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stillmonsterz · 2 months

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GAM3 BO1

pairing: heeseung x reader

genre: smut

summary: reclusive gamer heeseung offers you the chance to live in a decent place in exchange for your companionship.

warnings: unprotected sex, swearing, voyeurism, dubcon, somnophilia, jerking off, exhibitionism, coercion, humiliation, anal sex

word count: 3.7k

The man you’re looking at in this coffee shop does not look like he could pay rent anywhere, let alone cover most of yours. He looks like he should be scrolling imageboards in his mother’s basement as he dines on high-fructose corn syrup. His eyes have bags, his skin is pale and sallow, his overgrown bangs reach below his eyebrows, and he’s so thin that the sleeves of his button-up hang from his arms. He peeks at you under his eyelashes, smiling shyly.

“You seem like a good fit,” he says quietly, fiddling with the handle of his mug of coffee. “And like I said, all you would have to do is clean up, do the laundry…make sure the place isn’t a complete pigsty.” He laughs softly. “God knows I’m awful at that.”

“Well, I can do that,” you say slowly, leaning back in your chair. “I still don’t understand why you’re being so generous. I mean, you could just get a maid. It’d cost you less money, too.” You don’t mention that the apartment is ridiculously nice for the pittance he would let you pay for it, and it’s in a choice location in the city. When you saw the ad for it on the roommate app you had downloaded, you had thought it was a scam. But then, you were so desperate that you were willing to fall for a scam. As it turns out, the apartment is real – he had sent you a video of it at your behest – and the owner was definitely real.

Heeseung – Heeseung Lee, a single computer programmer that had come into an undisclosed yet presumably exorbitant amount of wealth following his parents’ passing – laughs again, a self-conscious chuckle that quickly dies in his throat. “Well, to be honest with you…I just get lonely. I mean, my work is all online, and I don’t have many, uh, friends. I sort of just stay at home and play…” Heeseung’s voice becomes hushed. “play video games. It’s sort of pathetic.”

“Nothing pathetic about that,” you say quickly. He’s so earnest, it tugs at your heartstrings. “I think this could be a great arrangement.”

Heeseung looks up at you, and his eyes are shining. He smiles at you, tilting his head. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You smile as well. “And I’m a pretty good companion, if I do say so myself.”

Heeseung’s eyes flicker down, lingering below your collar for a full five seconds before he looks back up at you. “You know, I think you’ll be a great companion for me.”

Your first week living in his apartment is relatively peaceful. Relatively is the operative word. Your room is comfortable, stocked with plain furniture. Heeseung gives you carte blanche to decorate it as you wish, which is nice. Cleaning up after him is a simple affair, too. He deposits his dirty dishes and takeout containers outside of his door at regular intervals – 6 pm, when he wakes up and orders something, 8 pm, when he remembers to eat something, and 2 am, when he needs a snack to keep him going. You got home from work at 5, so it wasn’t hard to accommodate him. He exclusively eats Doordash, which saddens you a bit. When you made pasta for yourself one day, you decided to knock on his door and offer him a bowl of it. His eyes had widened, like you had offered him a plate of solid gold.

“Really?” he’d said, receiving the bowl.

“Yeah, of course.” You had smiled at him sympathetically; it was really so easy to please him.

Heeseung had grinned at you. “Thank you, thank you.” He had taken a large bite of it and closed his eyes, nodding and pointing at the bowl. “You’re so good at cooking, wow. Wow, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No really…you’re an angel. Like a domestic goddess.” Heeseung had looked you up and down. “You’re like a cute little maid.”

You laughed and walked away.

His eating habits were one thing, but some things he does mystify you. He refuses to let you inside of his room, blocking your view of the door. You can catch a whiff of stale air whenever the door is cracked even slightly, which piques your interest. “It’s just really messy in here,” he’d tell you nervously. Heeseung only really comes out of his room to play Overwatch on the Smart TV in the living room. Other than that, he asks you periodically to bring him things when you get home from work.

There’s also one other issue: you swear your panties are going missing. Your favourite pair of panties has vanished, as well as a pair you generally wear when you’re on your period. You take care of all the laundry (including Heeseung’s own filthy boxers), so it’s impossible that you could have misplaced them. You don’t push anything, though.

Today is weird, though. When you get home, there’s a medium-sized package outside of the door. It has Heeseung’s name on it, so you bring it to his door and knock. “Heeseung, there’s something for you.”

Heeseung cracks the door open, his hair having grown even longer in the week you had been here. “Oh, no,” he says, pointing with a bony finger, “that’s for you.”

“Aw, Heeseung,” you say with a wide smile. “You got me something?”

Heeseung grins at you and shrugs. “It’s the least I can do. You do so much for me…I hope you like it.”

You excitedly open the package, but your smile drops when you see its contents: a cheaply-made maid outfit with spaghetti straps, white lace trim, and a skirt that would cover your panties and little else. “You…want me to wear this?”

“Yes,” Heeseung says, reaching out to touch your shoulder. “Come on, it’s just a dress. No one else will see.”

You sigh. He practically lets you live here for free, so you might as well play along. “What, you want me to wear it right now?”

Heeseung nods so vigorously you’re surprised his head doesn’t roll off his skinny little neck. You turn away to head to your room to change, but Heeseung’s grip on your shoulder tightens. “No. Change here.”

You whip your head to face him. “What?”

His gaze is steely now, his previous shyness having seemingly dissipated. “Change in front of me.” Then, as though he had been momentarily possessed, his softness returns. “Please? I don’t ask you for a lot, right?”

You swallow your pride and put the maid outfit on the ground. First, you remove your hoodie, revealing your tank top. As you fold up your hoodie, you can see Heeseung’s hand furiously moving in his boxers, which causes you to freeze.

“Keep going,” he says hoarsely, leaning his head back. Dread pools inside of your gut as you continue to strip. Soft, strained moans spill from Heeseung’s lips as he watches you strip down to your underwear. When you put on the maid costume, he carefully adjusts the straps of your dress with his slick hands. “Very nice,” Heeseung says. “Turn around for me?”

You turn, and you can feel the cool air of the apartment hitting your ass- the dress is that short. “So good,” Heeseung whispers. “You can take it off now.”

Your hands fumble with the hem of your dress, but Heeseung laughs. “Not here,” he says, removing his hands from your shoulder. “In your room, silly. And after you’re done, bring the dress to me, okay?”

You’re too dazed to question his instructions, and you’re all but too happy to get out of the dress. After you’re done changing, you hand the maid outfit to him. He smiles and takes it without a word.

Things go by relatively smoothly after that, and you almost wonder if you made that incident up. The only thing that has changed about his behavior is that he comes to see you more. Not for long, only a few minutes per day. If you make cookies, he’ll ask if he can try some of the dough or try a cookie. If you’re doing the laundry, he’ll ask you about your day as you fold.

You’re currently on your hands and knees scrubbing a particularly obstinate white stain on his couch when you hear Heeseung’s voice behind you. “You know, you should wear leggings more often,” he says.

You don’t turn to look at him. “Yeah, why?”

“They make your ass look perfect,” he says with a laugh. “Of course, it looks best naked.”

You’re about to ask him how he would know how your ass looks naked before he’s already wandered off. About two minutes later, you can hear him in his room playing a low-grade pornography, his own moans mixing in with the fake screams of pleasure from the women. You put your headphones on and try to drown the sound out- even the sound of Heeseung calling your own name.

This goes on for a while, and it only gets worse. Now he leaves his door open so the sound of him jerking off echoes through the apartment. When you’re trying to sleep, you can hear the severely un-titillating sounds of the brother-con hentai he watches.

One day, you’re rummaging through your underwear drawer trying to find your comfortable, plain bra. You realize that it’s missing, and your anger reaches a boiling point. You stomp over to his room and knock on the door. “Heeseung,” you growl.

Heeseung opens the door nonchalantly and smiles. “Hi,” he says innocently, “could you clean my room for me?”

“Could I what? Heeseung, did you steal m-,”

“And could you wear this while you do it?” As if he had been expecting you, Heeseung walks over to his bed and hands you the maid outfit, your missing bra, and that pair of your favorite panties. All of them were coated in globs of cum in various stages of hardening, especially your panties.

“Heeseung!” You take a step back from him. “I’m not doing that, for fuck’s sake.”

Heeseung just smiles at you. “I think you should.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Either you wear this, or make you pay your share of the rent.” Heeseung leans towards you, and you can smell his fruity, sickly breath. “The choice is yours, of course.”

“You’re insane,” you say, leaning away from him.

“Whatever. Now get in the maid outfit.”

Tears well in your eyes as you head to your room to don the most humiliating outfit you’ve ever seen. When you put the bra and panties on, his cum oozes out of them and drips onto the floor. The maid outfit is sticky all over, and you shiver. You don’t even look yourself in the mirror before leaving your room to see Heeseung again. His hand is already wrapped around his dick by the time you walk out, his boxers resting around his ankles.

“Wait, wait,” Heeseung says, holding up his free hand. “Don’t walk to me. Crawl to me.”

The humiliation forces your head down as you sink to your hands and knees and crawl towards Heeseung. When he sees you at his feet, Heeseung smiles, still stroking his cock. “Such a cute little maid,” he says. “Now get up on your knees, come on. Be good.”

You prop yourself up on your knees, so that you’re level with his crotch. “Now,” he says softly, “open wide.”

You close your eyes, open your mouth, and Heeseung slides his cock into your mouth. When he does, he moans loudly, and he grabs at your hair. Heeseung fucks your mouth like it’s a pussy, and the musty state of his cock makes you gag the entire time. His balls slap against your face, and he keeps whimpering pathetically. His other hand reaches down and squeezes one tit after the other, and within no time he’s pulling his cock out of your mouth, tugging it hurriedly, and finishing all over your face. He tugs his boxers up to his waist again and sighs. “That was great,” he says, affectionately ruffling your hair. “Whenever you’re ready, you can come inside my room and tidy it up. I know it bothers you that I’m so messy…”

Your jaw is too sore to speak, and for a moment you just lie there on the floor in the hallway. None of it seems real, none of it makes sense to you. The worst part of it all is that you can feel wetness pooling in between your thighs, which makes you groan softly.

A little while later, Heeseung emerges from his room. He crouches down and strokes your hair. “You want me to get you something?” he asks soothingly. “Some water, juice?”

“Water would be nice.” You cough a few times. Heeseung gets up and comes back shortly with a bottle of water that he opens for you. You pull yourself up so that you’re sitting, legs crossed, and you drink the water while Heeseung pats your hair comfortingly. Once you calm down, you and Heeseung head inside of his room.

It’s disgusting, which is an understatement. The bed is unmade and piled with stained pillows, the floor is spattered with cum, his bookshelf is a horrid mishmash of coding textbooks and manga, his closet is filled with clothes, of which only half are on hangers. His desk area is relatively clean, but one of his three monitors is playing some filthy pornography. The other has Discord open, and the third has some weird game you don’t recognize open. Worst of all is the pocket pussy resting on his gaming chair.

You sigh. Seems like you have a lot of work to do.

Over the next few months, you start to realize that Heeseung is treating you like a pseudo-girlfriend. He changes your contract so that he pays for virtually all of the rent, as well as the groceries. He even gives you a hefty monthly allowance, enough that you can start building up your savings.

Of course, you doubt that a regular boyfriend would treat you the way Heeseung does. For one, ever since you cleaned his room the first time, he expects you to clean it every day while donning a humiliating outfit of his choosing. He likes to have you walk around in the apartment wearing striped microkinis, plaid skirts with black G-strings, nurse costumes, maid outfits, and an elaborate swimsuit cosplay of his favorite League of Legends character. He’ll watch you as you clean his room clad in whatever skimpy outfit he’s gifted you, commenting on your body. Other times, he’ll come up behind you as you’re in the kitchen or living room and grope your ass or tits before wandering back to his cave. That’s what he does on a regular basis.

Lately, he’s been fucking you. It started when you were eating a bowl of cereal before heading off to work. You had heard his room door creak open, then his dragging, lumbering footsteps.

“Good morning,” he had whispered, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You’ve got a little something…”

Before you could say anything, Heeseung had licked the tip of his finger and swiped up the bit of milk lingering by the corner of your mouth. He stuck his finger into his mouth, still hovering over you. Every time you took a bite of cereal, trying to finish up as quickly as you could, he would wipe your face and then suck the milk off of his fingers. His other hand rested on your shoulder, rubbing it slightly, until it slid down lower and lower. As he ran his thumb against the corner of your mouth, he slowly began groping your breasts. Heeseung pressed his lips against yours, both of his hands fondling you.

You had pulled your lips away. “Stop. I just ironed this shirt…”

“Sorry,” he had said, buttoning your shirt from behind. As soon as it was sufficiently open, he groped your tits directly, his lips on yours. He had a greedy, selfish way of kissing you; his tongue would slither down your throat, gagging you. Heeseung had unbuttoned the rest of your shirt, then he pushed your cereal to the side. He pushed you down onto the dining table, your chest pressing against the wood. You could feel his hands tugging your damp panties to the side.

“Such a nice pussy,” he had murmured. You heard him spit, then you felt cool fingers pumping themselves in and out of you. You bit your lip so you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan. Heeseung only prepped you just enough to get you wet, then he stuffed himself inside of you, inch by inch.

Your hands curled, desperately trying to find any purchase. It had been a long time since you had anything inside of you, and you welcomed the pleasure. But you couldn’t let Heeseung know that.

His gnarled fingernails dug into your soft flesh as he pounded away at you. He wasn’t particularly vocal, only making soft moans of pleasure. Sometimes, he would drag himself out of you, then slam back inside. He smacked your ass. “Just look at that shit jiggle,” he said breathlessly. “I want to try that out next…”

With that, he had slid his fingers into your tight hole, and you couldn’t hold back a gasp. Heeseung pumped his fingers in and out of the band of muscle, widening it. You had never taken anything up your ass before, and your toes curled in fear and anticipation.

You felt him slip out of your pussy, and the painful stretch of his cock opening your asshole replaced the pleasure you had previously felt. Heeseung groaned as he fucked your ass raw, only the precum that had dribbled from his cock for lube. Fortunately, he didn’t last, pumping your ass full with hot cum before pulling out of you. “Your pussy is definitely better,” he had muttered before walking away. While you rested against the table, trying to recollect yourself, you heard him booting up another game of League of Legends. With a palpable sense of shame, you finished yourself off right there as your cheek pressed against the table, your fingers wildly swirling against your engorged clit. You came with a shudder, then you darted into the bathroom to clean yourself up and go to work.

He never fucked your ass again, but your pussy and mouth were fair game for him. Whenever he sees you now, wearing the outfits he picks for you, he shoves his fingers down your throat. Once your throat is pliant and his fingers are coated in your spit, he either make you blow him or he fingers you wherever you are, his other hand stroking all over your body. Then he goes back into his room while you’re there, dripping wet. Heeseung likes having you wet all the time, so he can fuck you at his convenience.

Like right now, he was playing another game of Overwatch, hunched over his controller and eyes laser-focused on the screen. You were on your hands and knees, pushing yourself back and forth on his dick. This time, he had made you wear a cow-print bikini, complete with a bell; every time you fucked yourself on his cock, it would jingle.

“Fuck,” Heeseung says, voice ragged, “my team’s Tracer is so shit at kiting. It’s such a basic concept.”

“That really sucks,” you say through gritted teeth.

Heeseung reaches his hand out and touches your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your lips. “You’re such a good listener,” he coos, lazily thrusting as he removes his hand and continues playing his game. He soon stops moving, and you have to pick up his slack, rocking yourself as fast as you can so he can cum and be done with it. “Ah, stop going so fast,” Heeseung says, lightly slapping your ass. “I want to sync my nut up for when I use my ultimate.”

As you heed his instructions, you squeeze your eyes shut and tell yourself that homelessness is a far worse prospect than this, homelessness is bad, you wouldn’t like a homeless shelter.

It wasn’t like he didn’t jerk off anymore, either. He did, maybe even more than before he started using you. Heeseung liked to spread his legs, milk his cock right in front of you, then lick up the cum off of the couch while he told you to play with yourself. Whenever you got close to cumming, he would tell you to stop and do some task for him. Then, when you were scrubbing the dishes or wiping down his desk, he would plunge his cock into you and fuck you until you were twitching and crying out. Other times, he would make you sit in his room with him. He would sit you on his lap while he watched some degenerate hentai, and he would make you jerk him off while he fondled your tits and rubbed your clit.

Once, you went to bed early because you had a hard day at work. Your dream is odd; you’re running from a ghost in a dilapidated mansion. You can’t see it, but you can feel its presence. Then you feel it catch you, its hands wrapping around your waist, your tits. The ghost rubs your body slowly, almost tenderly, and you can feel its hardness pressing against your ass as you’re suspended in the air.

When you open your eyes, you realize that it wasn’t a dream, not quite. There is a hand that has slipped under your shirt, caressing your chest, and another hand on your waist. And someone is humping you, whimpering as he does. Quite belatedly, you realize that your pajama pants have been pulled down.

“Heeseung?” you whisper sleepily.

“Shh,” he says, “just go back to sleep, okay? I’ll be done soon.”

You’re too tired from everything to fight it, so your eyes flutter shut. Heeseung slowly thrusts into you, almost like he doesn’t want to wake you, and you smile slightly at the sentiment. He fucks you lazily and slowly, and only speeds up when he’s about to cum. He cums inside of you and uses his fingers to push his seed back up.

“Thanks for letting me do that,” he whispers before leaving you alone.

As you’re drifting to sleep again, you can hear him telling someone to, “Fucking stop camping.”

This is still better than being homeless.

#heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #enha smut #enhypen smut #a fic by rubyreduji partially inspired this!

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phoenixblaze1412 · 3 months

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HII!! happy new year!!! Can I get some fluff hcs with dottore (+ segments) and reader whos child is sucrose? This can be seen as a part 2 to the having a kid hcs if u want! - 🐓

It was you who gave your child the name Sucrose. Dottore didn't really mind any name you gave your offspring, his segments have weird names, why should he stop you from giving your child a chemical compound name?

Theta (Webttore) though... was curious of it.

"So.. why Sucrose exactly? Could have easily rhymed such a name with glucose, fructose or even lactose?"

"Because sucrose is sugar and what does sugar taste like? Sweet. And my daughter is the most sweetest thing in Teyvat."

"...both you and 'him' are bad at naming things. Naming your own kid table sugar, what a dumbass."

Sucrose prefers to stay with her father in his laboratory whenever you're busy, she's not much of an outdoor person and doesn't really want to interact with more people aside from you, Dottore, and even his segments who she can already tell who is who. She's just a shy little bean with good memorization.

Ever since the day Sucrose was born, everyone has been more restless, mostly you and Dottore since the segments don't even need sleep to energize themselves.

You would find her crawling around a room, searching for things that catches her interest and even reaching places a child shouldn't even reach.

One time when you, Dottore, and Sucrose were sleeping together on your shared bed, you were immediately woken up in the middle of the night due to the sound of your daughter crying but was nowhere to be found.

It took you and your husband at least 20 minutes to find that Sucrose was at the top of a cabinet and couldn't get back down.

Sucrose, your sweet daughter, apparently has taken in her father's footsteps, studying the world of science at just four years old. What got her interest the most is alchemy.

She immediately learned the chemical components of the things around her. Even creating and mixing a few chemicals into a test tube to see the reaction, Dottore stood beside her just in case something bad happens so he could pull his child out of the way.

One time when you were about to visit your family in the lab after coming home from a mission, you were immediately welcomed with a loud explosion which made you panic and run down to where it came from.

Once you reached the lab, you were greeted with your husband and child's faces all covered in soot. Both of their hair was messy and in every place, it was as if someone had electrocuted them which cause their hair to stand.

"What did you two do that caused this?"

"Welcome back, dearest. We wanted to see what kind of reaction we may get when we mix fuel oil with ammonium nitrate fertilizer."

"We got an explosion.."

Next time, before you went to another mission and leaving your two scientists behind, you asked the segments to keep an eye on the two and make sure they don't cause any more explosions.

Surprisingly, Sucrose has a few segments that she favored.

Omega and Prime, aside from being almost as perfect as her father, the two segments would teach her more about the chemistry field whenever Dottore is busy.

She finds Zeta's quiet behavior comfortable since she too is also shy and meek around others. They both communicate with a few sentences and it's already enough for them. Both Sucrose and Zeta rather prefers to do work than talk over it.

There were some fatui soldiers who would mistaken your child as a cicin mage due to her hair. Dottore suggested on dying her hair blue but you immediately declined his suggestion.

It's you who would be the one to style both Sucrose and Dottore's hair every morning, making sure it wouldn't hinder them whenever they work.

This caused the other segments to also want their hair get tied up, even those with hair as short like Theta's.

Dottore would always find ways to be able to spend time with you. Which is why he would hand his child over to his segments before sweeping you off your feet and carrying you out of the lab to spend quiet moments between you two.

All in all, Sucrose is happy to have her parents and guardians, if you could even call the segments as guardians. With her curious mind, she even learned about the other nations.

Oh, how cute Sucrose was when she asked her father if she could go to Mondstadt and study alchemy there.

"Absolutely not."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #il dottore #gender neutral reader #female reader #il dottore x reader

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what-if-nct · 6 months

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What NCT's cum taste like.

Taeil: Grass, you know the way fresh cut grass smells on a summer day. Yeah it tastes like that.

Johnny: Battery acid, straight battery acid. Will actually sting your lips. Do not swallow for your own well being.

Taeyong: Straight sugar, it skips right past tasting salty to tasting like sugar, specifically powdered sugar.

Yuta: Cocaine, he doesn't even do cocaine but like it just tastes like a hard drug. Do not go back for more.

Kun: Lemon San Pellegrino, extremely hydrated close to having no taste but he likes his fancy water.

Doyoung: You know the way a doctor's office smells, just extremely clean and sterile with a hint of the older doctor's cologne, Yeah that's what it tastes like.

Ten: Tropical fruit punch, he drunk his pineapple juice he knows what to do.

Jaehyun: Battery Acid part two, but it burns the back of your throat and your coughing for air and you want to smack him for asking you to swallow that.

Winwin: Nothing with a hint of blueberry and menthol, hydrated but not enough, you can still taste his habits.

Jungwoo: Candy, jolly ranchers, starbursts, Skittles, blow pops, he's more high fructose corn syrup than man.

Mark: watermelon and hot pockets, no explanation needed.

Xiaojun: Mint, just like straight peppermint oil, it's like you gave a candy cane a blow job

Hendery: Fresh homemade lasagna, and he says it's me Mario when he climax's

Renjun: Sparkling water, lemons, berries, beauty and talent. You should thank him for it.

Jeno: Cheese, specifically canned cheese and flat diet Pepsi.

Haechan: Sour patch kids, need I say more.

Jaemin: Straight black coffee.

Yangyang: Monster, Red Bull, and a blue raspberry vape

Chenle: Hot unfiltered tap water, it's literally boiling hot, call a doctor.

Jisung: Balloons, cause he's still wearing the condom and is afraid to take it off.

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durrtydawg · 7 months

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Fructose (Sam Drake x F!Reader)🍓

Summary: A 'normal' life isn't all bad. Especially when it involves a picnic in a secluded part of a nature reserve, gorgeous natural lighting, and plenty of strawberries- they're an aphrodisiac, apparently.

Just a short, sweet (pun unintended), smutty one-shot that I wrote in two hours to procrastinate from anything and everything else I should be doing.

No, I haven't proof-read. Yes, I know you can tell.

Warnings: smut (albeit nothing crazy), 18+ please x

“Where is everyone? All the horrible... screaming kids and their long-suffering parents?”

“C’mon, you know I’m good at weaselling out private spots. You really think I’d put you through that? Or myself, for that matter?”

“Fair.”

“God, I love this weather.” You sigh whimsically, hopping out of the car, closing the door behind you as you bask in the warmth of the late-afternoon. Sam nods, pushing his sunglasses from his forehead down to his eyes. “Sunny, but not too hot. Light breeze-”

“Southwesterly winds, ten miles per hour— you know, I was unaware I was dating a weather girl.”

You raise your brows at his know-it-all grin. “Oh? You’ll also be dating a pro-boxer soon if you’re not careful.” With a smug smile, you make your way to the back of the car, holding the keys between your teeth, opening the trunk as Sam holds up his hands in defence with mouth curled into an amused grin.

“Think fast.” You catch his attention, talking through your teeth as you toss a rolled up blanket in his direction. Removing the keys from your mouth, you lock the car, muttering a ‘let’s go’, with a self-satisfied smile on your face.

Sam catches the blanket with ease, giving you a playful salute with his free hand. “Caught, boss. Lead the way.”

As you amble into the secluded meadow, a sense of tranquillity washes over you. The tall grass dances in the gentle breeze, the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the nearby trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground around you. You had picked this spot for a reason – to help Sam relax and enjoy the simple pleasure of doing absolutely nothing.

You dictate a spot, and he spreads out the chequered blanket, though unfortunately, that aforementioned sense of tranquillity hasn’t quite transferred to Sam. He can't seem to sit still; his leg bouncing slightly as he scans the surroundings. You frown at him, knowing his restless nature all too well. You decide to give him time, instead fishing into the bag to retrieve some of the things you’ve packed.

Once everything is laid out, you settle down on the ground, leaning back on your elbows and soaking in the natural beauty around you. Sam, however, still can't seem to sit still. He fidgets, shifting positions, and tapping his fingers against his knee.

You smirk at his restlessness. "Hey, remember the plan today," you say softly, a playful glint in your eye. "No checking your phone, no fidgeting, no damn smoking. Just us, the field, and a whole lot of relaxation."

You put emphasis on the last word, narrowing your eyes in an accusatory expression.

He looks at you as if you’ve said something ridiculous. “I- I am relaxed.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you get up onto your knees. “Nope. I’ve seen military lieutenants more relaxed than you, Samuel.” You say, hobbling behind him and bracing your hands on his shoulders. “You’re more tense than a damn bomb disposal unit. God, I thought you’d have wanted to actually chill out and enjoy spending some time with me before you ditch me in aid of another piece of old junk.” You say into his ear, digging your fingers into his trapezius as you infiltrate your speech with a lilt of teasing castigation.

“Old junk that pays the bills.” He sighs, turning his neck sideways as if to give you better access to the knots in his shoulders. Your thumb digs into a particularly tense spot, and you watch his nose crinkle as he winces at the ache.

“Loosen your shoulders.” You instruct, raising an authoritative brow towards him, which he sees in the corner of his vision. With a slight eye roll, he makes an effort to do as he’s told, slumping slightly into you as you continue to dig away at the knot. “Good boy.” You joke, feeling him grin in response as you peck his cheek.

As you feel the tension begin to give, a small hum of satisfaction slips out of Sam’s mouth, signalling the knot has dissipated enough for you to pull away. “We’ve got no agenda. Nothing to do. Nowhere to be.” You speak softly, crawling back around to the spot you were sitting in a moment ago. “You, sir, severely need to master the art of mitigating unnecessary stress.” You clasp your hands together before hovering over the selection of goodies you’d prepared. “Let’s start with something to eat.”

He sighs again, this time a genuine and slightly apologetic smile on his lips. He adjusts his sunglasses, before sitting up straight and showing interest in what’s in front of him.

“What’s on the menu, chef?”

You smile at the sight of him physically beginning to relax before you turn to the goods. “So— nothing exciting— a few veggies and some hummus, some of that focaccia I made the other day, a couple of cookies… oh…” You start, biting your lip in an attempt to restrain your excitement, “I stopped off at the farmer’s market on my way to work yesterday, and picked up some of those strawberries you were eyeing up last week.” You lean forwards to pick up the punnet. “Let me tell you, it took every ounce of willpower not to galvanise the lot on my way home. You’re a lucky guy.”

His shoulders jolt as he chuckles, his eyes lingering on you rather than the fruit. “I sure am.” You watch his eyes squint slightly, some sort of thought flashing through his mind. Sam's glance lowers he takes in the spread. “You really went all out, didn't you?"

You nod proudly, shifting until you’re beside him.

“I hope I’ve, uh, not forgotten some sort of… milestone or anything.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

You shake your head, a small chuckle leaving your lips. “Just wanted to take your mind off of things— to make sure you had no excuse to be restless today. And if that means forcing you into a food coma, so be it.”

Sam leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Well, I can think of one distraction I wouldn't mind."

You blush slightly, ignoring the familiar warmth spreading through, instead choosing to swat his arm. “Behave yourself."

He laughs at the sight of the warmth spreading over your cheeks, before reaching for a stick of cucumber. “You,” he taps it on the tip of your nose, “are too good to me.”

You laugh, wiping the residue off with the back of your hand as he takes a bite of the cucumber. “Yeah, don’t you forget it, toots.” You respond with a teasing smile, mimicking his accent to the best of your ability before removing the film from the pot of hummus and dipping your own cucumber slice into it.

After watching Sam scarf down at least seventy-five percent of the food without taking so much as a breath, you find yourselves lying side by side on the blanket, fingers interlaced as you gaze up at the sky. The gentle rustling of the grass and the distant hum of wildlife that surrounds you— give or take the odd mosquito you both fight over clapping to death— otherwise creates a peaceful cocoon for just the two of you.

Sam turns his head to look at your fingers as you absentmindedly trace circles over his forearm, a soft smile playing on his lips as you look at the small streaks of clouds dotted above you. “Hate to say it…but you were right.” You raise an eyebrow back at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “I needed this. You. Me. A whole lotta’ nothing.”

Feeling a deep sense of contentment, and perhaps a little smugness, you lay your head on his shoulder, humming in agreement. “See? Normalcy. Not all bad.” You get up onto your elbow, twisting for the punnet of strawberries. “You’re so chilled out, in fact, that you forgot-” You pause, biting the tip off of a strawberry before holding it above Sam’s lips, “about these.”

He grins up at you, opening his mouth and biting the rest of the strawberry off of its stem, placing a kiss onto your fingers as he chews. You throw the stem into the grass, before taking one of your own and eating it, sitting up to take in the hues of pink and orange appearing in the horizon; the sun begins to dip beneath it, casting a warm, golden glow over the meadow.

It’s all so peaceful and insanely rare for the two of you to spend so long doing so little together, so you take a moment to embrace the nothingness; The sound of trees rustling in the gentle breeze, the crickets beginning to chirp in the distance, the sound of a camera shutter going off…

“No!” You grunt, turning to Sam as he holds his phone discreetly facing you.

“No, no, no, hold that pose.”

“What- what pose? No! Screw off!” You swat your hand in his direction, trying to grab his phone off of him as he presses the button again. You climb on top of him, snatching his phone out of his hand, straddling his torso as you feverishly swipe for the gallery in order to prevent the photos from ever seeing the light of day. “God, I look awful- don’t-” You squeak out in surprise as Sam uses his size to his advantage, grabbing you by the waist, and pushing you onto your back, making light work of pinning your arms above your head in order to reclaim his phone.

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head, wrestling his phone out of your hand and shoving it back into the pocket of his jeans as you writhe in protest. You attempt once more to pull your arms from his grip, rolling your eyes with a sigh once it proves futile. He looks down at you, chuckling at the heat rising through your face.

“My girl looks like a painting. I wanted a picture. And… I finally figured out how to focus stuff properly on that damn phone. Do not take that away from me.” He raises a brow as if to chastise you.

“But they were awful!” You whine. “All double chin and celluli-mph!” With a shake of his head, Sam unceremoniously shoves a strawberry into your mouth.

“Mmm. That’s better.” He smirks down at you as you frown and reluctantly begin to chew at the strawberry that’s slightly too big for your mouth. His thumb captures the juice that dribbles its way out of the corner of your lips, and your frown falters a little as he pushes it back into your mouth with a chuckle, effectively silencing you. Much to his amusement, your cheeks redden even more, as his hand gently squeezes them; his other hand effortlessly— irritatingly, rather— keeping your wrists above your head. “Wouldn’t want to pollute such gorgeous surroundings with your whining, now, would we?”

“You got leaves in my mouth.” You grumble through your squished cheeks, unable to hide the small smile growing on your lips as he finally lets go.

“Aww, sweetheart,” he goads with a teasing pout, gently nudging his nose against yours “Want me to get rid of ‘em for you?”

“Shut up.” You laugh, swallowing the remainder of the fruit as he pecks your lips.

He hovers above you, grin softening into a thoughtful smile as his eyes take in every sun kissed freckle on your face. “Thank you.” His hand pulls away from your wrists, removing his sunglasses before coming to rest softly on your jaw.

Your brows furrow.

“For what?”

He closes his eyes for a second, almost as if he doesn’t want to speak. He does, regardless, a slight flush on his face. “For giving me a soft place to land.” He’ll never be fully comfortable with this wishy-washy relationship stuff, but he’s making an effort, and you’ll forever appreciate that.

You smile up at him, your hands coming down to cup his cheeks. “I could turn that into a self-deprecating joke…” you start, but swiftly continue as Sam narrows his eyes at you, “…But I… sense this is the wrong moment for that.”

“Damn right it is.” He says, dipping down once more to kiss you. This time it lingers, eyes closing and thumbs stroking skin as he savours the strawberry-tinged sweetness of your lips.

His teeth pull gently at your lower lip, parting them just enough for his tongue to meet yours as he smirks into the kiss. Your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging lightly in order to keep the gap closed.

One hand kneads at your thigh, and it’s not until he begins to slide it up further that you break the kiss for a moment, holding him just shy of your face.

“We can’t.” You bashfully whisper, lips wet, cheeks hot.

“Why not?” He smirks.

You laugh, looking up at him as if he’s a total idiot. “What if someone sees?”

“No one’s gonna see. There hasn’t been a sign of anyone for over an hour.” He retaliates, continuing to softly knead at your thigh. You bite your lip, eyes anxiously darting around as Sam takes in your expression. His hand shifts up further, magnetising your glare towards him.

“Hey, you say the word, and I’ll stop.” He shrugs above you, thumb stroking at your inner thigh. “But, personally, I don’t see the need.”

You swallow, lips parting to speak, but as his fingertips find the hem of your underwear, any potential words fail you.

“You know,” he speaks low, the whole mood taking a drastic shift, “I’ve also gotta thank you for wearing a dress for once.” He plants a kiss just under your ear, making you shiver. “Not only do you look so, so pretty,” You roll your eyes again as he speaks, biting your lip to dilute your coy smile as his fingers hook around the waistband, “but also, the easy access is really something I could get used to.”

“Christ, you’re awful.” You finally grumble, giving in completely, hurrying to pull him back down to you in a heated kiss as he rolls your underwear down your thighs.

“And you’re already soaked. So, clearly, I'm not that bad.” He says, barely paying your clit any attention as he gathers a little of your slick onto his fingers, before he slides them knuckle deep inside you, in turn, drawing a choked gasp from your throat.

“Jesus- Don’t… hold back or anything.” You say, voice breathless and sarcastic, instantly earning another smirk from Sam.

“I don’t intend to, doll.” He grins, coming back down for another kiss as he curls his fingers, coaxing perfectly against your g-spot. Your soft groan permeates the kiss, your hands drifting down to his belt buckle, making light work of it before you go for the button. “Someone did a quick one-eighty, didn’t they?” Sam chuckles as you reach inside his jeans, beginning to palm him over the remaining layer of fabric keeping him covered.

“Shush.” You murmur, pulling his cock out of his boxers, fully wrapping your fist around him.

“But it’s true.” He chuckles back, burying his face into the crook of your neck as you begin to jerk him off, inhaling the sun cream and perfume concoction that gorgeously complements your natural scent. It drives him insane.

“You give it all this ‘we can’t’ nonsense, but this is what you really want, isn’t it?” He swallows, chuckling to himself again as he places an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. “You want to be fingered in the middle of a public field, where aaanyone could walk by and see me treat you like a filthy little whore, huh?”

His sudden shift in tone has you flush faster than ever, a gargled sound rising from your throat as your hairs stand on end and his thumb brushes against your clit. Your chest rises and falls much more rapidly as he turns more crass, and his cheeky demeanour becomes much more presiding. You’re riling him up just as much as he’s getting to you.

And you did a one-eighty? He’s one to talk.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He speaks into your ear, teeth gently pulling on your earlobe as your hand squeezes around him harder. He pulls himself up more as if to take the sight of you beneath him in; Sam’s teeth graze against his bottom lip as he sees your breath hitch, the sudden, needy tightening of your fingers in his hair, a silent but obvious plea to further the motions. And he gives you what you want, adding a third digit just to see you squirm. God, how pretty you look all stretched out around him. His smug grin teases you as he jokes about adding one more. About how greedy his girl is.

“C’mon, tell me what you want.” he spurs, cock twitching in your hand in response to your whines and the feeling of your pussy clenching around his fingers.

“This.” You whimper, squeezing him hard for emphasis. “You.”

He could keep dragging this out, tease you a little more, make you beg, but, as much as he hates to admit it, he urgently wants you too. You look so sweet- so appetising- like one of those strawberries- and he has to satiate the need to feel that delicious stretch of your core around him.

So with a grunt, he scoops you up, fingers still working your cunt as he pulls you into his lap. Hand on the small of your back, he ruts the other even faster, drawing out more gasps and moans that you’re not even attempting to keep hushed any more. Dog walkers be damned. This is your fucking meadow.

You can’t help but curse loudly as his thumb assaults your clit, knees trembling either side of his thighs as he keeps you spread open. Your head falls onto his shoulder, hands bracing themselves on his upper arms as your composure is all but failing to remain in place, though before too long, he’s nudging your head upright with his own, wanting to see every facial expression he’s giving you.

“You wanna cum on my fingers or on my cock?” He breathes, missing the stimulation of your hand, secretly wishing for the latter. You’re biting your lip, feeling way too stimulated to form a sentence without making a fool of yourself, so you paw at his wrist- it's enough of a signal that his wish is about to be granted. He gives you a few more thrusts of his fingers before pulling out of you, and you tremble with want, hating the sudden emptiness.

The emptiness, of course, doesn’t last long. He jerks himself a few times, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before he pulls you forwards, lining himself up and letting you lower yourself onto him. He lets out a long-held breath, groaning a little as he stretches you out and feels you give around him, tight and warm. Your nails dig into his biceps as he bottoms out, your throat tightening as you take him to the hilt.

“Three fingers, and you’re still so damn tight, princess.” He teases, still giving you a moment to adjust. You let out a breathy giggle, feeling the warm evening breeze tickle your hot cheeks as Sam rummages beside the pair of you.

You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as his hand, half-coated in your arousal, brings another strawberry to your lips. You look into his eyes, and he gives you a small nod, watching with fascinated lust as he presses the berry to your parted lips. You open your mouth slightly, just enough for him to push it in, and he can’t help but lick his lips as he watches you take a bite, your tongue lapping up the juice from the strawberry, as well as his fingers, your gentle moans sending vibrations through his forearm as you do so.

"Such a pretty girl." Sam mutters, testing the waters with a gentle thrust upwards. Your eyes flutter shut as he keeps your mouth filled, and you continue to softly lap at and suck every part of the strawberry as he takes the lead again, bouncing you on his dick as you savour the sweetness of the fruit and the tang of your own juices.

You moan loudly as he speeds up, hitting deeper still as you arch your back a little, hips rocking to stimulate your aching clit.

Sam lets out a low chuckle as a dribble of watery-red flows down your chin, leaving a pink stain on the bust of your dress.

He takes the opportunity to grab you by the throat, almost violently pulling you into another kiss as he feels you swallow the strawberry. He groans at the taste of his favourite fruit and his favourite girl, tongue exploring every inch he can reach within your mouth as you grind yourself onto him rougher.

His other hand moves from the small of your back, unable to decide on where to land- a clear sign that he's fast-approaching his peak. He gropes and strokes wherever he can whilst his other hand keeps your mouth firmly against his own, and as you push your upper body harder against him, he pulls you down too, now straddled over him as he lays on his back.

Desperate to feel his skin, your arm snakes under his raglan shirt, absorbing the feeling of every hair, every scar, every bit of soft or firm you can reach, whilst your other reaches between the two of you, sandwiched between your bodies as you find your clit to bring yourself where you want to be even faster.

The two of you can barely fucking breathe, but you don't care. You could pass out-- die, right here, and never would you have felt better.

Sam loosens his grip on your throat, wet, pink-stained lips parting to let out a rare, and fucking beautiful whimper as his arms desperately embrace you, clamping you down on top of him as you rock your hips back and forth like your life depends on it.

When he fills you, you almost cry; the feeling of him twitching, spilling everything into you, and just knowing you're the one that's brought him to that ecstacy makes you feel more adoration for Sam than you could ever express with words.

And then you cum. Laying flat on top of him as a rush of heat floods you in your entirety, the spasming of your core making him hiss in overstimulation but equal adoration as his fingers dig into the clammy nape of your neck.

You finally still, bar the shared heavy breathing, making your bodies rise and fall in tandem.

Seconds pass. Minutes, even, and you're dangerously close to drifting off.

"Holy shit."

You laugh, spent.

"That's all you've got to say to your... what was it? Your 'little whore'?"

He rasps out a chuckle, too fucked out to even hide the fact that he's blushing profusely- something only you can make him do. Then a nod, continuing to stroke at the baby hairs that rest curled and matted on the back of your neck.

"Those strawberries?" He clears his throat, dismantling the rasp in his voice, "We're doing that again."

You lift your head, just enough to kiss the tip of his nose. "I'll have to remember not to wear white next time."

"Who said you've got to wear anything at all?" He says, shrugging.

You laugh into his chest as you feel him slide out of you, your hand still tracing shapes on his stomach underneath his shirt.

"You are… just…"

For a moment, there's nothing else. You raise your head again, looking up at him to gauge where the sentence is going, your thumb stroking the bridge of his nose that you love so much.

Another moment, and you know he's struggling to find his words, as he always does when he's trying to express his feelings. But the way he's looking at you tells you everything. So, you gently kiss him, non-verbally letting him know he doesn't need to speak. That you've got him.

And as he watches the golden hour sun bathe your skin, he's captivated by you. He really couldn't ask for any more.

#sam drake #samuel drake #sam drake x reader #uncharted #samuel drake smut #samuel drake x reader

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undead-supernova · 2 months

Text

HIGH TOLERANCE

Masterlist

important note: this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series! I suggest reading everything else to understand what the hell is happening and why this is important to the story hehehe!

warnings: fluff to the nines with a hint of desire, smoking weed (obviously), body image mention, death mention

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: this is the one where you and Eddie smoke weed together for the first time--well, amongst other silly little firsts (about five months after they first met)

this was already something I'd been thinking of but I heard the song Close One by FIZZ and it is so Eddie and Weirdo coded it's crazy

wc: 4.8k

Eddie watched as you took a few steps past the door, walking slowly as if you were in some art gallery. Tentative steps that echoed off his empty walls and unsettled wooden floors. Noticing the hum of the air conditioning and birds chirping near the windowsill.

This was the first time you’d been in his new apartment.

There were boxes everywhere, some half-opened, others not at all. You’d insisted that you could help him with the move, but he’d shaken his head. Told you that Steve, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant could do it. Told you that you’d be his first house guest once he got everything figured out.

But, uh. Well.

There were boxes in every corner. No table. Only a plank of wood on top of two extra-large boxes in front of a TV being held up by yet another box. But he loved it. This was the first place he could call his home, no matter how shitty or overpriced the place was. He had a view of the street and a place to put his amp. A fridge with next to no food. A mattress with no frame.

It wasn’t exactly a palace and Eddie knew that. But it was his.

“This is a fucking palace if I’ve ever seen one,” you said, turning to see Eddie leaning up against the door. His eyebrows raised. “I’m surprised you don’t have any guards standing outside. What if a dragon gets in?”

The smile you gave him was playful, without a hint of judgment.

“Guess I’ll have to slay it with my bare hands,” Eddie replied, finally pushing himself off the door to flex his nonexistent muscles.

“Wow,” you said, placing your hands over your heart. “I’m shaking in my little boots.”

“What can I say?”

Eddie gave you a grand tour of his studio apartment, which consisted of walking about twenty steps to the bedroom before turning to the bathroom and coming right back to the surprisingly spacious kitchen but tiny living room.

The two of you mainly stood at the small island separating the kitchen and living room, leaning over with your chins propped up by your hands. Discussing where to put his Dio and Iron Maiden posters. Contemplated going to the thrift store for a couch. Wondered if you could change the upholstery yourselves if you didn’t like the fabric but loved the feel. Decided you were too stupid to even try to figure that out.

By the time you checked your phone, it was nearing evening.

“Should we cook dinner?” you asked. “I’m hungry as fuck.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Cook?”

Eddie didn’t know much about cooking. Robin and Steve had been the ones to stock the fridge and take turns at the stove. Eddie was merely there to watch or be called to meals, savoring every last bite like he could wake up the next morning without the access again.

A part of him was still reeling from Spaghettios and whatever low-priced high fructose corn syrup meal Wayne left in the pantry. There was nothing like spending nights by the shitty TV eating saltine crackers and peanut butter. Sometimes blocks of cheese when Wayne wanted to try making sandwiches before work—but those attempts never lasted very long.

“Yeah, like we could make chicken Alfredo and some garlic bread.”

He shrugged. “I was thinking like, you know, takeout or something. There’s a Thai place across the street.”

You gave him a weird look. “Do you not cook?”

“Uh, no. I don’t really know how.”

“Chicken?” He shook his head. “Pasta?” Another shake.

You nodded, walking over to pick up your purse. “If you’re going to be living alone, I think I should at least teach you how to cook pasta, chicken, and bread.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“We,” you started, fiddling with your keys. “are going to the grocery store.”

Eddie groaned, dramatically falling to the floor. “I fucking haaaaate going to the grocery store. It takes fucking forever out here.”

You smiled with an eye roll. “Get up, you dramatic queen.”

He sighed, letting you help him to his feet before grabbing his wallet and keys.

“The one and only.”

“Mm. Yeah, well you haven’t gone to the grocery store with me. I’ll show you the way.”

You truly were a wizard when it came to navigating the grocery store in fifteen minutes or less. Kroger was your bitch and he respected the hell out of that. On top of it all, you explained how to shop cheap as you whisked him around. You never grabbed his hand, settling for his wrist.

Was it weird that he felt a sting of disappointment?

Despite this, he loved watching you move, watching you move him.

Bakery.

You hummed, fingers ghosting over the different breads. “See, you get the bread that’s a dollar or two, the ones that are on sale because they’re a few days out from going bad,” you explained, plucking a French baguette out of one of the top shelves. “That way,” you turned to him. “you’re saving money and have enough for a few days.”

Aisle 14.

“So, you get that cheap fettuccine,” you said, crouching down to grab the generic brand before immediately popping back up. “It really doesn’t matter anyways. Well, as long as you cook it all the way through.”

Produce.

“You have garlic?” you asked.

Eddie only shook his head, almost embarrassed at the idea that he was supposed to have it.

But you just smiled.

“No problemo. I didn’t either before someone showed me.” Grabbing a giant jar of minced garlic, you chucked it in the basket. “This will last you a long, long time. I haven’t gotten another bottle in months and I use it in just about everything.”

Meat.

“Always grab the ones that are on sale since they’re going bad sooner. It’s still good and you can just cook it up to use for a few more meals if you’d like. Should we get you tortillas? I feel like you could get good at making a mean quesadilla.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, watching the ingredient list stack up, wondering how much everything was about to cost.

“Next time.”

“Next time,” you promised.

And after grabbing heavy whipping cream, mozzarella, parmesan, and basic spices for the alfredo sauce, claiming that you were able to make more than what a jar could provide him, you headed to the self-checkout. You insisted on buying everything despite his protests. Even cooking pans and spatulas.

“You really don’t have to.”

“I have a Kroger card. You’re saving me, like, fifty cents on gas.” As you scanned, you added, “Consider it a housewarming gift.”

Eddie didn’t know what to think about your kindness, the way you were able to just give to him without a second thought. It was a friendship that seemed beyond the realm of tough boundaries. You were able to help and provide your support without asking anything in return. Without thought, without any demand of him. Offering aid, leading with an open mind and heart.

It occurred to Eddie that he still didn’t know what to think of you.

“Always use butter,” you stated, giving him a serious stare. “You will fuck up your nice new pans and your chicken if you use oil.”

As he watched you cook, with a little furrow between your eyebrows as you focused, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have this be a regular occurrence. If he could always have you here, cooking and laughing with him. Dancing around the small space to Nova Twins and Black Sabbath all the time, using his spatula as a multi-purpose tool—a cooking utensil, a microphone and a guitar.

“Are you even paying attention?”

“Ah, yeah, sorry.”

“Yes, what?”

Eddie snorted. “Yes, chef.”

But there was a little something he couldn’t shake, noticing for the first time how your black babydoll dress fit you, with lace dripping down below the hemline. His eyes traced down your body as you preoccupied yourself, a new sort of heat reaching his cheeks. It was starting to move further through him, finding its way down, down, down…

Without thinking, Eddie shook his head and opened the cabinet next to you, placing a wooden box on the counter. It was littered with stickers, chipped and nicked from being used and moved so often. As he lifted the top, the aroma of cannabis hit the two of you like a particularly brutal wave.

“Woah, there!” you said, looking down with wide eyes. “What do you have there, Mr. Munson?”

Your reaction was nearly unreadable. He couldn’t blame you. There was a stockpile, with cones and papers and a few edibles and rolled joints. Little jars full of bud. An extra pack of cigarettes.

He hadn’t really thought about what you’d think about it or if you smoked at all. As he combed through his memory, he found no recollection of you mentioning it at all since you’d met.

“Oh, uh,” he mumbled, continuing to pull out a particularly pretty joint. “You smoke?”

Something in his stomach twisted when he saw a wide grin reach your lips. Because, Jesus, you were cute. Had he really not noticed just how cute you were until then? He did everything he could to prevent the heat from returning, but the steam omitting from the stove was making it worse.

“Do I smoke?” you teased. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

Relief ran through him at your banter, knowing he picked you well when he asked to be your best friend. “I didn’t know!”

“I clearly didn’t show you my bong collection. That’s my bad.”

That pulled a laugh out of Eddie.

Being around you was just as easy as being around Wayne. It was something resembling familial, but for some reason today was beginning to show him that it extended far beyond that. It was like with each passing moment spent in each other’s company, the definitions and adjectives were shifting and stretching into something he couldn’t quite articulate. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“What the fuck are they even saying?” As Eddie looked at the name of the album on your phone, Этажи, he added, “How do you even pronounce that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t fucking know. But it’s cool, right? Like, this is goth music from Belarus. Belarus. Isn’t that cool? The guitars, the fuzzy feeling. The baur-dunnunununun,” you sang along, imitating playing the drums. You were actually quite rhythmic, able to follow along to the beat perfectly. “I listen to this on repeat all the time. It’s so addictive.”

Since the two of you finished dinner and split a joint, you had gone on a full on mission to induct Eddie into the world of goth rock. The Eighties classics, the recents. Bauhaus, Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, London After Midnight, She Wants Revenge, Alien Sex Fiend, etc etc.

At first, Eddie was opposed to the whole thing, extremely disinterested. But you were adamant to keep going, to delve into the subculture and expose him to the magic. The dancing began to make sense to him, watching as you gave a demonstration. Your face angled towards the floor, your arms high. Wrists twisting and turning as you swayed back and forth. The lace moved and twirled wherever you went, your outfit fitting the music perfectly.

He was starting to understand, with each string of poetic lyricism and atmospheric stroke of the guitar—the same thing he’d always seen in Black Sabbath. The outfits, the makeup. The defiance against modern society and culture. The romanticism, the guttural heartbreak. The yearning. Pining. The desperation for something pure and lovely to hold onto. It was something else, something special all on its own and his judgment had been extremely unwarranted.

“I didn’t get what you meant before about it having its own sound, but that’s on me,” he admitted. “I’m sorry for being a little bitch.”

Your smile grew as you continued dancing around him, eyes never leaving his. Eddie turned to hold your eye contact as you swayed, nearly mesmerized by your movement. He wanted to blame it on the haze of the weed, but something scratching at his brain told him it was just you.

“That’s the last time you doubt me, alright?” you said, seemingly closer than before. This time, you were dancing even slower as you circled him. It was starting to make his mouth dryer than it was already.

“The last time, indeed,” he responded.

Your playlist started over, the haunting beginning to “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” filling Eddie with an odd sense of ease. It was kind of like metal, but stripped down. The beat never stopped moving, always pushing forward in a soothing way. What the hell did they pump into these songs?

“Look at us, unplugged from the outside world,” he said with a little laugh as the two of you sat down on the floor. Your backs against the wall, cross-legged. “We’re so cool and different.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a smile never leaving your lips. “I’m usually unplugged when I’m not at work.”

This was news to him. You were always quick to answer his texts whenever you were off, always at a rapid fire pace. In fact, it was unusual if you weren’t texting him back.

But Eddie decided to keep that to himself, letting you continue.

“Everyone is so loud these days.” You began to gesture with your hands, nearly hitting his arm. “‘This is the right opinion. No, this is. Who said what. This stranger is too judgmental, this one isn’t critical enough. Oh, look, this celebrity is wearing something. Wanna hear about a YouTuber you don’t give a shit about having beef with another YouTuber you don’t give a shit about?

“‘Want to make money dancing to sped up classics? Well, how about we do it so much that artists are rearranging their already awesome music to appease an audience. Let’s bully kids. Let’s doxx people. Did you see this? What about that? Well, why aren’t you online? Do you not care? Here’s the news. Oh, wait, that’s the wrong news. Someone famous is having a baby. A Kardashian just broke up with someone, can you believe it? Let’s make body sizes a trend and follow every celebrity who has changed their appearance to fit a fad. Skinny’s in, skinny is still in but you’re allowed to have a few curves. Fuck it, it’s cool to look sick. Here’s an Eighties trend, here’s Y2k.’”

You paused, taking a deep breath. “And then suddenly you’ve spent your whole day spiraling from an existential crisis about the lack of control you have. Feeling fucked up because we were not designed to go this fast. And then suddenly you’re wondering if you’ll ever be able to just frolic in a field like we were built to. If we have a future at all.”

With a final sigh, you shook your head. “Sorry, I get a little intense sometimes when I smoke. But, yeah, I think I’m gonna try to block out the noise before the whole internet explodes and there’s nothing left but scraps and archives.”

Eddie nodded, understanding your thoughts completely. He’d never been one to care about social media or the internet in general. Hell, he hadn’t gotten a smartphone until he got his first real paycheck here. The most he did was read the newspaper, no shit, and get help from his friends whenever he was in rotation to do promo for the band on their socials. His brain was usually filled to the brim with racing thoughts anyways, never needing the outside world coming in.

Well, until he walked into a bar and met you.

“What do you do then?” he asked.

Shrugging, you said, “I like to get high and cook while listening to music. Read books and listen to music. Journal. Go to some local shows to find new bands. Drink coffee at local places and listen to music. A lot of it has to do with listening to music.” Eddie couldn’t help but smile. “It’s the only thing that really seems to make sense anymore. Spotify tells me I listen to music more than, like, ninety percent of people, but I think they’re lying to make me feel cool.”

Eddie laughed. “Don’t go all conspiratorial on me this early in the smoke session.”

As you wiggled your fingers in his face, your voice went low. “Listen to my words, Eddie Boy! These are no longer theories, but facts! Tinfoil hats are sexy! Oooooh, spooky! Creeeeepy!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, shooing your hands away. “Okay, okay. Enough with whatever any of that was.”

Laughter died out before you asked the one question he’d hoped you’d never ask.

“I was really surprised when you said you didn’t know how to cook. Has your mom really never taught you how?”

Despite wanting to look away from your curious eyes, Eddie held your stare. “Uh, no. My mom died when I was a kid.”

Eyes widening, you sat up. “Oh, Eddie. Shit. I’m sorry for assuming—”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “It’s all good. You didn’t know.”

“Okay.”

The two of you were quiet again before Eddie asked, “Do you wanna know about it?”

You nodded silently.

Eddie embarked on what he called his backstory, like he was a fictional character in a novel. Maybe it was the only way he would make it through his shitty past, a tale of a boy with a dream for a good future but always coming up short.

You didn’t say anything the entire time, only watching him, eyes trained on his hands whenever he gestured. But as he spoke, he realized that his descriptions of everyone just weren’t right.

He led you to a box that he swore he’d keep closed forever, already hidden on the top shelf of his closet. The two of you sat on the carpet by his mattress, music faint in the background.

He began showing you a picture or two of his mom before he couldn’t help but keep going through the photographs. There was Wayne. The Hellfire Club. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, and Erica. Ronnie, before she left for college. Bev, scowling at the camera from The Hideout. The band after their last show there. The solitary picture he had of his father from when he was barely a year old.

All of these pieces of himself that he kept close to his heart, kept close to his soul if those existed. The life he swore to keep hidden now that he was gone, with only Steve and Robin connecting him to his past. Gareth, Grant, and Jeff once they were able to graduate and move. Even then, it felt like they were a part of something new, not old.

Hawkins made him feel isolated, hollow. It was a constant reminder of everything he lost, from his mother to his father to watching Wayne slowly killing himself from working so hard all the fucking time. With his last name preceding him in reputation, there was no way to get through a singular day without a hiss or an insult. Even when people cared about him.

When he got out, he didn’t realize that there was a possibility he could meet people who were willing to give him a chance.

And he was noticing how engaged you were, studying all the photos intently, taking your time to scan them for seemingly every detail. You were focused on one in particular, of his mom in a blue sundress and Eddie resting on her hip. She was smiling, the kind of smile that comes once in a lifetime. The kind of smile that gave him an ache in his bones from missing so fucking much.

“My mom’s from Memphis, actually,” he whispered.

Your eyes lit up as you met his gaze. “We could’ve grown up so close to one another. Could you imagine?”

Eddie could. Transporting Ronnie and Granny Ecker to Tennessee. The three of you running around causing trouble. His mom calling them in for dinner, watching you fall asleep before your parents picked you up. Blasting metal around the suburbs, carpooling to school. Climbing trees and making it a shared hiding spot when things got tough.

Making sure he never lost contact with Ronnie.

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile. “I really can.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” you asked, looking at him.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t want you to judge me or something.”

“We all come from somewhere. Just because I grew up in a suburb doesn’t mean I’d judge you for living in a trailer. It’s not like you chose that or like that’s a bad thing. You didn’t choose to have your mom pass away and you didn’t choose to have your dad fuck up and get arrested. Those are the cards you were dealt, sure, but you came here. You got out with people who love and care about you. That’s no small feat.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, feeling heat flood his cheeks at your nice words. “I just haven’t ever seen it that way, I guess. Just a metalhead finding his way through the throws of life.”

“You’re more than just a metalhead, you know,” you said. His eyebrows furrowed. “That’s not the most interesting thing about you.”

“What is?”

“Well, I, uh…” You hesitated and Eddie began to wonder why you were tongue-tied all of a sudden. “I mean, you’re talented and you clearly enjoy quality time with people. You care and that’s a big deal. Not a lot of people care the way you do, even if you’re a little shy about it.” You opened and closed your mouth a few times like you were fighting something before adding, “There’s more but I’m pretty high. Ask me again tomorrow.”

Eddie smiled, trying not to let your words affect him the way they were starting to. “Will do, captain.”

It was infectious, being around you. You never failed to surprise him, to twist him into something more than he already was. No matter what, you were always changing the way he saw the world. His world. And Eddie knew that if he wasn’t careful, there would be a day when he would fall desperately in love with you.

Before either of you knew it, you were another joint deep, going in and out of full on talking and watching TV. He tried to show you Alien but then you kept pausing the movie to engage in a discussion that led into conversations that led into sheer nonsense. Laughter and banter and eventually a little bit of beer.

When Eddie finally checked his phone, the realization that it was midnight washed over him. “Oh, uh, hey, when do you need to leave?” he asked, looking up. “I don’t wanna keep you here if you need to go. It’s late.”

Your expression turned sheepish as you played with the fabric of his blanket. You didn’t even bother to check your phone. “To be honest, I don’t know if I’m sober enough to drive. I didn’t really think about it.”

“You could just sleep here if you’d like?” Eddie offered without thought before realizing exactly what he was suggesting. You, here. In his apartment. Alone. For the whole night.

“On the floor?” you asked with a laugh.

“I could take the floor,” he suggested. “You can have my bed.” “Why don’t we both take the bed?” you asked, finally making eye contact with him. He noticed your eyes widen, something washing over you.

But there was no time to wonder as Eddie froze at the realization at what exactly you were suggesting. You, here. In his apartment. In his bed. Together. For the night.

“You’re, uh, cool with that?” he asked, starting to fiddle with the damp label on his second beer. It was starting to shed from his picking, the adhesive sticking to his fingernails.

“Um, yeah. I am.” Your nonchalance seemed to fall as you shrugged. “But if you don’t feel comfortable with that, like, I totally understand—”

“Let’s do it,” Eddie said.

After your final attempt to finish the movie, you two were beat. Three in the morning, the world outside clouded in slumber while Eddie fumbled through the dark. Did he forget to mention that he didn’t even have a lamp yet?

When you were finally settled in bed, with you wearing a spare set of his pajamas, there was a silence between you. Eddie was unable to discern whether it was awkward or natural, his thoughts kicking into overdrive. This was a close one, maybe a little too close. Here you were, in his bed. In his apartment. In a sick turn of events, he didn’t have to stop being around you and he didn’t want to. You didn’t drain his energy. Not even once. It was goddamn twisted.

Eddie felt a shift in weight in the bed and before he knew it, your foot had come to rest on top of his calf. His heart hammered in his chest, wondering what this was. And he was…nervous? Why was he nervous? You were just friends. This was fine, right? Just some normal human contact between friends.

But you started…running your foot up and down his leg?

And then you wiggled your toes.

“Helllooooo, Edward,” you said with a high-pitched voice, verging on absolute creep territory.

He immediately flinched from your touch, scooting away from you to the edge of the bed. You howled with laughter, getting closer.

“Fuck off with that!” he nearly shouted. “That’s so fucking weird.”

“I’m cooooming for you, Edward,” you said in the voice again. “My preeeecious!”

You tried to start tickling him but Eddie fought back, pushing you away from him. Howls of laughter poured out of you, clutching your chest with pure glee. You were an absolute menace of a person.

“You’re such a weirdo!” he exclaimed, laughing his ass off.

“At least I own up to it.”

He finally turned over, watching you with your head tilted on the pillow, your hands wrapped up underneath. Mirroring your position, he let out one last chuckle before his smile softened.

“That’s your name now,” he concluded. “Weirdo.”

You nodded. “It has a nice ring to it.”

Eddie couldn’t believe that people like you existed, silly and real and beautiful and fun. Sometimes it seemed like he was the only goofy person in the room, always starting bits or talking in weird voices. Usually it was just him being up for a laugh with only some reciprocation. You, on the other hand, were just like him. It was unique in its own way, but you still fed off of his energy as much as he fed off of yours.

You two just looked in each other’s eyes illuminated by the light cascading down from the blinds. His eyes couldn’t help but flicker back and forth, trying to read you. Because you had this doe-eyed expression, with an extra sparkle of light starting to shine in your eyes. And your smile was tied up with a slight bite to your lip, like you were holding something back, like there was a sentence forming on your tongue.

It was new, this side of you.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” he asked, nearly desperate to know what you were thinking.

Some of your smile dropped…but not all the way.

There was a glaze over your eyes, the playfulness gone. It was something more serious than what was normal for you. He couldn't discern what this was and he knew it was going to kill him. “What? Nothing. I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” he teased.

And then there were moments like these, where the silence felt comfortable and the stillness in the air didn’t feel suffocating, he was beginning to realize that he still wanted you there. Actually, if anything, it made spending time with you even better. He didn’t have to always be on all the time. He could just be himself, be human. With someone else.

He hadn’t even felt the need to smoke a cigarette tonight.

You two stayed like that until you lost whatever game you were playing and you closed your eyes for the night. Lightly snored, with your face squished against the pillow. It made him smile to see you at such a raw level and still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen and—

Eddie’s eyes widened as realization overcame him.

He grabbed his phone and pulled up his texts with Robin.

ik it’s 4am but she stayed over

rob i think

well i think i know

Robin’s three dots popped up.

Spit it out, Eddie!

Eddie sighed quietly, glancing over at you one more time.

i’m falling in love with her

extra special thanks to @jo-harrington for always being so so supportive and encouraging of this series :')

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #best friend!Eddie x reader #I hope this makes up for not having IPTPYW uploaded this week!

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