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thewickedjazzy · 1 month ago

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Special week: Blurred Lines for Kinktober.

♡featuring: jjk & bsd x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩PHASE 1: geto & chuuya x reader

♡synopsis: being a movie star in the jjk world has its perks and pitfalls, especially when you find yourself face-to-face with four swoon-worthy men. to make things even more complicated, you end up sandwiched between chuuya and geto in one night.

♡warnings: ņsfw, mdņi 18+, established plot, smųt with plot, characters are aged up or in their 20s, threesome, double penetration, cum mentioned, double cream pie, unprotected sex, fingering, degradation 'slut' ... not proofreaded, ig that's it?

♡word count & a/n: 5.2k, a special thank you & a smooch to @remlionheart for helping my ass write this and feeding my brain with her sweet ideas. it was so amusing and fun to write that i couldn't stop giggling. this fic is dedicated to my bbg @bittysuguro

[check the jjk & bsd special week masterlist]

“what do you mean my card got declined?!” a furious voice echoes across the pristine, high-end louis vuitton boutique.

you pause mid-step, glancing over your shoulder. the boutique is one of the most luxurious on omotesando street, and you haven't expected any kind of outburst here, of all places and you can’t help but arch an eyebrow, pondering if he's trying to pay with monopoly money or if his bank account has suddenly taken a nosedive.

the subject of the chaos stands by the counter, fuming—he’s a redheaded man in a black designer coat with a flat cap pulled low over his striking blue eyes. he looks like he just walked out of a fashion editorial, except for the part where he is practically roaring at the terrified cashier and waving a gold card like a weapon.

you find yourself blinking once again—what in the world is going on?

“sir, i ran it three times, and each time—” the cashier stammers, flinching as the redhead leans over the counter like he is about to blow the place up.

“i know there’s money on it! RUN IT AGAIN!” he growls, and you swear you can see veins popping in his neck.

before the poor cashier can even protest further, another man saunters into view, tall, lean, and wearing the most obnoxiously casual yet designer outfit. white hair peeks out from under a pair of dark sunglasses, and despite the clear chaos, he is wearing the cockiest grin you’d ever seen.

“tsk..no need to get so worked up,” the white-haired man drawled, arms laden with five louis vuitton bags. “your poor is showing.”

the redhead whirls on him, eyes blazing. “what did you just say, you asshole?”

the taller man stands there unfazed with his shit grin spreading wider. “you heard me, short stack.”

the redhead’s whole body stiffens, and you half expect him to launch himself across the store. you are only a few paces away, casually browsing the new bags collection, but now you find yourself watching the scene unfold like a deer caught in headlights.

“oh, please,” the white-haired man replies with a chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. “you sure you wanna do this, kid?”

at that moment, the shorter guy’s feet literally lift off the ground as he floats up toward the white-haired man, arm cocking back for a punch. it's like some weird gravity-defying stunt, and you can't help but stare, unsure whether you are hallucinating or if this is a really elaborate prank. you half-expect someone to jump out and yell, “surprise! you’re on candid camera!” while someone else films your bewildered expression.

the punch swings forward but… stops. midair.

“what the—” the redhead sputters, his fist hovering a mere inch from the smug man’s face, like an invisible barrier is blocking it.

“oh,” the taller man snickers, “you actually tried.”

just as things are about to get out of hand, a third man appeared—a taller figure with dark hair tied back wearing a serene expression as if he just strolled in from a yoga session. he places a hand on the redhead’s shoulder, gently pulling him back to the ground.

“hey man, let’s not destroy the boutique today, alright?” he says, tone weary yet unbelievably calm, like he is used to this kind of chaos. his gaze shifts to the white-haired man whilst rolling his eyes. “saturo, stop antagonizing everyone you meet. people are staring.”

the redhead grumbles something under his breath, glaring daggers at the taller man—saturo?—who simply chuckles back at him.

just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, the fiery-haired man still glaring at gojo, like he’d just stolen his lunch money—suddenly turns his gaze toward you as if he can feel your eyes boring into him. “what are you staring at?”

he takes a step toward you, and you feel your body tense up like a live wire. you can't help but blink back at him, because honestly, what are you supposed to say? "oh sorry, just trying to figure out why a five-foot ball of rage is levitating in a louis vuitton boutique?"

before you can formulate any semblance of a response, a smooth voice cuts in, dripping with nonchalance, “now, now, chuuya, no need to take your frustration out on innocent bystanders.”

the ginger-haired man—chuuya, you think you heard—glare flickers with surprise as a tall man with messy brown hair sidles up next to him, his brown trench coat swaying with his lazy steps. you barely register him before he sweeps his hand out, pushing chuuya aside like a piece of furniture. “pardon my associate’s behavior. he’s always a little testy when his card gets declined.”

you blink. “huh…?”

the brown-haired man gives you a dazzling smile, the kind that should come with a warning label. “ahh but you…” he trails off, letting his dark eyes roam over your figure with a look of pure delight. “such a wonderful sight. how can such a radiant beauty even exist in this world?” his voice dips, smooth and syrupy, and you can practically hear the faint sound of violins playing in the background.

chuuya’s eye twitches as he scowls at dazai. “are you seriously doing this right now?”

dazai ignores him entirely, stepping closer to you. “osamu dazai, by the way. and you must be the goddess gracing us with your presence today. It’s an honor to bask in your light.” he flashes you a grin, the kind that looks practiced but somehow genuine, and you’re not sure if you should be flattered or call security.

“i—uh—” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the situation.

before you can utter another word out, the white-haired man—saturo, you assume, based on the way the other man addressed him—suddenly whips around, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough to reveal his gorgeous icy blue eyes, narrowing his gaze on you.

his entire demeanour shifts in an instant, going from casual smugness to absolute starstruck fanboy in 0.5 seconds. “wait… wait a damn minute—” his eyes widen, and he practically leaps forward, shoving dazai to the side like an afterthought. “you… you’re—no way, it's you! you’re my favourite movie star!”

dazai, now comically stumbling from the shove, frowns, “hey, i was talking first!”

saturo doesn’t even hear him, his attention laser-focused on you as he runs a hand through his white hair, grinning like an excited puppy. “holy shit, i’ve seen all your movies! you’re incredible! i mean, not just pretty—you’re talented too! that last film? chef’s kiss. truly. pure brilliance.”

you stare at him flabbergasted by the sudden barrage of praise. “uh… thanks?”

saturo claps his hands together and then turns to dazai with a smug smirk. “sorry, what were you saying? something about basking in her light?”

dazai, ever the smooth operator, recovers quickly, “wait a minute…” he muses, leaning slightly closer to saturo, “you know, your voice is kind of… nice.” he cocks his head as if discovering a new piece of an intriguing puzzle. “almost like i’ve heard it somewhere before… perhaps in a mirror?”

saturo's eyebrows shoot up, a look of surprise briefly crossing his face before his smug grin returns again. “well, well, aren’t you observant?” he says, hands casually stuffed into his pockets as he looks dazai up and down. “i guess i should compliment your taste then—great minds and great voices think alike.” he chuckles, and you can almost feel the mutual smugness radiating off the two men.

chuuya, who has been silently simmering through the whole exchange, finally explodes. “are ya both fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls, fists clenching at both his sides. “first, i’ve gotta deal with him”—he jabs a finger toward dazai—“and now this jackass too?” his foot taps impatiently on the boutique's polished floor, like he's ready to fight both of them.

“chuuya tsk.. tsk you're just upset because your little card got declined.” he shakes his head chuckling, “i didn’t know the economy would reject you specifically. but you know, you could always start a gofundme or maybe, uh i don’t know, pawn that fancy hat of yours?” he smirks playfully. “i hear they pay well for vintage."

saturo chuckles, clearly enjoying their little banter chaos. “hey, i like this guy! he’s got jokes.” he leans over toward dazai. “you sure we didn’t cross paths before?” then, turning his attention back to you with a teasing glint, he adds, “don’t worry, sweetheart—i’m still your best bet if you’re looking for a hero.” his eyes glimmer with flirtatious arrogance, as if he’s already planned your honeymoon by now.

chuuya throws his hands up in exasperation, shooting dazai an accusatory glare. “this isn’t funny, dazai! how the hell are we even supposed to survive in this weird-ass world when my damn card doesn’t work? not to mention that this is your fault for bringing us to this ridiculous place!”

the bandaged man sighs briefly, slipping into a serious look, “you're right. but I guess it's time to become a street performer. i mean, with your size, you’d make an adorable little tap dancer. might even make some decent pocket change.”

“you son of a—”

“enough!” the hot black-haired guy, who had been silently observing, steps forward, placing a firm hand on chuuya’s shoulder again. “we’re in public. can we try to act like civilized people for five minutes?”

chuuya grumbles, his fists still clenched, but the black-haired guy’s firm grip on his shoulder seems to anchor him enough to stop an all-out brawl. he glares between the two idiots in front of him—dazai still grinning like a smug bastard and saturo, who looks like he’s already planning his next punchline.

saturo straightens, his grin shifting slightly. “ugh suguru..don’t be such a killjoy.” he gestures lazily at dazai, “i was just making a new friend.”

chuuya scoffs. “friends? yeah, right. who the hell are you guys anyway?”

“just… tell them your name already. this isn’t a fight club.” suguru rolls his eyes.

saturo shrugs, turning his attention back to you and flashing that million-watt grin. “well, since suguru insists.” he dramatically puts a hand to his chest as if introducing himself for the first time. “i’m gojo satoru. the strongest sorcerer and uh apparently,”—he glances at dazai with a smirk—“your newest competitor for this sweetheart's attention.”

you sigh, clearly having enough of this shitty situation that feels like the setup for a sitcom episode. the ginger looks more frustrated by the minute, and the sight of him glaring daggers at the so-called companions makes you feel slightly bad for him.

“alright, chuuya,” you say, pulling him toward the cashier, ignoring the stunned look on his face. you feel suguru follow, maintaining a calming presence beside you. the cashier looks just as frazzled as chuuya, but you’re determined to end this nightmare once and for all.

“wait, what are you doing?” chuuya protests, glancing back at you with wide eyes. “you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine, really. it happens all the time,” you insist, shooting him a reassuring smile as you pull out your own card. “this is on me. plus you can pay me back in another way, though.”

dazai, overhearing this, perks up like a dog hearing a treat bag crinkle. he sidles over with that ever-present smirk on his face, leaning closer to you. “oh, you accept other ways? you naughty naughtyyy tsk!”

you roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm slightly, and ignore him completely. instead, you focus on the cashier, who looks thoroughly confused but also relieved to see the drama coming to a close. “just run this through, please.”

chuuya crosses his arms, clearly still disgruntled but unable to resist the tide of your determination. suguru shoots him a look that seems to say, “just go with it,” and chuuya huffs, lips pressing into a thin line.

as the cashier processes the transaction, you turn back to huuya. “it's fine, I really get it—everyone has rough days. uh how about you let me help you out a bit? i actually have a project coming up that could use two male leads.”

“it’s a vampire movie,” you explain with a grin spreading across your face as you watch chuuya’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “and honestly, you two fit the aesthetic perfectly. everyone i’ve auditioned so far has been terrible. i could really use your looks and… personalities,” you point toward the redhead and the hot black-haired man.

chuuya raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his features. “a vampire movie? seriously?”

“actually, I think you’d be perfect for the role. your features and that hair of yours are perfect for it.” suguro chuckles, nudging chuuya slightly.

you watch as chuuya’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. for the first time, he chuckles, rolling his eyes at suguro. “you wouldn’t believe it, but I’ve had to dress up like one just to save that idiot dazai’s neck.”

suguro chuckles back, shaking his head. “guess it’s time to redeem yourself.”

chuuya huffs but a small smile betrays him. “fine, i’ll consider it. but only if you promise i don’t have to wear any ridiculous costumes.”

“i can’t make any promises,” you say with a teasing grin.

suguro smiles, leaning against the counter. “i’ll accept the offer, too.”

you beam, feeling a wave of relief wash over you finally. “great! i’ll send you both the details later.”

“ugh, why is this so hard?” you can’t help but chuckle at his struggle, it’s not like you're defusing a bomb here—just rehearsing a kiss for a scene.

“chuuya, it’s just a kiss. how hard can it be?” you tease, raising an eyebrow, watching him pace back and forth through the rehearsal room like a caged tiger.

“just a kiss? have you seen your face?” he gestures wildly, and you swear you can see steam rising from his ears. “you make it look way too easy!”

you giggle glancing up as you hear a faint creak from the door only to see geto strolling in and casually leaning against the door frame. you can tell that he just got out of the shower as he holds a towel drying his luxurious black hair. you part your lips trying to take a deep breath as you see his damp hair clinging to his neck in a way that’s... well, distracting, and you're not above admitting that. but as he shakes the water from his hair, your mind drifts back—against your will, mind you—to that moment from a week ago.

technically, it was a regular day. nothing special. just you trying on a costume in one of those annoyingly small fitting rooms. and of course, it had to be the tightest, most ill-fitting costume known to mankind. the zipper might as well have been laughing at your misery as you wrestled with it, stuck halfway like it had a personal problem against you.

after what felt like an hour of struggle, you finally managed to peel the outfit off your body like some weird victory over fabric. and that’s when geto decided to make his grand entrance.

“oh, uh... wrong room,” he said and in that split second, you swore your heart had leaped out of your chest, seeing his eyes go wide, flicking down clearly taking in the delicate lace set you had on and oh, the way he stares makes your cheeks flush hotter than the sun on a july afternoon.

you are friends. just friends. well, maybe more than friends. the three of you are getting along—maybe a little too perfectly, if you are being honest. it is in the small things like how geto always have a lighter handy for you and chuuya, even though he doesn't smoke. you have no idea why, but somehow he’d always flick it open when you reach for a cigarette. that, combined with the lingering glances and casual touches that seems far too intimate to be strictly platonic, says something about where things are heading.

chuuya, on the other hand, is... well, he is oblivious. not that you mind it. he is just so focused on the roles you are rehearsing together that he hasn't picked up on the fact that you’ve been flirting with him for a while now. hell, geto had caught on, but chuuya? the poor guy needs it spelled out. you are going to have to make your moves more obvious—or, in chuuya’s case, maybe drastic.

and if you think back to certain moments—like that night when chuuya got himself absolutely plastered. that redhead brat went from zero to blackout drunk in record time, and of course, it fell on you to drag his sorry ass home. you just couldn't see him stumbling out of a bar, half-laughing, half-cursing, completely out of it and do nothing. to be fair, this all came after his impulsive bank robbery—yeah, you heard that right. a bank robbery. apparently, after the whole boutique incident, chuuya decided he was tired of being broke.

so there you were, guiding this drunken menace through the streets, and contemplating how you could spring him from the charges he was facing. he was barely coherent, mumbling something about the "best wine ever" and how the stars were "calling his name." romantic, right? wrong.

by the time you finally got him inside, chuuya, in all his sottish wisdom, decided clothes were optional. without a word—no hesitation, no second thoughts—he started stripping. pants off, dress shirt shirt flung across the room, and he was about to lose the rest when you jumped in.

“whoa, okay, let’s maybe not do that right now?” you managed to say, trying your best to avert your gaze but also wondering why the hell the universe had put you in this situation. because, let’s be honest, as much as you didn't want to stop him... you really, really should.

and you did stop him, somehow managing to wrestle him back into some kind of decency before he could make things even more harder for you. needless to say, he was so out of it, that he passed out immediately after—half clothed, thank god.

and you thank heavens that he doesn't remember a damn thing the next morning about his one-man strip show.

you blink as the sound of geto’s teasing voice yanking you from your thoughts.

“what’s going on in here? i could hear chuuya’s desperation from down the hall.”

chuuya glares at him. “shut it, geto. we’re just—”

“rehearsing a kiss,” you finish, unable to resist the urge to jump in.

“exactly,” chuuya huffs, crossing his arms defensively and pouting—god he's so adorable. “just a stupid kiss.”

geto smiles softly and steps further into the rehearsal room, “well, it can’t be that bad. show me what you’ve got.”

chuuya rolls his eyes, obviously being tested by geto’s teasing and you can see him mentally gearing up, “alright, but don’t laugh if I mess it up.”

you try to flash him an encouraging smile to ease him a little bit. “just breathe. it’s literally just a kiss.”

he nods stepping closer, you notice his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. he gets within a breath’s distance and suddenly seems frozen, his confidence evaporating as he stumbles over his own thoughts. “uh... so...”

you can't help but chuckle softly, leaning in a little closer to coax him. “come on, chuuya. just focus on my lips. you can do this.”

geto—who had been watching from the side with a knowing smile—decided to step in. “you know, it might help to ease the tension. let me give you a few pointers.

chuuya blinked, caught off guard but quickly nodded. “yeah, sure. anything to make it look… believable.”

without uttering a response, he strides over and gently cupping your sweet pink cheeks, leaning in to press his soft lips against yours, and oh god, it’s perfect. the world fades away, and for a moment, it’s just you and the warmth of his lips. you let out a soft gasp as he slips his tongue between your puffy lips, tilting his head for better acess making your heart race as your mind wonders if you’ve just been seduced in a rehearsal. honestly you’re taken aback by how natural it feels, how perfectly his lips fit against yours.

geto loses himself completely in the kiss, his fingers brushing through your hair as if he’s trying to pull you closer, as the kiss deepens a low hum escapes his wet lips. you feel a rush of pleasure floods through your entire body, and just when you think it can’t get better, he pulls away, slightly breathless and blinking as he locks gaze with your lips for a bit before averting his gaze to chuuya.

well as for chuuya, the ginger stands there, wide-eyed, his lips slightly parted as if he hasn’t fully processed what just happened. “uh… was the tongue really necessary?” he stammers, cheeks flushed an adorable shade of crimson.

geto chuckles, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “now you try.”

chuuya blinks again, still looking all flustered but still wants to get it right. he turns to you, hand sliding to your waist in a way that is awkward but endearing.

“fine… i got this.” his voice is hushed as his take your lower lip between his pink ones, trying to mimic what geto had done. it was just a kiss—chaste, careful, like he was still holding back. but then something clicked within you, the ginger's eyes snaps open before growling into your mouth as you slip your tongue into into his before twirling the two pink muscles together. you glide your delicate fingers through his messy strands, pulling him closer for a few seconds before he pulls back, breathing heavily.

“okay, that was… not acting right?” he says, his brows furrowing as he tries to catch his breath. “is that how it’s supposed to feel?”

geto sighs loudly, shaking his head in exasperation. “chuuya, how didn’t you notice? it’s been going on for a few months already. didn’t you realise it? because if you really want us to… you know...”

“ugh, thank you!!! finally someone who can read my hints,” you exclaim, shooting geto a grateful look.

chuuya blinks a few times, his brows knitting together as he processes what’s just been said. “wait, hold on,” he splutter, looking back and forth between you and geto. “are you both... serious?”

“god, i’m such an idiot. i thought we were just—” he pauses

“just friends?” you finish for him, giving him a playful nudge. “come on, chuuya. i thought i was dropping some pretty big hints.”

the redhead runs a hand through his messy hair, looking both at you and geto. “ so..uh..you really want us to fuck you?” he mutters, lips forming into a slow grin.. “like...both of us?”

“uh, yeah?” you say, biting your lip to suppress a smile watching chuuya and geto exchange glances more like a silent understanding seems to pass between them, and before you know it, geto strides over and lifts you off the ground effortlessly.

“wait, wait, wait!” you squeal, laughter bubbling up as you squirm in his grip. “what are you doing?”

“just a little detour to somewhere more private.” he says, glancing back at chuuya, who raises his eyebrows with a sick lustful grin plastered on his face.

“seriously, you guys, i can walk!” you protest, but the thrill of being swept off your feet makes it hard to sound convincing.

“good, ‘cause we'll make sure you won’t be walking straight for days.” chuuya says as he opens the trailer door, stepping inside with geto following suit.

the sound of a zipper being pulled down is the last thing you hear before you’re instantly pressed between the two men, their eager hands working quickly to strip you bare. the fabric falls away easily revealing more of your skin to their hungry eyes.

“damn,” chuuya breathes seeing your skin pebble once they hit the cold air. “you’re even prettier than i imagined.”

your eyes flutter shut as your head falls back on geto's shoulder and you relax for just a second before you feel chuuya's mouth encircled your nipple, his jot tongue swirling around your areola tasting your sweet skin as he groans softly against it.

“hngh—chuuya…” you whimper fingers tightening in his messy hair.

he releases your nipple with a slick pop, then brings his large palms to knead your pillowy breasts. as geto lifts you slightly, guiding your hips down to press against his hard cock. you open your eyes to glance down, breath hitching at the sight of him resting between your slick folds. you can't help but let out a soft gasp seeing how massive he is, tip coated with pre-cum and veins popping and soaked by your essence. you let out a soft moan as he peppers your neck with hot, wet kisses, goosebumps rise across the plains of your skin.

chuuya leans down easing you into geto's embrace and spreading your plushy thighs wider.

“look at her pussy—fuck s’pretty..” chuuya drawls as he spits on your swollen clit drawing lazy cut shapes on it, the warm fluid drooling between your puffy folds.

he then plunges his spit-slicked fingers past the swell of your plump lips, coaxing you to get even wetter for them as geto's large, gritty hands grip your ass, pulling you back and forth on his throbbing, leaky, fat cock.

“such a good slut, sucking my fingers so well,” your cunt clenches eagerly sucking on chuuya's long fingers, once he's truly satisfied, he pulls out of your cunt before smearing your juices all across your folds.

geto grips his cock in his palm, the leaky tip smearing your juices as he positions himself between your chubby cheeks. you never tried anal before and you never expected yourself to gasp that loud feeling the rush of spit pools against the pad of your tongue from him stretching your hole so perfectly. you cry out in surprise before chuuya swiftly plunges his tongue into your mouth swallowing your lewd noises.

“ffuck, i’ve been waiting for this, babe.” you hear geto's soft moans against the shell of your ear from behind, “... thinking of you in those lacy little things... mngh, you have no idea how many nights i couldn’t sleep, wanting to feel you... s’warm and tight around me.” he grips your juicy ass cheeks tighter, thrusting you down against him, as if he can’t wait any longer.

“ready for me doll?” chuuya breathes against your lips.

“yes ahh please chuu—mngh” you try to respond, but your words dissolve into a moan as you feel him slowly push inside your heated core. you had expected him to be gentle—just not this gentle. he languidly slides deeper and deeper, his head dropping forward to rest against your soft breasts, growling as he buries himself inside you.

you dig your nails into chuuya’s shoulders, forming delicate marks on his pale skin as you use him for leverage to push yourself back onto geto's cock. each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, making you shudder as chuuya fills you completely.

“god, you feel s’ fuckin’ good, doll,”

your moans get higher and higher mingling with their grunts and growling, chuuya finds himself thrusting faster than usual, his cock is pulsing from watching you nastily taking him and his friend's cock so perfectly.

“y-you okay doll?” chuuya breathes, his voice laced with awe as he watches your eyes roll back into your skull.

“ffuhmk—yes please more,” you cry feeling geto's pace starting to match chuuya's fast and hard ones, your body tenses up, pleasured from all angles, both with their girthy huge cocks filling you up to the brim, your vision blurs seeing through haze chuuya's eyes roll back, his fiery strands sticking to his face and neck, red hue blossoming under his skin and rapidly spreading to his chest.

“jesus f-fucking christ, you're so hot.” geto breathes against your skin tilting your head so that he can bite down your bottom lip gently before drawing circles with your tongues making the pair of you an even greater mess, both his hands reach up to cup your pillowy breasts squeezing them as they jiggle between the palm of his hands, “mmngh—sugu~ahh” the two of you moaning in unison.

before you can catch your breath, chuuya grabs your cheeks with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. his lips crash against yours with a bruising intensity in a sloppy kiss, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth as his fingers roughly toy with your clit, drawing sharp, almost painful pleasure from the sensitive nub. “you gonna cum for us, mngh? gonna be a good slut and cum?” he growls, cupid's bows wet from your searing kisses as his fingers cut circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

the world around you blurs as you're finally pushed over the edge with the repeated brush of their cocks against your spongy spots—a blinding white light floods your vision, static crackling in your ears. chuuya watches in awe, like he's witnessing a miracle, as you cum, your body convulsing with pleasure. at the same time, geto spills inside you, his warm release filling your womb to the brim. the intensity makes you feel like you might pass out, a scream ripping from your throat as the knot in your lower belly unravels with chuuya's twitching cock inside you as he too rocks inside you multiple times riding out his sweet release with force that makes your body shake as he paints your walls with his hot shooting cum filling you up perfectly. you three reach your peak together, perfectly in sync.

the world gradually comes back into focus, as you three try to calm down from your release. geto is the first to pull out, and as he does, you feel his cum slowly drip from your body. chuuya follows, watching in awe your ruined holes leaking with their seeds as your legs tremble from the overwhelming pleasure.

chuuya chuckles breathlessly, wiping the sweat from his brow, and gently rubs a hand over your thigh. “i’ll get the bath ready for ya doll,” he murmurs, voice still rough from the intensity of his orgasm, before standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

you nod, watching his bare form head to the bathroom as geto leans in close, pressing gentle, reassuring kisses to your lips while his strong hands tenderly massage your trembling legs. “relax, baby” he whispers between kisses, his lips still deliciously sloppy, “you did so well. let me take care of you.” he strokes your skin soothingly, bringing you down from the high as you try to catch your breath.

you give geto a tired but grateful smile, your chest still heaving, “t-thank you, sugu,” you murmur softly, watching his lips curl into a satisfied grin, and he continues to massage your legs, his fingers easing away the lingering tension.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @whiteelovex @dottedhalfnotes @victoria1676 @ghostedwriting @a-trashbag @bakedpotato12 @ambervanth @sakui1 @iams0up @osamucide @lighthoonie @chuuyascumsock

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pedroscowgirl · 4 months ago

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Unspoken desires

hugh jackman x afab!reader

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI!

age gap (reader 20s, hugh is 55), angst (no bad stuff), p in v , creampie (wrap it up), choking, talking about feelings, daddy issues (again)

Words: 5.1k

A/N: You can read this separately but i imagined this as a part 2 of this fic that i wrote :) enjoy! (i have so much hugh in my concepts it's bad)

MASTERLIST

Weeks had drifted by since you and Hugh first began your casual sleeping together, and what had once been a whirlwind of passion had gradually settled into something more routine. The excitement of your initial encounters had softened into a comfortable familiarity. The chemistry was still there, moments together still brought a sense of warmth and pleasure but the raw spark that had once set your skin on fire was slowly dimming. You found yourself wondering if Hugh felt it too, or if he was simply going along with the flow, just as you were.

Today, you were set to see Hugh again, but this time it wasn’t just a private rendezvous. Instead of meeting privately, you were headed to a small gathering at his apartment to celebrate the overwhelming success of the Deadpool and Wolverine movie, which had just hit theatres and shattered expectations at the box office. It was a big moment for Hugh, and he was proud of the film, so when he invited you to join in the celebration, you didn’t hesitate.

Choosing an outfit for the occasion felt like a delicate balance,you wanted to look stunning, but also to pay homage to Hugh’s iconic role. After sifting through your closet, you decided on a little black dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. It was simple yet elegant, with gold accents that gleamed under the light, a subtle nod to the yellow of Wolverine's costume. You paired it with matching accessories,a gold bracelet, earrings that caught the light, and heels that made you feel confident with each step. As you applied the finishing touches to your makeup, you couldn’t shake the feeling of anticipation mixed with a hint of uncertainty. This was more than just another night together, it was an event, a step into his world, however small.

When you finally arrived at Hugh’s apartment, the evening air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you felt when you thought of seeing him. As you stood at his door, you took a deep breath, willing yourself to enjoy the night no matter what. The door swung open, revealing Hugh dressed casually but impeccably, his smile as charming as ever. The sight of him sent a familiar flutter through your chest, but as you leaned in to greet him with a kiss on the mouth, a gesture that had become natural between you, but he shifted slightly, his lips brushing against your cheek instead. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it caught you off guard. The kiss on the cheek was friendly, almost distant, and you couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. It was as if the shift you had sensed over the past weeks was crystallizing in this single moment.

Hugh pulled you into a warm hug, his hand lingering on your back, but the initial awkwardness of the missed kiss lingered in the air. As you stepped inside, you noticed the apartment was already buzzing with energy. Laughter echoed from the living room, where a few of Hugh’s close friends, including Ryan and Blake, were already gathered, drinks in hand. The atmosphere was lively, the kind of joyous occasion that should have made you feel welcome and at ease, but instead, a small seed of doubt had taken root in your mind.

You knew Hugh was a private person, especially when it came to his relationships. He hadn’t told anyone about the two of you—not even Ryan and Blake, who were like family to him. It wasn’t hard to understand why. Hugh had confided in you once, in a quiet moment after you’d made love, that he sometimes felt self-conscious about the age gap between you. He’d joked about being “too old” for you, but there had been a seriousness in his eyes that told you it wasn’t just a passing thought. It was something that lingered at the back of his mind, and now, it seemed like that insecurity was starting to manifest in small, subtle ways.

Despite the initial awkwardness, you resolved not to let it ruin the night. This was Hugh’s moment to shine, and you were determined to be there for him. You pushed the doubts aside, telling yourself that there was no need to overthink things. After all, this was supposed to be a celebration, not a night to get lost in your thoughts. You grabbed a glass of champagne from the counter, smiling at Hugh as you joined the others in the living room. The conversation flowed easily, and soon, you found yourself laughing along with the group, the earlier tension beginning to fade into the background.

As the night wore on, you caught glimpses of Hugh across the room, his eyes occasionally meeting yours with a softness that reassured you, if only a little. There were moments when he would come over, resting his hand on your shoulder or leaning in to share a private joke, and for those brief intervals, it felt like nothing had changed. But then he would pull away, drawn back into the conversation with his friends, and you were left wondering if he was purposely keeping a distance, or if you were just imagining it.

Even more time passed, and you found yourself deep in conversation with one of the crew members from the film. The discussion was engaging, he was sharing behind-the-scenes stories about the production, and you were genuinely interested, laughing at the amusing anecdotes he recounted. But despite the lively conversation, a part of your attention remained elsewhere. You couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had lingered since your arrival.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Hugh across the room. He was standing with a small group, his handsome face lit up with that familiar, heart-melting smile of his. But what caught your attention wasn’t the smile itself, it was the person he was smiling at. Beside him was a stunning blonde woman, who looked to be in her late forties. She was effortlessly elegant, with a confidence that matched her beauty. As she spoke, Hugh laughed, his deep, warm laughter carrying across the room. But it was the way he looked at her that made your heart drop. There was a softness in his gaze, an ease that you hadn’t seen in him in a while.

A pang of jealousy surged through you, sharp and unexpected. You knew you had no right to feel this way. Hugh was a free man now, having finalized his divorce about a year ago. It had been a difficult time for him, and you had been there to support him, offering comfort when he needed it. But now, seeing him with someone else, that rational understanding faded into the background, replaced by a raw, unfiltered emotion. You couldn’t help it, you loved him. It wasn’t something you had intended or even expected when you first started seeing each other, but the more time you spent with Hugh, the more you realized just how deep your feelings ran.

It felt strange, almost surreal, to acknowledge it to yourself. Hugh was a man who seemed to have it all—charm, good looks, kindness, and a genuine warmth that made people feel at ease around him. He was sweet to everyone, always the gentleman, and his sincerity was what drew you to him in the first place. How could anyone not fall in love with him? But knowing this didn’t make it any easier to watch him with someone else, especially when the woman beside him was clearly just as taken by his charisma as you were.

You watched as she leaned in closer to him, her hand resting lightly on his muscular arm, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. The sight made your stomach twist into knots. It was a casual touch, nothing overtly intimate, but it spoke volumes. Hugh didn’t pull away,instead, he smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you found so endearing. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, the room closing in around you as your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions—jealousy, insecurity, fear. Did she know him better than you did? Was she someone from his past, or perhaps someone new who had caught his eye? The questions swirled in your head, unanswered and tormenting.

You suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. One of the people in your conversation circle was looking at you with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice cutting through the noise in your mind. You forced a smile and nodded quickly as you tried to gather yourself. “I’m fine,” you managed to say, even though the words felt empty. But the last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself, especially when you were struggling to keep your emotions in check.

“Excuse me,” you added hastily, your voice barely steady. You needed to get away, to find a place where you could breathe and collect your thoughts. But the walls of the apartment seemed to be closing in on you, the lively chatter and laughter around you becoming overwhelming. And without waiting for a response, you turned and made your way toward the bathroom, your steps quickening as you navigated through the crowded room.

As you closed the bathroom door behind you, the noise of the party was muffled, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You leaned against the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror with your heart still pounding in your chest. The image staring back at you was composed on the surface, but you could see the cracks just beneath, the vulnerability that you had been trying so hard to hide. It was hard to reconcile the feelings that had surged within you tonight. You hadn’t expected to feel so strongly, but now that you did, it was impossible to ignore.

The truth was, you didn’t just care about Hug, you were in love with him. And seeing him with someone else, seeing that look in his eyes that used to be directed at you, was a painful reminder that whatever you had was complicated and perhaps not as secure as you had hoped. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and tried to calm the storm of emotions inside you. You knew you couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, but for now, it was a safe haven where you could relax and decide how to face the rest of the night.

After a few minutes, you splashed some cool water on your face, hoping it would help clear your mind. The mirror reflected your slightly dampened makeup, but you quickly touched it up, not wanting anyone to see any sign of distress. You told yourself that tonight was about celebrating Hugh’s success, not about your complicated feelings. You could deal with those later, when you were alone and away from the prying eyes of his friends and colleagues.

When you finally felt composed enough to rejoin the party, you took one last deep breath and opened the bathroom door. The lively sounds of the gathering filled your ears again, and as you stepped back into the main room, you scanned the crowd, trying to locate Hugh without being too obvious.

And after trying to push through the rest of the evening with forced smiles and half-hearted conversations, you reached your breaking point. It was too much—the tension, the uncertainty, the way Hugh seemed so comfortable with someone else while you were left questioning everything. You decided you needed to get out of there, to put some distance between you and whatever this was becoming before you snapped in front of everyone.

Without saying a word, you started making your way toward the door, weaving through the remaining guests. You had almost reached the exit when you felt a strong hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You turned sharply to find Hugh standing behind you, his eyes filled with concern and a hint of confusion.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice low but firm, clearly sensing that something was wrong.

You pulled your wrist from his grip, trying to avoid his gaze as you muttered, “I need some air.”

But Hugh wasn’t letting you go that easily. He stepped closer, his presence demanding your attention. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange all night. Talk to me.”

You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to admit what was really bothering you, especially when you knew you had no right to feel this way. But the frustration that had been building inside you all evening finally boiled over. You spun around to face him, your eyes flashing with anger.

“Nothing’s wrong, Hugh. I just need to get out of here, okay?” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. All you wanted was to leave before you said something you couldn’t take back.

Hugh frowned, not buying your answer for a second. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s really going on,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He reached for your hand again, this time holding it more gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing gesture that only made you more frustrated.

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you from leaving. “Hugh, just let me go,” you snapped, but he didn’t budge.

“Come with me,” he said quietly, his voice firm but gentle as he guided you toward the hallway that led to his bedroom. You followed him, more out of exasperation than anything else, knowing that this conversation wasn’t something you couldn’t avoid any longer.

Once inside his room, Hugh closed the door behind you, shutting out the noise of the party. The silence between you was thick with tension as you stood there, your arms crossed, staring at the floor. Hugh watched you, waiting for you to speak, but when you didn’t, he finally broke the silence.

“Why are you so upset?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if trying to coax the truth out of you.

You clenched your jaw, still refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m not upset,” you lied, the words bitter on your tongue. “I just… I just don’t want to be here right now.”

Hugh sighed, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. He reached out, placing a hand on your chin and gently lifting your face so you were forced to look at him. “I know you better than that. What’s really going on?”

His concern and tenderness only made you angrier. You wanted to push him away, to run out of the room and forget this whole night ever happened. But the emotions you had been holding back finally broke free, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“I saw you with her, Hugh!” you burst out, your voice shaking with frustration and hurt. “That woman, you were laughing with her, looking at her like she was the only person in the room. And I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do. I can’t help it.”

Hugh’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly recovered, his expression softening as he realized what had been bothering you. “You think… you think I’m interested in her?” he asked, disbelief colouring his tone.

You didn’t answer, but your silence spoke volumes. Hugh let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process what you were saying. “She’s just a friend,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “There’s nothing going on between us. I was just being friendly,” Hugh said, his tone dismissive.

You let out a sigh, your eyes narrowing as you locked onto his. “I know what your 'friendly' looks like, Hugh. I’ve seen you flirt before.” He hesitated, the realization of your words sinking in. Finally, he sighed, admitting, “Alright, maybe I was flirting a little. But there’s nothing official between us, for fucks sake I’m twice your age, so why does it bother you so much?” His voice carried a hint of annoyance as he met your gaze, clearly frustrated.

And as the heated exchange between you and Hugh unfolded in his bedroom, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions, Hugh took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. Instead of matching your rising anger, he opted for a calmer approach, his voice measured and gentle.

"Listen," he began, his eyes searching yours earnestly. "I never meant to hurt you. I just thought... given our age difference, that this was something light, something fun for both of us. You have your entire life ahead of you. You should be out there, enjoying yourself, experiencing things with people your own age. Building a future with someone who can match your energy, your plans, your dreams."

His words felt like a cold splash of water, momentarily drowning the flames of your anger. But soon, a different kind of heat rose within you,a mix of hurt and disbelief. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to process his confession.

"So, you think this is just a fling for me?" you choked out, voice quivering. "That I'm just... passing time with you until someone my age comes along?"

Hugh looked pained, but he held your gaze. "I just didn't want to hold you back. I thought keeping things casual was best for both of us."

A tear escaped, trailing down your cheek. "Hugh, you idiot," you whispered, voice breaking. "I don't care about your age. I don't care about any of that. I care about you. Can't you see that?"

He reached out, gently wiping the tear from your face with his thumb. "I just didn't want to be the reason you missed out on experiences, on opportunities."

You shook your head intensely. "The only thing I'd miss out on is being with you. Can't you understand that? It's not about age or experiences. It's about how I feel when I'm with you."

Before you could even form another sentence, Hugh's lips crashed onto yours with a passion that sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. His kiss was intense, all-consuming, and filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. You could feel the urgency in the way he held you, his hands gripping your waist tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

Without breaking the kiss, Hugh swept you off your feet, his strong arms effortlessly lifting you from the floor. You clung to him, your heart pounding in your chest as he carried you over to the bed. There was something primal in his movements, a raw need that resonated deep within you. He laid you down with a surprising gentleness, as though you were the most precious thing in the world.

His hands moved to the zipper of your little black dress, slowly drawing it down with a deliberate precision that made your breath catch in your throat. The dress slipped down your shoulders, exposing your skin to the cool air, and he paused to admire the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire. His fingers brushed over the bare skin of your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine as the dress slid further down your body, finally pooling around your hips before he removed it entirely.

You were now laid bare before him, and the way he looked at you made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. He began to undress himself, his movements quick and sure, until his clothes lay discarded on the floor. The sight of him standing there, naked and aroused, was enough to make your mouth go dry. His body was a masterpiece, every muscle perfectly defined, his skin stretched over a frame that was the epitome of masculine perfection.

No matter how many times you had seen him like this, it never failed to take your breath away. He was all hard lines and powerful muscles, his presence dominating the room in a way that made you feel both safe and utterly desired. Why would you ever want anyone else when this man was right here?

Hugh’s eyes roamed over your body, drinking in every curve, every inch of exposed skin. There was a possessiveness in his gaze, an intensity that made your pulse race. He climbed onto the bed, his hands finding your body as he began to explore you with his lips. He started at your neck, his mouth hot and wet against your skin as he kissed his way down to your collarbone. He took his time, savouring each kiss, each caress, as if he wanted to memorize the taste and feel of you.

When his lips reached your thighs, he paused, lifting his gaze to meet yours. The look in his eyes was nothing short of predatory, and it sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and then he bit down, just hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped at the sensation, your body tensing in response as a wave of heat pooled in your core.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours as he ran his tongue over the mark he had just made. “This is all mine, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice a low, possessive growl.

A whimper escaped your lips as you nodded, your voice trembling with need. “Yes, it’s all yours.”

A satisfied smirk curled his lips, and he didn’t waste another moment. He positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he lined himself up with your entrance. He paused for a moment, just long enough to let the anticipation build, before slowly pushing inside. The sensation of him filling you was indescribable, a perfect blend of pleasure and intimacy that made your breath catch in your throat.

He moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm at first, each thrust deep and measured, as if he wanted to savour every moment of being inside you. The way he moved, the way he filled you, it was as if he was made for you, fitting perfectly into every curve, every inch of you. Your body responded to his in kind, your hips rising to meet his as you moaned softly, lost in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Hugh’s hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer with each thrust as he set a steady pace. His mouth found yours again, kissing you with a passion that left you breathless. The kiss was deep, his tongue exploring your mouth in time with his movements, and it only served to heighten the pleasure coursing through your body. The connection between you was electric, a tangible bond that made every touch, every kiss, feel like fire on your skin.

As the intensity grew, he shifted slightly, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder to angle himself even deeper inside you. The new position made you gasp, your nails digging into his strong, muscular arm as the pleasure became almost unbearable. He watched your reaction with a mix of satisfaction and desire, clearly enjoying the way he was making you feel.

“Look at me, baby,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. “Look at me while I make you feel good.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was nearly too much to bear, but it made your heart race even faster. His thrusts grew more urgent, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The pressure was building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with every movement, until you were teetering on the edge of release.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, his hand moved to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. The sensation was intoxicating, the mixture of dominance and desire sending you spiraling closer to the edge.

“Cum on my dick, babygirl. Now,” he growled, his voice thick with authority and desire.

It was as if your body responded to his command on instinct. Your orgasm crashed over you with a force that left you trembling, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure rippled through you. You cried out, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it, but Hugh quickly shushed you, his grip on your throat tightening slightly.

“Quiet, baby,” he murmured, his voice still rough with desire. “There are people here.”

But before you could fully recover from the intensity of your orgasm, he moved again, flipping you over and pulling you on top of him. His strength was evident as he guided you effortlessly, positioning you so that you were straddling him. “Ride me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

Your legs were shaky, still trembling from the powerful orgasm, but he was there to support you. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you lowered yourself onto him once again. The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, but he held you steady, his strong arms lifting you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

As you rode him, he kept his hands on your thighs, his grip firm and possessive. The pleasure built again quickly, the intensity of the position driving you both closer to the edge. You could feel him tensing beneath you, his muscles tightening as he neared his own release.

Just as you were about to cum again, he gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust up into you with a powerful, final movement. “Fuck, I love you,” he groaned, the words spilling out in a raw, primal cry as he came deep inside you.

The confession sent you over the edge once more, your body shuddering as another powerful orgasm ripped through you. You collapsed against him, breathless and spent, as the reality of his words sunk in. He loved you.

As the intensity of the moment slowly faded, you both lay there, breathing heavily, your bodies still tangled together. The reality of what had just happened, Hugh's confession of love, the intensity of your connection, began to sink in, and you found yourself overwhelmed with a mixture of emotions. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, the rhythmic thud steadying you as you processed everything.

Hugh’s arms remained wrapped around you, his hold strong yet gentle, as if he was afraid to let you go. He hadn’t said anything since his declaration, and you could feel the tension in the air. There was a vulnerability in the way he held you, as if he was waiting for your response, unsure of what you might say.

You lifted your head slightly, looking up at him. His eyes met yours, and in them, you saw a mix of worry and hope, emotions that mirrored your own. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” he murmured softly, his voice still a little rough from the intensity of the moment. “It just… slipped out.”

You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and it tugged at your heart. Hugh wasn’t the type to open up easily to you, to let his guard down, and the fact that he had done so now, meant more than words could express. But you also knew that he was scared, scared of what loving you might mean, of the risks it entailed, of the future that could be so uncertain.

“Did you mean it?” you asked quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hugh hesitated for a moment before nodding, his gaze unwavering. “Yes,” he admitted. “I meant every word. I love you… but I didn’t want to say it like that. Not in the middle of—” He trailed off, clearly unsure of how to express himself.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for this man who had so completely captured your heart. “I love you too, Hugh,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “And I don’t care if it slipped out in the middle of… all that. I’m just glad you said it.”

His expression softened at your words, the tension in his body easing slightly. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as if to seal the promise between you.

“I’ve been trying to fight it,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve been telling myself that you deserve someone younger, someone who can give you a future… but I can’t fight how I feel anymore. I want to be with you, no matter what.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at his confession, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. All the doubts and fears you had been harboring seemed to melt away, leaving only the certainty that you wanted to be with him too, no matter what challenges might lie ahead.

“Hugh, I don’t care about any of that,” you said, your voice firm despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm you. “I love you, and that’s all that matters to me. We’ll figure everything else out together.”

His eyes searched yours, as if looking for any sign of doubt, but all he found was your unwavering commitment. A slow, relieved smile spread across his face, and he pulled you closer, holding you tightly against him as if he never wanted to let you go.

For a long while, the two of you lay there in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s embrace. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, connected in a way that felt deeper and more meaningful than ever before.

Eventually, Hugh broke the silence, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I want to do this right,” he said softly. “I want to take you out, treat you like you deserve. I want us to build something real, something lasting.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “I’d like that,” you replied, your voice equally soft. “But right now, I just want to stay here with you.”

Hugh chuckled, the sound deep and soothing. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, his arms tightening around you. “We have all the time in the world.”

And with that, the two of you drifted into a peaceful, contented silence, the future ahead of you no longer filled with uncertainty but with the promise of a love that was as deep and enduring as anything either of you had ever known.

taglist (dm if u wanna be added): @ermlady @elloredef @haytchee @melaninjoys @megangovier @blue2jay @hearts4suri @narniabusinessbitch @jadenlyday25 @getmeoutofhell

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #wolverine #wolverine smut #marvel smut #wolverine and deadpool #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #marvel

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applepieshy · 7 months ago

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I had an idea to redesign vox because I didn't love that a character obsessed with modernization would wear a top hat and bowtie. then after a brief stint into madness where I read my partner's historic costuming textbook I drew.... all this.

(side note: the idea of vox being a trans man who transitioned AFTER death was super compelling and absolutely inspired by @prince-liest so while this is not direct fanart of their series I wanted to give a shoutout anyway!!!)

okay some TRULY unhinged rambling about historic costume below the cut YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

1950s: for this design I very much did not want to go to the typical a-line housewife look, because I feel that is unfitting for vox's character. instead I went for a more business look, but there is still a level of femininity that he would have been expected to perform. i wanted to express his discomfort with that through the pose and expression, though at the time he wouldn't necessarily have a framework for why he hated it

1960s: this one was very fun. i loved the idea of vox beginning to eschew some of the expected feminine presentation, and he no longer wears makeup, jewelry, or hose (though its hard to tell in black & white); however, he's kind of at war with himself in this time period. he's obsessed with seeming perfect and having a respectable image, so he would not go in for the counter-culture movements that were so big in the 60s. he's still kind of riding those coattails though, pushing those boundaries while still not acknowledging his queerness.

1970s: to me, it was very important that the gender hit as he entered the world in color. in my mind the gender euphoria is physically manifested in a wizard of oz situation - he can become who he always has been. anyway, gender aside, I think it was very important to me personally that he wore an ascot. it was for my mental health.

1980s: I wanted the 1980s to be the period where he began to gain some power and notoriety because of the de-regulation of television during this period to allow more ads, mirroring real-world history. I think if the 70s were when vox gained some real confidence, the 80s are when he got an Ego (tm). "business casual" also began to become more acceptable in this time period, and the t-shirt/suit jacket combo was very important for me to include, as to me it epitomizes the commercialism and machismo of the 80s.

1990s: this was actually the decade I was the most nervous to design, and yet I think it turned out the best? the 90s are known for grunge, which I think is NOT vox's style at all. I decided instead to lean hard into the yuppie look, which I know is more associated with the 80s but was definitely still a thing in the 90s. I also allowed a little hip-hop influence in the form of a gold chain from val, which is not something I think vox would ever pick on his own.

2000s: if the 90s were the decade I was worried about and turned out great, the 2000s are the decade I thought I had down SO GOOD and then totally floundered in execution. I still love the bubble-mac inspired head, and I tried to make his clothes as "round" as possible. I also like that this is the time where his saturation got cranked. however, I don't know if I'm in love with the vest and super bright sneakers, because again, looking back on it, he kind of looks like he works at a movie theater or best buy or some shit lol,,,

2010s: I think it's telling that this is by far the closest to his canon design (2014 tumblr lookin ass). I really wanted to pull from that hipster tech bro era, but unfortunately that aesthetic has a veneration for "retro" which again, is not fitting for vox. I still think he would wear the bowtie during this time because, well... he sure does in the show!

2020s: this was fun because I had an excuse to pull from haute couture design rather than street fashion because of the introduction of velvette into his life. I truly do not think velvette would let vox and val walk around in the outfits that they do because it would be an actual embarrassment LMAO. for this, I wanted his decorative "robes" to be evocative of the time he depicted himself as a priest AND of a cape/robe of an emperor. he does think of himself as that bitch, after all.

#vox #trans vox #vox redesign #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin fanart #my art

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brnesblogposts · 9 months ago

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in good arms

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

this idea came to me 20 minutes ago and i had to write it down.

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Bucky walked in the room to see you looking quite sorry for yourself, it tugged on his heartstrings and he decided it was his mission to make you feel better.

“Hey buttercup,” He quipped and received a glare off of you.

“Don’t ever say that again.” You stared right into his soul and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Why do you look so down?” He took a seat next to you on the couch.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s this stupid cast on my arm” Sarcasm dripping from your voice which made Bucky role his eyes.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have jumped off of a two story building” He gave you side eye.

“I was TRYING to do a cool super hero landing!” You argued back only to see him smirk.

“How’d that work out for ya?”

“Shut up” You smacked his shoulder and went back to sulking in your own misery.

“Wanna watch a movie? Take a nap? Watch a movie while taking a nap?” Bucky asked and you nodded.

“Nap sounds good” You smiled.

“C’mere” He patted his lap where you lay your head as he played with your hair.

You closed your eyes and soon enough were fast asleep. Bucky smirked and went into his pocket and got out black and gold pens and began to colour your cast. Every once in awhile he’d giggle to himself and then he’d look at you scared you’d wake up. About forty minutes later you started to stir and Bucky stroked your hair as you slowly woke up.

“Morning, doll” He smiled and you returned the gesture.

“Hey” You sat up.

“How’d you sleep?” All innocence in his voice.

“I slept pretty good act-“ You stopped mid sentence when you looked down at your broken arm..

“Bucky” You spoke quietly.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He looked at you as if nothing had happened.

“Bucky did you colour in my cast” You slowly looked up to him again to see the biggest grin on his face. He held out his metal arm

“TWINS!” He beamed, he was so proud of himself and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You idiot oh my god I have to have this on for at least four more weeks.” You were looking at the gold detail, it really did look like his.

“We will walk around together and everyone will be in awe of how cute of a couple we are! Matching arms! Maybe we should get matching outfits to complete the look” He pulled you so you were sitting on his lap.

“Absolutely not, the arm is enough” You used your good hand to scratch the hair at the back of his head and he smiled dopily.

“I’m so glad you’re not mad, this really could’ve gone either way.” He laughed.

“You’re lucky I love you” Smiling at him before leaning in to kiss him sweetly.

“I love you my metal arm girl” To which you giggled and dug your head into the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

—————————————————-

hope you liked it, if you did please give it a reblog! i would appreciate it! also let me know if you want me to do a little drabble where the other avengers react to seeing the reader with the cast identical to buckys arm ..

#writerblr #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes being a dork

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themorningsunshine · 2 years ago

Text

I like me better when I am with you

Masterlist

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary - Bucky isn't in love with you, nope, not at all, not even a bit, that doesn't mean he has to like that man who is shamelessly drooling over you.

Warnings - Fluff, Bucky’s internal thoughts, jealousy

Word count - 2.8k

a/n - I had so much fun writing this.

Bucky’s internal monologue is in italic.

Stark parties were his least favourite. They always consisted of the same kind of people. Bucky didn't have to remember their faces to know that. They were all the same. Rich people with money much more than they could handle, spend it in the worst and the dumbest way possible. No, really, why the hell would they get their already filthy expensive phone coated with gold? And don't even get him started on when he had heard a man complaining that Tony hadn't put 'perfectly squared ice cubes' worth 300$ each in their drinks. Hell, he had somehow started respecting Tony's choices and that man was currently wearing a 100,000$ suit.

But these parties were never this unbearable. He always used to have company. He still has Steve sitting beside him and don't get him wrong, Steve is his best friend but there's a limit as to how much Bucky can hear that man complain about the new recruits.

"Can't believe Tony was able to do that. That man has got brains. Only if he was not so arrogant. Don't you think, Buck?"

His name slipping from Steve's mouth makes him look at his best friend who has been talking to him for .... well, a long time. He didn't even know when he switched topics.

Bucky never really zones out. He is a great listener but today, something else has caught his attention completely. Something which keeps bugging him and he doesn't even understand why.

Steve sighs as he realises just how much his best friend has been listening to him. "You know, Sam is right, you do have a staring problem."

"No, I don't," Bucky says in a way that makes it look like that's the most absurd and offensive thing he has ever heard.

Steve chuckles and says, "You don't have to sit here and pretend that it doesn't hurt you."

Bucky gives out a sarcastic chuckle. After everything he has been through, there is nothing in a hundred-mile radius of this party that could remotely hurt him. "I am just fine, Steve. Why would I be hurt?" He doesn't say he is good, or great, he says 'just fine' 'cause that's his default setting. To be just fine. He is rarely ever more than that.

No, you are, when you are with her. His inner thoughts whisper to him. He shakes his head to get that thought away as if it had offended him too.

Steve gives him a small smile and nods his head towards a direction that Bucky has been not so subtly staring at for the past half an hour.

And there you are. In all your glory. In the beautiful, simple, golden outfit you are wearing, sipping on your drink in the most gentle way possible. The colour golden suits you, Bucky thinks.

That's what you said when she was wearing blue. A person can look good in 2 colours. Then what about green and - Shut up.

He looks at you again and notices the thing that has been bugging him. You're still talking to him. The man with the too smooth suit and the too silky hair and the too gentle words and the - ... God, he hates that man. And he has reasons for it. Who the hell wears a black tie with a black suit? Doesn't he have any other colour to wear? And who the hell drinks non-alcoholic drinks when at a Stark party? And then Bucky remembers you telling him once that you hated the smell of alcohol. That you couldn't stand within a metre radius of the people who had drunk a lot. But, that man doesn't know that.

You are still smiling at him and talking. But, that's okay. You love to talk. You could spend hours talking about the movie you just saw or the book you just read. That's nothing. And smiling, well you smile at everything. That's your default setting. To find beauty in everything and give it the most beautiful and genuine smile he has ever seen. You can really find the good in everything.

Maybe that's why she is friends with you.

That's not the point. You even smile at strays. And that's who the man is, a stray, a wild, animal.

Cannot be wilder than you. Or did you forget who you are, Buck?

Bucky doesn't like these thoughts. They tend to come back to him in crowded places. When there are too many people staring at him, talking about him. You always used to be there with him. Making fun of all these rich people and their etiquette.

The both of you would mostly escape from the party early, especially when you were done with what you actually came here for, which was always food. He had to agree. Tony did know how to throw a good party.

You would sneak him into the mini theatre and would watch the silliest movies, just to laugh at their absurdity. Or you would just take him to the roof and the both of you sat there, stargazing and talking. You were really a good friend of his.

Friend? Friends don't glare holes into the back of the man they're just talking to.

This man had approached you at the start of the party and hadn't left your side. Clingy. Rich, coming from you.

You didn't owe Bucky anything. You didn't sign a contract that you had to spend all these parties with him. No, it wasn't any of that. That doesn't mean it couldn't hurt.

"Buck, why don't you just tell her?" For a second, Bucky is taken aback. He had completely forgotten that Steve was still sitting there. What had happened to his super soldier skills?

Too busy gaping at her I remember asking you to shut up And I remember telling you not to fall in love with her

Bucky clears his throat at the last comment by his inner conscience. Sometimes, it acted weird.

"Tell who, what, Steve?" Bucky feigns nonchalance as if he has no idea what Steve is talking about.

Steve chuckles. "How many hers do you have in your life, Buck?" Noone. Just her.

Bucky is sure he is going crazy. Maybe he has had too much to drink. You haven't touched alcohol. Oh, I wonder why that is.

"I know many people who use that pronoun, punk. Nat, Wanda, Sharon, Maria, many shield agents, Carol, oh and yeah... y/n. You have to be more specific" Well done

"Fine, I will be more specific. How many 'hers' do you stare at?" "None." He replies, a little too fast and Steve gives him a knowing smirk. And there it goes...

"I am not staring at anyone, Steve." He gives him a pointed look. "Whatever sails your boat, Buck. But I'd recommend talking to her before it's too late."

Before it's too late

That sentence echoes in his ears. He didn't want to lose you. Not to the annoying guy who had still not left your side, not to the shield agent who always insisted on training with you whenever he got the chance, not to anyone. He didn't want to lose you. Never.

How can you lose someone who isn't even yours? This time his inner voice is gentle, pleading as if it is silently begging him to do something.

Before he even knows what he's doing, Bucky is out of his chair and walking towards the bar.

You chuckle at something the man says before you notice Bucky walking towards the both of you and your smile gets wider.

"Hey, doll." He greets you, completely ignoring the man standing a couple of feet away.

: "Hey, Buck. Please tell me Steve didn't talk your ear out about work." You say with a chuckle. Of course, you had noticed Bucky talking to Steve, your eyes tended to look for his even in a room full of hundreds.

Bucky just lets out a chuckle, shrugging, already feeling much at ease now that he was with you.

A clearing of throat brings both of your attention back to the man standing beside you.

"Gosh, I am sorry. Bucky, this is Todd. Todd Williams. You remember the law firm Tony was talking about the other day?"

Bucky just nods his head, least interested in who this man was.

"He is the owner." You introduce him to Bucky with a polite smile on your face and Bucky wants to rip this man's head off. Even though he just knows his name, he is pretty sure he is going to hate him, if he doesn't already.

"Hi, Bucky, I have heard a lot about you." The man brings his hand forward for a handshake and Bucky thinks he will chop off his hand before he shakes it with the man.

"James." He replies with a stern look on his face.

Todd awkwardly takes his hand back and narrows his eyes in confusion.

"My name is James. Only my friends call me Bucky."

You widen your eyes at Bucky. You knew he never liked meeting new people and that he was not really the warmest to strangers, but he was never so.... hostile. If looks could kill, Todd would be six feet under by now.

"It's nice to meet you, James." Todd tries again, now slightly scared of the former winter soldier.

"I wish I could say the same. What are you even doing here?" Bucky asks, annoyed.

"Bucky." You whisper yell his name to remind him how Tony had conducted an emergency meeting to tell everyone that they have to be nicer to the guests. You, then put on a smile before replying for Todd, "He is here for the charity auction. Isn't that nice?"

Bucky squints his eyes at you as if he can't figure out what's so nice about giving your money away for charity.

"That is just an excuse, really," Todd says, in an attempt to break the tension. "I came here in hopes of meeting a beautiful woman." He then looks at you before saying, "Mission accomplished."

You giggle at his words, flustered. You know he is just trying to be nice and not flirty. He had just told you how badly he was missing his wife who was much better at these charity auctions than he was.

What you don't notice is how Bucky's jaws tense and his fists clench. If they were not standing in a room full of so many people, he would have picked the glass from the nearby table and broken it on Todd's head. Tony's warnings are damned.

He instead just says, "Well then, you don't have to stay for the auction. Leave."

Todd nervously chuckles."I could. But now that I am here, maybe I could enjoy the party for a bit."

"You should. Tony's parties have the best appetizers." You tell him, desperately trying to make him feel comfortable when there is an ex-assassin who looks like he could slit his throat if given a chance.

"But you know what's better? The exit gate. You should check it out and while you are at it, maybe also get your ass out of here." Bucky says without an ounce of hesitation in his voice.

"Bucky." You gasp. This wasn't funny anymore. "Can I talk to you? In private?"

You give Todd an apologetic smile before holding Bucky's hand to get the hell out of here, without waiting for his response.

Bucky stops for a moment to look at Todd again, "The exit gate is that way. Feel free to use it while we are gone."

You pull him with you and take him towards the nearest balcony, not leaving his hand till you are out in the cold air and can't hear the party from inside.

You let go of him to cross your arms across your chest. "Buck, what the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Showing an annoying joke of a man his place," Bucky replies, without a single ounce of guilt for what he has done.

"Bucky." It's your turn to be upset. "He is a businessman. A rich one. His contribution could be great for the auction. Do you not remember what Tony said?"

"I don't care what Tony says. What is he gonna do with so much money, anyways? Buying some piece of mind?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why in the nine realms were you so rude to Todd?" You snapped.

"Oh, so now you call him Todd, huh?"

"That's literally his name."

"It's a very stupid name, okay? But it suits him. A stupid name for a stupid man. In his stupid suit with his stupid money." Bucky rambles, disgusted as if he hasn't heard a worse name in his long life.

"Buck, you are behaving like a 5-year-old now. What's - ?" You stop yourself as an amused grin spreads on your face as you put the pieces together. "Oh, god!!" You place your palm on your mouth before whispering, "Bucky, you - You are jealous."

"No, no I am not, Not even a bit. Nada.Negative. Why would I be?" Bucky shakes his head as if that were a ridiculous thought. Why was everyone getting the most ridiculous ideas today?"

"I would have believed you if you hadn't said no 6 times. You are jealous." Your smile grows wider as you take a step towards him with a pointed look. "You are jealous because he was talking to me the whole time and he called me beautiful and said that I had a pretty smile." "When did he - " Bucky stops himself as he realises the rage in his voice will give him away. He takes a step back and turns away, till he is standing near the railing.

You stand beside him, about to say something, till you look into his eyes. His eyes have a look you have seen before. He is hurt. He is processing a lot of things that he doesn't want to think about. This wasn't amusing anymore. "Hey. I - I am sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Bucky, I am - "

"I am not jealous, okay?" He now turns and looks directly into your eyes. "I am not. I just don't like it when someone else has your attention. Not because I am jealous, no. But because I am scared." Bucky swallowed thickly. You had seen him vulnerable before when he had nightmares and you were trying to remind him where he was or when memories from his time at hydra hit him with full force. But this was a different kind. It was as if he was laying his soul bare in front of you. Voicing his worst fears.

"I am scared because I don't want anyone else to realise how amazing, smart, funny, kind and just so damn lovable you are. Because then they will steal you from me. I will lose you forever and - and I don't want that. I don't want to lose you to someone else. I don't want to lose you." He says the last sentence as if he is begging whatever god will listen to not let his worst fears turn true, to let him have this. Let him have you.

"Tell me, doll. Why am I so scared to lose you when you are not even mine?"

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked at him.

Before Bucky knew what was happening, you closed the distance between the both of you. As your lips met his, everything else stood at a standstill.

Bucky was too shocked to respond for a minute. This couldn't be happening. Did you feel the same way about him? How -

All these thoughts turn into nothing until you're the only one comprising his thoughts. And Bucky realises this is how it has been for a long time. It was just you. In his heart and his mind. Your warmth spread through him and captured his soul until it was impossible to separate the two of them.

He kisses you with the same love and gentleness as his hands find your waist to pull you impossibly closer towards him.

When the necessity to breathe arose, you pulled away but still stood close.

"I want to be yours, Buck."

If the kiss had stolen his breath away, your words make his heart beat frantically. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream.

"You don't mean that, doll. You - "

"I do. I do mean that, Buck. I choose you. And I'd always choose you. In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd always choose you”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x you #marvel #oneshot #jealousy #love confessions #bucky barnes fluff

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cup-o-stars · 3 months ago

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Do you have any favourite sanji fits :? His fashion sense kind of fascinates me bc it ranges from absolutely great, no complaints, this guy's got the vision- to suddenly smth like his first outfit in film red (which has grown on me for all the wrong reasons I'm not giving him any credit here except for maybe the wavy hair 😔)

I do!

Pre-timeskip, I really like Sanji with vertical stripes. His Water 7 design is probably my all time favorite because of the vest, but Alabasta is a classic. I dig the glasses that seemed to come back in the 2005 Secret Island movie, and in general, it's fun when he wears black suits for coloring.

Post-timeskip, my favorites are still orange, lol. Skypiea used to be up there, but Egghead blows it out of the water completely tbh. It's competing with Zou for my second favorite Sanji design in the series, but Zou loses points because it looks hella uncomfortable on Zunisha. Still, I wish more people talked about it because of the jacket + glasses! But maybe I have bad tastes, lol.

Lastly, I'm not the biggest fan of ruffles or capes, but here's a shitty drawing of Sanji on WCI. When I was younger I didn't mind the bracelets because the gold looked cool, which probably tells you something about my reading comprehension.

Overall, I hope he wears more blue in the future, and I like when he dresses in patterns. Though I'm not going to draw outfits I don't like, I enjoy that his range isn't limited to his emotions, lol.

This was fun! I'd love to do Zoro, Robin or Nami sometime, because I really like their outfits too. Thank you for a fun question!

#one piece #fanart #drawing #sanji #water 7 #alabasta #zou #egghead #ask

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fictionalmenxyn · 3 months ago

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—✪𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐢𝐬, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞✪—

Pairing: rafe x reader (can be frat!race if you wish. ALSO established relationship)

Warnings: language, mentions of blood (FAKE BLOOD), jealous Rafe, suggestive, groping, kissing and I think that’s it!

(Less girly but only with movies)

(Authors note: hey you lovely people!! Quick life update, I start college tomorrow (currently 11:34pm in uk as I made this) and I also have a practice run at a possible job too. So I’m either gonna post earlier (uk time afternoon) or really late. So I do apologise. But as always, enjoy and have a good day/night all!!! 🫶)

---꥟✪✪✪꥟---

You were so excited for tonight, the Halloween party. You had planned these outfits perfectly. Since you weren’t into chick flicks or romances. You decided on Marla and Tyler as your couple outfit. You had Rafe sat on your desk chair as you added the fx blood. You smiled (mainly to yourself). You put the sunglasses on “oh look at your hottie! My Tyler Durden!” He smirked. He insisted, if you were gonna make him dress up, he got to hold the back of your thighs while you did his fx makeup. Which you happily agreed to.

He smirked “good pick, baby, definitely better than Topper and his hook ups outfits.” Topper was going with one of his hook ups. She insisted that they’d dressed up as the basic ‘cop and robber’.

Rafe knew you were a movie girl, so he didn’t need to do any costume looking. He knew you’d be able to find stuff or have clothes that you can make into costumes, like the Hawaiian shirt he’s wearing.

Rafe patted your thigh, signalling that he wanted to stand up. You took a step back and walked over to your large floor mirror. You smiled as you looked over your Marla outfit. God, you were so excited, not even to party. But to show off your costume and show people that this was YOUR holiday. You owned Halloween, every year you had THEE best costume. No doubt.

Rafe walked over, putting one of his Marlboro gold into the gap between your head and ear. You smiled, putting your hands on your hips, tilting your hip out a little. “So… how’d we look??” He smirked, standing closely behind you. A hand on top of yours, “we look so good, baby, best costume yet.” You smiled. You knew he’d like it, Fight Club was his top five movies, of course.

You grabbed your black handbag, pulling your phone out you snapped a few photos of you both. Sending them to your girls group chat. All of them loving the costumes.

Two hours later…

You were both at the party, Rafe was with the boys. As usual. While you were with your friends. Dancing like no one’s watching. Enjoying the moment. Rafe would stare glance at you from time to time. You looked so good in your short black dress. He wanted to rip it off asap. Sometime throughout the night, Rafe gave you your his red sunglasses back. He didn’t want to wear them anymore. So they laid on top of your pinned back (cause Marla has short hair, you don’t). The red sunglasses shined under the flashing lights.

You occasionally sipped out of your red solo cup. You laughed with the girls as you all danced and chatted.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed.

He saw two guys approach you and your friends. One of them approached your friend Haley as the other guy approached you.

Topper followed Rafe’s cold glare, seeing the guys with you and your girls. Topper smirked to himself, tapping Kelce’s shoulder and nodded his head at Rafe. Kelce smirked “ooo someone’s-” “ah! The fuck was that for…” “for acting like a school girl..” as you guessed it. Rafe clipped Kelce across the back of his head.

Rafe didn’t take his eyes off the guy. He knew you could handle yourself. That’s why he wasn’t looking at you, he didn’t know the guy. He didn’t know what he was potentially of doing, or what he wanted from you… Rafe could guess what he wanted. The way the guy undressed also eye fucking you. It made Rafe want to scoff.

Topper and Kelce’s smirked faded.

The guy put his arm around your shoulder. Rafe saw that you froze. He knew you didn’t ask or want what that guy did. Thankfully Rafe’s solo cup was empty. Would’ve been emptied with the way he was squeezing it.

Topper spoke “hey man, you better go-” Rafe didn’t need a push or a second thought. He was up and over to you at the speed of light.

Rafe walked over, of course, Rafe being Rafe… he placed his hand on your ass. Giving a light squeeze as he tilted his head down to look at you. “All good baby? Need a drink? Or you all full?” You knew that was a silent ‘you need help with this guy?’ Because Rafe wouldn’t ask you if you needed a drink. He’d get you one, you didn’t need to ask, or he didn’t need to ask you.

You smiled “yeah, I need a drink..” the guy looked at where Rafe’s hand was. The guy looked back to Rafe “ah, watch where you’re putting your hand-” “you should watch where that arm goes, you won’t have one if you keep it there…”

The guys arm quickly moved off your shoulder. Rafe moved his hand from your ass to your hip. Pulling you into him more. The guy looked confused “is she your girl or something??” “She is, besides she wasn’t into you anyways, my girl, or not…”

You looked at the guy, then looked to Rafe. Rafe gave your hip a small squeeze. “Look man I didn’t-” “I saw the way you looked at her, don’t fucking lie, you were eye fucking her!” You glanced to your friends. They either smirked and mouthed ‘damn your getting lucky tonight’ knowing when Rafe’s jealous, that you’re in for a long night. Or they mouthed ‘he looks so pissed’. Pissed was an understatement.

What? It was a simple arm over-… no, not in Rafe’s eyes. Shit, he got pissed cause the guy even approached you. Never mind the contact.

Rafe looked down, “come on, sweet girl, let’s go sit with the guys…” you nodded. You flashed a small smirk to the girls, you weren’t complaining for his jealousy, you knew you’d have a good night tonight. And you knew he doesn’t mean the party…

He guided you over to the large couch the guys and their hook ups were on. Rafe sat down first. He saw the guy and his friend still looking over at you. He gently but firmly pulled you into his lap. You sat sideways on his lap. Your left arm hooked around the back of his neck. Your finger nails gently scratching his buzzed hair.

Rafe’s hand rubbed up and down your side. Possessively yet comforting. For him at least.

Rafe leaned back into the couch. He gently took your cup from your hands. Taking a sip you playfully pouted “Rafey…” god he loved when you called him that “… that’s my drink.” He smirked and took another sip before slipping the red solo cup into your hand. “Sorry baby, just needed a sip, sweetheart.” He run his knuckles over your cheekbone. You had a subtly smile on your lips as you kept pouting playfully. He smiled a little “babydoll, put that lip away, you know I don’t like when you pout.” You quickly turned tour pout into a smile when he kissed your cheek. “There’s my girl, love that smile…”

Those two guys were glancing in your direction every so often, throughout the night. Rafe noticed, he didn’t like that.

Rafe hand a hand on your hip as the other was on your thigh. He smiled “you look good in your costume, baby, good call for Fight Club..” you smiled. “Thank you, Rafe, I wanted to do one of your movies this year. We did my movie last year…” he nodded “we did, still enjoyed doing Morticia and Gomez.” You smiled. “Yeah, I liked that one.” He grinned “I definitely did… that dress did wonders for your bo-” you swatted his chest “Rafe!” “What?!… it’s the truth!” You laugh.

It was now later in the party, Rafe was getting bored. And also angry. Those guys had left for a while, but now returned. Still eyeing you up like you were a piece of meat. Rafe hated that. You weren’t meat, you’re a goddess in his eyes. He reminded you every day, even if you weren’t with him.

Rafe had enough, it was a good enough excuse to leave to, in his eyes. He sat up, resting his chin on your shoulder. Looking at your lips “hey baby?” You turned your head to look at him “yeah?”. He asked “you ready to go?” You looked down at your drink “I still have half a-” he grabbed your cup and downed the rest of it “no you don’t…”

You looked down at him, “but can’t we stay for a few more minutes? I like this song…” he smirked and whispered in your ear “baby, those guys are looking at what’s mine, I’m not gonna let them look any longer. You either come with me, I’ll play this exact song as many times as you want while I lay you down on my bed…”

Your eyes widen, in excitement. “Promise?” He nodded, his eyes focused on your lips “anything you want, baby, shall we go?” You nodded. He smirked “atta girl, c’mon, think my beds callin’ your name…” he patted your thigh. You stood up.

On the way out of the house, Rafe glanced back. Holding up a middle finger to the guys; as the other was firmly on your ass.

Let’s just say, he was definitely gonna keep you up all night… he’d call it ‘recreating the Tyler and Marla scenes..’ if ya know what I mean…

---꥟✪✪✪꥟---

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butlervibesonly · 23 days ago

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𝑁𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 || Austin Butler

• Summary : You and Austin have been together for a while now and he's attending a premiere with you by his side, making sure you're comfortable enough with public appearance.

• Warnings : fluff, Austin's playful teasing,...

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Notes : For this fic I'mma be using the Elvis (2022) premiere that took place in Australia (hope I found that right!) because Austin here looked MESMERIZING.

You and Austin have been together for some time now, and with upcoming premiere of Elvis, you two decided to make your relationship official to public. It was actually a first premiere you'll attend.

The day of the premiere arrives, and Austin was making sure you're ready and okay. "You ready?" he came out of the dressing rooms that was in your hotel room. He was headed to the mirror to adjust all sorts of details on his outfit but he noticed you.

Austin actually made sure you had a stylist if you wanted one, or offered to help you pick an outfit himself if that made you feel more comfortable. All he wanted is for you to feel confident, knowing he’ll be there to support you through the evening.

And as soon as he noticed you in the dress that his stylist helped you pick - he was taken away. "Oh my goodness," he breathed out. "Look at you!" Austin made his way to you. You were sitting on the bed, putting on heels. The dress you chose for the premiere was a gold glittering elegant dress that perfectly suited the aesthetic of the film.

"You look absolutely firkin' fantastic, baby." he helped you stand up. "Thank you, Mr. Butler, you don't look bad yourself." you giggled and Austin pulled you closer. "Are you ready for tonight? Do you need anything?"

"I'm totally fine, Austin, thank you," He was making sure all the time that you have what you need. "all I need is you by my side, that's what I wish." you pressed a kiss on his lips. Oh, and how you love those lips. Austin smiled and after being all ready, you two left in a car for the premiere.

When arriving to the place, just before stepping out of the car, he turned to you, noticing the hint of nerves on your face. Gently, he reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Remember, it’s just me and you tonight,” he said, his eyes warm and focused on yours. “Don’t worry about anyone else. I’ve got you.”

As you stepped onto the red carpet, camera flashes started going off everywhere, and for a second, it was a little overwhelming. But Austin kept a firm, grounding grip on your hand, guiding you through it with a calm confidence that made you feel like nothing else in the world matters. When you paused for photos, he never let go of your hand, staying close and offering small reassurances. If he noticed you feel a little out of place, he leaned over and whispers something funny just for you, making you laugh and helping you relax.

As time passed by, the red carpet filled with many familiar faces you already knew from filming of Elvis, such as Tom Hanks or even Baz himself. "Y/n, sweetheart, you look absolutely breath taking!" Tom pulled you into quick welcoming hug. "Thank you, Tom!"

"I'm telling her that all the time! Glad I'm not the only one who sees it." Austin laughed, wrapping his arm around your waist. "You sure aren't, I agree.” Baz joined in to say hello too. You were so relieved and glad that everyone involved in this movie was so nice.

At one point, a few reporters asked for an interview. He turned to you, giving you the choice with just a glance. When you nod, he smiled, his gaze full of pride and admiration.

"Austin, we couldn't notice - you're not alone here tonight! Who is this beautiful lady by your side?" An interviewer asked Austin, who brought you closer to him. "I'm here with Y/n, my girlfriend. I'm so happy she's here with me tonight, looking this magnificent!"

Austin's word made you blush, almost as if he was over the moon you're here with him. "A girlfriend, wow!" an interviewer exclaimed in surprise. "She truly looks wonderful! Y/n, how are your feelings about today's premiere?"

"I'm so honored to be here today with so many inspiring and amazing people. And especially to be here with Austin, of course, and give him all the support he deserves!" Austin couldn't help but smile while listening to you.

Throughout the short interview, he made sure you’re included, deflecting the attention when it became too much and even cracking a joke about how he’s the lucky one to be here with you.

As the evening shifted, Austin's hand rested protectively on your lower back. “Thank you for being here with me tonight.” H whispered, and then, even with all the people around, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it as if he’s completely unaware of the world beyond you two.

Later that night...

"So," he said, looking at you with a soft, relieved smile as you were again in the hotel room, "how was your first red carpet?" You smiled back, feeling like the night has been perfect—not because of the glitz or glamor, but because of him and how deeply he cared to make sure you felt comfortable, supported, and absolutely cherished.

"It was wonderful, babe," you replied. "And I'm not the only one thinking that, look," you passed him your phone with a Tweet that you just found.

"But they can't love you more than I do!" Austin joked as he pulled you into a hug, kissing you finally.

#austin butler #austin butler x you #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #elvis movie #tom hanks #baz luhrmann #Spotify

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rebelfell · 1 year ago

Text

The Third Date

Eddie Munson x Anorgasmic!Reader

When you move back to Hawkins after graduating college, you find yourself reconnecting with an old friend in a new way. Your first two dates with Eddie Munson are everything you’d ever dreamed, but the next one has you unraveling.

Part One│Part Two

cw: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, deceased parent, mentions of poor sexual experiences, some drinking, sexual anxiety, making out, fingering, panic attack, eddie being sweet and reassuring, fluffy ending.

I was kinda in my feelings and needed Eddie to tell me all the right things. Sue me.

18+, MDNI 7k

You used to like this mirror.

It was vintage. Full length with an ornate gold frame, swirling embellishments on the top and sides. Not to mention it was a fucking steal at $10 from an estate sale. You’d liked it enough to make it one of the scant number of things you hauled all the way back to Hawkins when you moved out of your shoebox apartment in the city.

Right now, though? You kind of hated it.

Usually, standing before it made you feel stately and elegant, even if all you had on was ratty denim shorts and a threadbare t-shirt riddled with holes and bleach stains. Yet here you were in one of your favorite outfits, hair meticulously styled, face glowing and dewy after spending an hour on it, and all you felt was ridiculous.

Not the mirror’s fault, technically. But it was the messenger. It told you at every twist of your hips, at every outfit change, at every pluck and tug of your clothes, that you were never going to look right—that you were never going to feel right. And it mocked every failed attempt to do so.

You inhale, breath shallow and shaky as you try yet again to calm down. It’s just a date, you tried to remind yourself. It’s just a date and he’s just a guy. There’s nothing to be worried about.

Except it wasn’t just a date.

It was the auspicious Third Date.

And it certainly wasn’t just a guy…it was Eddie.

This was something you’d been waiting for forever. For longer than forever. For longer than you could count. Eddie Munson was your oldest and dearest friend. Growing up, you were like each other’s second heads—facing the worst of what small minds in a small town in Indiana cooked up. You stood, middle fingers brandished like swords, dreaming of a wider world.

It felt strange to think this would only be your third date when you’d basically been dating since you were thirteen. You went to movies together, wasted weekday afternoons at the record store, lounged on the gravelly bank of Lover’s Lake reading well-worn paperbacks—Two Towers for him, Dorothy Parker for you. He begged you to sit in on Hellfire when he started the club your junior year and only had three members, himself included. He’d sneak you into the dive bar where his band played Tuesday nights, and you would immediately stick out among the five drunks who assembled every week. But as long as all you ordered was ginger ale and swore up and down you weren’t a cop, the bartender let you sit there all night to watch him.

Nights never ended the way “real” dates did. No hands being held as he walked you from his van to your doorstep; no kisses under flickering porch lights scored by a cricket symphony.

He never touched you too much, always quick to withdraw his hands when they lingered on your hip or back or arm. That would change, though, if he smoked or drank a bit and his cuddly side came out. Secretly, you longed for these times. You reveled in having his chin rest on your shoulder or his arms wind around your waist to hold you close. It never felt gross or crossed the line into groping like with other, lesser, guys looking for something to fondle. With Eddie, it felt more like he was showing you how he wished he could be all the time.

At least that’s what you let yourself imagine.

He always apologized the following day, just short of castrating himself over it. It made you want to slap him. Slap him and then kiss him and slap him again. How could he not get it? How could he not see how goddamn in love with him you were? How could he not feel the same way? You waved him off, assuring him he hadn’t done anything wrong. All the while thinking, you fucking idiot, and not even knowing if you were referring to him or yourself.

Then came graduation. Or rather, your graduation and his sullen admission he wasn't eligible, which lead to the longest, most difficult conversation of your lives so far. It wasn’t even a conversation so much as it was you swinging wildly between reactions—scolding him for not telling you sooner; grasping at the straws of extra credit assignments your teachers would never assign; volunteering to stand guard while he broke into the administration office.

Eventually, though, you had to face the reality of losing him and it left a prominent break in your heart. Your acceptance letter to a school in Indianapolis that used to make you feel weightless, like you could finally fly out of here, now felt more like chains dragging you away.

You had half a mind to take him with you. You must have rehearsed the speech you wanted to make something like fifty times. Screw Hawkins, you’d say. Screw their closed minds and their disdain for anything even a little different. He could get his GED—you’d help him, happily. He could find work in the city and take community college classes or go to trade school. The two of you could live together and watch slasher movies every Friday night, falling asleep on his chest when you got tired just as you’d done all throughout high-school.

Of course those thoughts inevitably spiraled into what would happen once he started dating. A bigger city meant a bigger pool of people, all with the potential to realize the kind, sweet, caring boy who was bursting with passion for his fantasy games and music and his other rich interests was actually a massive catch and not a social pariah. In no time, it would be someone else falling asleep on his chest and you watching them be carried to his bed.

You couldn’t bear the thought of that. Maybe even moreso, you couldn't bear the thought of asking him to come with you and him saying “no.”

So, you went alone. You packed up your car with the barest necessities, you kissed your dad goodbye and said you’d see him at Christmas. But it was Eddie who saw you off, taking you into his arms and holding you there with your head tucked under his chin. You buried your face in his chest, tears leaking onto the patches you’d helped him sew on his denim vest. He told you how proud he was and how much he was gonna miss you. He said to write. To send pictures.

All you could do was sniffle.

At college, you tried expanding your horizons. You joined a couple clubs to make new friends and started going to parties. You met people like Carl. And even though he was handsome and seemed nice enough, you turned him down when he asked you to dinner. It wasn’t until much later, when your roommate scolded you for doing so, that you even felt some doubt about it. What was even the point when you knew he wasn’t what you wanted?

Except what you wanted might never be yours.

That first trip home to Hawkins was wildly unnerving. You knew it hadn’t actually been that long since you left. But why did it feel so strange that everything felt exactly the same? Had you really changed so much already that your home no longer felt like home?

Even seeing Eddie again felt like rupturing old wounds you thought had successfully scabbed over. You withdrew from him without even realizing you were doing it. He knew something was wrong, but didn’t dare voice it. His greatest fear loomed: you were done with Hawkins.

Done with him.

It took a while to strike the balance between the old and the new. You’d run away so fast and tried to overwrite everything in your life, returning to Hawkins felt like entering a fantasy world. And Eddie became like an apparition, a specter of everything you missed most.

You started writing to him more, sharing stories about your classes, gossip in the dorms, drunk adventures in the city. And he wrote back, telling you all about the new members of Hellfire who also happened to play instruments and were eager to replace the members of Corroded Coffin who had graduated and moved away. Eventually, the letters became more like a diary.

You could confess things you’d never imagined telling anyone—stuff about your mom and how you’d spent every day wondering if she’d be proud of you; how you worried about your dad and wondered if he would ever get over her; how you feared you might never find love like theirs and even if you did, how it might be taken away from you like it was from them.

And he confessed back to you. Amidst his ideas for new D&D campaigns and song lyrics, he gave you deeper insight on things you knew already—his father’s sordid criminal history and his mother’s inability to cope, which led to her dropping Eddie on his uncle’s doorstep at the ripe old age of eleven. Reading about Hawkins through his eyes made it feel more real and less like a dream you’d woken up from. It kept that connection open, a bridge between your worlds, so you could experience college and all the new things it had to offer, but still felt connected.

Then the end of your sophomore year brought more bad news.

Again, he wasn’t eligible. Again, he wasn’t graduating.

You’d not been able to let go of that fantasy of him joining you at school. Every time you walked across the quad, leaves crunching beneath your boots, sunlight dying as it dipped behind the old brick buildings and cast everything in a hazy golden autumn glow, you imagined a pair of clean, white sneakers next to yours and a ringed hand squeezing your fingers.

He promised you this was his year. Swore it, in fact. ‘86, baby! he’d scrawled big and messy under his signature at the end of one of his letters. And maybe it would. He said he was doing better—army crawling his way towards a D in Mrs. O'Donnell's class, already planning how he would snatch his diploma and flip the bird at the principal as he walked the stage.

He was certain enough it made you start to believe it too.

You never dared to broach the subject of what he wanted to do after graduation. He hadn’t mentioned applying to any colleges or looking for work. The rest of the band was graduating with him. Maybe they’d all move here to get more exposure. Maybe they wanted to record a demo they could pass out to record companies. Or maybe Eddie wanted to go solo.

The lack of information made you antsy. Was he being decidedly cagey about his plans? Was he hiding something? Or was he just afraid of disappointing you again?

It was nearing the end of the school year when you finally broke. You had to see him.

For once, your spring breaks were going to overlap. You blew off your classes on Friday to make the drive and managed to get to Hawkins High just as the final bell was ringing. His van still sat in the parking lot and you pulled in alongside it to wait, practically jumping out of your skin with excitement. Thirty whole minutes crawled by before you finally spotted him.

He emerged from the woods at the back of the practice sport fields, chattering with ease to maybe the last person on earth you would have expected to see.

Chrissy Cunningham was just as pretty as she’d always been. She was a couple years behind you and Eddie in school, but everyone knew of her from the moment she made the varsity cheer squad as a freshman—a staggering feat no one else had ever managed. She still had the same bouncy ponytail, the same enormous eyes and cherubic cheeks you imagined must ache at the end of each day from her constant smiling. And she was somehow smiling even wider than normal at whatever Eddie was saying as he grinned back at her.

It made your stomach churn thinking what they could have been doing to have her smiling like that. You knew he’d started dealing for Reefer Rick to earn extra money, but in what universe would the queen of Hawkins High be struck with the urge to buy a bag of skunky weed?

Unless it wasn’t weed she was after at all.

Panic doused your body. You jammed your key back in the ignition and sped out of the lot, praying he didn’t see you. You drove straight back to school, tears streaming down your face for the entire journey, making you hate yourself more with every salty trail that stained your cheeks. Because what else did you expect? For him to pine for you like you did for him? For him to be like you and not date anyone, ever? To keep everyone who even attempted to get close at a distance? Reserving a space in your heart for someone who might not even want to fill it?

You loved him more now than you ever had. Even without seeing him every day, even without having him constantly at your side. If anything, it had gotten worse. Your feelings piled up within you just as his letters did in your room. They all lived in a box under your shitty dorm bed to be pulled out over and over and over so you could parse every line for hidden meaning. Crying at his words, so heartfelt and honest you didn’t even notice the grammatical and spelling errors.

By the time you got back to campus, you felt raw and spent. Your face was streaked with tears and you were breathless from crying. For days, you walked around campus like a ghost until you bumped into Carl, the only other soul not off on some debaucherous Spring Break trip. And when he asked you for seemingly the hundredth time if he could buy you dinner…you said yes.

It came in the mail a few months later. Your address scribbled messily on an invitation to the Hawkins High Class of 1986 graduation. Eddie had included a photocopy of his final grades and written “proof it’s not a clerical error” with a little smiley face in the corner.

You called him that night to tell him how proud of him you were. And you were proud of him. So unbelievably proud. But when he asked if you were coming, you lied. You said your boyfriend’s parents would be in town and that he wanted you to meet them. You told him how sorry you were, all the while thinking Chrissy could congratulate him enough for the both of you.

And in spite of yourself…you let yourself pretend you heard a little dejection in his voice when you used the word “boyfriend”—fictitious as it was.

The truth was, you’d only been officially dating Carl for a couple weeks. And he was perfectly nice. He’d kissed you and it felt fine. It didn’t quite live up to what you believed it should feel like, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe what you imagined wasn’t realistic. Maybe what you thought it should be wasn’t feasible.

Maybe you just had to let that go.

And dating Carl was simple and uncomplicated. It served a purpose. It made you feel at least like you weren’t languishing in a wasteland of your unrequited feelings. It made you feel like you were trying. Sure, the sex wasn’t great. But you hardly expected it to be good for you.

You’d hooked up with the odd guy here and there over the years. It was a pattern that began with some guy you met downtown whose assignment was to keep you occupied while his friend put the moves on your roommate. You were a little drunk and a lot lonely, so you’d gone along with it. It was quick. A little uncomfortable. It certainly didn’t make you eager to repeat the experience. But at least you could say you’d done it.

Part of you thought maybe it would get better, but it never did.

Even guys you thought were decent at first were quick to gloss over the preamble and lead up, jumping straight to stuffing themselves inside you with no regard to your winces of discomfort. It didn’t take long before you started to assume you had to be the problem. Even by yourself, it took you ages to reach any sort of precipice. And even when you did, even when you felt your heart rate rising and your body heaving in response, the pay-off was…underwhelming.

With Carl, you thought it could be different. Maybe you needed a deeper connection; maybe you needed a few times to get comfortable with someone to properly ascend that peak. But the more you did it with him, the less attainable that seemed. Maybe you were just broken.

You also tried not to dwell on the fact that the only times you ever got close were when you pictured a different face hovering over yours; when you imagined your fingers twisted up in dark, shaggy curls; when you visualized pale skin littered with tattoos and sinewy arms caging you in; when you lit that one candle you only bought because it reminded you of Eddie’s cologne.

The decision to move back home turned out to be less a decision and more a necessity.

A whole year out of school and you’d had truly terrible luck finding a job—at least a decent one that actually wanted to pay you. Carl, ever the charmer, wondered why you even wanted to work when you’d just wind up quitting when you got married. Really, you appreciated it. It was exactly the kind of comment you needed to jolt you out of a relationship that had been on autopilot.

You were a mess. Lost. Aimless. Barely treading water. Wishing you could call the one person you knew would cheer you up, but unsure if it would only result in more heartache. In the blink of an eye, it had been over five years since you left home and it was starting to feel like your only accomplishments were breaking up with your boyfriend and buying a mirror.

Then came the call from your dad.

He’d taken a nasty fall at his hardware store. He was fine, for the most part. But he was now significantly weaker and would have to have surgery as well as physical therapy after. And he certainly couldn’t run his store anymore. It had never run particularly smoothly to begin with and his books left something to be desired—another thing you’d be helping with once you moved back. He never outright asked you to do so, but he also didn’t have to.

The only good news was the bad news: a massive fire that disintegrated Starcourt Mall had led to an influx of renovations to the downtown area. In the wake of the mall’s destruction came a resurgence in small businesses that breathed life back into the desolation the mall caused.

It was in this newly resurrected downtown where Eddie was making his mark. He had opened a hobby shop where he still hosted his weekly D&D games with a lot of the kids who had originally been in his club. His store became like a beacon for all the kids (and even some of the adults) in Hawkins who felt there was no place for them. Eddie gave them somewhere to belong and celebrated all the things that made them targets of ridicule to everyone else.

It was also your first stop on your first day back.

The whole shop was so Eddie. As you walked inside and took in the decor, it seemed entirely possible he had just moved everything from his bedroom at Wayne’s right in here. He’d even rigged the entrance with a speaker that played the guitar riff of “Enter Sandman” when someone came through the door.

You wished you could bottle the moment he came out front, your arrival signaled by the song.

“Holy shit…”

The box of miniatures and figurines he’d just finished pricing in the back fell to the floor with a thump and a rattle of plastic parts. He barely registered it, though. With round, unblinking eyes he stared, too stunned to move a muscle until a smile cracked his face wide open.

In just three long strides he crossed the store and swept you into his arms, lifting you up and whirling you around. “You’re here!” he gushed, arms crushing you around the middle in the most exquisite pain. “You’re really here!”

“I told you I was moving back!”

You laughed heartily in his ear as he placed you back on the ground, telling yourself it must have been the unexpected lift making you breathless and not how the sunlight coming through the windows hit his eyes and made them shine like molten honey. He kept you close, letting his hands rest on your arms and squeezing them like he had to be sure you weren’t a mirage.

“I thought it was one of those ‘too good to be true’ things,” he said sheepishly, a pink blush creeping across his cheeks. “Had to see it to believe it.”

“Well, believe it,” you sighed.

You were already prepared for the loss of his touch, for when he would shamefully retract his hands, but he never did. He held you comfortably, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin. He let you go reluctantly, not regretfully, letting his fingertips trail softly down your arm.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, his voice coated in warmth. “I missed you so much.”

You nodded, your throat pinched as you tried not to cry. “I…I missed you too.”

Eddie’s smile grew even bigger, his eyes seeming to dance with excitement. “Well, we have to celebrate,” he said. “I close up shop at six. Meet me back here and we’ll go to the Hideout?”

You stalled, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you considered. Almost on instinct, you’d nearly agreed right away. Old habits and what not. But did you want to fall immediately back into your old patterns? Hawkins had changed so little since you left, it felt too easy to slip back into the trap. Could you really go right back to hopelessly pining for him as you’d done so long?

“Come on,” Eddie urged, flashing those doe eyes he knew you couldn’t resist. “It’s one drink.”

“Okay, okay!” you laughed. “One drink.”

One drink turned out to be three. Starting with your first legal drink together at his old haunt while a different band of hopeful kids fumbled their way through clumsy Metallica covers.

“Please tell me we were never that young,” Eddie sighed, taking a swig of his beer.

“You’ve never been young,” you teased. “You came out of the womb a crotchety old man.”

A little later, you absconded to the corner booth and tucked yourselves away from the rowdiness of the growing crowd. You were flushed from the alcohol buzzing in your bloodstream and from how close Eddie was sitting. It felt just like old times, except it was nothing like old times.

Because this time, he was flirting with you. And not being subtle.

You thought maybe you were imagining it at first, but it only became more obvious the longer the night wore on. There was a whole new confidence and intention in the way he talked to you. He’d never been shy, never had any trouble drawing people in, but there was a fire lit behind his eyes tonight you’d never seen before. And you were the sole object of that blaze.

“So…still with Carl?” He finally asked, after bolstering himself to do so for the last three hours.

You took a long sip of your drink, eyes never leaving his over the rim of your glass. The liquor made you bold, the burn at the back of your throat adding smokiness to your voice.

“No-pe,” you said, popping your lips on the final syllable. Eddie smiled wolfishly and leaned in.

“Good,” he purred. “Cos that would have made it real awkward when I asked you out.”

He took you to dinner two days later. Rang the doorbell and smiled at you as he stood on your porch wearing a black button down under a darker black velvet vest. His black jeans were a new- looking pair of the same kind he’d always worn, sans the ragged holes over his knees.

Despite the thin material of your sundress and the balmy weather outside, you were sweating with nerves. The breeze played with your skirt as he walked you to his van and the coolness of it on your clammy skin made you shiver. But when Eddie suddenly darted ahead of you to open your door and turned around with his hand held up to help you inside, it made you melt.

The gesture filled your body with warmth, chasing away any hint of a chill.

After dinner, he suggested you walk a block or so to a bar where Eddie liked to play pool. And as you did, his hand reached for yours and he threaded your fingers together. You stared down at it, stunned. How many times had you wished he would do that? How many times did you imagine the heat of his palm against yours mixing with the coolness of his chunky silver rings on his fingers? It had always seemed so impossible and he’d just done it.

Like it was nothing. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. Easy. Natural.

He held your hand all the way into the bar, only letting go of you to accept a tray of balls from the bartender when Eddie requested a table. With a couple of beers in hand, you followed him to his favorite one that was tucked away in a little alcove, practically private.

You set down the beers and watched as he racked the balls, gaze lingering on his long frame and chuckling at the way he shimmied his hips as he leaned over the table to break. “Eyes on me,” he told you, playful smile revealing his teeth.

It was a redundant request, because it was entirely impossible to look anywhere else.

Eddie had filled out quite a bit since high-school. He was never an athlete by any means, but evidently a regime of guitar playing and dice throwing was enough to maintain decent tone. You stared at him unabashed as he walked around the table, lining up his shot. His vest now flapped open and he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal the familiar smattering of bats under his elbow and the puppetmaster etched inside his forearm. It made you wonder how many more tattoos—new ones you’d not yet seen—were hiding under the rest of his clothes. He smirked at you, smug as he leaned over the table, thoroughly enjoying the way your eyes followed him.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” he drawled before sinking a bank shot.

You rolled your eyes, trying to fein being unimpressed. “Trying to distract me, Munson?” you asked, chalking the tip of your cue in a much more sensual manner than necessary, letting your fingers lazily stroke the stick as Eddie watched transfixed. He huffed a laugh at the display.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Evidently, both of you were equally distracted. Most of your games lagged for a mutual inability to sink more than one shot in a row as the other did their best to pull focus. It was far easier for you, having only to lean forward slightly across the table from him to reveal a healthy dose of your cleavage. That, coupled with a coy smile and batting eyelashes, spelled disaster for Eddie. Everytime you did it, he’d scratch his shot and chuckle dryly at his own hubris.

He took a different approach, choosing instead to stand as close to you as he could as you lined up your shots. His musk and cologne filled your nose, a tantalizing woodsy smell that made your head spin as you struggled to keep your eyes on the ball. He rested his hip against the table, handcuff belt buckle glinting as it reflected the light from the lamp hanging overhead.

You could practically hear the childish taunt of not touching you, not touching you.

“Just take your shot, baby,” he cooed, low and husky. The sound made your heart hammer.

A couple hours of teasing and toying later, both of you were ready to explode. Your glasses sat empty on the nearby table, neither of you terribly interested in a refill. And as Eddie sunk the eight ball again, his eyes flashed to the tray for the balls rather than going to re-rack them.

“I guess I should get you home?” he asked.

A little sullen at the idea, you nodded and returned your cues to a rack on the wall while Eddie brought the balls back to the bartender and settled the tab. Only when you were walking back to the table to get your purse and passed a pair of men who reeked of tobacco did something occur to you: Eddie hadn’t taken a smoke break once.

“Did you quit?” you asked, staring at him with wide eyes. He smiled as he drew nearer to you, relishing the way your chest heaved as you reacted to his closeness.

“Took a couple years, but yeah,” he said. “Sometimes I still need a little help, though.”

He tugged his shirttail out from the waistband of his jeans, causing his belt and the chain on his wallet to jingle slightly as he lifted his shirt to flash a strip of his stomach. You’re so distracted by the action and the cut of his v-muscle it takes a few seconds to register the beige nicotine patch stuck on his hip. You stared at him and then back at it, fingers itching to reach out and touch.

He leaned in, his face the closest it had been to yours all night, his voice hushed so only you could hear. “For when I’m really nervous,” he said.

Streetlights and stars blurred as you stepped out of the bar and he whirled you into the alley. The rough brick scraped your back and snagged on your dress as you were flattened against it and you gazed up at Eddie, string lights overhead shining brightly in your eyes.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly. “Are you ready for this to start?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight his eyes trained on your face. Your hands settled lightly on his waist and you gave an impatient tug as you nodded. It was all the invitation he needed.

His mouth met yours like the sun met the horizon. The softest kiss you’d ever had deepened gradually until you were grasping at him, fisting his shirt in your fingers. Your lips felt molded together, pliant to the other’s movements, but still insistent as they chased one another.

Control shifted subtly between you, taking turns drawing the other in and pulling back. More teasing, more toying. Yet you never denied each other long, unable to stay apart.

God, this was it. This was what it was always supposed to feel like.

It could have been hours you stood out there kissing and laughing, but you’d never have known. The only thing that alerted you to the passing of time was when the lights inside the bar shut off and the employees filed out for their final smoke break before heading home.

Giggling like terrible criminals begging to be caught, you and Eddie hugged the shadows and made your way back to his van. You rode home with your panties soaked, subtly shifting in your seat, trying not to think about the arousal pooled between your thighs. And at home, back in your room, you were so tempted to dip your fingers into the slickness as you thought about Eddie’s breath on your lips; how the ends of his curls tickled your sternum when he leaned into you; the way his scent lingered on your skin after being pressed between his body and that wall.

But you didn’t dare risk the disappointment that would follow when your pleasure receded like waves being drawn into a riptide; when you backed down from the edge of that cliff, feeling even emptier after not reaching that peak. Again. No, you couldn’t spoil this night with all that.

You saw him more throughout the week. He started popping into your father’s store almost as soon as it opened, offering you coffee and a kiss. And he spent the first hour of the morning with you at the front counter, propped up on his elbow with his chin resting on the heel of his hand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked, swatting him with a folded up newspaper after you finished doing the jumble together.

He just shrugged with all the casual ease of somebody whose own shop didn’t open until 11. Or noon if he was hungover. “What could be better than hanging out with my favorite girl?”

Favorite girl. The words lived in your brain all day. It made you positively giddy every time you thought about it, even causing you to accidentally enter a customer’s 15% discount as 51% and not even bother correcting it. The loss on a value pack of paint brushes and trays seemed a paltry fee for the smile that spread across old Mrs. Gershwin’s face when she saw her total.

Eddie started calling every night at 9:30, practically on the dot, and it didn’t take long for you to get in the habit of settling into your bed around that time so you could pick up the receiver in your room before the ringing disturbed your dad dozing in his recliner downstairs.

“So when do I get to take you out again?” he asked, clearly not oblivious to how it made you melt on the other end of the line.

You blushed your way through making arrangements for an early movie Saturday followed by dinner. Then, before beginning the long process of saying your goodnights, you paused to ask him the thing you’d been wondering since that night at the Hideout.

“Eddie…are we really doing this?” you asked, torn between giddiness and trepidation.

“I certainly am,” he hummed into the receiver.

He talked the whole way through the movie and still had more to say at dinner afterward.

It didn’t bother you, though. You loved listening to him talk. Your ears had gone so long without his rambling, it was more like music than words. His feet toyed with yours under the table and after you ordered dessert, he excused himself to use the bathroom only to slide into your side of the booth when he came back. You giggled over tiramisu and cheesecake, your sides pressed together from shoulder to ankle. Later, the tastes of your desserts would mix in your mouths as he kissed you deeply in his car dropping you off.

Everything about it felt so alive. So ripe with the promise of what this could turn into, what it had already become. In two dates with Eddie, you felt more connection than you had in two years of dating Carl. Not that it was fair comparing them. Nothing and no one could ever compare to this.

It was a Wednesday when he made a new proposition. You had already crawled into bed and swathed yourself in blankets to wait for his call. And after the few customary minutes of talking about your respective days, he brought up his idea for Friday night.

“Would you want to come over here for dinner?” he asked.

“You…you mean like your place?”

“I was thinking mine, but if your heart is set on a neighbor’s, I’m sure breaking in wouldn’t be too difficult.” He’s smirking so hard you swear you can hear it over the phone.

“I guess yours will do,” you chuckled. “Does this mean I’ll get to see The Hair in person?”

Eddie was living with Steve Harrington, which had taken a commanding lead for being the most confusing thing you’d learned since returning home. Apparently they’d been brought together by a shared friendship with Dustin Henderson, one of the kids from Hellfire Eddie had taken under his batwing during his third and final senior year. Dustin had spent months insisting both boys would get along if they only gave the other a chance until his badgering paid off.

Now, the pair shared a tiny apartment downtown, walking distance from Eddie’s shop and only a short drive to Family Video where Steve was now the manager. And Dustin evidently couldn’t go five minutes without congratulating himself for bringing the two of them together. Eddie liked to joke that they were now co-parenting the little shithead (affectionate).

“Actually, Steve is out of town this weekend,” Eddie said, struggling to contain his excitement and keep his cool. “So, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Breathe, breathe, breathe. “Oh, yeah?” you said, voice spiking just an octave too high.

“Yep. And, um…you could stay over if you wanted? If that sounds good to you?”

Stay over. You knew what that meant. There was something gut wrenchingly endearing about the way he asked—the innocent peal of his voice. But there was no doubt in your mind what he was getting at. This wasn’t going to be like crashing on his couch after a movie night or pouring yourself into his bed after a Corroded Coffin show that lasted to the wee hours.

This would be something new. Something completely different.

“That sounds great,” you said, finally.

And it did sound great. It just also sounded a little terrifying.

Admittedly, you hadn’t been on many dates in your life. But television and film had successfully indoctrinated you with knowledge of that classic Third Date milestone. And it made sense. He wasn’t some stranger. You’d known each other for so long, it stood to reason things would continue to accelerate between you.

And was that such a bad thing?

This was Eddie, after all. He was your best friend. He was your other half. You weren’t sure if you even believed in soul mates, so to speak, but if they did exist you couldn’t imagine anyone besides him in that role. He had stoked life into the coals within you that you were certain had burnt into a lump of ash. You never felt with anyone the way you felt with him.

So if you were gonna do this, you were gonna do it right.

You went shopping, fighting off anxious nausea as you perused the racks of lingerie in the far corner of a little boutique. Averting your eyes from the more salacious options, you settled on a matching set of midnight blue embroidered with silver thread to look like stars. It was made of thin mesh that gave the illusion of coverage, but revealed plenty through the sheer netting.

It also looked a little like something a wizard might wear. And for obvious reasons, you had a feeling Eddie might like that.

Securing your purchase you thought might make you feel more prepared, but it only caused your thoughts to unravel further. This was the first time Eddie would be seeing your underwear and it wasn’t even your own. At least it didn’t yet feel like your own the way your drawer full of less suggestive garments did. What if he thought you looked ridiculous? What if he laughed or got turned off because your thighs were too big or the pudge of your stomach grossed him out? Worse yet, what if you failed to live up to the implications? What if he saw it and assumed you knew what you were doing, only to be woefully disappointed by your skills? Or lack thereof?

It was impossible to reconcile the two wolves fighting for dominance in your mind. On the one hand, it was wildly exciting: the thought of finally getting to be with him and touch him and have him touch you back. At the same time, though, you were overwhelmed at the prospect. What if it changed things between you? You’d always thought you wanted more than friendship with him, but what if in that pursuit you lost the person you treasured more than anything in the world?

And then of course there were the normal fears.

After so much unfulfilling sex, you couldn’t help but be fearful your body would betray you as it always had. It was hard not to pin all your hopes on this and you didn’t want to add any more pressure to this night than you already felt. But even if you backed off that peak and failed to reach the summit, surely the ascent would feel just as nice as long as it was with him.

Right?

This was what you tried to tell yourself as you turned one last time in front of your mirror.

Literally everything about this night was making you uncomfortable and it hadn’t even begun yet. The lingerie that felt fine when you bought it was tight and itchy on your skin, and it felt glaringly obvious you were wearing it under your clothes—like a diaper or a straightjacket.

You’d shaved, even though it made you feel like a creepy bald Barbie, and even though you found the concept kind of disturbing. Whose brilliant idea was it anyway that to be sexy you had to look like a child between your legs? And you always wound up completely bare because you could never get it even and kept having to take more from each side until nothing was left.

Still, you did it. Because that was what everyone did, right? That’s what he would expect?

Shaking your head, trying to fling away all your thoughts, you busy yourself packing your small overnight bag. It was the same one you must have brought over to Eddie’s a hundred times over, but for the first time you found yourself doubting it. Would he think you were high maintenance for wanting your own toothbrush and a change of clothes? For bringing something comfortable to sleep in? Would he think you were a weirdo for not just sleeping naked? God, what if he saw it and figured you’d been sleeping with so many guys, you just kept it packed all the time?

Panic creeps up the back of your neck. It burns hot on your cheeks and makes your heart pound in your temples until you’re so dizzy you have to lean against the door with your head bent.

Breathe, you think. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Frustratingly slowly, the thrumming in your chest subsides. You managed to bring yourself down off the ledge and find your center—Eddie.

Eddie would make everything alright.

He always did.

Part Two

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #tw: anorgasmia

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