe he said too much. “What?”

“I know I probably shouldn’t kiss you while you have a concussion,” Steve says, biting his bottom lip and having the nerve to glance at Eddie’s mouth. “But I really want to.”

Eddie’s stomach flip flops and he needs a few seconds to remember how to form words because Steve wants to kiss him! “Ever heard of the expression kiss it better?” He asks, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it applies here,” he says, but Eddie can’t help but notice how he’s started leaning in.

“We can still try,” Eddie says, leaning in too, knowing that Steve is about to break. He thinks back on the puppy dog eyes and the pouty lips he gave Eddie when he asked him to play basketball with him and decides to give it a try, batting his eyelashes at Steve and sticking his bottom lip out. “I really want you to kiss me, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his breath leaves him in a whoosh, Eddie can feel it against his face. “Fuck, you were right.”

“About?”

“Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on,” Steve says, echoing Eddie’s words.

Eddie starts to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat when Steve cups his cheeks and closes the distance between them, pressing their mouths together. Eddie whines instead, low in his throat, his arms wrapping around Steve’s shoulders and sinking them both back onto the couch. They’re touching in so many places, but Eddie wants more, so he opens his mouth and hopes that Steve takes the invitation.

And he does- licking the roof of Eddie’s mouth, and angling his head to kiss him deeper. And it’s so good, it’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt, and for a moment, he actually worries that he knocked himself out on the court earlier and this is just some elaborate coma dream.

But Steve feels so real- his lips against his, his shoulders under Eddie’s hands, the sinful noises that he keeps making.

Eddie swings his leg over Steve’s lap, straddling him and breaking the kiss for the first time so that he can grin down at him.

“I think we found another way to make sure I don’t fall asleep,” he says, eyes roaming over Steve- his red bitten lips stretched into a dopey grin, his hooded eyes that keep darting to Eddie’s mouth, the rise and fall of his chest, the exposed collarbone thanks to how worn the collar of Eddie’s shirt is, the mole-covered skin there that’s just begging to be kissed, bitten, marked up.

“I changed my mind,” Eddie says, picturing what a love bite on Steve’s chest would look like and wanting to get on with it.

Steve’s hands freeze where they came to rest on Eddie’s thighs, his pinkie brushing against the bare skin after his shorts rode up.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? Are you dizzy?” He asks, earnest eyes darting over Eddie’s face, looking for any sign that he’s in pain.

“Not about this,” Eddie says with a little shake of his head that makes his bangs fall over his eyes. He tugs the collar of Steve’s shirt down- his shirt. “I changed my mind about wanting my shirt back.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, his lips tugging up in a smirk. “Well,” he says, voice dropping low, his fingers teasing the hem of the shorts that Eddie is wearing. “As long as you give me my clothes back too.”

Eddie’s heart stutters, warmth pooling low in his stomach. “It’s only fair.” Then he remembers something else. “You know, I could use that shower that I passed on earlier.”

Steve raises his eyebrow.

“But I still feel a little dizzy,” Eddie says, putting the back of his hand against his forehead like a fainting maid, waggling his eyebrows at the same time. “Think you can give me a hand?”

Steve grins. “Yeah, I can do that.”

They both try to stand up at the same time, and Steve almost sends Eddie toppling to the floor but luckily manages to catch him before Eddie ends up with another concussion.

After that, they make their way upstairs, to Steve’s bathroom, kissing and touching and leaving a trail of clothes behind them.

Right before Steve closes the bathroom door, Eddie’s eyes catch the basketball shorts Steve just took off of him, discarded on the hallway floor and he thinks-

Maybe basketball isn’t so evil after all.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #there's been so much basketball talk in the 911 fandom that i couldn't stop thinking about steve convincing eddie to play with him #only for it to go wrong lmao hope you like it!#steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes #stficbingo

347 notes · View notes

arminsumi · 1 year ago

Note

Heyy iam a big fan and omg- i really love ur workkkkkkk and everything 😭😭😭😭 i wan wondering if u can make

Husband gojo x fem reader after care

Like taking bath tougher helping u to dress up and moree plzz plzz😭😭🌸

And tysmmmmmmm

AFTERCARE

GOJO さとる

Note : ah thank you!! 💗😣 i love this request, aftercare is so nice to write i rlly should consider adding more aftercare scenes to my smut. thank u!!

Warnings : 🔞 mdni/18+, aftercare

He lovingly feels up and massages your sweaty body with his pale, veiny hands, going back and forth on your thighs and applying more pressure when you groan in relief at certain points.

"Where are my panties?" you ask.

"I have no idea." he chuckles.

Satoru lets you catch your breath while he searches the bed for your panties. He starts giggling and so do you — for some reason your panties always vanish; they go from dangling on your ankle to being haphazardly tossed off by your man (maybe landing on the lampshade) or being buried under the covers.

"Found them." Satoru giggles harder, "They were under the pillow this time."

When you stand, you feel a burn in your thigh muscles and complain loudly "My legs!"

Satoru makes a guilty smile. "Don't look at me, I have nothing to do with it."

He acts like he's not responsible for making your legs wobbly even though he's the one who's been manhandling you into positions on his cock for the past hour.

Satoru runs a bubble bath and gets a little crazed when he sees you getting in. He unashamedly checks out your ass and makes a low whistle.

He has to help you lower yourself into the tub, because you're feeling unsteady and sore after taking him.

"Careful, don't slip." it's these little, under-the-breath comments that show how gentle Satoru is as a lover.

He's always thinking of your comfort after sex, and during it, with his asks of "Is it too much?" or "Should I go slower?" or "Are you tired, wanna stop?"

Aftercare with Satoru feels sacred. He lovingly cares for your body like it's a divine creature gifted to him from heaven. He gives you these cascading caresses down your arms to soothe them, because he knows they must be sore after he pulled them behind your back while taking you from behind earlier.

He starts giving you a massage while in the bath without you needing to ask — he knows you need it, and he wants to do it.

He's smirking against the back of your ear "Ooh, found ya weak spot." when you moan at the influence of his hands.

"I remember before we were engaged, you were embarrassed about showing me your soft cock—" you tease.

"—I WAS NOT!"

"Haha! Yes you were. You always pulled out super quickly and wrapped the sheets around your waist as if you would just die of embarrassment if I saw it soft."

He washes your hair and happily puts up with your teasing in the bathtub about the days when you two were just dating.

"You were such an idiot in love." you say.

"What do you mean? I'm still an idiot in love." he beams, sneaking a cheek kiss from behind. "I'm always dumb for you."

You nod, "Mhm. A dumb husband."

"Excuse me, "a" husband? YOUR husband, you mean."

You sigh at him. "I'm getting out the bath."

He wraps his arms around your chest tightly, one hand possessively cupping your breast. You feel his wet torso pressing against your back, firm and wet and soap-sudsy.

"Nooo, stay. There's still bubbles." he says.

"It's getting cold in here, you idiot!"

"But the bubbles!!"

He insists that you hold onto his bicep while stepping out the bath. He doesn't want you to slip. (He also just loves the feeling of your small hands grabbing his bicep and wishes you'd do it more often.)

"What else is your big, handsome, muscular husband for?"

"Shut up before I turn you into a big, handsome, muscular ex-husband."

He grins at you and wraps a towel around your body.

"No, you shut up before I take you back to bed for round two." he threatens playfully.

"You wouldn't..."

Satoru picks you up and takes you back to the bed.

But no, he hears your complaints about being sore and tired and quickly tucks you into the soft bed.

"Satoru, I'm tired."

"Yes I know, buttercup. You stay right here 'n I'll get you a water."

So he does. You take tiny sips that he thinks are adorable. He stares at your throat as you swallow a big gulp, and the sound makes him wiggle his brow. You smack him.

"Damn, you're a thirsty slut." he jokes when you finish the whole glass of water.

You smack him again. He wraps his arms around you and you smile softly. You're in that daze, you feel like you're drifting.

Shielding you with his body, happily feeling like he's your protector, he waits for you to fall asleep first and then he lets himself fall asleep, too.

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

959 notes · View notes

bunnys-kisses · 5 months ago

Note

Hi, may I have a beery trifle with champagne, delivered by Phillip Graves please? Thanks!

the bakery menu!

the bakery is still open with lots of delicious treats still available on the menu!

berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + champagne (sugar daddy situation) and your server today will be phillip graves (call of duty!)

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, punishments (spanking) & rules, implied age gap, brat taming, naked woman/clothed man, couch sex, power dynamic

graves liked pretty things. he liked them young, dumb and full of cum. to toss some bills at their pretty faces and be on his way to the next pretty things.

but he liked you, he liked you a lot. normally he got tired of his toys and went in search of another one, but you stayed. you had even moved some of your things into his nice house in houston. mascara on the counter, body cream on the nightstand, you even had some of your favourite snacks in the cupboard.

you were almost wife material.

but he didn't want to get ahead of himself. you were still a fair bit younger than him. before he married you, he had to train the brat out of you. that was what he liked about you.

to an extent.

that was how you ended up in the position you were in.

it was sunny in july when you acted out, you and graves had gone into the city to do a little shopping. halfway through the trip you had gotten all pout-y because you didn't want to carry the shopping bags.

"if you buy them, darlin', you have to carry them." graves said as he pulled you towards him and kissed your cheek, "now stop poutin' or daddy is gonna be mad."

the pout never ceased, and soon after the whining started. now graves hated whiners, he didn't accept it with the shadows, he sure as hell wasn't going to accept it from a little girl who tasted like bubblegum.

he sighed and slung an arm around you. he tipped his sunglasses down, those beautiful eyes gazed at you. but his expression was stern, "behave."

you leaned up against him and said, "can you carry the bags?"

he shook his head, "i think i've been spoilin' you and little too much there, darlin'. i think it's time for a little bit of reform."

he thought that the idea of punishment would be enough to settle you down into the passive little kitten he knew you could be. but that wasn't the case, so something had to be done about it.

after you two got home, graves left the bags in the car and took you out of the car by your arm. you struggled to meet his stride. he was mumbling to himself about something as you felt a familiar twist in your gut. you reap what you sow, he once told you.

he didn't even get you into the bedroom, instead having you thrown onto the couch. as a result your pretty pink skirt got hiked up as you sat there like a girl about to be scolded.

graves could see your pretty striped panties under the skirt, but had to keep himself composed. he couldn't just crumble at the sight of your clothed pussy.

"do you know what you did?" he asked, giving you a chance to redeem yourself. he knew he couldn't stay mad at you forever, but he had to set you on a proper course. women your age had a habit of being bratty.

you shook your head, "i did nothing wrong, phillip."

he made a face, "wrong. try again. and if you call me phillip one more time, i'll be makin' you shine my boots with your tongue. now get naked before i cut it all off of you."

you pouted, "well, maybe if you helped me carry all those bags then maybe i wouldn't have been so pissy!" you crossed your arms.

graves raised his eyebrows at the sudden behaviour issues you having. he was a little impressed by the outburst, but it was a behaviour he had to correct. he grabbed you by the face and said, "strip. now. slut."

you slowly took off the t-shirt you wore, followed by the provocative pink skirt. you felt heat in your cheeks as you were left only in a pair of panties and bra. you looked up at graves' once more.

graves eyed you, "still the prettiest thing on the lot." he patted your cheek a little harder than most out, "now, get fully naked. i want to see those pretty tits and that soaked pussy."

you slipped off your undergarments and sat on the leather of the couch, the coolness of it felt odd against your bare pussy as you gazed up at graves like an innocent little deer. but graves couldn't be deceived by your innocent looks.

you were a girl who needed to be put on the right path.

graves grabbed you by the arm and got you over the back of the couch with your bottom half fully exposed to him. this is how graves liked you, bent over a surface and ready for him.

your naked body was for him to enjoy. you were his little slut. he took off his belt and got behind you. his cock was at a perfect level to sink in and properly fuck you.

you anticipated his cock, but instead you got his hand slamming down onto your bare ass cheek. you jolted, your heat in your stomach grew. graves dug his palm into where he slapped which only made the pain more intense. "daddy!"

"i know, darlin'. but i can't have you thinkin' you can misbehave. actions have consequences and you have rules. one of them is to not be a whiny little bitch when you don't get your way." he laid down another hard smack, then another and then another.

you gripped onto the back of the couch and flinched when his smacks came raining down. but graves used his other hand to pin you down onto the surface.

"stay still, or it's gonna hurt me." he groped your ass for a moment, letting you feel the pain before he went back to slapping. you were a mess by the time he was finished and his cock was painfully erect. it was drooling pre-cum all over the bottom of his white t-shirt.

your ass felt hot and a bit of a bruise was forming, hopefully that'll be a stark reminder of the rules of your agreement. you barely had time to think before graves sank his cock into you.

you gripped onto the couch tighter and whimpered, "daddy!"

he chuckled, "that's better. see, isn't like better when you're like this? when you're a pretty little thing for daddy to fuck? you can be a good girl, that's why daddy spoils you. you just needed a little guidance."

his pace was brutal, you could feel your insides being rearranged by the man's heavy cock inside of you. you panted heavily and held on tightly as graves' moved up into you.

"pretty girl."

"daddy."

"i know, just lay there all pretty for me." his voice was a low growl as he bucked up into you. he did adore you, even if you did misbehave at times.

you felt like a toy under his control, your heart fluttered at the feeling of his heavy cock inside of you. the sex was hot and left heat in your cheeks. the slapping sounds of you two fucking made you gasp.

his words were slurred and hot. he was so domineering that it made you flushed all over. your core throbbed and you felt closer to orgasm. you panted heavily between moans and felt a rush through you.

"please, daddy!" you panted, your cunt tightened around his cock. sweat down your back as you felt so close to orgasm. with a few more heavy thrusts, you came around his cock.

the tightness around his length took the breath out of him and his pace became more aggressive. his heart hammered in his chest as with a few more thrusts he finished inside of you. he painted your pretty pussy white with his cum as he slowed down his heavy thrusts.

he panted heavily. his polo shirt clung to his back as he felt the wind get taken out of him. he held onto you for a moment before he slid his softened cock out of your soaked pussy. he wiped the sweat from his forehead and said, "that's it, that's a good girl." then gave you a half-hearted slap across both ass cheeks, "now you be good, or daddy won't go so easy on your next time."

as if your ass cheeks were bruised, but instead you arched your back and whimpered, "yes, daddy. thank you, daddy."

graves loved the sound of that. his sweet girl.

#bunny writes #the bakery #phillip graves smut #commander phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty #reader insert #cod smut #graves smut #graves x reader #graves x you

286 notes · View notes